"If Aliette hadn't given up the game to do war-work, and if I hadn't got cut over by that bomb, we might have done some good together in the club doubles," said Mollie Fullerford.
"Well, you're both of you too hot for me," protested Wilberforce.
He balanced a cup of tea on his white-flanneled1 leg, and surveyed his companion admiringly. They were sitting in the sloped veranda2 of the clubhouse at Queen's. Below them, on the oval of green turf between the red West Kensington houses, a dozen marked courts hummed with the ping of ball against racket-face, with the swish of running skirts and the voices of the players scoring--"love fifteen," "fifteen all," "fifteen thirty."
"Oh, well played!" ejaculated the girl. Aliette, practising with Mrs. Needham on No. 2 court, had just banged a forehand drive down the side-line. "She's getting it back. Don't you think so, Jimmy?"
Mollie spoke3 the last word with some hesitation4; they had only just got to the point of calling each other by their Christian5 names.
"Rather," agreed her companion, whose interest in Brunton's wife was of the vaguest, but who knew that he must at least simulate it--because, to Mollie, Aliette represented a good deal more than the average sister.
James Wilberforce did not possess a very emotional personality. He was not at all the sort of person to be swept off his feet by any woman. Marriage being "indicated," alike by parental6 desires, personal tastes, and a growing income, he had cast about for a possible mate; found her by accident; and was now "making the running" in the approved manner.
So far, the "running" had been rapid enough. Nevertheless, Sir Peter Wilberforce's son and heir already understood that this calm young creature of the broad forehead and the violet eyes would not yield herself without a struggle. "Takes life rather seriously, does Mollie," he thought; and liked her none the less for that.
"He used to. But since he took to golf, 'patters' has lost its attraction."
"Rotten game, golf," said Mollie. "Takes too long. I believe in getting one's exercise over quickly."
They discussed the point for a second or two; and then veered8, like most people in their position, to the personal. Aliette, looking up at them as she changed courts, knew a quick flash of envy. For those two, love would run its legitimate9 course; whereas for her---- She put thought away, and concentrated on the game.
"Two five, I lead," announced Mrs. Needham--a hard-featured, soft-hearted woman with a mop of unruly black hair, an eye like a hawk10, and the hands of a mechanic. "Why don't you give up that overhand service?"
"It'll come back in time."
Aliette went to her own base-line, and took two balls from the boy. Mrs. Needham crouched11 in her favorite position on the other side of the net. Aliette tossed up a ball, swung up her racket, served.
The service, railroading down the center-chalk, defeated Mrs. Needham. The server crossed to the left-hand court; stood to serve--and saw Ronnie.
For a fraction of a second they looked at each other through the high side-netting. He plucked off his soft hat, and stood watching. Aliette served; faulted; faulted again.
"Fifteen all," announced Mrs. Needham.
And suddenly, Aliette's game came back to her. Once more her first service struck chalk from the center-line. But this time Mrs. Needham got back a swingeing shot. Aliette ran--back-handed--flew to the net, killed the return.
"Thirty fifteen," she announced.
She knew, as she crossed, that Ronnie was still watching; that she must not look at him; that if she looked at him she would double-fault again; that she mustn't double-fault; that she must win.
But now Mrs. Needham was all out for the set. Aliette's service came back like white lightning down the side-line. She struck--ran for the net--guessed Mrs. Needham's lob-stroke--got back to it--slammed it across the court--got to the net again--won her point after a tremendous rally.
"Forty fifteen," announced Aliette; and abruptly12, preparing to serve, she knew that Ronnie was no longer watching. Concentration failed her: the game didn't seem to matter: the sooner she lost the game, the sooner she would be able to talk with him.
2
"Why, there is Mr. Cavendish," said Mollie Fullerford. "And that's Hugh Spillcroft with him. I haven't seen Hugh for years."
She ran down the steps; and Wilberforce followed--a little jealously. The four stood chatting.
"Yes," said Ronnie. "Spillcroft had insisted on his playing 'patters.' Spillcroft had promised to lend him a racket."
"Cavendish used to play a pretty fair game at the House," interjected Hugh--a clean-shaven monocled young man, who looked, once divested13 of wig14 and gown, a bit of a blood.
To Ronald the ensuing conversation was almost meaningless. He took part in it automatically. He didn't want to talk with these people; he wanted to watch that white embodiment of graceful15 strength, Aliette. He could hear her voice, "Forty thirty," followed by the swish of two balls along netting, and Mrs. Needham's "Deuce." She had lost two points since he turned away.
The unexpected sight of her had paralyzed his self-control. He forgot all the resolutions, all the ratiocinations of the last ten days. He clean forgot Hector Brunton. His inward vision reveled in memories of her beauty. How glorious she looked--on horseback, a-walking, in evening dress, even on a tennis-court. Curious, that last! "Patters" women nearly always looked disheveled--those of them who could play.
Aliette--her set thrown away--and Mrs. Needham joined the four of them.
"How do you do, Mr. Cavendish?"
"How do you do, Mrs. Brunton?"
They clasped hands.
"I had to go all out that last game," said Mrs. Needham.
Neither she nor Ronnie realized that Aliette had lost deliberately16. Aliette seemed so calm, so radiantly self-possessed. The vivid coils of her hair shone smooth in the sunlight; her eyes, as they looked into Ronnie's, were unruffled pools of dignity.
Yet inwardly Hector's wife shook like a ship in storm. The tempest of feeling--released, as it were, by the touch of his fingers--swept her through and through. To stand there, talking rubbish, undiluted "tennis" rubbish, became sheer torment17. Her heart ached for his to recognize it.
"Oh, but I'm a fool all right," said the new voice in her heart; the voice she had been trying to stifle18 ever since March. "I've lost my head for good this time. I wish I could run away from him. I wish he'd go and change. What's the use of meeting him? Like this--with all these people. Why aren't we ever alone? I wish he'd go."
But Ronald Cavendish could not tear himself away. He, too, stood there, "like a perfect idiot," as he phrased it to his mind, saying anything that came into his head; anything that would keep him for another minute, and yet another minute, within the charmed circle of her society.
"Mixed doubles seem distinctly indicated," broke in Spillcroft's voice. "Come along, Cavendish, you and I had better change."
"But I shall be absolutely rotten," protested Ronnie, as he allowed himself to be led off.
Mrs. Needham found another opponent, leaving the two sisters alone with Wilberforce, who offered Aliette some tea. She accepted, and accompanied them back to their table; where, after a few minutes, Cavendish and Spillcroft joined them.
Sipping19 her tea, listening with half an ear to the conversations all round her, Aliette Brunton was, for the first time, aware of social danger. She felt a furious desire to talk with Ronnie, to look at him. But to-day no frailest20 rose-bubble of enchantment21 isolated22 them from their kind. To-day all the other instincts warned that she must avert23 her eyes, avert her voice. Nobody--not even Mollie--must guess their secret. Somehow she no longer doubted it their secret. Her very fears gave her the certainty of him. She stole a look, sideways under long lashes24, into his blue eyes; and knew--knew that he loved her.
Yes, he loved her. Not as Hector imagined love, solely25 in the possessive. But in all ways; with passion, with tenderness with as much regard for her as for himself.
Fleetingly26, she marveled that this thing should have happened to her; to both of them. How had it happened? Why? What did the why or the how of the thing matter? Sufficed--for the ecstatic moment--the knowledge that they loved one another.
But the man did not know. Certain of himself, he held no certainty of her. Even his self-certainty seemed evanescent in her presence. Surely he had not dared to let himself adore this radiant, perfect creature! Surely, even daring to adore, he would never dare tell her of his adoration28! She was like the goddesses, utterly29 removed from the touch of a man, utterly aloof30 from him. Then, fleetingly, he knew her no goddess, but a wife--Hector Brunton's wife. And all the scruples31 of his code made the knowledge bitter in his mouth.
"Cavendish hasn't got a word to say for himself," thought Mollie. "Jimmy's ever so much better-looking--though Jimmy's tennis is rotten. I sha'n't let Jimmy play in this set." And she insisted, following the high-handed method of the modern young, on playing with Spillcroft against Cavendish and her sister.
Ronnie's patters proved somewhat less out of practice than he had imagined.
"Thank you, partner," smiled Aliette, after the last stroke of the third, and decisive, set. "Your volleying saved, the day."
"Oh, I didn't have much to do with it," he smiled back.
Since the beginning of the match, except for the necessities of the strokes, they had hardly spoken to one another. But, for each, the forty minutes of partnership32, the mutual33 will to win, the clean struggle on clean grass, the open air and the exercise had been one long delight.
Scruples, uncertainties34, consciousness of danger, consciousness of fear--these and all the inevitable35 soul-searchings of a love such as theirs took wings and departed from them. Surrendering their bodies and their minds to one another for the winning of a game; concentrating on the vagaries36 of a white ball, a net, and a few square feet of turf; they forgot their immediate37 selves, forgot that they were "Mr. Cavendish" and "Mrs. Brunton"--two poor human beings poised38 at the edge of emotional disaster, separated by law, by the church, by "honor," united only by the "sentimental39 impulse," and became, for the forgetful moment, one mind and one body.
But now, once more, they were twain. Now forgetfulness was over. Now emotion poured back full-tide, submerging both their minds and their bodies.
James Wilberforce lounged down from the clubhouse; drew Mollie away from her partner, and began whispering. Mollie called across the court:
"I say, Alie, Mr. Wilberforce wants to drive me back in his car. You won't mind coming home by yourself, will you? I don't think I ought to play any more."
"No, dear, I sha'n't mind," called back Aliette; and her eyes as she watched the two figures making towards the waiting cars; as she heard the chug of Wilberforce's engine, and saw his two-seater swing through the gates up the road toward Baron's Court, betrayed the truth of the remark. But when she turned once more to the flanneled man at her side, those eyes had regained40 their composure.
"Can't we find a fourth?" remarked Aliette.
"We'll get Mrs. Needham to make up," said Spillcroft. "She and I'll take you two on."
And so, for one last crowded hour, those two played together--brains and bodies attuned41 to the delight of working in unison42.
The very cleanness of the game took all sense of guilt43 and all guilt of sense from them. They might have been boy and girl, young husband and younger wife, lovers whose love was sanctioned of the law--he and she, sinews taut44, eyes keen, all the health and all the youth of them concentrated on rhythmic45 pastime.
3
"You'e got your car, I suppose?"
"No. My--my husband's taken it out of town."
The rhythmic pastime was over. Nervously46 now they faced one another on the empty court. Spillcroft had rushed away to change, Mrs. Needham to the tube. From their kind, they could expect neither help nor hindrance47.
Already the shadows of the red houses lengthened48 toward them across green turf; already the bustle49 of the tennis-ground was hushed. Sparrow twittered on the silence. In the radiance of that summer evening the brown hair, the brown eyes of Aliette kindled51 to wallflower color against the rose-flushed cream of her skin. The sight of her beauty, so virginal in its white simplicity52 of attire53, so alone with him in that emptiness of green, struck Ronnie speechless. He stood enthralled--the magic of her harping54 sheer music against the hush50 in his brain.
"I--I think I ought to be going home," said Aliette.
She, too, heard that sheer music which is love. Once more, tempest-wise, emotion swept her through and through: sweeping55 away inhibition; sweeping away all false fastidiousness; cleansing56 her soul of all instincts save the instinct for loving, for being loved. In that one magical, self-revealing moment, she was conscious solely of joy.
"I--mayn't I drive you----" stammered57 Ronnie. He hardly knew what he said. All the suppressed vehemences, all the pent-up longings58 of the past months craved59 utterance60 at his lips. Fear and love keyed him to any daring. He had had such happiness of her that afternoon. It made him fearful lest happiness should utterly escape.
"Thank you very much----" Once more she was aware of danger. Yet she could not bring herself to say him "No."
He left her without another word. Her own heart, the very world, seemed to have ceased pulsing as she awaited his return. She stood alone, woman eternal, hearing very faintly across hushed spaces the beat of music, the birth-cry of children.
Ten minutes later--looking, to other eyes, the most ordinary, most orderly of citizens--Ronnie came back. But that sense of utter solitude61 was still on Aliette. She could only smile her thanks as he led her to the waiting taxi, handed her in, and closed the door.
She did not wish that he should speak with her. She was afraid lest even his voice should irrupt upon this exquisite62 solitude wherein her soul hung poised. And yet how good to know him beside her as London spun63 past them in the twilight64.
Was this London, the London she had so hated, this wonder-town through which they sped together? Was this Aliette? This, Ronnie?
And suddenly, vividly65, she desired to hear his voice. Solitude no longer sufficed her. She had been so long solitary--solitary in unhappiness. Now, in her new happiness, she craved companionship, the sound of a voice, the touch of a hand. Why did he not dare speak with her?
Descending66 as from great heights, her soul knew him afraid lest, speaking, he should destroy that rose-bubble of enchantment in which they had their being; afraid, too, because he still thought of her as another's. Yet she was no other's: she was his, his only. And he--hers.
How fast they sped through this miracle of London. Already, the trees of its park were fleeting27 by.
Oh, why wouldn't Ronnie speak with her? Had he no word to say? In a moment, in such a little moment, it would be too late.
Yet it was fine of him not to speak, fine that he should so steel himself against her. His eyes were like sharp steel; his lips one tense line above the determination of his chin. He had clenched67 his hand--his right hand. Aliette could see it--close--so close to her own hand.
Then the car swerved68, almost throwing them together; and Ronnie's self-control snapped, as a violin-string snaps, to the touch of her.
Their hands met. She knew that he was raising her hand to his lips; she felt the brush of his lips warm against her fingers; she heard his lips whisper: "Aliette--Aliette--don't hate me for loving you."
4
Hector Brunton's wife entered her husband's house like a girl in a dream.
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flanneled
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| 穿法兰绒衣服的 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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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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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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parental
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| adj.父母的；父的；母的 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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8
veered
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| v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的过去式和过去分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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divested
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| v.剥夺( divest的过去式和过去分词 )；脱去（衣服）；2。从…取去…；1。（给某人）脱衣服 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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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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stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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frailest
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| 脆弱的( frail的最高级 )； 易损的； 易碎的 | |
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enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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fleetingly
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| adv.飞快地，疾驰地 | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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uncertainties
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| 无把握( uncertainty的名词复数 )； 不确定； 变化不定； 无把握、不确定的事物 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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vagaries
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| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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attuned
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| v.使协调( attune的过去式和过去分词 )；调音 | |
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unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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hindrance
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| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
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lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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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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kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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harping
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| n.反复述说 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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cleansing
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| n. 净化(垃圾) adj. 清洁用的 动词cleanse的现在分词 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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longings
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| 渴望，盼望( longing的名词复数 ) | |
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craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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64
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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65
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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66
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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67
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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