“Hertha’s gone to play tennis at the cottage—in this grilling7 heat,” said her ladyship. “But she’s to be here to tea. Mrs. Duplessis is very sadly, I’m told. Ah!” and she put up her lorgnette. “Here they come, dear things.”
“What a pair!” murmured Mrs. Bingham to her eldest9 daughter, and caused Lady Cantacute to say rather sharply, “Not at all. They’ve known each other from the cradle.”
Mr. Tristram Duplessis was this young man—a cousin of Mrs. James Germain’s. He was good-looking, every foot of him, and there were six, high-coloured, light in the eye. He had a profusion10 of fair and straight hair, which he was accustomed to jerk away from his forehead, and a trick of knitting his brows, as if he scowled11, and of biting his cheek, as if he was annoyed. Very frequently he was. Apart from these peculiarities12, his manners were easy—Mr. John Germain thought, much too easy. One of his least pleasing habits was his way of looking at you in conversation as if you were either ridiculous or his property. Mr. Germain, very sure of being neither, did not pretend to like this youth.
He was greeted with “How’s your mother, Tristram?” from Lady Cantacute, and replied, “I believe she’s ill—at least, she says so;” whereat the second Miss Bingham choked in her tea-cup, and Mr. Duplessis looked at her for a minute with narrowed eyes.
Mrs. Bingham said, “Oh, I hope not,” with solicitude13.
“Naturally,” said Duplessis, “and so do I. I can only tell you what she says.” He helped himself to bread, butter, and jam, took the chair which had of late been Mr. John Germain’s, and ate in silence and complete comfort. Miss de Speyne helped herself, too. Her tennis dress had the air of a riding habit, and her person that of a young Amazon. She was not only sumptuous14, but severe, a golden beauty, as nearly indifferent to the fact as a girl may be. “Helen of Troy, fancy-free, before Paris beguiled15 her,” she had been called—but the Diana of the Louvre comes readiest to mind.
Mr. John Germain, seeing his chair in possession—and in that of Duplessis—crossed the railing and walked over the field towards the trestle-tables where the scholars feasted. Miss Bingham—the eldest—and Duplessis were now side by side. “Your young lady has made another conquest,” she told him, and nodded towards the severe, retreating form. Duplessis observed her calmly. “It’s no good, Mildred,” he said. “You can’t get a rise out of me, you know.” She laughed. “I think I’ve been saved the trouble, I was only calling your attention to it. He is greatly interested.” The young man’s answer was to look at Mr. Germain, retreating still in a stately manner, and then at Mildred Bingham. Graphic16 commentary enough.
When Mr. Germain approached the tables, Miss Middleham, who had been very aware of his coming, became instantly circumspect17. He advanced deliberately18 and stood by her side for a while without speaking: he then offered himself to hand tea-cups, and when she assured him that the work was done, held to his post without any more words or seeming embarrassment19. He was affable to Mr. Soames, if somewhat lofty; spoke20 of cricket and cricketers, the performances of Somerset, and of its champion, whom he was careful to call Mr. Palairet. For Berks, his own county, he apologized. He had a theory, not fully21 worked out yet, that the Scandinavian blood in us produced the best athletes. Consider Yorkshire and Lancashire. Kent, too: there was an undoubted strain of the Norseman in Kent. Surrey was against him—apparently; but he could not admit it. Of course, London gave the pick of everything; Surrey, a metropolitan22 shire, could hardly be reckoned, nor, by a parity23 of reasoning, Middlesex. Mr. Soames, who had not hitherto considered the ethnological side of his game, shook his head and said, “No, by jingo!” then plunged24 to another table and appeared to be busy. Mr. Germain turned to Miss Middleham and begged to know how he could be of service. “I must make good my boast: I rely upon the loyalty25 of Miss Cecily Bingham. Do you play after tea?” She said that there would be games. “For instance?” he inquired, and Mr. Soames, who was now hovering26 near again, said, “We shall finish the match. Perhaps you would care to umpire?” But Mr. Germain had picked up a small wooden implement27 and was turning it about like a fan. Bat, trap, and ball, he supposed? She laughed him yes. “Very well, then,” said he, “you shall allow me to help you in bat, trap, and ball.” Cecily Bingham’s eyes had now to be avoided at all costs.
The tall, stiff-shouldered gentleman made good his word—if that can be called playing the game where a player never hits the ball, frequently himself, and once (with a resounding28 smack) the boy fielding behind him. Grouped girls admired with open mouths; but the temptation to giggle29 when he caught himself for the second time upon the elbow and betrayed something of the torment30 he suffered was not to be resisted. Miss Middleham bit her lip, but turned to rend31 one of her pupils. “Gracie,” she said in a fierce whisper, “if you dare to laugh I’ll never speak to you again.”
“Here comes Tristram,” said Cecily, but Miss Middleham had no need to be told that. She was very busy teaching a small boy how to wield32 the bat which Mr. Germain now hastened to discard. “Thank you, Mr. Germain,” she said sincerely. “It’s very kind of you.”
“I am delighted to have been of the least service to you,” he replied with a bow. “You set us all an example which I, for one, am proud to follow.”
The games languished33, flickered out under the calm eyes of Mr. Duplessis, but he took no part in reviving them. Nor did Miss Middleham do more than pretend to instruct. He stood, hands in pockets, for a while, looking at nothing, whistling softly to himself, then strolled towards Mary Middleham and, without looking at her, said two or three words. She listened to them intently without turning her head, said, “Yes,” and went on with her business of the moment. Still whistling, Duplessis strolled away, and, in passing, tweaked Cecily Bingham’s straight hair.
Mr. Germain, after salutations of a courtly kind, had returned leisurely to the Rectory Garden—to help his sister-in-law feel the early peaches on the wall.
点击收听单词发音
1 apparatus | |
n.装置,器械;器具,设备 | |
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2 leisurely | |
adj.悠闲的;从容的,慢慢的 | |
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3 neatly | |
adv.整洁地,干净地,灵巧地,熟练地 | |
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4 benevolence | |
n.慈悲,捐助 | |
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5 desultory | |
adj.散漫的,无方法的 | |
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6 flickered | |
(通常指灯光)闪烁,摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7 grilling | |
v.烧烤( grill的现在分词 );拷问,盘问 | |
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8 flannels | |
法兰绒男裤; 法兰绒( flannel的名词复数 ) | |
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9 eldest | |
adj.最年长的,最年老的 | |
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10 profusion | |
n.挥霍;丰富 | |
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11 scowled | |
怒视,生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12 peculiarities | |
n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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13 solicitude | |
n.焦虑 | |
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14 sumptuous | |
adj.豪华的,奢侈的,华丽的 | |
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15 beguiled | |
v.欺骗( beguile的过去式和过去分词 );使陶醉;使高兴;消磨(时间等) | |
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16 graphic | |
adj.生动的,形象的,绘画的,文字的,图表的 | |
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17 circumspect | |
adj.慎重的,谨慎的 | |
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18 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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19 embarrassment | |
n.尴尬;使人为难的人(事物);障碍;窘迫 | |
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20 spoke | |
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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21 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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22 metropolitan | |
adj.大城市的,大都会的 | |
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23 parity | |
n.平价,等价,比价,对等 | |
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24 plunged | |
v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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25 loyalty | |
n.忠诚,忠心 | |
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26 hovering | |
鸟( hover的现在分词 ); 靠近(某事物); (人)徘徊; 犹豫 | |
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27 implement | |
n.(pl.)工具,器具;vt.实行,实施,执行 | |
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28 resounding | |
adj. 响亮的 | |
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29 giggle | |
n.痴笑,咯咯地笑;v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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30 torment | |
n.折磨;令人痛苦的东西(人);vt.折磨;纠缠 | |
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31 rend | |
vt.把…撕开,割裂;把…揪下来,强行夺取 | |
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32 wield | |
vt.行使,运用,支配;挥,使用(武器等) | |
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33 languished | |
长期受苦( languish的过去式和过去分词 ); 受折磨; 变得(越来越)衰弱; 因渴望而变得憔悴或闷闷不乐 | |
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