“Come in,” he mumbled3, without opening his eyes. The latch4 clicked, a hand seized him by the shoulder and he was rudely shaken.
“Get up, get up!”
“Get up!” she repeated. “You must go and send the telegram. Don’t you remember?”
Denis dressed as quickly as he could and ran up the road to the village post office. Satisfaction glowed within him as he returned. He had sent a long telegram, which would in a few hours evoke9 an answer ordering him back to town at once—on urgent business. It was an act performed, a decisive step taken—and he so rarely took decisive steps; he felt pleased with himself. It was with a whetted10 appetite that he came in to breakfast.
“Good-morning,” said Mr. Scogan. “I hope you’re better.”
“Better?”
Denis tried to laugh away the impeachment12. “Was I?” he lightly asked.
“I wish,” said Mr. Scogan, “that I had nothing worse to prey13 on my mind. I should be a happy man.”
“One is only happy in action,” Denis enunciated14, thinking of the telegram.
He looked out of the window. Great florid baroque clouds floated high in the blue heaven. A wind stirred among the trees, and their shaken foliage15 twinkled and glittered like metal in the sun. Everything seemed marvellously beautiful. At the thought that he would soon be leaving all this beauty he felt a momentary16 pang17; but he comforted himself by recollecting18 how decisively he was acting19.
“Action,” he repeated aloud, and going over to the sideboard he helped himself to an agreeable mixture of bacon and fish.
Breakfast over, Denis repaired to the terrace, and, sitting there, raised the enormous bulwark20 of the “Times” against the possible assaults of Mr. Scogan, who showed an unappeased desire to go on talking about the Universe. Secure behind the crackling pages, he meditated21. In the light of this brilliant morning the emotions of last night seemed somehow rather remote. And what if he had seen them embracing in the moonlight? Perhaps it didn’t mean much after all. And even if it did, why shouldn’t he stay? He felt strong enough to stay, strong enough to be aloof22, disinterested23, a mere24 friendly acquaintance. And even if he weren’t strong enough...
“What time do you think the telegram will arrive?” asked Mary suddenly, thrusting in upon him over the top of the paper.
Denis started guiltily. “I don’t know at all,” he said.
“I was only wondering,” said Mary, “because there’s a very good train at 3.27, and it would be nice if you could catch it, wouldn’t it?”
“Awfully nice,” he agreed weakly. He felt as though he were making arrangements for his own funeral. Train leaves Waterloo 3.27. No flowers...Mary was gone. No, he was blowed if he’d let himself be hurried down to the Necropolis like this. He was blowed. The sight of Mr. Scogan looking out, with a hungry expression, from the drawing-room window made him precipitately25 hoist26 the “Times” once more. For a long while he kept it hoisted27. Lowering it at last to take another cautious peep at his surroundings, he found himself, with what astonishment28! confronted by Anne’s faint, amused, malicious29 smile. She was standing before him,—the woman who was a tree,—the swaying grace of her movement arrested in a pose that seemed itself a movement.
“Oh, about half an hour, I suppose,” she said airily. “You were so very deep in your paper—head over ears—I didn’t like to disturb you.”
“You look lovely this morning,” Denis exclaimed. It was the first time he had ever had the courage to utter a personal remark of the kind.
Anne held up her hand as though to ward31 off a blow. “Don’t bludgeon me, please.” She sat down on the bench beside him. He was a nice boy, she thought, quite charming; and Gombauld’s violent insistences were really becoming rather tiresome32. “Why don’t you wear white trousers?” she asked. “I like you so much in white trousers.”
“They’re at the wash,” Denis replied rather curtly33. This white-trouser business was all in the wrong spirit. He was just preparing a scheme to manoeuvre34 the conversation back to the proper path, when Mr. Scogan suddenly darted35 out of the house, crossed the terrace with clockwork rapidity, and came to a halt in front of the bench on which they were seated.
“To go on with our interesting conversation about the cosmos,” he began, “I become more and more convinced that the various parts of the concern are fundamentally discrete36...But would you mind, Denis, moving a shade to your right?” He wedged himself between them on the bench. “And if you would shift a few inches to the left, my dear Anne...Thank you. Discrete, I think, was what I was saying.”
“You were,” said Anne. Denis was speechless.
They were taking their after luncheon37 coffee in the library when the telegram arrived. Denis blushed guiltily as he took the orange envelope from the salver and tore it open. “Return at once. Urgent family business.” It was too ridiculous. As if he had any family business! Wouldn’t it be best just to crumple38 the thing up and put it in his pocket without saying anything about it? He looked up; Mary’s large blue china eyes were fixed39 upon him, seriously, penetratingly. He blushed more deeply than ever, hesitated in a horrible uncertainty40.
“What’s your telegram about?” Mary asked significantly.
He lost his head, “I’m afraid,” he mumbled, “I’m afraid this means I shall have to go back to town at once.” He frowned at the telegram ferociously41.
“But that’s absurd, impossible,” cried Anne. She had been standing by the window talking to Gombauld; but at Denis’s words she came swaying across the room towards him.
“It’s urgent,” he repeated desperately42.
“But you’ve only been here such a short time,” Anne protested.
“I know,” he said, utterly43 miserable44. Oh, if only she could understand! Women were supposed to have intuition.
“If he must go, he must,” put in Mary firmly.
“Yes, I must.” He looked at the telegram again for inspiration. “You see, it’s urgent family business,” he explained.
Priscilla got up from her chair in some excitement. “I had a distinct presentiment45 of this last night,” she said. “A distinct presentiment.”
“A mere coincidence, no doubt,” said Mary, brushing Mrs. Wimbush out of the conversation. “There’s a very good train at 3.27.” She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. “You’ll have nice time to pack.”
“I’ll order the motor at once.” Henry Wimbush rang the bell. The funeral was well under way. It was awful, awful.
“I am wretched you should be going,” said Anne.
Denis turned towards her; she really did look wretched. He abandoned himself hopelessly, fatalistically to his destiny. This was what came of action, of doing something decisive. If only he’d just let things drift! If only...
“I shall miss your conversation,” said Mr. Scogan.
Mary looked at the clock again. “I think perhaps you ought to go and pack,” she said.
Obediently Denis left the room. Never again, he said to himself, never again would he do anything decisive. Camlet, West Bowlby, Knipswich for Timpany, Spavin Delawarr; and then all the other stations; and then, finally, London. The thought of the journey appalled46 him. And what on earth was he going to do in London when he got there? He climbed wearily up the stairs. It was time for him to lay himself in his coffin47.
The car was at the door—the hearse. The whole party had assembled to see him go. Good-bye, good-bye. Mechanically he tapped the barometer48 that hung in the porch; the needle stirred perceptibly to the left. A sudden smile lighted up his lugubrious49 face.
“‘It sinks and I am ready to depart,’” he said, quoting Landor with an exquisite50 aptness. He looked quickly round from face to face. Nobody had noticed. He climbed into the hearse.
The End
The End
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收听单词发音
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1
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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dozy
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| adj.困倦的；愚笨的 | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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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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tormentor
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| n. 使苦痛之人, 使苦恼之物, 侧幕 =tormenter | |
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8
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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evoke
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| vt.唤起，引起，使人想起 | |
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10
whetted
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| v.（在石头上）磨（刀、斧等）( whet的过去式和过去分词 )；引起，刺激（食欲、欲望、兴趣等） | |
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cosmos
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| n.宇宙；秩序，和谐 | |
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12
impeachment
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| n.弹劾；控告；怀疑 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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enunciated
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| v.（清晰地）发音( enunciate的过去式和过去分词 )；确切地说明 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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18
recollecting
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| v.记起，想起( recollect的现在分词 ) | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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bulwark
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| n.堡垒，保障，防御 | |
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meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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precipitately
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| adv.猛进地 | |
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hoist
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| n.升高，起重机，推动；v.升起，升高，举起 | |
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27
hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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29
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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31
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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manoeuvre
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| n.策略，调动；v.用策略，调动 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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discrete
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| adj.个别的，分离的，不连续的 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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crumple
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| v.把...弄皱，满是皱痕，压碎，崩溃 | |
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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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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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ferociously
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| 野蛮地，残忍地 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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45
presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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46
appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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47
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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48
barometer
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| n.气压表，睛雨表，反应指标 | |
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49
lugubrious
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| adj.悲哀的，忧郁的 | |
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50
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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