The Duke had passed a very unhappy night. He had told himself that any such marriage as that spoken of was out of the question. He believed that the matter might be so represented to his girl as to make her feel that it was out of the question. He hardly doubted but that he could stamp it out. Though he should have to take her away into some further corner of the world, he would stamp it out. But she, when this foolish passion of hers should have been thus stamped out, could never be the pure, the bright, the unsullied, unsoiled thing, of the possession of which he had thought so much. He had never spoken of his hopes about her even to his wife, but in the silence of his very silent life he had thought much of the day when he would give her to some noble youth,—noble with all gifts of nobility, including rank and wealth,—who might be fit to receive her. Now, even though no one else should know it,—and all would know it,—she would be the girl who had condescended5 to love young Tregear.
His own Duchess, she whose loss to him now was as though he had lost half his limbs,—had not she in the same way loved a Tregear, or worse than a Tregear, in her early days? Ah yes! And though his Cora had been so much to him, had he not often felt, had he not been feeling all his days, that Fate had robbed him of the sweetest joy that is given to man, in that she had not come to him loving him with her early spring of love, as she had loved that poor ne'er-do-well? How infinite had been his regrets. How often had he told himself that, with all that Fortune had given him, still Fortune had been unjust to him because he had been robbed of that. Not to save his life could he have whispered a word of this to any one, but he had felt it. He had felt it for years. Dear as she had been, she had not been quite what she should have been but for that. And now this girl of his, who was so much dearer to him than anything else left to him, was doing exactly as her mother had done. The young man might be stamped out. He might be made to vanish as that other young man had vanished. But the fact that he had been there, cherished in the girl's heart,—that could not be stamped out.
He struggled gallantly6 to acquit7 the memory of his wife. He could best do that by leaning with the full weight of his mind on the presumed iniquity8 of Mrs. Finn. Had he not known from the first that the woman was an adventuress? And had he not declared to himself over and over again that between such a one and himself there should be no intercourse9, no common feeling? He had allowed himself to be talked into an intimacy10, to be talked almost into an affection. And this was the result!
And how should he treat this matter in his coming interview with his son;—or should he make an allusion11 to it? At first it seemed as though it would be impossible for him to give his mind to that other subject. How could he enforce the merits of political Liberalism, and the duty of adhering to the old family party, while his mind was entirely12 preoccupied13 with his daughter? It had suddenly become almost indifferent to him whether Silverbridge should be a Conservative or a Liberal. But as he dressed he told himself that, as a man, he ought to be able to do a plain duty, marked out for him as this had been by his own judgment14, without regard to personal suffering. The hedger and ditcher must make his hedge and clean his ditch even though he be tormented15 by rheumatism16. His duty by his son he must do, even though his heart were torn to pieces.
During breakfast he tried to be gracious, and condescended to ask his son a question about Prime Minister. Racing17 was an amusement to which English noblemen had been addicted18 for many ages, and had been held to be serviceable rather than disgraceful, if conducted in a noble fashion. He did not credit Tifto with much nobility. He knew but little about the Major. He would much have preferred that his son should have owned a horse alone, if he must have anything to do with ownership. "Would it not be better to buy the other share?" asked the Duke.
"It would take a deal of money, sir. The Major would ask a couple of thousand, I should think."
"That is a great deal."
"And then the Major is a very useful man. He thoroughly19 understands the turf."
"I hope he doesn't live by it?"
"Oh no; he doesn't live by it. That is, he has a great many irons in the fire."
"I do not mind a young man owning a horse, if he can afford the expense,—as you perhaps can do; but I hope you don't bet."
"Nothing to speak of."
"Nothing to speak of is so apt to grow into that which has to be spoken of." So much the father said at breakfast, hardly giving his mind to the matter discussed,—his mind being on other things. But when their breakfast was eaten, then it was necessary that he should begin. "Silverbridge," he said, "I hope you have thought better of what we were talking about as to these coming elections."
"Well, sir;—of course I have thought about it."
"And you can do as I would have you?"
"You see, sir, a man's political opinion is a kind of thing he can't get rid of."
"You can hardly as yet have any very confirmed political opinion. You are still young, and I do not suppose that you have thought much about politics."
"Well, sir; I think I have. I've got my own ideas. We've got to protect our position as well as we can against the Radicals20 and Communists."
"I cannot admit that at all, Silverbridge. There is no great political party in this country anxious either for Communism or for revolution. But, putting all that aside for the present, do you think that a man's political opinions should be held in regard to his own individual interests, or to the much wider interests of others, whom we call the public?"
"To his own interest," said the young man with decision.
"It is simply self-protection then?"
"His own and his class. The people will look after themselves, and we must look after ourselves. We are so few and they are so many, that we shall have quite enough to do."
Then the Duke gave his son a somewhat lengthy21 political lecture, which was intended to teach him that the greatest benefit of the greatest number was the object to which all political studies should tend. The son listened to it with attention, and when it was over, expressed his opinion that there was a great deal in what his father had said. "I trust, if you will consider it," said the Duke, "that you will not find yourself obliged to desert the school of politics in which your father has not been an inactive supporter, and to which your family has belonged for many generations."
"I could not call myself a Liberal," said the young politician.
"Why not?"
"Because I am a Conservative."
"And you won't stand for the county on the Liberal interest?"
"I should be obliged to tell them that I should always give a Conservative vote."
"Then you refuse to do what I ask?"
"I do not know how I can help refusing. If you wanted me to grow a couple of inches taller I couldn't do it, even though I should be ever so anxious to oblige you."
"But a very young man, as you are, may have so much deference22 for his elders as to be induced to believe that he has been in error."
"Oh yes; of course."
"You cannot but be aware that the political condition of the country is the one subject to which I have devoted23 the labour of my life."
"I know that very well; and, of course, I know how much they all think of you."
"Then my opinion might go for something with you?"
"So it does, sir; I shouldn't have doubted at all only for that little. Still, you see, as the thing is,—how am I to help myself?"
"You believe that you must be right,—you, who have never given an hour's study to the subject!"
"No, sir. In comparison with a great many men, I know that I am a fool. Perhaps it is because I know that, that I am a Conservative. The Radicals are always saying that a Conservative must be a fool. Then a fool ought to be a Conservative."
Hereupon the father got up from his chair and turned round, facing the fire, with his back to his son. He was becoming very angry, but endeavoured to restrain his anger. The matter in dispute between them was of so great importance, that he could hardly be justified24 in abandoning it in consequence of arguments so trifling25 in themselves as these which his son adduced. As he stood there for some minutes thinking of it all, he was tempted26 again and again to burst out in wrath27 and threaten the lad,—to threaten him as to money, as to his amusements, as to the general tenure28 of his life. The pity was so great that the lad should be so stubborn and so foolish! He would never ask his son to be a slave to the Liberal party, as he had been. But that a Palliser should not be a Liberal,—and his son, as the first recreant29 Palliser,—was wormwood to him! As he stood there he more than once clenched30 his fist in eager desire to turn upon the young man; but he restrained himself, telling himself that in justice he should not be angry for such offence as this. To become a Conservative, when the path to Liberalism was so fairly open, might be the part of a fool, but could not fairly be imputed31 as a crime. To endeavour to be just was the study of his life, and in no condition of life can justice be more imperatively32 due than from a father to his son.
"You mean to stand for Silverbridge?" he said at last.
"Not if you object, sir."
This made it worse. It became now still more difficult for him to scold the young man.
"You are aware that I should not meddle33 in any way."
"That was what I supposed. They will return a Conservative at any rate."
"It is not that I care about," said the Duke sadly.
"Upon my word, sir, I am very sorry to vex you; but what would you have me do? I will give up Parliament altogether, if you say that you wish it."
"No; I do not wish that."
"You wouldn't have me tell a lie?"
"No."
"What can I do then?"
"Learn what there is to learn from some master fit to teach you."
"There are so many masters."
"I believe it to be that most arrogant34 ill-behaved young man who was with me yesterday who has done this evil."
"You mean Frank Tregear?"
"I do mean Mr. Tregear."
"He's a Conservative, of course; and of course he and I have been much together. Was he with you yesterday, sir?"
"Yes, he was."
"What was that about?" asked Lord Silverbridge, in a voice that almost betrayed fear, for he knew very well what cause had produced the interview.
"He has been speaking to me—" When the Duke had got so far as this he paused, finding himself to be hardly able to declare the disgrace which had fallen upon himself and his family. As he did tell the story, both his face and his voice were altered, so that the son, in truth, was scared. "He has been speaking to me about your sister. Did you know of this?"
"I knew there was something between them."
"And you encouraged it?"
"No, sir; just the contrary. I have told him that I was quite sure it would never do."
"And why did you not tell me?"
"Well, sir; that was hardly my business, was it?"
"Not to guard the honour of your sister?"
"You see, sir, how many things have happened all at once."
"What things?"
"My dear mother, sir, thought well of him." The Duke uttered a deep sigh and turned again round to the fire. "I always told him that you would never consent."
"I should think not."
"It has come so suddenly. I should have spoken to you about it as soon as—as soon as—" He had meant to say as soon as the husband's grief for the loss of his wife had been in some degree appeased35, but he could not speak the words. The Duke, however, perfectly36 understood him. "In the meantime, they were not seeing each other."
"Nor writing?"
"I think not."
"Mrs. Finn has known it all."
"Mrs. Finn!"
"Certainly. She has known it all through."
"I do not see how it can have been so."
"He told me so himself," said the Duke, unwittingly putting words into Tregear's mouth which Tregear had never uttered. "There must be an end of this. I will speak to your sister. In the meantime, the less, I think, you see of Mr. Tregear the better. Of course it is out of the question he should be allowed to remain in this house. You will make him understand that at once, if you please."
"Oh, certainly," said Silverbridge.
点击收听单词发音
1 denomination | |
n.命名,取名,(度量衡、货币等的)单位 | |
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2 appendages | |
n.附属物( appendage的名词复数 );依附的人;附属器官;附属肢体(如臂、腿、尾等) | |
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3 antediluvian | |
adj.史前的,陈旧的 | |
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4 vex | |
vt.使烦恼,使苦恼 | |
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5 condescended | |
屈尊,俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 ); 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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6 gallantly | |
adv. 漂亮地,勇敢地,献殷勤地 | |
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7 acquit | |
vt.宣判无罪;(oneself)使(自己)表现出 | |
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8 iniquity | |
n.邪恶;不公正 | |
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9 intercourse | |
n.性交;交流,交往,交际 | |
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10 intimacy | |
n.熟悉,亲密,密切关系,亲昵的言行 | |
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11 allusion | |
n.暗示,间接提示 | |
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12 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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13 preoccupied | |
adj.全神贯注的,入神的;被抢先占有的;心事重重的v.占据(某人)思想,使对…全神贯注,使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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14 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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15 tormented | |
饱受折磨的 | |
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16 rheumatism | |
n.风湿病 | |
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17 racing | |
n.竞赛,赛马;adj.竞赛用的,赛马用的 | |
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18 addicted | |
adj.沉溺于....的,对...上瘾的 | |
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19 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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20 radicals | |
n.激进分子( radical的名词复数 );根基;基本原理;[数学]根数 | |
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21 lengthy | |
adj.漫长的,冗长的 | |
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22 deference | |
n.尊重,顺从;敬意 | |
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23 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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24 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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25 trifling | |
adj.微不足道的;没什么价值的 | |
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26 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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27 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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28 tenure | |
n.终身职位;任期;(土地)保有权,保有期 | |
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29 recreant | |
n.懦夫;adj.胆怯的 | |
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30 clenched | |
v.紧握,抓紧,咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31 imputed | |
v.把(错误等)归咎于( impute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32 imperatively | |
adv.命令式地 | |
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33 meddle | |
v.干预,干涉,插手 | |
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34 arrogant | |
adj.傲慢的,自大的 | |
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35 appeased | |
安抚,抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 ); 绥靖(满足另一国的要求以避免战争) | |
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36 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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