He had the best intention to acquire the married habit, or a habit, at any rate, that should differ widely from the one he had.
With that object he secluded1 himself for a fortnight from the life to which he was accustomed, and denied his company, for reasons which they vigorously disbelieved, to his friends.
He could allow himself the theatre, having never cherished lime-lit illusions, nor hovered2 to dispel3 them about the stage door. He had always what he was pleased to call a frugal4 taste in beauty, and had never made a bid for any that was 'priced'!
But the theatres only served him for a week, and even so with some exaggeration of what he wished to see. At the end of a second, he decided5 that a wife was as essential as repentance6 to a change of life, and dropped back into his old ways.
And the devil, who, perhaps as a reprisal7 for the deficiencies of his own abode8, takes a pleasure in knocking the bottom out of every sort of domicile, at once put his foot through the flooring of Maurice Caragh's reform.
At least he met Laura Marton at the dinner which closed his fortnight's sojourn9 in the wilderness10.
He was suffering from those two weeks of his own society, but, probably, even without that preparation, he would have capitulated to her charm.
To speak of him, so consecutively11, in the hands of three women gives too crowded an impression of his susceptiveness. No trait was, in fact, further from his character.
Three years were passed since he met Ethel Vernon, and he had not harboured in all of them so much as a vexed12 thought about a woman's face.
He was pleased so far from easily, that he might very readily have failed throughout his life to have been pleased at all. But when pleased, it was on the instant and absorbingly. Ten seconds he had suggested as an average requirement for falling in love, but it is questionable13 if any of his own declensions had taken half that time. Nor was proximity14 at all essential. He could not recall, he admitted modestly, having discovered that a woman was adorable at more than a hundred yards. But he had no wish to exalt15 his own experience into a standard: he could believe in anything up to half a mile.
In that, such was the delicacy16 of his distinctions, he was perfectly17 sincere; but it was that delicacy which made them so prohibitive to adorations even at half a mile.
Laura Marton might, perhaps, have tested such a distance successfully, she was so perfectly his conception of a type.
He conceived a good deal in types, and preferred the typical even to the length of its deficiencies.
Deficiency did indeed play a part in Laura Marten's attractions, since the broad mouth, the long eyes, and the drowsy19 luxuriance of her figure were without everything that could make them harmless.
She came under the superbs in Caragh's catalogue, and to the superb he was almost a stranger.
"You can take it for granted that I think you magnificent," he said at their first meeting.
This was their last. It epitomized sufficiently21 what had happened in the interval22. Some of it might be accounted for by his having told her that the next interval was for ever.
The occasion was a dance at a big house in Grosvenor Square. It was Caragh's last appearance as a bachelor in town, since he started on the morrow for a trip which the owners of a new Atlantic liner were taking in her round the Isles23. He was to be dropped at Ballindra, where his marriage, for recent family reasons, was after all to take place.
He was seated on a lounge in a blind passage near the top of the house, and, though still early in the evening, he had been sitting there for some time.
He knew the house more intimately than most of those who were seeking for such seats, and this one was left to him and his partner entirely24 undisturbed. The music floated up the stairs with varying distinctness, as the dancers choked the entrances to the great gallery below.
He was leaning back, with his arms half folded and a hand upon his mouth, looking straight before him.
Laura Marton, sitting sideways with one white arm along the top of the lounge and the sweep of her amber-coloured skirts against his feet, bent25 forward insistently26 towards him; a braid of gold across her splendid shoulders, and a band of turquoise27 in her brown hair.
The long soft fawn28 gloves were crumpled29 in her lap, and her left arm, which hung straight and bare beside her, tapped a turquoise fan against her ankle as she waited for his reply.
"I know," he sighed. "You don't and you can't see it: what's the use of my saying it again? You're sure no woman would care for what I'm giving her, if she only knew. I daresay; but, you see, she's not going to know. She's going to luxuriate in an apparent adoration18. That's easier than to be happy with one that's inapparent, however actual. And it's a lot likelier that the make-believe will last; because—well, because there's nothing in it not to."
He smiled whimsically at his own English, but the girl's face darkened with a frown.
"It makes no difference how you put it," she exclaimed hotly; "the thing's detestable! You'll only look at it from your point of view; and because it's costing you so much, you think it must be worth all that to the girl. But it's not! You're getting her life, and everything that's in her and of her, and you're getting it for a lie! You think it's a fine lie, I know, the sort of lie that life is all along. You've told me that! Oh, yes, you have; or something like it. But what are you that you should handle a woman as if you had made her, and lie to her like a god! Do you think you're big enough to make that seem fair?"
"Ah, you don't understand," he murmured still staring before him, afraid to stir the fire in her smouldering eyes. "I'm doing this because I'm so small."
"Because the love that's worth perfidies32 and desertion and all the other personal superlatives will never come my way. I thought it would: yes! once, long ago. But it hasn't, and it won't. If I was big enough!"—he caught his breath—"Ah, that's another matter. For that love excuses everything—'red ruin and the breaking up of laws'—because it's bigger, and better, and more enduring than the world itself. But it isn't mine."
He stopped, and faced for an instant the furious blaze of her eyes. Then he said more slowly:
"So the next best thing seemed, for a man like me, to make a good girl's dreams come true; her dreams of love, and honour, and a man's desire ... when one is the man, and can."
"You're not the man!" she cried. "And it's wicked and cruel to pretend to be."
"Look here!" he said persuasively33. "Suppose that you were as poor a thing as I am; suppose that you, too, had come to look for no more from love than it means to me, and that some one came along who took you for an angel; a man young and strong and pure with the one great passion of a lifetime showing all over him; and that, in too weak or too kind a moment you had let him take you in his arms, and let him believe then as true the dreams that he had dreamt of you, and sealed with your kisses the vows34 which he had sworn. Well! when you'd come to realize that all his strength and sweetness hung on his belief in you, would you call it wicked and cruel to go on with the pretence35?"
She made no answer for some moments. The grip of her white fingers relaxed upon the couch and the fan hung quiet against her ankle as she continued to absorb him with her devouring36 eyes.
"You've forgotten me," she whispered at length.
"No," he protested; "you can't say that, can you? I told you at once."
"Told me what?" she demanded.
"That I was not free," he said.
"Yes," she exclaimed, "the very first time you spoke37 to me. As if I were certain to lose my heart if I had not been warned. I hated you pretty hotly for it too, I can assure you. And you might have saved yourself the trouble. I'd been told it before."
"Before?"
"Yes, by Ethel Vernon. She said, when she heard I was to meet you, 'He's going to marry a girl that he doesn't care a sou for.' How did she know?"
"She didn't know," he said.
"How did she guess then? Had you been in love with her?"
"Yes."
"She with you?"
"You forget," he said gravely: "she's a married woman."
"I did forget," she smiled. "And was there no one you were in love with between her and me?"
"I'm not in love with you," he said.
"No," he answered; "I said it for you."
"For me?" she objected.
"Yes," he replied; "you said I'd forgotten you."
"Don't you?" he murmured. "Would I have said it for myself?"
"Said what?" she asked.
"That I'm not in love with you?"
"I daresay," she said.
"Even if it had not been true?"
"Do you?" he smiled. "It's a good deal to dare." He drew a long unsteady breath. "Well," he sighed, "suppose it wasn't?"
"Wasn't true?" she said.
"Wasn't true," he repeated slowly. "Suppose that I've—wilfully—lied to you. Suppose that the hour I saw your face brought my lost dreams back to me; suppose that in you I found the woman for want of whom all my days have in despair been wasted; the one woman who could have made life splendid, and love passionate41 and ceaseless and supreme42. Or, no! not even that, not even that! Suppose only that I felt your fascination43 as any man might feel it; that I was just bewitched by your beauty; that every day without its glamour44 was the darkness of death, and the thought of other men possessing it an unendurable torment45. Suppose which you please, whichever seems to you simplest, or strangest, or most deplorable—and tell me again you think it was for my own sake that I was silent!"
The musing46 tone in which he had begun was gone before he ended. He had turned to her, even as he leaned a little back and away against the end of the lounge; his shoulders were squared, and his brows drawn47 above the gray eyes which gazed almost defiantly48 into her face.
And as his mood hardened hers had melted.
Darkness had spread again across her eyes; spread as the night above a lighted river—its depths a-glimmer with strange reflections, and her lips had fallen softly apart from their disdainful smile into an unconscious baby sweetness, through which she breathed.
She was listening with an absorbed intentness, with all her senses crowding to her ears.
Even her splendid carriage was relaxed; her bosom49 drooped50; dark hollows showed about her throat; her chin sank, till the white shoulder on which she leaned almost touched a tiny ear; the fan slipped from her other hand and hung by the loop about her wrist.
Her eyes met his as he ended; and, as it were, beneath the long silence of that look he could hear the brushing sound of the breath between her parted lips, like the far-off pulse of the sea.
But he missed so the other change which came to her; came, as it were, when the senses which had been away, so tensely listening, returned with their news. They brought back no erectness51 to her bearing, but deepened and coloured her drooping52 beauty till its languor53 became in itself a mien54, a seduction that grew more perilous55 and overpowering with each quickening breath that filled her breast.
But of all that Caragh noticed nothing. He saw only those wavering lights in the liquid darkness of her eyes, a darkness that spread about him till he felt the draught56 and swirl57 of its unknown waters.
It was from that he was taken by the sudden fastening of the girl's hands about his face, and he woke with a flash of enlightenment to all that was in hers.
He tried to shake his head, but she only tightened58 her fingers about it and drew it towards her, smiling, with a strength that astonished him.
"Don't," he said.
But she pressed her wrists against his cheeks till his mouth was crushed between them, and drew him closer; closer to the strange smile upon her lips—cruel, passionate, triumphant59, and yet adoringly fond—which seemed to come from beyond the borders of the world he knew.
Then, with a bird's swiftness, her lips were against his face, bruising60 it with the wildness of her kisses, as she held it in a clutch that pained him to the plundering61 madness of her mouth.
Unable to speak, he caught her wrists to draw them from his face, but at the touch of her skin his hands lost the power to help him, and hung idly like heavy bracelets62 upon her arms.
They had slipped to her elbows and fallen unclasped from them, when, as suddenly as she had seized it, she thrust his face from her to the full length of her arms and held it there, gazing into it with the fury of despoiled63 possession, which had the same savage64 strangeness as her smile.
Caragh's eyes were gravely distressed65. "Don't, don't!" he pleaded.
Then she opened her hands and threw his face out of them away from her, with a little low crying laugh horrible to hear, and sat, leaning sideways and motionless, her head propped66 on her wrist, looking away from him across the back of the lounge.
Caragh merely straightened himself in the corner where she had flung him. He did not turn to look at her, and said nothing.
There was something in what had happened past explaining; its very lawlessness made it natural, put it outside of everything, in a place by itself where there were no measurements, where there was no proportion.
He was unconscious of any surprising experience, and did not give a thought to what might be passing in the girl's mind.
And she, sitting there with that wrecked67 air of passion, seemed as utterly68 indifferent how she appeared to him.
"You were right," he said at length, looking straight before him: "I've done it all for myself."
"I'm going back because I daren't fail her. I think too little of myself, God knows, to risk thinking less. Can you understand that? I was falling lower and lower, losing hope that I could ever be constant to anything that loved me. Then she came. It hadn't mattered with the others. I was only something to them that any one could be. But she was different—different because she had never loved before, and I meant everything to her that love can mean to a woman's life, everything that is sacred and tender and divine. And I saw in keeping her love pure and happy the one thing that could lift me out of the pit and let me look myself in the face again. It's the one chance that's been given me, and if I can't take it I'm done for. Yes, it's sheer selfishness, as you said; but I'm going back to her. Do you understand?"
She did not move nor look round at him. "You love me," she said dully.
"It makes no difference," he answered.
She gave a little mirthless laugh.
"But it will," she said; "it will. You'll remember me when she can't understand you, and my kisses when you're sick of hers, and my arms when she's asleep beside you. You won't think then that it makes no difference. You won't say then that she was the one chance for you. You'll remember then that a woman loved you whose love was all that you had dreamed. Maurice, Maurice, you're not the sort of man that makes a saint!"
He turned to her and put out his hand. "I'm going," he said. "Good-bye!"
She laid her left hand in it. Hers was quite cold, but she shivered as she touched him. "Will you come back to me ever?" she asked.
He shook his head.
"Never?"
"Never, never!"
"If you want me, you must say," she went on impassively. "It won't matter what I'm doing—I mean if I'm married, or anything. If you want me, I'll come to you. But you must say. Love ... ah! you don't know what it means!"
He left her with a pressure of the hand, and she caught a glimpse of him as he groped his way towards the stairs. But she did not stir, nor try to stop him.
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收听单词发音
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1
secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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2
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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3
dispel
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| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
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frugal
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| adj.节俭的，节约的，少量的，微量的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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reprisal
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| n.报复，报仇，报复性劫掠 | |
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8
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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consecutively
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| adv.连续地 | |
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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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13
questionable
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| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
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proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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15
exalt
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| v.赞扬，歌颂，晋升，提升 | |
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16
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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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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18
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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19
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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24
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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25
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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insistently
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| ad.坚持地 | |
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27
turquoise
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| n.绿宝石；adj.蓝绿色的 | |
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28
fawn
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| n.未满周岁的小鹿；v.巴结，奉承 | |
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29
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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30
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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31
repudiation
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| n.拒绝；否认；断绝关系；抛弃 | |
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32
perfidies
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| n.背信弃义，背叛，出卖( perfidy的名词复数 ) | |
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33
persuasively
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| adv.口才好地；令人信服地 | |
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34
vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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36
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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37
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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38
drearily
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| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
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39
enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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40
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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41
passionate
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| 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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42
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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43
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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44
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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45
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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46
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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47
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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48
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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49
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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50
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
erectness
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| n.直立 | |
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52
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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53
languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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54
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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55
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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56
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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57
swirl
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| v.(使)打漩，(使)涡卷；n.漩涡，螺旋形 | |
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58
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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59
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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60
bruising
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| adj.殊死的；十分激烈的v.擦伤(bruise的现在分词形式) | |
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61
plundering
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| 掠夺，抢劫( plunder的现在分词 ) | |
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62
bracelets
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| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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63
despoiled
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| v.掠夺，抢劫( despoil的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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65
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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66
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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68
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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69
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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