Coningsby passed an agitated9 night of broken sleep, waking often with a consciousness of having experienced some great misfortune, yet with an indefinite conception of its nature. He woke exhausted11 and dispirited. It was a gloomy day, a raw north-easter blowing up the cloisters12 of the Albany, in which the fog was lingering, the newspaper on his breakfast-table, full of rumoured13 particulars of his grandfather’s will, which had of course been duly digested by all who knew him. What a contrast to St. Geneviève! To the bright, bracing14 morn of that merry Christmas! That radiant and cheerful scene, and those gracious and beaming personages, seemed another world and order of beings to the one he now inhabited, and the people with whom he must now commune. The Great Seal indeed! It was the wild excitement of despair, the frenzied15 hope that blends inevitably16 with absolute ruin, that could alone have inspired such a hallucination! His unstrung heart deserted17 him. His energies could rally no more. He gave orders that he was at home to no one; and in his morning gown and slippers18, with his feet resting on the fireplace, the once high-souled and noble-hearted Coningsby delivered himself up to despair.
The day passed in a dark trance rather than a reverie. Nothing rose to his consciousness. He was like a particle of chaos19; at the best, a glimmering20 entity21 of some shadowy Hades. Towards evening the wind changed, the fog dispersed22, there came a clear starry23 night, brisk and bright. Coningsby roused himself, dressed, and wrapping his cloak around him, sallied forth24. Once more in the mighty25 streets, surrounded by millions, his petty griefs and personal fortunes assumed their proper position. Well had Sidonia taught him, view everything in its relation to the rest. ‘Tis the secret of all wisdom. Here was the mightiest26 of modern cities; the rival even of the most celebrated27 of the ancient. Whether he inherited or forfeited28 fortunes, what was it to the passing throng29? They would not share his splendour, or his luxury, or his comfort. But a word from his lip, a thought from his brain, expressed at the right time, at the right place, might turn their hearts, might influence their passions, might change their opinions, might affect their destiny. Nothing is great but the personal. As civilisation30 advances, the accidents of life become each day less important. The power of man, his greatness and his glory, depend on essential qualities. Brains every day become more precious than blood. You must give men new ideas, you must teach them new words, you must modify their manners, you must change their laws, you must root out prejudices, subvert31 convictions, if you wish to be great. Greatness no longer depends on rentals32, the world is too rich; nor on pedigrees, the world is too knowing.
‘The greatness of this city destroys my misery,’ said Coningsby, ‘and my genius shall conquer its greatness.’
This conviction of power in the midst of despair was a revelation of intrinsic strength. It is indeed the test of a creative spirit. From that moment all petty fears for an ordinary future quitted him. He felt that he must be prepared for great sacrifices, for infinite suffering; that there must devolve on him a bitter inheritance of obscurity, struggle, envy, and hatred33, vulgar prejudice, base criticism, petty hostilities34, but the dawn would break, and the hour arrive, when the welcome morning hymn35 of his success and his fame would sound and be re-echoed.
He returned to his rooms; calm, resolute36. He slept the deep sleep of a man void of anxiety, that has neither hope nor fear to haunt his visions, but is prepared to rise on the morrow collected for the great human struggle.
And the morning came. Fresh, vigorous, not rash or precipitate37, yet determined38 to lose no time in idle meditation39, Coningsby already resolved at once to quit his present residence, was projecting a visit to some legal quarter, where he intended in future to reside, when his servant brought him a note. The handwriting was feminine. The note was from Flora40. The contents were brief. She begged Mr. Coningsby, with great earnestness, to do her the honour and the kindness of calling on her at his earliest convenience, at the hotel in Brook41 Street where she now resided.
It was an interview which Coningsby would rather have avoided; yet it seemed to him, after a moment’s reflection, neither just, nor kind, nor manly42, to refuse her request. Flora had not injured him. She was, after all, his kin10. Was it for a moment to be supposed that he was envious43 of her lot? He replied, therefore, that in an hour he would wait upon her.
In an hour, then, two individuals are to be brought together whose first meeting was held under circumstances most strangely different. Then Coningsby was the patron, a generous and spontaneous one, of a being obscure, almost friendless, and sinking under bitter mortification44. His favour could not be the less appreciated because he was the chosen relative of a powerful noble. That noble was no more; his vast inheritance had devolved on the disregarded, even despised actress, whose suffering emotions Coningsby had then soothed45, and whose fortune had risen on the destruction of all his prospects46, and the balk47 of all his aspirations48.
Flora was alone when Coningsby was ushered49 into the room. The extreme delicacy50 of her appearance was increased by her deep mourning; and seated in a cushioned chair, from which she seemed to rise with an effort, she certainly presented little of the character of a fortunate and prosperous heiress.
‘You are very good to come to me,’ she said, faintly smiling.
Coningsby extended his hand to her affectionately, in which she placed her own, looking down much embarrassed.
‘You have an agreeable situation here,’ said Coningsby, trying to break the first awkwardness of their meeting.
‘Yes; but I hope not to stop here long?’
‘You are going abroad?’
‘No; I hope never to leave England!’
There was a slight pause; and then Flora sighed and said,
‘I wish to speak to you on a subject that gives me pain; yet of which I must speak. You think I have injured you?’
‘I am sure,’ said Coningsby, in a tone of great kindness, ‘that you could injure no one.’
‘I have robbed you of your inheritance.’
‘It was not mine by any right, legal or moral. There were others who might have urged an equal claim to it; and there are many who will now think that you might have preferred a superior one.’
‘You had enemies; I was not one. They sought to benefit themselves by injuring you. They have not benefited themselves; let them not say that they have at least injured you.’
‘We will not care what they say,’ said Coningsby; ‘I can sustain my lot.’
‘Would that I could mine!’ said Flora. She sighed again with a downcast glance. Then looking up embarrassed and blushing deeply, she added, ‘I wish to restore to you that fortune of which I have unconsciously and unwillingly51 deprived you.’
‘The fortune is yours, dear Flora, by every right,’ said Coningsby, much moved; ‘and there is no one who wishes more fervently52 that it may contribute to your happiness than I do.’
‘It is killing53 me,’ said Flora, mournfully; then speaking with unusual animation54, with a degree of excitement, she continued, ‘I must tell what I feel. This fortune is yours. I am happy in the inheritance, if you generously receive it from me, because Providence55 has made me the means of baffling your enemies. I never thought to be so happy as I shall be if you will generously accept this fortune, always intended for you. I have lived then for a purpose; I have not lived in vain; I have returned to you some service, however humble56, for all your goodness to me in my unhappiness.’
‘You are, as I have ever thought you, the kindest and most tender-hearted of beings. But you misconceive our mutual57 positions, my gentle Flora. The custom of the world does not permit such acts to either of us as you contemplate58. The fortune is yours. It is left you by one on whose affections you had the highest claim. I will not say that so large an inheritance does not bring with it an alarming responsibility; but you are not unequal to it. Have confidence in yourself. You have a good heart; you have good sense; you have a well-principled being. Your spirit will mount with your fortunes, and blend with them. You will be happy.’
‘And you?’
‘I shall soon learn to find content, if not happiness, from other sources,’ said Coningsby; ‘and mere59 riches, however vast, could at no time have secured my felicity.’
‘But they may secure that which brings felicity,’ said Flora, speaking in a choking voice, and not meeting the glance of Coningsby. ‘You had some views in life which displeased60 him who has done all this; they may be, they must be, affected61 by this fatal caprice. Speak to me, for I cannot speak, dear Mr. Coningsby; do not let me believe that I, who would sacrifice my life for your happiness, am the cause of such calamities62!’
‘Ah! he is angry with me,’ exclaimed Flora; ‘he is angry with me!’ and the tears stole down her pale cheek.
‘No, no, no! dear Flora; I have no other feelings to you than those of affection and respect,’ and Coningsby, much agitated, drew his chair nearer to her, and took her hand. ‘I am gratified by these kind wishes, though they are utterly64 impracticable; but they are the witnesses of your sweet disposition65 and your noble spirit. There never shall exist between us, under any circumstances, other feelings than those of kin and kindness.’
He rose as if to depart. When she saw that, she started, and seemed to summon all her energies.
‘You are going,’ she exclaimed, ‘and I have said nothing, I have said nothing; and I shall never see you again. Let me tell you what I mean. This fortune is yours; it must be yours. It is an arrow in my heart. Do not think I am speaking from a momentary66 impulse. I know myself. I have lived so much alone, I have had so little to deceive or to delude67 me, that I know myself. If you will not let me do justice you declare my doom68. I cannot live if my existence is the cause of all your prospects being blasted, and the sweetest dreams of your life being defeated. When I die, these riches will be yours; that you cannot prevent. Refuse my present offer, and you seal the fate of that unhappy Flora whose fragile life has hung for years on the memory of your kindness.’
‘You must not say these words, dear Flora; you must not indulge in these gloomy feelings. You must live, and you must live happily. You have every charm and virtue69 which should secure happiness. The duties and the affections of existence will fall to your lot. It is one that will always interest me, for I shall ever be your friend. You have conferred on me one of the most delightful70 of feelings, gratitude71, and for that I bless you. I will soon see you again.’ Mournfully he bade her farewell.
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1 chambers | |
n.房间( chamber的名词复数 );(议会的)议院;卧室;会议厅 | |
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2 converse | |
vi.谈话,谈天,闲聊;adv.相反的,相反 | |
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3 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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4 immolate | |
v.牺牲 | |
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5 perilous | |
adj.危险的,冒险的 | |
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6 arena | |
n.竞技场,运动场所;竞争场所,舞台 | |
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7 revolving | |
adj.旋转的,轮转式的;循环的v.(使)旋转( revolve的现在分词 );细想 | |
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8 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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9 agitated | |
adj.被鼓动的,不安的 | |
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10 kin | |
n.家族,亲属,血缘关系;adj.亲属关系的,同类的 | |
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11 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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12 cloisters | |
n.(学院、修道院、教堂等建筑的)走廊( cloister的名词复数 );回廊;修道院的生活;隐居v.隐退,使与世隔绝( cloister的第三人称单数 ) | |
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13 rumoured | |
adj.谣传的;传说的;风 | |
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14 bracing | |
adj.令人振奋的 | |
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15 frenzied | |
a.激怒的;疯狂的 | |
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16 inevitably | |
adv.不可避免地;必然发生地 | |
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17 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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18 slippers | |
n. 拖鞋 | |
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19 chaos | |
n.混乱,无秩序 | |
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20 glimmering | |
n.微光,隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光,发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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21 entity | |
n.实体,独立存在体,实际存在物 | |
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22 dispersed | |
adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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23 starry | |
adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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24 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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25 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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26 mightiest | |
adj.趾高气扬( mighty的最高级 );巨大的;强有力的;浩瀚的 | |
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27 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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28 forfeited | |
(因违反协议、犯规、受罚等)丧失,失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29 throng | |
n.人群,群众;v.拥挤,群集 | |
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30 civilisation | |
n.文明,文化,开化,教化 | |
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31 subvert | |
v.推翻;暗中破坏;搅乱 | |
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32 rentals | |
n.租费,租金额( rental的名词复数 ) | |
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33 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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34 hostilities | |
n.战争;敌意(hostility的复数);敌对状态;战事 | |
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35 hymn | |
n.赞美诗,圣歌,颂歌 | |
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36 resolute | |
adj.坚决的,果敢的 | |
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37 precipitate | |
adj.突如其来的;vt.使突然发生;n.沉淀物 | |
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38 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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39 meditation | |
n.熟虑,(尤指宗教的)默想,沉思,(pl.)冥想录 | |
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40 flora | |
n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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41 brook | |
n.小河,溪;v.忍受,容让 | |
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42 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
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43 envious | |
adj.嫉妒的,羡慕的 | |
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44 mortification | |
n.耻辱,屈辱 | |
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45 soothed | |
v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 );抚慰;使舒服;减轻痛苦 | |
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46 prospects | |
n.希望,前途(恒为复数) | |
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47 balk | |
n.大方木料;v.妨碍;不愿前进或从事某事 | |
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48 aspirations | |
强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 ); 志向; 发送气音; 发 h 音 | |
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49 ushered | |
v.引,领,陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50 delicacy | |
n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
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51 unwillingly | |
adv.不情愿地 | |
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52 fervently | |
adv.热烈地,热情地,强烈地 | |
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53 killing | |
n.巨额利润;突然赚大钱,发大财 | |
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54 animation | |
n.活泼,兴奋,卡通片/动画片的制作 | |
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55 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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56 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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57 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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58 contemplate | |
vt.盘算,计议;周密考虑;注视,凝视 | |
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59 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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60 displeased | |
a.不快的 | |
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61 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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62 calamities | |
n.灾祸,灾难( calamity的名词复数 );不幸之事 | |
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63 scarlet | |
n.深红色,绯红色,红衣;adj.绯红色的 | |
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64 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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65 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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66 momentary | |
adj.片刻的,瞬息的;短暂的 | |
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67 delude | |
vt.欺骗;哄骗 | |
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68 doom | |
n.厄运,劫数;v.注定,命定 | |
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69 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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70 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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71 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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