The Bishop5 had taken him to call upon the Airedales; and they, delighted that the chapel was to be re-opened, had insisted upon his staying with them. The chapel, in fact, was a special interest with Mr. Airedale, who had been a leading contributor toward its erection. Gissing was finding that life seemed to be continually putting him into false positions; and now he discovered, somewhat to his chagrin7, that the lovely little shrine8 of St. Spitz, whose stained windows glowed like rubies9 in its cloister10 of dark trees, was rather a fashionable hobby among the wealthy landowners of Dalmatian Hills. It had been closed all summer, and they had missed it. The Bishop, in his airy and indefinite way, had not made it quite plain that Gissing was only a lay reader; and in spite of his embarrassed disclaimers, he found himself introduced by Mr. Airedale to the country-house clique11 as the new “vicar.”
But at any rate it was lucky that the Airedales had insisted on taking him in as a guest; for he had learned from the Bishop (just as the latter was leaving) that there was no stipend12 attached to the office of lay reader. Fortunately he still had much of the money he had saved from his salary as General Manager. And whatever sense of anomaly he felt was quickly assuaged13 by the extraordinary comfort and novelty of his environment. In the great Airedale mansion14 he experienced for the first time that ultimate triumph of civilization—a cup of tea served in bed before breakfast, with slices of bread-and-butter of tenuous15 and amazing fragile thinness. He was pleased, too, with the deference16 paid him as a representative of the cloth, even though it compelled him to a solemnity he did not inwardly feel. But most of all, undoubtedly17, he was captivated by the loveliness and warmth of Miss Airedale.
The Bishop had not erred18. Admiring the aristocratic Roman trend of her brow and nose; the proud, inquisitive19 carriage of her somewhat rectangular head, her admirable, vigorous figure and clear topaz eyes, Gissing was aware of something he had not experienced before—a disturbance20 both urgent and agreeable, in which the intellect seemed to play little part. He was startled by the strength of her attractiveness, amazed to learn how pleasing it was to be in her company. She was very young and brisk: wore clothes of a smart sporting cut, and was (he thought) quite divine in her riding breeches. But she was also completely devoted21 to the chapel, where she played the music on Sundays. She was a volatile22 creature, full of mischievous23 surprise: at their first music practice, after playing over some hymns24 on the pipe-organ, she burst into jazz, filling the quiet grove with the clamorous26 syncope of Paddy-Paws, a favourite song that summer.
So into the brilliant social life of the Airedales and their friends he found himself suddenly pitchforked. In spite of the oddity of the situation, and of occasional anxiety when he considered the possibility of Mr. Poodle finding him out, he was very happy. This was not quite what he had expected, but he was always adaptable27. Miss Airedale was an enchanting28 companion. In the privacy of his bedroom he measured himself for a pair of riding breeches and wrote to his tailor in town to have them made as soon as possible. He served the little chapel assiduously, though he felt it better to conceal29 from the Airedales the fact that he went there every day. He suspected they would think him slightly mad if they knew, so he used to pretend that he had business in town. Then he would slip away to the balsam-scented hilltop and be perfectly30 happy sweeping31 the chapel floor, dusting the pews, polishing the brasswork, rearranging the hymnals in the racks. He arranged with the milkman to leave a bottle of milk and some cinnamon buns at the chapel gate every morning, so he had a cheerful and stealthy little lunch in the vestry-room, though always a trifle nervous lest some of his parishioners should discover him.
He practiced reading the lessons aloud at the brass32 lectern, and discovered how easy is dramatic elocution when you are alone. He wished it were possible to hold a service daily. For the first time he was able to sing hymns as loud as he liked. Miss Airedale played the organ with emphatic33 fervour, and the congregation, after a little hesitation34, enjoyed the lusty sincerity35 of a hymn25 well trolled. Some of his flock, who had previously36 relished37 taking part in the general routine of the service, were disappointed by his zeal38, for Gissing insisted on doing everything himself. He rang the bell, ushered39 the congregation to their seats, read the service, recited the Quadrupeds' Creed40, led the choir41, gave out as many announcements as he could devise, took up the collection, and at the close skipped out through the vestry and was ready and beaming in the porch before the nimblest worshipper had reached the door. On his first Sunday, indeed, he carried enthusiasm rather too far: in an innocent eagerness to prolong the service as much as possible, and being too excited to realize quite what he was doing, he went through the complete list of supplications for all possible occasions. The congregation were startled to find themselves praying simultaneously42 both for rain and for fair weather.
In a cupboard in the vestry-room he had found an old surplice hanging; he took it down, tried it on before the mirror, and wistfully put it back. To this symbolic43 vestment his mind returned as he sat solitary44 under the pine-trees, looking down upon the valley of home. It was the season of goldenrod and aster45 on the hillsides: a hot swooning silence lay upon the late afternoon. The weight and closeness of the air had struck even the insects dumb. Under the pines, generally so murmurous46, there was something almost gruesome in the blank stillness: a suspension so absolute that the ears felt dull and sealed. He tried, involuntarily, to listen more clearly, to know if this uncanny hush47 were really so. There was a sense of being imprisoned48, but only most delicately, in a spell, which some sudden cracking might disrupt.
The surplice tempted49 him strongly, for it suggested the sermon he felt impelled50 to deliver, against the Bishop's orders. For the beautiful chapel in the piny glade51 was, somehow, false: or, at any rate, false for him. The architect had made it a dainty poem in stone and polished wood, but somehow God had evaded52 the neat little trap. Moreover, the God his well-bred congregation worshipped, the old traditionally imagined snow-white St. Bernard with radiant jowls of tenderness, shining dewlaps of love; paternal53, omnipotent54, calm—this deity56, though sublime57 in its way, was too plainly an extension of their own desires. His prominent parishioners—Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, Mrs. Griffon, Mrs. Retriever; even the delightful58 Mr. Airedale himself—was it not likely that they esteemed59 a deity everlastingly60 forgiving because they themselves felt need of forgiveness? He had been deeply shocked by the docility61 with which they followed the codes of the service: even when he had committed his blunder of the contradictory62 prayers, they had murmured the words automatically, without protest. To the terrific solemnities of the Litany they had made the responses with prompt gabbling precision, and with a rapidity that frankly63 implied impatience64 to take the strain off their knees.
Somehow he felt that to account for a world of unutterable strangeness they had invented a God far too cheaply simple. His mood was certainly not one of ribald easy scoff65. It was they (he assured himself) whose theology was essentially66 cynical67; not he. He was a little weary of this just, charitable, consoling, hebdomadal God; this God who might be sufficiently68 honoured by a decorously memorized ritual. Yet was he too shallow? Was it not seemly that his fellows, bound on this dark, desperate venture of living, should console themselves with decent self-hypnosis?
No, he thought. No, it was not entirely69 seemly. If they pretended that their God was the highest thing knowable, then they must bring to His worship the highest possible powers of the mind. He had a strange yearning70 for a God less lazily conceived: a God perhaps inclement71, awful, master of inscrutable principles. Yet was it desirable to shake his congregation's belief in their traditional divinity? He thought of them—so amiable72, amusing, spirited and generous, but utterly73 untrained for abstract imaginative thought on any subject whatever. His own strange surmisings about deity would only shock and horrify74 them And after all, was it not exactly their simplicity75 that made them lovable? The great laws of truth would work their own destinies without assistance from him! Even if these pleasant creatures did not genuinely believe the rites76 they so politely observed (he knew they did not, for BELIEF is an intellectual process of extraordinary range and depth), was it not socially useful that they should pretend to do so?
And yet—with another painful swing of the mind—was it necessary that Truth should be worshipped with the aid of such astonishingly transparent77 formalisms, hoaxes78, and mummeries? Alas79, it seemed that this was an old, old struggle that must be troublesomely fought out, again and again down the generations. Prophets were twice stoned—first in anger; then, after their death, with a handsome slab80 in the graveyard81. But words uttered in sincerity (he thought) never fail of some response. Though he saw his fellows leashed with a heavy chain of ignorance, stupidity, passion, and weakness, yet he divined in life some inscrutable principle of honour and justice; some unreckonable essence of virtue82 too intimate to understand; some fumbling83 aspiration84 toward decency85, some brave generosity86 of spirit, some cheerful fidelity87 to Beauty. He could not see how, in a world so obviously vast and uncouth88 beyond computation, they could find a puny89, tidy, assumptive, scheduled worship so satisfying. But perhaps, since all Beauty was so staggering, it was better they should cherish it in small formal minims. Perhaps in this whole matter there was some lovely symbolism that he did not understand.
The soft brightness was already lifting into upper air, a mingled90 tissue of shadows lay along the valley. In the magical clarity of the evening light he suddenly felt (as one often does, by unaccountable planetary instinct) that there was a new moon. Turning, he saw it, a silver snipping91 daintily afloat; and not far away, an early star. He had found no creed in the prayer-book that accounted for the stars. Here at the bottom of an ocean of sky, we look aloft and see them thick-speckled—mere barnacles, perhaps, on the keel of some greater ship of space. He remembered how at home there had been a certain burning twinkle that peeped through the screen of the dogwood tree. As he moved on his porch, it seemed to flit to and fro, appearing and vanishing. He was often uncertain whether it was a firefly a few yards away, or a star the other side of Time. Possibly Truth was like that.
“Hullo!” she said. “I wondered where you were. Is this how you spend your afternoons, all alone?”
Stars, creeds93, cosmologies, promptly94 receded95 into remote perspective and had to shift for themselves. It was true that Gissing had somewhat avoided her lately, for he feared her fascination96. He wished nothing else to interfere97 with his search for what he had not yet found. Postpone98 the female problem to the last, was his theory: not because it was insoluble, but because the solution might prove to be less interesting than the problem itself. But side by side with her, she was irresistible99. A skittish100 brightness shone in her eyes.
“Great news!” she exclaimed. “I've persuaded Papa to take us all down to Atlantic City for a couple of days.”
“Wonderful!” cried Gissing. “Do you know, I've never been to the seashore.”
“Don't worry,” she replied. “I won't let you see much of the ocean. We'll go to the Traymore, and spend the whole time dancing in the Submarine Grill101.”
“But I must be back in time for the service on Sunday,” he said.
“We're going to leave first thing in the morning. We'll go in the car, and I'll drive. Will you sit with me in the front seat?”
“Come on then, or you'll be late for dinner. I'll race you home!” And she was off like a flash.
But in spite of Miss Airedale's threat, at Atlantic City they both fell into a kind of dreamy reverie. The wine-like tingle103 of that salty air was a quiet drug. The apparently104 inexhaustible sunshine was sharpened with a faint sting of coming autumn. Gissing suddenly remembered that it was ages since he had simply let his mind run slack and allowed life to go by unstudied. Mr. and Mrs. Airedale occupied a suite105 high up in the terraced mass of the huge hotel; they wrapped themselves in rugs and basked106 on their private balcony. Gissing and the daughter were left to their own amusements. They bathed in the warm September surf; they strolled the Boardwalk up beyond the old Absecon light, where the green glimmer107 of water runs in under the promenade108. They sat on the deck of the hotel—or rather Miss Airedale sat, while Gissing, courteously109 attentive110, leaned over her steamer-chair. He stood so for hours, apparently in devoted chat; but in fact he was half in dream. The smooth flow of the little rolling shays just below had a soothing111 hypnotic erect6. But it was the glorious polished blue of the sea-horizon that bounded all his thoughts. Even while Miss Airedale gazed archly up at him, and he was busy with cheerful conversation, he was conscious of that broad band of perfect colour, monotonous112, comforting, thrilling. For the first time he realized the great rondure of the world. His mind went back to the section of the prayer-book that had always touched him most pointedly—the “Forms of Prayer to be Used at Sea.” In them he had found a note of sincere terror and humility113. And now he viewed the sea for the first time in this setting of notable irony114. The open dazzle of placid115 elements, obedient only to some cosmic calculus116, lay as a serene117 curtain against which the quaint118 flamboyance119 of the Boardwalk was all the more amusing. The clear rim120 of sea curving off into space drew him with painful curiosity. Here at last was what he had needed. The proud waters went over his soul. Here indeed the blue began.
He looked down at Miss Airedale, who had gone to sleep while waiting for him to say something. He tiptoed away and went to his room to write down some ideas. Against the wide challenge of that blue hemisphere, where half the world lay open and free to the eye, the Bishop's prohibition121 lost weight. He was resolved to preach a sermon.
At dusk he met Miss Airedale on the high balcony that runs around the reading-room of the hotel. They were quite alone up there. Along the Boardwalk, in the pale sentimental122 twilight123, the translucent124 electric globes shone like a long string of pearls. She was very tempting125 in a gay evening frock, and reproached him for having neglected her. She shivered a little in the cool wind coming off the darkening water. The weakness of the hour was upon him. He put his arm tenderly round her as they leaned over the parapet.
“See those darling children down on the sand,” she said. “I do adore puppies, don't you?”
He remembered Groups, Bunks126, and Yelpers. Nothing is so potent55 as the love of children when you are away from them. She gazed languishing127 at him; he responded with a generous pressure. But his alarmed soul thrilled with panic.
“You must excuse me a moment, while I dress for dinner,” he said. He was strangely terrified by the look of secret understanding in her beautiful eyes. It seemed to imply some subtle, inexpressible pact128. As a matter of truth, she was unconscious of it: it was only the old demiurge speaking in her; the old demiurge which was pursuing him just as ardently129 as he was trailing the dissolving blue of his dream. But he was much agitated130 as he went down in the elevator.
“Heavens,” he said to himself; “are we all only toys in the power of these terrific instincts?”
For the first time he was informed of the infinite feminine capacity for being wooed.
That night they danced in the Submarine Grill. She floated in his embrace with triumphant131 lightness. Her eyes, utilized132 as temporary lamps by a lighting-circuit of which she was quite unaware133, beamed with happy lustre134. The lay reader, always docile135 to the necessities of occasion, murmured delightful trifles. But his private thoughts were as aloof136 and shining and evasive as the goldfish that twinkled in the glass pool overhead. He picked up her scarf and her handkerchief when she dropped them. He smiled vaguely137 when she suggested that she thought she could persuade Mr. Airedale to stay in Atlantic City over the week-end, and why worry about the service on Sunday? But when she and the yawning Mrs. Airedale had retired138, he hastened to his chamber139 and packed his bag. Stealthily he went to the desk and explained that he was leaving unexpectedly on business, and that the bill should go to Mr. Airedale, whose guest he had been. He slipped away out of the side door, and caught the late train. Mrs. Airedale chafed140 her daughter that night for whining141 in her sleep.
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1
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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playwright
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| n.剧作家，编写剧本的人 | |
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beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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rubies
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| 红宝石( ruby的名词复数 )； 红宝石色，深红色 | |
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cloister
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| n.修道院；v.隐退，使与世隔绝 | |
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clique
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| n.朋党派系，小集团 | |
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stipend
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| n.薪贴；奖学金；养老金 | |
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assuaged
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| v.减轻( assuage的过去式和过去分词 )；缓和；平息；使安静 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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tenuous
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| adj.细薄的，稀薄的，空洞的 | |
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deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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erred
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| 犯错误，做错事( err的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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volatile
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| adj.反复无常的，挥发性的，稍纵即逝的，脾气火爆的；n.挥发性物质 | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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clamorous
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| adj.吵闹的，喧哗的 | |
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adaptable
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| adj.能适应的，适应性强的，可改编的 | |
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enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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relished
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| v.欣赏( relish的过去式和过去分词 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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symbolic
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| adj.象征性的，符号的，象征主义的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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aster
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| n.紫菀属植物 | |
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murmurous
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| adj.低声的 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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evaded
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| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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53
paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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omnipotent
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| adj.全能的，万能的 | |
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potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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everlastingly
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| 永久地，持久地 | |
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docility
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| n.容易教，易驾驶，驯服 | |
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contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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scoff
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| n.嘲笑，笑柄，愚弄；v.嘲笑，嘲弄，愚弄，狼吞虎咽 | |
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essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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67
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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68
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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69
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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70
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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71
inclement
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| adj.严酷的，严厉的，恶劣的 | |
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72
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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73
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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74
horrify
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| vt.使恐怖，使恐惧，使惊骇 | |
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75
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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76
rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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77
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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78
hoaxes
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| n.恶作剧，戏弄( hoax的名词复数 )v.开玩笑骗某人，戏弄某人( hoax的第三人称单数 ) | |
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79
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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80
slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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81
graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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82
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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83
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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84
aspiration
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| n.志向，志趣抱负；渴望；(语)送气音；吸出 | |
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85
decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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86
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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87
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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88
uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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89
puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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90
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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91
snipping
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| n.碎片v.剪( snip的现在分词 ) | |
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92
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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93
creeds
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| （尤指宗教）信条，教条( creed的名词复数 ) | |
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94
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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95
receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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96
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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97
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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98
postpone
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| v.延期，推迟 | |
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99
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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100
skittish
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| adj.易激动的，轻佻的 | |
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101
grill
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| n.烤架，铁格子，烤肉；v.烧，烤，严加盘问 | |
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102
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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103
tingle
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| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
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104
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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105
suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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106
basked
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的过去式和过去分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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107
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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108
promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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109
courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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110
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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111
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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112
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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113
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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114
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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115
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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116
calculus
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| n.微积分；结石 | |
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117
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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118
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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119
flamboyance
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| n.火红；艳丽；炫耀 | |
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120
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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121
prohibition
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| n.禁止；禁令，禁律 | |
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122
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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123
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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124
translucent
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| adj.半透明的；透明的 | |
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125
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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126
bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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127
languishing
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| a. 衰弱下去的 | |
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128
pact
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| n.合同，条约，公约，协定 | |
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129
ardently
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| adv.热心地，热烈地 | |
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130
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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131
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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132
utilized
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| v.利用，使用( utilize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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133
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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134
lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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135
docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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136
aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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137
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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138
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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139
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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140
chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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141
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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