He would have sold the place at once but for two reasons; the first and chiefest of which was, that Katharine took great pleasure and interest in it--more pleasure and interest than she had taken in any thing else during her married life; the other, that the sale of his country estate, which, with the county people who visited there and the swells9 whom he entertained, had been so much talked of among his friends in the City, would be a confession10 of weakness which Robert Streightley shrunk from meeting. Besides, all would probably come right very soon; the house of Streightley and Son was too firmly established not to be able to stand a shock or two; and by reducing the establishment at Middlemeads he should effect a considerable saving, while the sale of a portion of the valuable timber on the estate would bring in a sum of ready money, of which he was greatly in need. This done, he drove off to the railway, caught the up-train, and was on his way to London.
He was alone in the railway carriage; there was no old gentleman rustling11 a newspaper, no young gentleman playing with his watch-chain, no humorous children to trample12 on his feet,--nothing to disturb the train of thought into which he fell. By no means a pleasant train of thought, for a dead weight was at his heart, and he felt a horrible sense of something--he knew not what--but some calamity13 hanging over him. Something, some trifle had reminded him of the day on which Mr. Guyon had told him of Frere's proposal for Katharine's hand, and now he could not get the subject out of his head: the words seemed to ring in his ears; and when he closed his eyes, that peculiar14 look with which Mr. Guyon had suggested the suppression of Frere's letter seemed to rise before him. What had his life been since then? He had married Katharine! O yes, she was his wife; but had he ever obtained from her one grain of confidence, one look of love? Had not his business transactions gone wrong ever since? Had he not suffered under perpetual qualms15 of conscience ever since he became a silent confederate in that monstrous16 fraud of which Katharine, his wife, was one of the victims? In his case, at least, retribution had not been long delayed; the first mutterings of the avenging17 storm had been long since heard, and now something told him that the storm itself was close at hand. He would welcome it in all its fury, though it stripped him of all his wealth and left him to begin life anew, if it only could bear away on its wings the barrier existing between Katharine and himself; if it only enabled him to prove to her his worship of her; if it only raised in her for him one tithe18 of the love with which he regarded her.
It was a dark, dull, damp evening when Robert Streightley alighted from the cab in which he had driven from the railway, and knocked at his own door in Portland Place. The enormously stout19 middle-aged20 man, who for a by no means poor wage consented to pass his life in alternately sitting in and getting out of a porter's chair, like a leathern bee-hive, was usually sufficiently21 on the alert to recognise his master's rap, and give him speedy admission; but on this occasion Mr. Streightley had to knock three times, and when the porter opened the door there was a strange odd look on his face, which made his master think he had been drinking. Robert passed by him quickly and went into the library, where he rang the bell. It was answered by William, the footman who had opened the door for Katharine when she left the house.
"Is your mistress in the Cedar-room? is there any one with her?"
"Missus is not in the Cedar-room, sir, and there is no pusson with her, as I knows of. Missus ain't at home, sir."
"O, very well. What time did she order the carriage to fetch her?"
"The carriage isn't ordered at all, sir. Missus said she wouldn't want the carriage."
"Do you know where your mistress is?"
"She said she was goin' to Queen Anne Street, sir."
"Very good. I'll go across myself and bring her home."
"Begging your pardon, sir, I don't think you'll find missus at Queen Anne Street, sir."
"No! what do you mean?"
"Why, sir, Mamzell Augustus went across about six o'clock, sir, to know whether missus was comin' home to dress, sir, and they said at Queen Anne Street that she'd never been there since she left in the morning."
"Never been there? and--O, she's probably gone out with Mr. Guyon."
"Good Lord, sir!" said the footman, startled out of all propriety22; "I forgot, sir, you didn't know--the hold gent's dead!"
"Dead? Mr. Guyon dead?"
"Yes, sir; had a fit at Croydon races last evening, sir, and died hearly this morning. Beg pardon, sir, shall I tell Anderson to bring you a glass of brandy, sir?"
"Eh? No, thank you, William--yes--you may, if you please. I feel--" and Robert Streightley clutched at a chair near him, and sunk into it, with trembling limbs and beating heart.
Mr. Anderson, the staid butler, brought a small decanter of brandy, filled a liqueur-glass, and handed it to his master, whose hand shook so that the glass rattled23 against his teeth. After the discreet24 domestic had withdrawn25, Robert Streightley sat in his chair, glaring straight before him, revolving26 in his mind a hundred subjects, all equally dismal27. Katharine's absence, first of all, what could that mean? what could have induced it? was it in any way connected with Mr. Guyon's death? Mr. Guyon's death, poor man! not one with whom he had any thing in common except--that horrible conspiracy28 always cropping up! Mr. Guyon dead? well, then, there was an end to the chance of any betrayal of that mystery; he might rest secure that--Good God! where could his wife have gone to? Could she have learned--no; that was impossible. Still, why had she left his house, without leaving any trace of her whereabouts? Lady Henmarsh was not in town; but she might have gone to some other friend's house, where she could receive that womanly kindness and consolation29 which, in the first shock of her grief, her heart sought for. It was absurd in him to have imagined that, under such circumstances, she would remain in her own house alone, without a soul to speak to in confidence. She would return soon; he would wait up to receive her.
So through the long hours of that night, having dismissed the household to rest, Robert Streightley sat in his library, the door of which opened on the hall, in eager anticipation30 of his wife's return. The sharp ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece seemed running a race with the solemn ticking of the clock in the hall; the rumble31 of the cabs outside, the footfalls of the passers-by, fell with monotonous32 solemnity on his ear; the dead silence at the back of the house, broken only by the wailing33 of dissipated cats, oppressed him; and the keen anguish34 of his own thoughts made him occasionally clasp his forehead and utter some ejaculation; but still he sat there, looking out into the dimly-lighted hall, and waiting for his wife's return. That Mr. Guyon was dead, had died suddenly and in a ghastly manner, he yet scarcely realised: he had heard the fact, and that was all; he had not thought over it; his thoughts were entirely35 occupied with the fact of his wife's absence. To account for this he had now no possible satisfactory theory. Had she been persuaded to remain at the house of any friend to whom she might have gone, a message to that effect would surely have been sent to Portland Place. The shock of her father's death might have been too much for her; and in walking to the house of some friend she might have been seized with illness; at that moment she might be lying unknown in some hospital, or--and as the thought came across him Robert Streightley started to his feet, his mind half made up to sally forth36 at once, and set the detective force at work to discover Katharine's whereabouts. But before he had advanced a few steps his cautious common-sense came to his aid. He was a weak, hot-headed fool, and his usual powers of reasoning had been, he argued to himself, a little impaired37 by the mental strain to which during the last few weeks he had been subjected. Nothing was known yet of his wife's disappearance38. Even to the household their mistress's absence was a mere39 subject for discussion over the supper-beer, where no one had a substantial theory to broach40, but all arrived at a general conclusion, originally propounded41 by the cook, that "master not being at home, she'd gone away, poor soul, to some other friend's nigh by; and not expectin' him, they'd kep her, as was only right and jest when she was in trouble." If he were to raise a hue42 and cry, it would become at once a public scandal; and from a public scandal, from the mere thought of the knowledge that his friends were discussing his domestic affairs, Robert Streightley shrunk in horror and dismay. No; he would take no step, at least for the next few hours; morning must bring the solution of the mystery, and for that solution he would wait. Arrived at this determination, he turned out his lamp, and crept up stairs to bed.
To bed, but not to sleep. For hours he lay tossing on his hot pillow, racked with dismal doubt. Where was his wife? To whom had she gone in her time of trouble? That she had not remained to share her grief with him would have been, under other circumstances, a sufficient cause of dissatisfaction for her husband; but Robert, calmly reviewing--as calmly as he could, poor fellow--his real position in the dull dead watches of the night, was forced to acknowledge to himself that there had never been any confidence between him and Katharine, which would warrant him in looking for such a display of affection. On the other hand, a doubt of her having infringed43 the strictest rules of propriety never crossed his mind. Never, during the whole course of her married life, had she given him occasion for the slightest suspicion of jealousy44. With all her undeniable beauty, with all the attention she perforce commanded, she had not shown the smallest symptom of coquetry. If she had not come heart-whole to him, if hers had not been a love-match, if he had not been the beau ideal of her girlish fancy, by no act of hers could that have become patent to the ever-watchful, always censorious world. Where, then, was she gone? Her position was so peculiar, even to Robert's unworldly view; she had lived so self-contained a life since her marriage, that she could scarcely be said to have any special friends. Acquaintances she had by the score; but one does not go to acquaintances in the time of trouble; while her quondam chaperone, Lady Henmarsh, her only intimate, was away, and Mrs. Stanbourne, from whom she might justly have sought consolation, was far from England. Where could she have gone? Still revolving this question in his mind, Robert, just as day was dawning, fell into a fitful feverish45 sleep, haunted by horrible dreams, in which he and Katharine, the dead man and Gordon Frere, all played conspicuous46 parts, being mixed up in that dreadfully grotesque47 manner only possible under dream-influence.
He seemed only to have closed his eyes--in reality he had been asleep but a couple of hours--when he was aroused by a knocking at the door, and the voice of his servant, who, according to usual custom, had brought the post-letters to his bedroom door. In an instant Streightley sprang up, all the events of the previous day--Guyon's death, Katharine's absence, his own misery--all flashing upon him at once, opened the door, and there, on the top of the little heap, saw a letter in Katharine's well-known hand. He seized it instantly, was about to tear it open, and stopped--stopped, for his heart was beating loudly, and there was a choking sensation in his throat, and a film over his eyes. He sat down on a chair, placed the letter on the table beside him, and passed his hand over his brow. The whole room reeled before him; he felt that he must, and yet that he dared not break that seal. The answer to the question that had been tormenting48 him all night, the key to the enigma49 of his wife's departure, lay before him, and yet he hesitated to avail himself of it. He remained irresolute50 for some minutes; then he took up the letter quietly, opened it, and read as follows:
"This is the last time I shall ever hold communication with you, and therefore it is well that I should be explicit51. By the merest accident I have become acquainted with the plot by which the whole of my life was maimed and perverted52, my happiness blighted53, my feelings trampled54 on, and my girlish pride mortified55 and humbled56. In that plot were two conspirators57; one who basely sold an honest, trusting, loving girl--his daughter; the other, who, by the mere accidental advantage of his wealth, was enabled to buy that girl for his wife. By neither, save as a mere matter of barter58, something to be bought and sold, was I, that girl, considered. One of the plotters has been removed beyond the reach of my vengeance59, and I shall take care to prevent the other from any opportunity of further villainy, so far as I am concerned. I have turned my back upon my father's corpse60, and I turn my back on your house. I leave behind me all the price at which you purchased me; I take nothing with me but my mother's jewels, to which I suppose I have a right, and the unalterable determination which I have formed; and that is, in this world or the next, living or dying, never to forgive you, Robert Streightley, for your share in my degradation61, and never to look upon your face again.--K.S."
END OF VOL. II.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
mansion
|
|
| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
dingy
|
|
| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
villa
|
|
| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
wedded
|
|
| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
speculation
|
|
| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
swells
|
|
| 增强( swell的第三人称单数 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
confession
|
|
| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
rustling
|
|
| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
trample
|
|
| vt.踩，践踏；无视，伤害，侵犯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
calamity
|
|
| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
qualms
|
|
| n.不安；内疚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
avenging
|
|
| adj.报仇的，复仇的v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的现在分词 )；为…报复 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
tithe
|
|
| n.十分之一税；v.课什一税，缴什一税 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
propriety
|
|
| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
rattled
|
|
| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
discreet
|
|
| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
withdrawn
|
|
| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
revolving
|
|
| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
dismal
|
|
| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
conspiracy
|
|
| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
consolation
|
|
| n.安慰，慰问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
anticipation
|
|
| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
rumble
|
|
| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
monotonous
|
|
| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
wailing
|
|
| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
impaired
|
|
| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
disappearance
|
|
| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
broach
|
|
| v.开瓶，提出(题目) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
propounded
|
|
| v.提出（问题、计划等）供考虑[讨论]，提议( propound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
hue
|
|
| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
infringed
|
|
| v.违反（规章等）( infringe的过去式和过去分词 )；侵犯（某人的权利）；侵害（某人的自由、权益等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
jealousy
|
|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
feverish
|
|
| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
conspicuous
|
|
| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
grotesque
|
|
| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
tormenting
|
|
| 使痛苦的，使苦恼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
enigma
|
|
| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
irresolute
|
|
| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
explicit
|
|
| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
perverted
|
|
| adj.不正当的v.滥用( pervert的过去式和过去分词 )；腐蚀；败坏；使堕落 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
blighted
|
|
| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
trampled
|
|
| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
mortified
|
|
| v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
humbled
|
|
| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
conspirators
|
|
| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
barter
|
|
| n.物物交换，以货易货，实物交易 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
vengeance
|
|
| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
corpse
|
|
| n.尸体，死尸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
degradation
|
|
| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |