Stephen felt her loneliness all round. In old days Harold was always within hail, and companionship of equal age and understanding was available. But now his very reticence3 in her own interest, and by her father’s wishes, made for her pain. Harold had put his strongest restraint on himself, and in his own way suffered a sort of silent martyrdom. He loved Stephen with every fibre of his being. Day by day he came toward her with eager step; day by day he left her with a pang4 that made his heart ache and seemed to turn the brightness of the day to gloom. Night by night he tossed for hours thinking, thinking, wondering if the time would ever come when her kisses would be his . . . But the tortures and terrors of the night had their effect on his days. It seemed as if the mere act of thinking, of longing5, gave him ever renewed self-control, so that he was able in his bearing to carry out the task he had undertaken: to give Stephen time to choose a mate for herself. Herein lay his weakness—a weakness coming from his want of knowledge of the world of women. Had he ever had a love affair, be it never so mild a one, he would have known that love requires a positive expression. It is not sufficient to sigh, and wish, and hope, and long, all to oneself. Stephen felt instinctively6 that his guarded speech and manner were due to the coldness—or rather the trusting abated7 worship—of the brotherhood8 to which she had been always accustomed. At the time when new forces were manifesting and expanding themselves within her; when her growing instincts, cultivated by the senses and the passions of young nature, made her aware of other forces, new and old, expanding themselves outside her; at the time when the heart of a girl is eager for new impressions and new expansions, and the calls of sex are working within her all unconsciously, Harold, to whom her heart would probably have been the first to turn, made himself in his effort to best show his love, a quantité negligeable.
Thus Stephen, whilst feeling that the vague desires of budding womanhood were trembling within her, had neither thought nor knowledge of their character or their ultimate tendency. She would have been shocked, horrified9, had that logical process, which she applied11 so freely to less personal matters, been used upon her own intimate nature. In her case logic10 would of course act within a certain range; and as logic is a conscious intellectual process, she became aware that her objective was man. Man—in the abstract. ‘Man,’ not ‘a man.’ Beyond that, she could not go. It is not too much to say that she did not ever, even in her most errant thought, apply her reasoning, or even dream of its following out either the duties, the responsibilities, or the consequences of having a husband. She had a vague longing for younger companionship, and of the kind naturally most interesting to her. There thought stopped.
One only of her male acquaintances did not at this time appear. Leonard Everard, who had some time ago finished his course at college, was living partly in London and partly on the Continent. His very absence made him of added interest to his old play-fellow. The image of his grace and comeliness12, of his dominance and masculine force, early impressed on her mind, began to compare favourably13 with the actualities of her other friends; those of them at least who were within the circle of her personal interest. ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder.’ In Stephen’s mind had been but a very mustard-seed of fondness. But new lights were breaking for her; and all of them, in greater or lesser14 degree, shone in turn on the memory of the pretty self-willed dominant15 boy, who now grew larger and more masculine in stature16 under the instance of each successive light. Stephen knew the others fairly well through and through. The usual mixture of good and evil, of strength and weakness, of purpose and vacillation17, was quite within the scope of her own feeling and of her observation. But this man was something of a problem to her; and, as such, had a prominence18 in her thoughts quite beyond his own worthiness19.
In movement of some form is life; and even ideas grow when the pulses beat and thought quickens. Stephen had long had in her mind the idea of sexual equality. For a long time, in deference20 to her aunt’s feelings, she had not spoken of it; for the old lady winced21 in general under any suggestion of a breach22 of convention. But though her outward expression being thus curbed23 had helped to suppress or minimise the opportunities of inward thought, the idea had never left her. Now, when sex was, consciously or unconsciously, a dominating factor in her thoughts, the dormant24 idea woke to new life. She had held that if men and women were equal the woman should have equal rights and opportunities as the man. It had been, she believed, an absurd conventional rule that such a thing as a proposal of marriage should be entirely25 the prerogative26 of man.
And then came to her, as it ever does to woman, opportunity. Opportunity, the cruelest, most remorseless, most unsparing, subtlest foe27 that womanhood has. Here was an opportunity for her to test her own theory; to prove to herself, and others, that she was right. They—‘they’ being the impersonal28 opponents of, or unbelievers in, her theory—would see that a woman could propose as well as a man; and that the result would be good.
It is a part of self-satisfaction, and perhaps not the least dangerous part of it, that it has an increasing or multiplying power of its own. The desire to do increases the power to do; and desire and power united find new ways for the exercise of strength. Up to now Stephen’s inclination29 towards Leonard had been vague, nebulous; but now that theory showed a way to its utilisation it forthwith began to become, first definite, then concrete, then substantial. When once the idea had become a possibility, the mere passing of time did the rest.
Her aunt saw—and misunderstood. The lesson of her own youth had not been applied; not even of those long hours and days and weeks at which she hinted when she had spoken of the tragedy of life which by inference was her own tragedy: ‘to love and to be helpless. To wait, and wait, and wait, with your heart all aflame!’
Stephen recognised her aunt’s concern for her health in time to protect herself from the curiosity of her loving-kindness. Her youth and readiness and adaptability30, and that power of play-acting which we all have within us and of which she had her share, stood to her. With but little effort, based on a seeming acquiescence31 in her aunt’s views, she succeeded in convincing the old lady that her incipient32 feverish33 cold had already reached its crisis and was passing away. But she had gained certain knowledge in the playing of her little part. All this self-protective instinct was new; for good or ill she had advanced one more step in not only the knowledge but the power of duplicity which is so necessary in the conventional life of a woman.
Oh! did we but see! Could we but see! Here was a woman, dowered in her youth with all the goods and graces in the power of the gods to bestow34, who fought against convention; and who yet found in convention the strongest as well as the readiest weapon of defence.
For nearly two weeks Stephen’s resolution was held motionless, neither advancing nor receding35; it was veritably the slack water of her resolution. She was afraid to go on. Not afraid in sense of fear as it is usually understood, but with the opposition36 of virginal instincts; those instincts which are natural, but whose uses as well as whose powers are unknown to us.
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1
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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craves
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| 渴望，热望( crave的第三人称单数 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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7
abated
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| 减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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8
brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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9
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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comeliness
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| n. 清秀, 美丽, 合宜 | |
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favourably
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| adv. 善意地，赞成地 =favorably | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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dominant
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| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
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16
stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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vacillation
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| n.动摇；忧柔寡断 | |
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prominence
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| n.突出；显著；杰出；重要 | |
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worthiness
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| 价值，值得 | |
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20
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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curbed
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| v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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prerogative
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| n.特权 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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adaptability
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| n.适应性 | |
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acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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32
incipient
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| adj.起初的，发端的，初期的 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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34
bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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35
receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；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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36
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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