At these times he watched with torturing fluctuations4 the signs of solicitude5 in Hope, the timid withdrawing of her fingers, the questioning of her eyes, the weary drooping6 of her whole expression. Often he cursed himself as a wretch7 for paining that pure and noble heart. Yet there were moments when a vague inexpressible delight stole in; a glimmering8 of shame-faced pleasure as he pondered on this visible dawning of distrust; a sudden taste of freedom in being no longer fettered9 by her confidence. By degrees he led himself, still half ashamed, to the dream that she might yet be somehow weaned from him, and leave his conscience free. By constantly building upon this thought, and putting aside all others, he made room upon the waste of his life for a house of cards, glittering, unsubstantial, lofty,—until there came some sudden breath that swept it away; and then he began on it again.
In one of those moments of more familiar faith which still alternated with these cold, sad intervals10, she asked him with some sudden impulse, how he should feel if she loved another? She said it, as if guided by an instinct, to sound the depth of his love for her. Starting with amazement11, he looked at her, and then, divining her feeling, he only replied by an expression of reproach, and by kissing her hands with an habitual12 tenderness that had grown easy to him,—and they were such lovely hands! But his heart told him that no spent swimmer ever transferred more eagerly to another’s arms some precious burden beneath which he was consciously sinking, than he would yield her up to any one whom she would consent to love, and who could be trusted with the treasure. Until that ecstasy13 of release should come, he would do his duty,—yes, his duty.
When these flushed hopes grew pale, as they soon did, he could at least play with the wan14 fancies that took their place. Hour after hour, while she lavished15 upon him the sweetness of her devotion, he was half consciously shaping with his tongue some word of terrible revealing that should divide them like a spell, if spoken, and then recalling it before it left his lips. Daily and hourly he felt the last agony of a weak and passionate16 nature,—to dream of one woman in another’s arms.
She, too, watched him with an ever-increasing instinct of danger, studied with a chilly17 terror the workings of his face, weighed and reweighed his words in absence, agonized18 herself with new and ever new suspicions; and then, when these had accumulated beyond endurance, seized them convulsively and threw them all away. Then, coming back to him with a great overwhelming ardor19 of affection, she poured upon him more and more in proportion as he gave her less.
Sometimes in these moments of renewed affection he half gave words to his remorse20, accused himself before her of unnamed wrong, and besought21 her to help him return to his better self. These were the most dangerous moments of all, for such appeals made tenderness and patience appear a duty; she must put away her doubts as sins, and hold him to her; she must refuse to see his signs of faltering22 faith, or treat them as mere23 symptoms of ill health. Should not a wife cling the closer to her husband in proportion as he seemed alienated24 through the wanderings of disease? And was not this her position? So she said within herself, and meanwhile it was not hard to penetrate25 her changing thoughts, at least for so keen an observer as Aunt Jane. Hope, at length, almost ceased to speak of Malbone, and revealed her grief by this evasion26, as the robin27 reveals her nest by flitting from it.
Yet there were times when he really tried to force himself into a revival28 of this calmer emotion. He studied Hope’s beauty with his eyes, he pondered on all her nobleness. He wished to bring his whole heart back to her—or at least wished that he wished it. But hearts that have educated themselves into faithlessness must sooner or later share the suffering they give. Love will be avenged29 on them. Nothing could have now recalled this epicure30 in passion, except, possibly, a little withholding31 or semi-coquetry on Hope’s part, and this was utterly32 impossible for her. Absolute directness was a part of her nature; she could die, but not manouvre.
It actually diminished Hope’s hold on Philip, that she had at this time the whole field to herself. Emilia had gone for a few weeks to the mountains, with the household of which she was a guest. An ideal and unreasonable33 passion is strongest in absence, when the dream is all pure dream, and safe from the discrepancies34 of daily life. When the two girls were together, Emilia often showed herself so plainly Hope’s inferior, that it jarred on Philip’s fine perceptions. But in Emilia’s absence the spell of temperament35, or whatever else brought them together, resumed its sway unchecked; she became one great magnet of attraction, and all the currents of the universe appeared to flow from the direction where her eyes were shining. When she was out of sight, he needed to make no allowance for her defects, to reproach himself with no overt36 acts of disloyalty to Hope, to recognize no criticisms of his own intellect or conscience. He could resign himself to his reveries, and pursue them into new subtleties37 day by day.
There was Mrs. Meredith’s house, too, where they had been so happy. And now the blinds were pitilessly closed, all but one where the Venetian slats had slipped, and stood half open as if some dainty fingers held them, and some lovely eyes looked through. He gazed so long and so often on that silent house,—by day, when the scorching38 sunshine searched its pores as if to purge39 away every haunting association, or by night, when the mantle40 of darkness hung tenderly above it, and seemed to collect the dear remembrances again,—that his fancy by degrees grew morbid41, and its pictures unreal. “It is impossible,” he one day thought to himself, “that she should have lived in that room so long, sat in that window, dreamed on that couch, reflected herself in that mirror, breathed that air, without somehow detaching invisible fibres of her being, delicate films of herself, that must gradually, she being gone, draw together into a separate individuality an image not quite bodiless, that replaces her in her absence, as the holy Theocrite was replaced by the angel. If there are ghosts of the dead, why not ghosts of the living also?” This lover’s fancy so pleased him that he brought to bear upon it the whole force of his imagination, and it grew stronger day by day. To him, thenceforth, the house was haunted, and all its floating traces of herself visible or invisible,—from the ribbon that he saw entangled42 in the window-blind to every intangible and fancied atom she had imparted to the atmosphere,—came at last to organize themselves into one phantom43 shape for him and looked out, a wraith44 of Emilia, through those relentless45 blinds. As the vision grew more vivid, he saw the dim figure moving through the house, wan, restless, tender, lingering where they had lingered, haunting every nook where they had been happy once. In the windy moanings of the silent night he could put his ear at the keyhole, and could fancy that he heard the wild signals of her love and despair.
点击收听单词发音
1 ebbing | |
(指潮水)退( ebb的现在分词 ); 落; 减少; 衰落 | |
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2 overflow | |
v.(使)外溢,(使)溢出;溢出,流出,漫出 | |
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3 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
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4 fluctuations | |
波动,涨落,起伏( fluctuation的名词复数 ) | |
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5 solicitude | |
n.焦虑 | |
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6 drooping | |
adj. 下垂的,无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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7 wretch | |
n.可怜的人,不幸的人;卑鄙的人 | |
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8 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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9 fettered | |
v.给…上脚镣,束缚( fetter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10 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 | |
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11 amazement | |
n.惊奇,惊讶 | |
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12 habitual | |
adj.习惯性的;通常的,惯常的 | |
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13 ecstasy | |
n.狂喜,心醉神怡,入迷 | |
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14 wan | |
(wide area network)广域网 | |
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15 lavished | |
v.过分给予,滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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17 chilly | |
adj.凉快的,寒冷的 | |
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18 agonized | |
v.使(极度)痛苦,折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 );苦斗;苦苦思索;感到极度痛苦 | |
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19 ardor | |
n.热情,狂热 | |
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20 remorse | |
n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
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21 besought | |
v.恳求,乞求(某事物)( beseech的过去式和过去分词 );(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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22 faltering | |
犹豫的,支吾的,蹒跚的 | |
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23 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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24 alienated | |
adj.感到孤独的,不合群的v.使疏远( alienate的过去式和过去分词 );使不友好;转让;让渡(财产等) | |
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25 penetrate | |
v.透(渗)入;刺入,刺穿;洞察,了解 | |
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26 evasion | |
n.逃避,偷漏(税) | |
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27 robin | |
n.知更鸟,红襟鸟 | |
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28 revival | |
n.复兴,复苏,(精力、活力等的)重振 | |
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29 avenged | |
v.为…复仇,报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 );为…报复 | |
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30 epicure | |
n.行家,美食家 | |
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31 withholding | |
扣缴税款 | |
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32 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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33 unreasonable | |
adj.不讲道理的,不合情理的,过度的 | |
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34 discrepancies | |
n.差异,不符合(之处),不一致(之处)( discrepancy的名词复数 ) | |
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35 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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36 overt | |
adj.公开的,明显的,公然的 | |
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37 subtleties | |
细微( subtlety的名词复数 ); 精细; 巧妙; 细微的差别等 | |
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38 scorching | |
adj. 灼热的 | |
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39 purge | |
n.整肃,清除,泻药,净化;vt.净化,清除,摆脱;vi.清除,通便,腹泻,变得清洁 | |
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40 mantle | |
n.斗篷,覆罩之物,罩子;v.罩住,覆盖,脸红 | |
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41 morbid | |
adj.病的;致病的;病态的;可怕的 | |
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42 entangled | |
adj.卷入的;陷入的;被缠住的;缠在一起的v.使某人(某物/自己)缠绕,纠缠于(某物中),使某人(自己)陷入(困难或复杂的环境中)( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43 phantom | |
n.幻影,虚位,幽灵;adj.错觉的,幻影的,幽灵的 | |
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44 wraith | |
n.幽灵;骨瘦如柴的人 | |
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45 relentless | |
adj.残酷的,不留情的,无怜悯心的 | |
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