Every morning saw a villageful of men shot into it; bricklayers working high up in the gable, stone-cutters dressing13 limestone14 blocks with infinite chip and clink, workmen shovelling16 gravel17, and over all the voice of the ganger arising at intervals18 in earnest, profuse19 profanity. The Dublin artisans worked in silence, except when one or other trolled forth20 one of the ditties of his class—genteel romance, with a waltz refrain, or obscure vulgarity of the three-penny music-hall, yet representing to the singer the songs of Zion in a strange land; while the local gang used every chance of proximity21 to carry on a low growl22 of conversation. Whether it was the party of twenty whose picks and spades were gradually levelling and filling the unfinished platform, or the two whose voices{102} ascended23 in Irish from the depths of the well that they were sinking, the general topic was the same, and was one that intimately concerned Mr. Glasgow.
“Jim Mulloy’s brother told me he seen the paymasther ’ere yestherday in Letther Kyle,” said a withered24 little man, who was mixing mortar25 with extraordinary deliberation. “He was comin’ out o’ the bank, an’ he havin’ the brown bag with him.”
“Maybe it’s little chance oursel’ has of it, whether or no,” responded his satellite, a red-faced youth, whose occupation of eternally shaking sand through a sieve26 might well foster pessimism27. “Don’t ye know well thim isn’t workin’ for nothin’”—indicating the bricklayers on the gable, and the portly and prosperous stonemasons, chipping away in professional silence. “Short thim fellows’d be leggin’ it away to Dublin if they wasn’t gettin’ their pay; an’ d——d well Glasgow knows it’s the likes of us must be waitin’ on him!{103}”
The man who was supplying the sand tilted28 his barrow up on end and leaned on the handles, secure in the knowledge that the ganger was engaged at the other side of the station in raining down expletives upon the heads of the sinkers of the well.
“It’s what they’re sayin’ beyond,” he remarked, jerking his head in the direction of the men working at the platform, “that what has him desthroyed is the bog of Tully. Eight months now they’re sthrivin’ to fill that spot.”
“An’ if they were eight months more,” said the man who was mixing the mortar, “they’ll not fill it.” He took off the tin lid of his pipe and stirred up its embers with a horny fore-finger. “Betther for him not to be intherfarin’ with the likes o’ that place.”
The pessimist29 with the sieve laughed with the superiority of youth, and of a reader of the Daily Independent.
“There’s wather runnin’ undher the ground there in every place,” went on the{104} same speaker, “me father knew that well—sure the bog itsel’ is only sittin’ on it. There’s holes up in Cahirdreen that’s sixty feet deep, and wather runnin’ in the bottom o’ them. ’Tis out undher Tully that wather goes. Sure there was a man had a grand heifer—God knows ye’d sooner be lookin’ at her than atin’ yer dinner—she fell down in one o’ them holes, and went away undher the ground with the wather. As sure as I’m alive, they heard her screeching30 up through the bog!”
The reader of the Independent was half-staggered, and the ganger, who had advanced upon the party with the quietness of a dangerous bull, here broke upon the conversation in gross and fervid31 oratory32.
“They’re gettin’ it in style down there,” said one of the platform party. “By damn, if he comes to talkin’ to me, I’ll throw down the shovel15 and ax him where is me three weeks’ wages!”
“Maybe ye will, Mortheen,” rejoined his next-door neighbour, “an’ maybe this time{105} next week ye’ll be afther him axing him to take ye back.”
“Is it him?” replied the undaunted Mortheen; “little I’d think of breaking his snout for him, or Glasgow’s ayther!”
As he spoke33, the whistle of an engine, thinned by distance, made itself heard, and away on the horizon the steam cloud blossomed like a silver flower against the sunny sky.
When the engine and its accompanying brake-van drew up at the station, Glasgow’s eye could discover no flaw in the exemplary and dead silent industry that prevailed. The shovelfuls flung by Mortheen were heavier and more frequent than those of his fellows, and even the spectacle of Lady Susan emerging in sables34 from the van and passing among the buckets and heaps of lime, did not seem to be noticed by so much as the lift of an eyelid35. It was almost one o’clock, and the ganger, transformed into an official of submissive urbanity, sounded his whistle for the dinner-{106}hour. The clatter of tools died out in the space of two seconds, and the men, swinging themselves into their coats, straggled out into the road, slouching, rolling, hitching36, and apparently37 untouched by the desire of the ordinary human heart to keep step.
Their employer’s picnic-party was already established in the newly-roofed kitchen of the new station, by a fire of chips and bits of plank38. A luncheon39-basket stood on a carpenter’s bench, a champagne40-bottle on the window-sill, and Lady Susan and Slaney were sitting on boxes by the fire, eating game pie. Lady Susan had violets in her toque, and possessed41 more strikingly than usual that air of being very handsome that is not always given to handsome people. Behind her the empty window framed a gaunt mountain peak, a lake that frittered a myriad42 sparkles from its wealth of restless silver, and the grey and faint purple of the naked wood beyond it. It seemed too great a background for her{107} powdered cheek and her upward glances at her host.
“How far do you want us to walk?” she said, looking over her shoulder at the view, “all the way to that wood there? How silly of you to say the bikes would be no use!”
“I don’t dispute the fact that they would have been of use to you and Major Bunbury,” replied her host, cutting the wires of the second bottle of champagne.
“It’s so contemptible43 of you not to learn the bike,” she went on, with a manner half discontented, half brusque. “It’s all prejudice.”
“I’m beginning to cultivate prejudice,” said Glasgow, retaining the cork44 with skill, “it’s so respectable. Churchwardens and generals and heads of departments are always prejudiced.”
“I didn’t know that you were so wonderfully addicted45 to respectability,” said Lady Susan, with a laugh and a look that made Slaney feel rather hot—“since when, may{108} I ask?” Lady Susan was too careless and too little disposed for the toils46 of finesse47 to foster a flirtation48 for its own sake; when she did find a sufficing motive49, these same qualities created a startling directness of method.
“Since when?” repeated Glasgow. “Oh, since I took to church-going, I suppose. Perhaps Miss Morris could tell you!”
Slaney had become accustomed to these morsels50 flung to the memory of a past, but they never failed to remind her of the moment when she had placed herself for ever at a disadvantage.
“I’m not a very good authority,” she said, with a smile as cold as the January wind; “Uncle Charles has a better memory for things connected with church-going.”
The intention to be unresponsive often makes itself felt more disagreeably than a repartee51. It annoyed Glasgow, even while he set it down as an indirect tribute to his desertion.
“I refuse to be described as a thing{109} connected with church-going,” he said, looking straight at her and laughing; “I thought I had other associations.”
Major Bunbury looked up quickly, not at Glasgow, but at Slaney. Her flushed silence was obvious enough for any one, except Lady Susan, who merely supposed that champagne at luncheon was having its almost inevitable52 result on the complexion53. Perhaps it was by contrast that Glasgow’s habitual54 pallor seemed pastiness, and his easy manner something that struck Major Bunbury as being like bad form.
“I say,” remarked Lady Susan, “when are we to go on and see this wonderful waterfall, or whatever it is? Where are the cigarettes? Let’s light up before we start.”
“I think you’d better not,” said Glasgow, “the men will be back directly.”
“Well, what do they matter?”
“I think you’d better not,” he repeated, in that intimate tone that seemed so uncalled for.{110}
Lady Susan put up her eyebrows55 with an expression of petulant56 inquiry57, and something as near a pout58 as was possible for a person not versed59 in the habit, but she shut her cigarette-case. Major Bunbury thought he had never seen her look so foolish.
“Is she going to lose her head about him?” was the question that was suddenly driven in upon him. Until to-day, he thought she was merely occupying idleness and exhibiting indifferent taste.
He and Slaney walked behind her and Glasgow along the muddy road, in that double tête-à-tête now become inevitable; the wind blew cold and sweet off the lake and off the bog—cold, and sweet, and inimitably Irish, like Slaney herself, as Major Bunbury was at this moment capable of expressing it, if he had known that he was making the comparison. His mind had unconsciously stored up many such impressions of her, to what end it had not occurred to him to inquire. The road crossed a trout-stream, and by the bridge{111} Glasgow and Lady Susan turned off and began to follow the bank of the little river through a stunted60 and intricate wood. In the track by which they made their way it was not possible to walk side by side; Bunbury went first, sometimes holding back a branch, sometimes giving her his hand when the rocks of the river brink61 thrust their slippery shoulders across the way. They spoke little, and by the gift of imaginative sympathy that was hers for those who interested her, she knew that his silence was vexed62 with misgiving63 about Lady Susan.
The river was brimming full, and, as it raced, the black water and the cold froth washed in deep eddies64 between the rocks; the sunlit bank opposite was red with withered bracken and sedge; the soft booming of a waterfall came to the ear. Passing round the curve they saw the thick and creamy column of water plunge65 from its edge of low crag to its ruin among the boulders66; above it two or three battered67 fir-{112}trees stood on the high ground, grey and straight and rigid68 beside the lavish69 rush and confusion.
Lady Susan was leaning against one of the fir-trees, smoking her cigarette, and looking fixedly70 and dreamily at the water; Glasgow, with her fur-lined coat on his arm, was standing71 very close to her, looking as if he had said something to which she had not as yet replied. She did not move when Slaney and Bunbury joined them, and was unaffectedly uninterested in general conversation. Slaney had never thought her so handsome; her eyes seemed to look out of her heart and into a remote place unseen of others, instead of summing up things around her with her wonted practical glance.
It was against all theories of woman-kind, yet the fact remained that Slaney liked Lady Susan.
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1
pertinent
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| adj.恰当的；贴切的；中肯的；有关的；相干的 | |
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2
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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3
heralded
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| v.预示( herald的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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5
bog
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| n.沼泽；室...陷入泥淖 | |
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trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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7
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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recurrence
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| n.复发，反复，重现 | |
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9
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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10
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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11
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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12
landmark
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| n.陆标，划时代的事，地界标 | |
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13
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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14
limestone
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| n.石灰石 | |
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15
shovel
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| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
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16
shovelling
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| v.铲子( shovel的现在分词 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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17
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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18
intervals
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| 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 | |
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19
profuse
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| adj.很多的，大量的，极其丰富的 | |
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20
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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22
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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23
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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25
mortar
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| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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26
sieve
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| n.筛，滤器，漏勺 | |
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27
pessimism
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| n.悲观者，悲观主义者，厌世者 | |
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28
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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pessimist
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| n.悲观者；悲观主义者；厌世 | |
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30
screeching
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| v.发出尖叫声( screech的现在分词 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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31
fervid
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| adj.热情的；炽热的 | |
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32
oratory
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| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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33
spoke
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| 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 | |
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34
sables
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| n.紫貂( sable的名词复数 )；紫貂皮；阴暗的；暗夜 | |
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35
eyelid
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| n.眼睑，眼皮 | |
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36
hitching
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| 搭乘； （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的现在分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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37
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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38
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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39
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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40
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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41
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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42
myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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43
contemptible
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| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
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44
cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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45
addicted
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| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
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46
toils
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| 网 | |
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47
finesse
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| n.精密技巧，灵巧，手腕 | |
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48
flirtation
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| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
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49
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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50
morsels
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| n.一口( morsel的名词复数 )；（尤指食物）小块，碎屑 | |
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51
repartee
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| n.机敏的应答 | |
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52
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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53
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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54
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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55
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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56
petulant
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| adj.性急的，暴躁的 | |
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57
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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58
pout
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| v.撅嘴；绷脸；n.撅嘴；生气，不高兴 | |
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59
versed
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| adj. 精通，熟练 | |
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60
stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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61
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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62
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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63
misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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64
eddies
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| （水、烟等的）漩涡，涡流( eddy的名词复数 ) | |
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65
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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66
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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67
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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68
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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69
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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70
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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71
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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