That had, at first, seemed a stroke of Fortune with which he was not to cope. He had married her—when she was the fashion of the day, the day’s last expression—early in life, so soon as he had gone down from Cambridge and entered upon his inheritance. She had brought him little money—but he wanted none of her money; he wanted her, as every enthusiast14 for the ideal then did. A beautiful, haggard, swift, violent creature, tearing life to tatters that she might find some excitement in the lining15, there came a year when Clytemnestra threatened to be her proper name—that year when her husband returned from a solitary16 tour in Palestine, Syria, and the Trojan plain, and when ?gisthus, they say, had not been wanting, to make the trio of them. But he, this immovable, triple-armoured man of thirty—he was no more—had shown what his fibre was when he had lived ?gisthus down, lived him out of Berks, out of his clubs, out of London, out of England, and then had set himself to work to live the devil out of his Clytemnestra. What he suffered will never be known, for he took good care of that; and what she may have suffered can hardly be guessed, for she talked too much and too bitterly to be believed. There’s no doubt that these were terrible years; there were fifteen of them, and of every one you would have sworn it must be the last. Providence17 finally justified18 that wonderful grit19 in the man—that panoply20 of esteem21 which no sword could bite on—by breaking Lady Di’s back in the hunting-field.
He had been forty when that crowning mercy came to him, and had spent the ten following years in getting his affairs into order. Changing outwardly none of his habits, such as his yearly visit to London, his yearly visit to Misperton Rectory, he was none the less conscious of a departed zest22; his panoply was frayed23 if not rent; and wherever he was during those ten orderly years carried his hope about with him—a treasured, if dim, a real, if undefined, presence. He called it Hestia, and wrote verses about it in secret; he had a positive taste for certain forms of poetry—the Court pastoral, the shepherd-in-satin, beribboned lamb sort of poetry—but not a soul knew that, not even his butler. Hestia was not a woman—at least, she had no members; she appeared in his verses unwooing and unwooed. She was, rather, the vision of an Influence; she was an Aura, a rhythm, a tone. She involved, implied, a domestic calm which had never been his, though Southover’s walls were fair and many; she was a melodious24 beat added to his ordered goings; at her touch the clockwork of Southover chimed silvern instead of steely. The hope of this Hestia, if I may say so, he carried always about with him at the half-cock. It was the secret of his life. You would never have suspected him of a musical ear; yet there it was. You would have said that any spring of poetry in him would have been sealed at the fount by that panoply which could turn a sword-edge—but no! The eye of such a man may never betray its content and his heart be incapable25 of voicing its desire. But what heart covets26 eye will hold, and ear strain after. The man will burn within and make no sign—to fellow man.
And now, the stateliest hedge-breaker that ever, surely, wrought27 in Somerset, Mr. Germain proceeded on his declared purpose with an absence of parade which, while it robbed it of all sting, must also have threatened its value. Unless you shout Liberty as you trample28 barriers down, the prisoners may well remain within their pinfolds. There was no shouting in Misperton Brand. It was Mr. Germain’s habit to take breakfast in his own room and keep a solitary morning. He was not visible to the Rectory party until luncheon29 time; after tea he was accustomed also to withdraw himself until dinner. During these times of seclusion30, as I collect, he devoted31 himself to the emancipation32 of Miss Middleham.
Sobered as such a young lady could not fail to be by the unimpeachable33 testimony34 of Thursday’s school treat and Saturday’s cricket, it was on the Monday following that a series of encounters began, which struck, excited, and ended by enthralling35 her. Walking to her work in the mornings, she must needs overtake him, returning late in the evenings, behold36 him strolling a few yards in front of her. This may be done once and be a transient glory, twice and be for remembrance—a comfort when things go awry37; let it happen three times, and you will be frightened. After that it may colour each day beforehand as it comes. Miss Middleham had reached the stage where her heart began to beat as she approached the corner of Love-lane, at the end of which stood The Sanctuary38 behind its defences of laurela, white gates and laurustinus—when another shock was given her, one of those shocks which you get when you put two and two together, as the saying is. It did not take her a second to do the sum—but it had to be done.
On this occasion lessons had been rolling for an hour—long enough to discover how hot it was and how interesting a bee in a window could make himself; more than long enough for Tommy to yawn and squeak39 his slate-pencil, for Elsie to sigh and look appealingly at Miss Middleham—when the door opened and papa appeared, and behind papa, tall and benevolent40, Mr. Germain, the great gentleman from the Rectory.
At this sudden invasion of her sanctuary, Miss Middleham rose startled in her place, and her hand unconsciously sought her side. As Dian surprised with her nymphs might have covered her unveiled breast, so she her heart. At least, so the visitor interpreted the act. If the children stared clear-eyed, Miss Middleham’s fine eyes were misty41. Altogether a pretty commotion42 without and within.
Mr. Nunn—Mr. T. Albert Nunn, as he was pleased to sign himself—was a hale, elderly, and plump gentleman, in colouring rather like a greenhouse plant, so vividly43 white and feathery was he in the whiskers, so fleshily pink in the cheeks. He now showed considerable elation44, though modesty45 rode it, as it were, on the curb46.
“Miss Middleham—pray let me not disturb you. Mr. Germain, Sir, our preceptress, Miss Middleham—who is so kind as to take charge of my nestlings—ha, Sir! my motherless babes—” As he waved them into acquaintance with each other Miss Middleham became deeply suffused47, but Mr. Germain was ready to help her.
“Miss Middleham and I are old acquaintances,” he said. “Indeed, I presume upon that at the moment.” He turned to her, excusing himself. “Mr. Nunn assured me that we should not disturb you, and I hope you will support him. You know my interest in educational matters——”
“Yes, Mr. Germain,” she said, faintly. “You have spoken of it.”
“I thought it due to you, when I learned what an honourable48 charge you profess49, that you should know me an admirer of it from afar—unfortunately from afar. Your little pupils, too, I have met—” Mr. Nunn, who had a good ear for sentiment, had his cue.
“My motherless—! Ha, Miss Middleham, what can we show Mr. Germain—what have we of interest? My Gertrude, now, writes a good essay—I have heard you say so. Hey?”
“Very good, indeed, Mr. Nunn,” said Miss Middleham, while Miss Gertrude swallowed hard.
“I should enjoy a sight of it of all things,” said Mr. Germain; so the essay was produced—in all its round and becapitalled script, with Miss Middleham’s corrections in red ink. “The Character of John Lackland, King of England.”
Mr. Germain read between the lines, studied the corrections, and mused50 as he read. At the end, it happened there was a model essay in the teacher’s hand, not hard to discover as the teacher’s composition. He read this, too, and interpreted it in the light of his vision of the girl. He read into it her confident, natural voice, saw behind it her trim figure, her expressive51 eyes and softly rich colour. The entire absence of anything remarkable52 in itself gave him no dismay. He was not looking for that, but for confirmation53 of his emotions, for a reasoned basis to them. It was clear to him in a moment that the Kings of England were counters in a game—a game, to the teacher, only a shade less dreary54, because much more familiar, than to her pupils. This was what he wanted to find. It corroborated55 his first vision: the vision held. Had she shown talent, to say nothing of genius, for her profession, he would have been greatly disconcerted. Handing the book back, he patted Miss Gertrude on the head for a quick little pupil, and her beaming parent on the back, in a manner of speaking, for possessing her. “You are happy, Mr. Nunn,” he said, “in your children’s promise, and I am sure that their instructress may be satisfied with their performance.”
“You are very good, Sir,” replied Mr. Nunn. “It is naturally gratifying to me—highly gratifying—when a gentleman in your position takes notice of my little brood. Ha! my little seed-plots, as I may truly say. Miss Middleham reports favourably56 of progress—steady progress. I hear that little Margaret’s sewing is somewhat remarkable——”
But Mr. Germain did not pursue his researches, having no need.
Heaven and Earth! he thought, as he had intended all along to think, were ever labours more jejune57 compelled upon a fresh and budding young life? Was ever yoke58 more galling59 laid upon yearling shoulders? To set a being so delicate at liberty, there can be no hammer and pick laid to the barrier; nay60, it must be rather by enlarging from within. The butterfly lies so in a prison house, his iris61 wings close-folded to his sides. Break into the shell, you either crash the filmy thing, or usher62 it untimely into a chill world. No, no. Breathe tenderness, shed warmth about the lovely prisoner; it grows in grace and strength to free itself. Then be at hand to see the dawning of life, share in the contemplative ecstasy63 of a God, rejoice with Him in a fair work—behold it very good!
“What is exquisite64 here,” he told himself as he thought of Mary standing65 at her work, “is the bending to the yoke, and the resiliency, the strain for release which is irrepressible in so ardent66 and strong a nature. I remember the proud youths in the Panathenaic frieze67, the noble maidens68 bearing baskets on their heads. Obedience69, willingness, patience on the curb—can anything be more beautiful? You ride a perfect horse; he throbs70 under your hand. A touch will guide him, but brutality71 will make a mad thing of him. The gentle hand, the gentle hand! He who is privileged enough to have that in his gift, within his faculty73, is surely blessed above his fellows!
“And does not that quality of beauty, indeed, depend upon the curb? Can it exist, as such, without it? No: the head cannot bow so meekly74 without the burden laid, the neck cannot spring until it has been bent75. Ah, but the curb is wielded76 by the hand, and must never be in unwise or brutal72 employ. Here there is not brutality, but a stupidity beyond belief, something horrible to me, and deeply touching77, that one so young, so highly graced, so little advantaged, should be drudging to prepare for others a lot no better than her own—drudging without aptitude78, without reason, without hope to realize or ambition to gratify—desiring merely to live and grow and be happy! Horrible, most horrible. Surely so fair a spirit should be more thriftily79 expended80! Transplant that sweet humour, that really beautiful submissiveness into a room more gracious, an atmosphere more appreciative81, and how could it fail to thrive, to bear flower and fruit?”
Flower and fruit—ah, me! There leapt up in his heart an answering fire, and he cried to himself, “Hestia! The Hearth82!”
点击收听单词发音
1 nucleus | |
n.核,核心,原子核 | |
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2 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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3 erect | |
n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
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4 leisurely | |
adj.悠闲的;从容的,慢慢的 | |
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5 precluded | |
v.阻止( preclude的过去式和过去分词 );排除;妨碍;使…行不通 | |
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6 guardians | |
监护人( guardian的名词复数 ); 保护者,维护者 | |
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7 lesser | |
adj.次要的,较小的;adv.较小地,较少地 | |
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8 incumbencies | |
n.现任职位,现任职权,任期( incumbency的名词复数 ) | |
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9 halfway | |
adj.中途的,不彻底的,部分的;adv.半路地,在中途,在半途 | |
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10 subscribed | |
v.捐助( subscribe的过去式和过去分词 );签署,题词;订阅;同意 | |
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11 dignified | |
a.可敬的,高贵的 | |
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12 subdued | |
adj. 屈服的,柔和的,减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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13 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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14 enthusiast | |
n.热心人,热衷者 | |
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15 lining | |
n.衬里,衬料 | |
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16 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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17 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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18 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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19 grit | |
n.沙粒,决心,勇气;v.下定决心,咬紧牙关 | |
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20 panoply | |
n.全副甲胄,礼服 | |
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21 esteem | |
n.尊敬,尊重;vt.尊重,敬重;把…看作 | |
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22 zest | |
n.乐趣;滋味,风味;兴趣 | |
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23 frayed | |
adj.磨损的v.(使布、绳等)磨损,磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24 melodious | |
adj.旋律美妙的,调子优美的,音乐性的 | |
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25 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
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26 covets | |
v.贪求,觊觎( covet的第三人称单数 ) | |
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27 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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28 trample | |
vt.踩,践踏;无视,伤害,侵犯 | |
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29 luncheon | |
n.午宴,午餐,便宴 | |
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30 seclusion | |
n.隐遁,隔离 | |
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31 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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32 emancipation | |
n.(从束缚、支配下)解放 | |
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33 unimpeachable | |
adj.无可指责的;adv.无可怀疑地 | |
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34 testimony | |
n.证词;见证,证明 | |
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35 enthralling | |
迷人的 | |
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36 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
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37 awry | |
adj.扭曲的,错的 | |
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38 sanctuary | |
n.圣所,圣堂,寺庙;禁猎区,保护区 | |
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39 squeak | |
n.吱吱声,逃脱;v.(发出)吱吱叫,侥幸通过;(俚)告密 | |
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40 benevolent | |
adj.仁慈的,乐善好施的 | |
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41 misty | |
adj.雾蒙蒙的,有雾的 | |
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42 commotion | |
n.骚动,动乱 | |
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43 vividly | |
adv.清楚地,鲜明地,生动地 | |
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44 elation | |
n.兴高采烈,洋洋得意 | |
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45 modesty | |
n.谦逊,虚心,端庄,稳重,羞怯,朴素 | |
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46 curb | |
n.场外证券市场,场外交易;vt.制止,抑制 | |
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47 suffused | |
v.(指颜色、水气等)弥漫于,布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48 honourable | |
adj.可敬的;荣誉的,光荣的 | |
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49 profess | |
v.声称,冒称,以...为业,正式接受入教,表明信仰 | |
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50 mused | |
v.沉思,冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 );沉思自语说(某事) | |
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51 expressive | |
adj.表现的,表达…的,富于表情的 | |
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52 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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53 confirmation | |
n.证实,确认,批准 | |
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54 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
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55 corroborated | |
v.证实,支持(某种说法、信仰、理论等)( corroborate的过去式 ) | |
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56 favourably | |
adv. 善意地,赞成地 =favorably | |
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57 jejune | |
adj.枯燥无味的,贫瘠的 | |
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58 yoke | |
n.轭;支配;v.给...上轭,连接,使成配偶 | |
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59 galling | |
adj.难堪的,使烦恼的,使焦躁的 | |
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60 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
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61 iris | |
n.虹膜,彩虹 | |
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62 usher | |
n.带位员,招待员;vt.引导,护送;vi.做招待,担任引座员 | |
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63 ecstasy | |
n.狂喜,心醉神怡,入迷 | |
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64 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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65 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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66 ardent | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,强烈的,烈性的 | |
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67 frieze | |
n.(墙上的)横饰带,雕带 | |
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68 maidens | |
处女( maiden的名词复数 ); 少女; 未婚女子; (板球运动)未得分的一轮投球 | |
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69 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
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70 throbs | |
体内的跳动( throb的名词复数 ) | |
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71 brutality | |
n.野蛮的行为,残忍,野蛮 | |
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72 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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73 faculty | |
n.才能;学院,系;(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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74 meekly | |
adv.温顺地,逆来顺受地 | |
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75 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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76 wielded | |
手持着使用(武器、工具等)( wield的过去式和过去分词 ); 具有; 运用(权力); 施加(影响) | |
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77 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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78 aptitude | |
n.(学习方面的)才能,资质,天资 | |
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79 thriftily | |
节俭地; 繁茂地; 繁荣的 | |
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80 expended | |
v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 );使用(钱等)做某事;用光;耗尽 | |
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81 appreciative | |
adj.有鉴赏力的,有眼力的;感激的 | |
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82 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
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