From the train arriving at East Burgen station at eight o'clock that same evening there alighted a youth who seemed suddenly to have taken manhood upon his shoulders. He stood on the platform and pointed1 out to a porter, who called him Master James, a large Gladstone bag and a new sword-case.
Although he could have carried the luggage under one arm and the porter under the other, he carefully refrained from offering to convey anything except his own walking-stick. Such is the force of education. This boy had been brought up to expect service. He was to be served all his life, and so the sword-case had to be left to the porter whom he envied.
During the journey down—between the farthest-removed stations—the sword had flashed more than once in the dim light of the carriage lamp. Ah! those first swords! Not Toledo nor Damascus can produce their equal in after years.
The porter, honest father of two private soldiers of the line himself, saw it all—at once. He carried the sword-case with an exaggerated reverence3 and forbore from remark just then. Afterwards, beneath the station-lamp, he looked at the shilling—the first of its kind from that quarter—with a pathetic, meaning smile.
It was Saturday night. The streets of East Burgen were rather crowded, and Jem Agar—with elbows well in and the whip at the regulation angle across old Lasher4's face, who could not help squinting5 at the pendant thong—shouted to the country-folk in a new voice of mighty6 deep register.
He carried his boyish head stiffly, and had for ever discarded a turn-down collar. At first he kept old Lasher at a respectful distance, asking in a somewhat curt7 and business-like manner after the stables. Then gradually, as they bowled along the country road in the familiar hush8 of an April evening, he thawed9, and proceeded to vouchsafe10 to that steady coachman a series of very interesting details of military matters in general and the Indian army in particular.
“Well, I'm sure, Mas—sir,” opined Mr. Lasher at length; “if there's any one as has got into his right rut, so to speak, in this world, it's you. I always said you was a born soldier.”
“Ah—then you've heard that I've got my commission?” inquired Jem airily, as if he had had many such in bygone years.
“Oh yes, sir! Miss Dora it was that told me.”
Somehow this caused a little silence.
Truth to tell, Dora had lost her rank as the most beautiful and accomplished11 maiden12 in Christendom. This situation was at that moment occupied by a young person hight Evelina Louisa Barmond, sister to Billy Barmond of the Hundred and second, a veteran fellow-soldier and comrade who had jumped five feet six at the Sandhurst sports a year before. Miss Evelina Louisa was twenty-four, five years Dora's senior, and only three years and two months older than Jem Agar himself. He had spoken to her twice, and thought about her in the intervals14 allowed by such weighty matters as uniform and the new sword, which, however, required almost constant consideration at that time.
“Well,” said Jem, with exaggerated nonchalance15, “I am afraid I should never be fit for anything else.”
Whereat Lasher laughed and touched his hat. He made it a rule to salute16 a joke in that manner, either from a general respect for humour, or looking at it in the light of a mental gratuity17 offered by his betters.
“There's one thing you can do, Master Jem, sir—leastwise, which you can do as well as any man in the British army,” he said, with pardonable pride, “and that is sit a 'orse.”
“Thanks to you, Lasher,” Jem was kind enough to say with a flourish of his whip.
The dignity was now ebbing18 fast, and by the time that the clever little cob swung round the gate-post into the avenue of Stagholme, Jem and Lasher were fully2 re-established on the old familiar footing.
There was a bright moon overhead, and at the end of the avenue beyond the dip where the lake gleamed mysteriously, the gables and solid towers of Stagholme stood peacefully confessed.
Jem Agar was firmly convinced that England only contained one Stagholme, and perhaps he was right. Six miles from the nearest station, the great house stands self-sufficient, self-contained. The moat, now dry and cultivated, is still traceable, and requires bridging in two places. Surrounded by vast park-like meadowland, where huge trees guard against cutting wind or prying19 modern journalistic instinct, the house is only approached by a private road.
Inside the gates of this road there is something ancient and feudal20 in the very scent21 of the air. The tones of the big bell striking the hour over the wide portico22 die away over the lands that still belong to Stagholme, despite the vicissitudes23 through which all ancient families run.
Jem, however, whose childhood and youth had been passed amidst companions with names as good as his, had learnt long ago to keep his pride to himself. He was Jem Agar, and the family name seemed somehow to belong exclusively to his father still, although that thorough old sportsman had lain for three years and more beneath the quiet turf of the little churchyard within his own park gates.
As he pulled up at the door this was thrown open, and within its frame of light he saw the gracious form of his stepmother waiting to welcome him. Behind her, in the shadow, and amidst the decoration of staghorns, ancient pike and hanger24, loomed25 a tall dark figure startlingly in keeping with the semi-monastic architecture of the house. This was Sister Cecilia. She was always thus—behind Mrs. Agar, with clasped hands and a vaguely26 approving smile, as if Mrs. Agar conferred a benefit upon suffering humanity by the mere27 act of existing.
A slightly bored expression came into Jem's patient eyes. It was not that he had very much in common with his stepmother, although he had an honest affection for her; but he instinctively28 disliked Sister Cecilia and all her works. These latter were of the class termed “good.” That is to say, this lady, the spinster daughter of a former rector in the neighbourhood, considered that the earthly livery of a marvellous black bonnet29 which was almost a cap, and quite hideous30, justified31 a shameless interference in the most intimate affairs of her neighbours, rich and poor.
Under the cover of charity she committed a thousand social sins. She constituted herself mother-confessor to all who were weak enough to confide32 in her or seek her advice, and in soul she was the most arrant33 time-server who ever flattered a rich woman.
Jem distrusted her soft and “holy” ways, more especially her speech, which had the lofty condescension34 of the saved towards the damned in prospective35. In his calmly commanding way he had, months before, forbidden Dora Glynde to kiss Sister Cecilia, because that ostentatiously virtuous36 person was in the habit of kissing the maids when she met them; and he maintained that this Christian37 practice, if very estimable theoretically, was socially an insult either to the mistress or the maid.
In view of the important changes in his own life which were about to supervene, that is to say, firstly, his departure for India, and secondly38, his coming of age before he could hope to return from that land of promise, he had counted on a quiet evening with his mother. Moreover, he was vaguely conscious of the fact that a right-minded person would have carefully abstained39 from accepting the most pressing invitation to form a third that evening.
In view of this Jem Agar had recourse to the last refuge of the simple. He retired40 within himself, and, so to speak, shut the door. He had dined with these women before, and knew that the conversation would follow its usual mazy course through a forest of cross-questions upon all subjects, and notably41 upon those intimate matters which were essentially42 his own business.
Sister Cecilia, good mistaken soul that she was, tried her best. She was lively in a Sunday-school-tea style. She was by turns tender and warlike as occasion seemed to demand; but no scrap43 or tittle of personal information did she extract from Jem, stiffly on guard behind his high collar. Mrs. Agar was excited and failed utterly44 to follow the wiser footsteps of her bosom45 friends. She talked such arrant nonsense about India, the Goorkhas, and matters military, that more than once Jem glanced at the imperturbable46 servants with misgiving47.
The next day was Sunday, and after morning service Jem eagerly accepted an invitation to have supper at the Rectory after evening church. Sister Cecilia was staying from Saturday till Monday, which alone was sufficient reason for this young soldier to pass his last evening in Stagholme under another than his own historic roof. With her in the house he knew that the chances of serious conversation were small; for she encouraged such topics as the possibility of sending fresh eggs packed in lime to the Goorkhas of his prospective half-company. So Jem retired within himself, and finally left England without having said many things which should have been said between stepmother and son.
At the Rectory he found a very different atmosphere—that air of cheerful intellectuality which comes from the presence of cultivated men and women.
The Rector held strong views on the rare virtue48 of minding one's own business, and in loyalty49 to such, deemed it right to refrain from mentioning his opinion as to the wisdom of selecting a native branch of the military service for the heir to Stagholme.
The supper passed pleasantly enough in the discussion of general topics all bordering on the great question they had at heart. They were like people seeking for each other in the dark around the edge of a pit—the pit being India. Dora, and Dora alone, laughed and treated matters lightly. Mrs. Glynde blundered several times, and stepping backwards50 over an abyss of years, called the new soldier “darling” more than once. Twice she required helping51 out by Dora, and on the second occasion something was said which Jem remembered afterwards with a stolid52 British memory.
“Jem,” said the girl, buttering a biscuit with a light hand, “you should write a diary. All great men write diaries which their friends publish afterwards.”
“I do not think,” replied Jem, with that contempt for the pen which the possession of a new sword ever justifies53, “that writing a diary is much in my line.”
“Ah, you can never tell till you try. Of course it would not be published straight off. Some literary person would be hired to cross the t's and dot the i's.”
There was a little pause. Dora glanced at Jem Agar, and something made him say:
“All right. I'll try.”
“Who knows?” said the Rector, with a smile of indulgent affection. “There may be great literary capacity lying dormant54 in Jem. The worst of a diary is that one may come to look at it in after years, when one finds a very different story has been written from what one intended to write.”
“Oh,” said Dora, lightly skipping over the chasm55 of gravity, “that is Providence56. We must blame Providence for these little contretemps. Some one must be blamed, and Providence obviously does not mind.”
Jem laughed—somewhat lamely57; but still it was a laugh. Supper was despatched somehow—as last meals are. Some of us never forget the flavour of those cups of tea gulped58 down in the gorgeous steamer-saloon while the stewards59 get the hand luggage on board. It was a late meal on Sunday evening at the Rectory, and the servants soon followed their betters into the drawing-room for prayers.
Then the Rector lighted his last cigarette, and Mrs. Glynde began to show symptoms of a patch of pink in either cheek.
At last Jem rose—awkwardly—in the midst of a sally from Dora, who seemed afraid to stop speaking.
“Must be going,” he said; and he shook hands with the Rector.
Mrs. Glynde, with nervous deliberation, kissed him and squeezed his hand jerkily.
“Dora—will open the door for you,” she said, with an apprehensive60 glance towards her husband, who, however, showed no inclination61 to move from his chair.
Dora not only opened the door, but left it open, and walked with him across the lawn towards the stile. When they reached it there was a little pause. He vaulted62 over and she quietly followed—without his proffered63 assistance.
“You don't seem to care!” he said gruffly—with his new voice.
“Oh, don't!” she whispered imploringly64.
And they walked on beneath the murmuring trees where the yellow moonlight stole in and out between the trunks. It was not cheerful. For when Nature joins her sadness to the sad libretto65 of life she usually breaks a heart or two. Fortunately for us we mostly act our tragedies in the wrong scenery—the scenery that was painted for a comedy.
“I don't understand it,” said the girl at length.
“I suppose it is in order to save money for Arthur.”
“If I don't, go,” replied Jem, “it will be a question of letting Stagholme.”
Dora knew of the ancient horror of such a necessity, handed down from one Agar to another, like a family tradition. Moreover, women seem to respect men who have some simple creed66 and hold to it simply. Are they not one of our creeds67 themselves, though by seeking for rights instead of contenting themselves with privileges, some of them try to make atheists of us?
“So,” she said nevertheless, “you are being sacrificed to Arthur!”
He answered nothing, but he had forgotten for ever Miss Evelina Louisa Barmond.
“When do you go?” asked Dora suddenly, with something in her voice which no one had ever heard before. She was startled at it herself.
He waited until the soft old church bell finished striking ten, then he answered:
“To-morrow!”
They had reached the farthest limit of the wood and stood at the park railing.
“Then—,” she paused, and seemed to collect herself as if for a leap; “then good-bye, Jem!”
He took the outstretched hand; his large grasp seemed to swallow it up.
“Good-bye!” he said.
He climbed the rail without agility68, paused for a moment, and the moonlight happened to gleam on his face through the gently waving branches as he looked down at her in dumb distress69.
Then he turned and walked away across the shimmering70 grass.
A few minutes later Dora re-entered the drawing room. Her father and mother were seated close together, closer than she had seen them for years. Mrs. Glynde was pale, with two scarlet71 patches.
Dora collected her belongings72, preparatory to going to bed.
“Jem,” she said quietly, “is absurdly proud of his new honours. It affects his chin, which has gone up exactly one inch.”
Then she went to bed.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
reverence
|
|
| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
lasher
|
|
| n.堰，堰下的水溏，鞭打者；装石工 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
5
squinting
|
|
| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
curt
|
|
| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
hush
|
|
| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
thawed
|
|
| 解冻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
vouchsafe
|
|
| v.惠予，准许 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
intervals
|
|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
nonchalance
|
|
| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
salute
|
|
| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
gratuity
|
|
| n.赏钱，小费 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
ebbing
|
|
| （指潮水）退( ebb的现在分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
prying
|
|
| adj.爱打听的v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的现在分词 )；撬开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
feudal
|
|
| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
scent
|
|
| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
portico
|
|
| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
vicissitudes
|
|
| n.变迁，世事变化；变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 )；盛衰兴废 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
hanger
|
|
| n.吊架，吊轴承；挂钩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
loomed
|
|
| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
vaguely
|
|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
instinctively
|
|
| adv.本能地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
bonnet
|
|
| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
justified
|
|
| a.正当的，有理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
confide
|
|
| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
arrant
|
|
| adj.极端的；最大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
condescension
|
|
| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
prospective
|
|
| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
virtuous
|
|
| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
secondly
|
|
| adv.第二，其次 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
abstained
|
|
| v.戒（尤指酒），戒除( abstain的过去式和过去分词 )；弃权（不投票） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
notably
|
|
| adv.值得注意地，显著地，尤其地，特别地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
essentially
|
|
| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
scrap
|
|
| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
imperturbable
|
|
| adj.镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
misgiving
|
|
| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
loyalty
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
backwards
|
|
| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
helping
|
|
| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
stolid
|
|
| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
justifies
|
|
| 证明…有理( justify的第三人称单数 )； 为…辩护； 对…作出解释； 为…辩解（或辩护） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
dormant
|
|
| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
chasm
|
|
| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
providence
|
|
| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
lamely
|
|
| 一瘸一拐地，不完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
gulped
|
|
| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
stewards
|
|
| （轮船、飞机等的）乘务员( steward的名词复数 )； （俱乐部、旅馆、工会等的）管理员； （大型活动的）组织者； （私人家中的）管家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
apprehensive
|
|
| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
vaulted
|
|
| adj.拱状的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
proffered
|
|
| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
imploringly
|
|
| adv. 恳求地, 哀求地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
libretto
|
|
| n.歌剧剧本，歌曲歌词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
creed
|
|
| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
creeds
|
|
| （尤指宗教）信条，教条( creed的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
agility
|
|
| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
shimmering
|
|
| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
scarlet
|
|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
belongings
|
|
| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |