But with the morning, that sober hour when the mind gleams like a sphere of marble in the sun, John Strong’s emotions had cooled discouragingly. He viewed them on rising much as a masker regards the gay clothes he had worn the night before, when wine had cozened him out of his saner3 self. John Strong went down to breakfast and faced Judith stolidly4 over the massive oak table. She saw speedily that his mood had changed, and that he was much more the father she had known of old.
Judith, with a sense of emptiness at her heart, left him alone after the meal, to his papers and his pipe. John Strong smoked vigorously, biting the amber5 mouth-piece, twisting his papers to and fro with the viciousness of a man irritated by his own indecision. Judith, on the watch, saw her father pass out onto the terrace with his favorite dog following at his heels. By instinct she went to the organ that stood in the great gallery above the hall, and began to play some sad, heart-searching melodies religion had drawn6 from the deeps of the soul. The solemn tones pealed7 out into the sunlight with a passion that throbbed8 from the woman’s heart.
John Strong stood still to listen. The lines softened9 somewhat on his face and a slight tremor10 played about the dogged mouth. Few men, be they blunt Philistines11, are inert12 to music when the tide of trouble runs deep. John Strong leaned against the balustrading of the terrace, and felt once more the throes of tenderness that sleep had wiped from out his brain.
It was even as he pondered thus, pacing to and fro, then halting for a time as though thought claimed every red spherelet coursing in his blood, that John Strong heard the sound of wheels upon the carriage-drive beyond the garden. The sound skirted the pines and laurels13 and the three great cedars14, and ceased before the entrance on the northern front of the Hall. John Strong, with a shadow as of displeasure upon his face, turned towards the library window that opened upon the terrace.
Then he heard voices, a woman’s and a man’s. A door closed. John Strong halted in the sun. To him from the window came a man-servant, sleek15 and clean-shaven, treading deferentially16 towards his master.
“A lady to see you, sir.”
“What name?”
“She would give no name, sir.”
“Hum.”
“I showed her into the library.”
“What sort of lady, William?”
“Young, sir; came in a cab, one of Dixon’s traps from Rilchester. Hope I did right, sir; the lady said it was important.”
“Quite right,” said John Strong, moving in the direction of the library.
Within he found a smartly dressed, brown-haired woman in a pink toque seated with constrained17 precision in the middle of the sofa. The perfume of Parma violets filled the room. The stranger was palpably nervous, a little hot and flurried, like a woman who had hurried to catch a train. John Strong stared at her, hat in hand, questioned her as to the reason of the favor her presence conferred upon him.
“Mr. Strong?” she asked, tentatively, smiling forcedly, rising, and sinking again into her seat.
“I am John Strong, madam—”
“I have come on a very delicate matter—”
The ex-tea-merchant took a chair and settled himself so that he could see the woman’s face.
“A delicate matter?” he repeated, scenting18 charity, or a hospital donation.
“Most delicate, and to me—painful, Mr. Strong. Excuse me if I seem disconnected. I want you to promise—”
She hesitated a moment, and sat staring half apologetically into the old man’s face.
“Well, madam, what am I to promise?”
“That this visit of mine shall be kept a profound secret.”
John Strong elevated his eyebrows19.
“If you will first tell me your name, madam—” he suggested.
“My name?”
“I shall be better able to understand the situation.”
The lady in the pink toque drew off her gloves with nervous jerks and laid them neatly20 in her lap. Then she put her veil up and moistened her lips with her tongue.
“My name is Mabel Saker,” she said, with her eyes fixed21 on the man’s face; “probably you remember that name.”
Most certainly John Strong remembered it. The expression on his massive and determined22 face betrayed the unpleasant familiarity of those few syllables23. He sat in silence for the moment, his gray eyes fixed on the woman before him.
“So, madam,” he said, “you desire this interview to be kept secret. Will you kindly24 inform me what its purpose is?”
“Does my name suggest it to you?”
“I have my suspicions.”
“And you will consider any information I may give you as privileged?”
“How privileged, madam?”
“That you may make use of it where and when you like, provided my name is never mentioned.”
John Strong settled himself firmly in his chair like the man of weight and substance that he was.
“Well, madam,” he said, “I make you this promise. I suppose what you have to tell me concerns my son.”
Miss Saker touched her lips with her handkerchief and coughed suggestively. She assumed an air of reluctance25 with a cleverness that did her adaptability26 credit.
“Mr. Strong,” she said, impressively, “I have suffered greatly in my mind since certain unfortunate facts came to my knowledge. Doubt and indecision have made a martyr27 of me. You will sympathize, Mr. Strong, when I confess to you that I have been torn between friendship and a sense of duty.”
John Strong nodded like a judge.
“Let me assure you, madam, that you have my sympathy,” he said.
Miss Saker pressed her hand tragically28 to her forehead and aped the manner of a popular actress whom she admired.
“How dreadful a thing it is,” she observed, “to find that one has been deceived!”
“Most painful, madam.”
“Your son, Mr. Strong—”
“My son, yes, madam.”
“Was absolutely innocent, as was the girl whose honor they traduced29.”
Miss Saker’s brown eyes were fixed expectantly upon the old man’s face. She had promised herself some dramatic excitement in watching the effect of her disclosures upon Gabriel’s father. The result was less sensational30 than she could have imagined. She saw the old man sink more deeply into his chair. His head was bowed down over his chest, and there was a sudden spasm31 as of pain upon his face.
“Please explain,” he said, in a strange voice.
Mabel Saker, somewhat frightened, pretended inordinate32 concern.
“Oh, Mr. Strong, the truth has been too much for you. I have been clumsy. Oh—”
The old man quieted her with a gesture of the hand.
“If you would be kind to me,” he said, “please tell me quickly all you know. It was a conspiracy33, I suppose.”
Miss Saker began to lose her melodramatic action.
“Major Maltravers—”
“Major Maltravers. Exactly.”
“He was in love with Ophelia Gusset.”
“Exactly.”
“Ophelia was sick of your son.”
“So I have heard.”
“People wrote anonymous34 letters.”
“People do that sort of thing—women, I should have said.”
“You understand me.”
“Perfectly, madam; and the witnesses?”
Miss Saker put two plump fingers before her mouth.
“Bribery,” she lisped; “inquire at Callydon, Mr. Strong, and elsewhere; inquire at St. Aylmers. I need not advise you in this.”
“And the decree has been made absolute?”
“Six months—”
“It is too late, thank God, for mere35 intervention36.”
Miss Saker stared.
“Why do you say ‘thank God’?” she asked.
“Because, madam, I would not have my son re-wedded to a devil.”
There was a short but impressive silence between them for a moment. Then Miss Saker stood up, tugging37 at her gloves. John Strong also rose like a man who was very tired.
“You understand, Mr. Strong,” she said, “what a terrible ordeal38 this has been to me.”
“I understand, madam, and, believe me, I am grateful.”
“And your promise?”
“A promise, Miss Saker, is a promise.”
The woman in the pink toque smiled, but the smile vanished utterly39 as she met the old man’s gray eyes. There was something so subtle and contemptuous in the look he gave her that her vapid40 self-esteem and her facile hypocrisy41 seemed to wither42 in a moment.
“Good-bye,” she gushed43, holding out a hand.
John Strong touched her fingers and walked with her towards the door.
“Good-bye, madam,” he said. “I hope you will have a pleasant drive to Gabingly.”
“Gabingly? Not Gabingly, Rilchester.”
“Pardon me, I was forgetting.”
“Rilchester. I leave for London to-night.”
When the woman in the pink toque with her silks and perfumes had gone, and the sound of the carriage wheels had died beyond the meadows, John Strong passed back to the library and found Judith standing44 by the window. There was so strange a look upon her father’s face that Judith gazed at him and was mute. Haggard as he looked, a certain grim joy seemed to shine in his gray eyes, a joy that betrayed the passions that were working in his heart. Judith went to him and held his arm.
“Father, what is it?” she asked.
He partly leaned upon her, with one hand upon her shoulder.
“I was in the wrong,” he said, doggedly45.
“Father!”
“Gabriel shall come home.”
“Home!”
“And I, John Strong, will stand and fight beside my son.”
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收听单词发音
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1
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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2
pliant
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| adj.顺从的；可弯曲的 | |
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3
saner
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| adj.心智健全的( sane的比较级 )；神志正常的；明智的；稳健的 | |
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4
stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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6
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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7
pealed
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| v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8
throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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9
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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10
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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11
philistines
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| n.市侩，庸人( philistine的名词复数 )；庸夫俗子 | |
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12
inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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13
laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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14
cedars
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| 雪松，西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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15
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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16
deferentially
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| adv.表示敬意地，谦恭地 | |
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17
constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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18
scenting
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| vt.闻到（scent的现在分词形式） | |
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19
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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20
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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21
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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22
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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23
syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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24
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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25
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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26
adaptability
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| n.适应性 | |
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27
martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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28
tragically
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| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
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29
traduced
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| v.诋毁( traduce的过去式和过去分词 )；诽谤；违反；背叛 | |
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30
sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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31
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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32
inordinate
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| adj.无节制的；过度的 | |
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33
conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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34
anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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35
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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36
intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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37
tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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38
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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39
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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40
vapid
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| adj.无味的；无生气的 | |
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41
hypocrisy
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| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
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42
wither
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| vt.使凋谢，使衰退，(用眼神气势等)使畏缩；vi.枯萎，衰退，消亡 | |
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43
gushed
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| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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44
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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45
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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