“My dear,” said Cravister—for it was in Cravister’s high-ceilinged Bloomsbury room that Dick was thus unveiling his distress1 of spirit—“my dear, this isn’t a revival2 meeting. You speak as though there were an urgent need for your soul to be saved from hell fire. It’s not as bad as that, you know.”
“But it is a revival meeting,” Dick shouted in exasperation—“it is. I’m a revivalist. You don’t know what it’s like to have a feeling about your soul. I’m terrifyingly earnest; you don’t seem to understand that. I have all the feelings of Bunyan without his religion. I regard the salvation3 of my soul as important. [Pg 43]How simple everything would be if one could go out with those creatures in bonnets4 and sing hymns5 like, ‘Hip6, hip for the blood of the Lamb, hurrah7!’ or that exquisite8 one:
“‘The bells of Hell ring tingalingaling
For you, but not for me.
For me the angels singalingaling;
They’ve got the goods for me.’
Unhappily it’s impossible.”
“Your ideas,” said Cravister in his flutiest voice, “are somewhat Gothic. I think I can understand them, though of course I don’t sympathize or approve. My advice to people in doubt about what course of action they ought to pursue is always the same: do what you want to.”
“Cravister, you’re hopeless,” said Dick, laughing. “I suppose I am rather Gothic, but I do feel that the question of ought as well as of want does arise.”
Dick had come to his old friend for advice about Life. What ought he to do? The indefatigable9 pen of Pearl Bellairs solved for him the financial problem. There remained only the moral problem: how could he best expend10 his energies and [Pg 44]his time? Should he devote himself to knowing or doing, philosophy or politics? He felt in himself the desire to search for truth and the ability—who knows?—to find it. On the other hand, the horrors of the world about him seemed to call on him to put forth11 all his strength in an effort to ameliorate what was so patently and repulsively12 bad. Actually, what had to be decided13 was this: Should he devote himself to the researches necessary to carry out the plan, long ripening14 in his brain, of a new system of scientific philosophy; or should he devote his powers and Pearl Bellairs’ money in propaganda that should put life into the English revolutionary movement? Great moral principles were in the balance. And Cravister’s advice was, do what you want to!
After a month of painful indecision, Dick, who was a real Englishman, arrived at a satisfactory compromise. He started work on his new Synthetic15 Philosophy, and at the same time joined the staff of the Weekly International, to which he contributed both money and articles. The weeks slipped pleasantly and profitably along. The secret of happiness lies in [Pg 45]congenial work, and no one could have worked harder than Dick, unless it was the indefatigable Pearl Bellairs, whose nightly output of five thousand words sufficed to support not only Dick but the Weekly International as well. These months were perhaps the happiest period of Dick’s life. He had friends, money, liberty; he knew himself to be working well; and it was an extra, a supererogatory happiness that he began at this time to get on much better with his sister Millicent than he had ever done before. Millicent had come up to Oxford16 as a student at St. Mungo Hall in Dick’s third year. She had grown into a very efficient and very intelligent young woman. A particularly handsome young woman as well. She was boyishly slender, and a natural grace kept on breaking through the somewhat rigid17 deportment, which she always tried to impose upon herself, in little beautiful gestures and movements that made the onlooker18 catch his breath with astonished pleasure.
“Wincing she was as is a jolly colt,
Straight as a mast and upright as a bolt:”
Chaucer had as good an eye for youthful [Pg 46]grace as for mormals and bristly nostrils19 and thick red jovial20 villainousness.
Millicent lost no time in making her presence at St. Mungo’s felt. Second- and third-year heroines might snort at the forwardness of a mere21 fresh-girl, might resent the complete absence of veneration22 for their glory exhibited by this youthful bejauna; Millicent pursued her course unmoved. She founded new societies and put fresh life into the institutions which already existed at St. Mungo’s to take cocoa and discuss the problems of the universe. She played hockey like a tornado23, and she worked alarmingly hard. Decidedly, Millicent was a Force, very soon the biggest Force in the St. Mungo world. In her fifth term she organized the famous St. Mungo general strike, which compelled the authorities to relax a few of the more intolerably tyrannical and anachronistic24 rules restricting the liberty of the students. It was she who went, on behalf of the strikers, to interview the redoubtable25 Miss Prosser, Principal of St. Mungo’s. The redoubtable Miss Prosser looked grim and invited her to sit down, Millicent sat down and, without [Pg 47]quailing, delivered a short but pointed26 speech attacking the fundamental principles of the St. Mungo system of discipline.
“Your whole point of view,” she assured Miss Prosser, “is radically27 wrong. It’s an insult to the female sex; it’s positively28 obscene. Your root assumption is simply this: that we’re all in a chronic29 state of sexual excitement; leave us alone for a moment and we’ll immediately put our desires into practice. It’s disgusting. It makes me blush. After all, Miss Prosser, we are a college of intelligent women, not an asylum30 of nymphomaniacs.”
For the first time in her career, Miss Prosser had to admit herself beaten. The authorities gave in—reluctantly and on only a few points; but the principle had been shaken, and that, as Millicent pointed out, was what really mattered.
Dick used to see a good deal of his sister while he was still in residence at Canteloup, and after he had gone down he used to come regularly once a fortnight during term to visit her. That horrible mutual31 reserve, which poisons the social life of most families and which [Pg 48]had effectively made of their brotherly and sisterly relation a prolonged discomfort32 in the past, began to disappear. They became the best of friends.
“I like you, Dick, a great deal better than I did,” said Millicent one day as they were parting at the gate of St. Mungo’s after a long walk together.
Dick took off his hat and bowed. “My dear, I reciprocate33 the sentiment. And, what’s more, I esteem34 and admire you. So there.”
Millicent curtsied, and they laughed. They both felt very happy.
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1
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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2
revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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3
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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4
bonnets
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| n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 )；（烟囱等的）覆盖物；（苏格兰男子的）无边呢帽；（女子戴的）任何一种帽子 | |
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5
hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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6
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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7
hurrah
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| int.好哇，万岁，乌拉 | |
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8
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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9
indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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10
expend
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| vt.花费，消费，消耗 | |
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11
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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12
repulsively
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| adv.冷淡地 | |
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13
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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14
ripening
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的现在分词 )；熟化；熟成 | |
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15
synthetic
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| adj.合成的，人工的；综合的；n.人工制品 | |
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16
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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17
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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18
onlooker
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| n.旁观者，观众 | |
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19
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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20
jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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21
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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22
veneration
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| n.尊敬，崇拜 | |
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23
tornado
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| n.飓风，龙卷风 | |
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24
anachronistic
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| adj.时代错误的 | |
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25
redoubtable
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| adj.可敬的；可怕的 | |
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26
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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27
radically
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| ad.根本地，本质地 | |
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28
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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29
chronic
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| adj.(疾病)长期未愈的，慢性的；极坏的 | |
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30
asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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31
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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32
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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33
reciprocate
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| v.往复运动；互换；回报，酬答 | |
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34
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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