Dreams he had, no doubt; but they by no means disturbed the refreshing12, invigorating character of his repose13. On the night of his adventure in the streets, he dreamt the Lamia dream without its in the least affecting his slumber9; and when he opened his eyes the next morning, with the recollection of where he was, and what day it was, and what he had to do--those post-waking thoughts which come to all of us--there came upon him an indefinable sensation of something pleasurable and happy, of something bright and sunshiny, of something which made his heart feel light within him, and caused him to open his eyes and grapple with the day at once.
Some one surely must long ere this have remarked how our manner of waking from slumber is affected15 by our state of mind. The instant that consciousness comes upon us, the dominant16 object of our thoughts, be it pleasant or horrible, is before us: the absurd quarrel with the man in the black beard last night, about--what _was_ it about? the acceptance which Smith holds, which must be met, and can't be renewed; the proposal in the conservatory17 to Emily Fairbairn, while she was flushed with the first _valse_ after supper, and we with Mrs. Tresillian's champagne;--or, _per contra_, as they say in the City, the thrilling pressure of Flora18 Maitland's hand, and the low whisper in which she gave us rendezvous19 at the Botanical Fête this afternoon the lawyer's letter informing us of our godfather's handsome legacy;--all these, whether for good or ill, come before us with the first unclosing of our eyelids20. If agreeable we rouse ourselves at once, and lie simultaneously21 chewing the cud of pleasant thoughts and enjoying the calm haven22 of our bed; if objectionable, we try and shut them out yet for a little while, and turning round court sleep once more.
What was the first thought that flashed across Geoffrey Ludlow's brain immediately on his waking, and filled him with hope and joy? Not the remembrance of the purchase of his picture by Mr. Stompff, though that certainly occurred to him, with Stompff's promises of future employment, and the kind words of his old friends at the Titians, all floating simultaneously across his mind. But with these thoughts came the recollection of a fragile form, and a thin hand with long lithe23 fingers wound round his own, and a low feeble voice whispering the words "Bless you!--saved me!" in his listening ear.
Beneath the flickering24 gas-lamps, or in the dim half-light of Mrs. Flexor's room, he had been unable to make out the colour of the eyes, or of the thick hair which hung in heavy masses over her cheeks; it was a spiritual recollection of her at the best; but he would soon change that into a material inspection25. So, after settling in his own mind--that mind which coincides so readily with our wishes--that it was benevolence26 which prompted his every action, and which roused in him the desire to know how the patient of the previous night was getting on, he sprang from his bed, and pulled the string of his shower-bath with an energy which not even the knowledge of the water's probable temperature could mitigate27. But he had not proceeded half-way through his toilet, when the old spirit of irresolution28 began to exercise its dominion29 over him. Was it not somewhat of a Quixotic adventure in which he was engaging? To succour a starving frozen girl on a wet night was merely charitable and humane30; there was no man of anything like decent feeling but would have acted as he had done, and--by George!--here the hair-brushes were suspended in mid-air, just threatening a descent one on either side of his bushy head--wouldn't it have been better to have accepted Charley Pott's suggestion, and let the policeman take her to the workhouse? There she would have had every attention and--bah! every attention! the truckle-bed in a gaunt bare room, surrounded by disease in every shape; the perfunctory visits of the parish-doctor; the--O no! and, moreover, had he not heard, or at all events imagined he heard, the pallid31 lips mutter "Not there!" No! there was something in her which--which--at all events--well, _ruat caelum_, it was done, and he must take the consequences; and down came the two hair-brushes like two avalanches32, and worried his unresisting scalp like two steam-harrows. The recollection of the fragile frame, and the thin hands, and the broken voice, supported by the benevolent33 theory, had it all their own way from that time out, until he had finished dressing34, and sent him downstairs in a happy mood, pleased with what he had done, more pleased still with the notion of what he was about to do. He entered the room briskly, and striding up to an old lady sitting at the head of the breakfast-table, gave her a sounding kiss.
"Goodmorning, dearest mother.--How do, Til, dear?" turning to a young woman who was engaged in pouring out the tea. "I'm late again, I see."
"Always on sausage mornings, I notice, Geoffrey," said Mrs. Ludlow, with a little asperity35. "It does not so much matter with haddock, though it becomes leathery; or eggs, for you like them hard; but sausages should be eaten hot, or not at all; and to-day, when I'd sent specially36 for these, knowing that nasty herb-stuffing is indigestible--let them deny it if they can--it does seem hard that--well, never mind--"
Mrs. Ludlow was a very good old lady, with one great failing: she was under the notion that she had to bear what she called "a cross," a most uncomfortable typical object, which caused all her friends the greatest annoyance37, but in which, though outwardly mournful, she secretly rejoiced, as giving her a peculiar38 status in her circle. This cross intruded39 itself into all the social and domestic details of her life, and was lugged40 out metaphorically41 on all possible occasions.
"Don't mind me, mother," said Geoff; "the sausages will do splendidly. I overslept myself; I was a little late last night."
"O, at those everlasting42 Titians.--I declare I forgot," said the young woman who had been addressed as "Til," and who was Geoffrey's only sister. "Ah, poor fellow! studying his art till two this morning, wasn't he?" And Miss Til made a comic sympathetic _moue_, which made Geoff laugh.
"Two!" said Mrs. Ludlow; "nearer three, Matilda. I ought to know, for I had water running down my back all night, and my feet as cold as stone; and I had a perfect recollection of having left the key of the linen43 closet in the door, owing to my having been hurried down to luncheon44 yesterday when I was giving Martha out the clean pillowcases. However, if burglars do break into that linen-closet, it won't be for my not having mentioned it, as I call you to witness, Matilda."
"All right, mother," said Geoffrey; "we'll run the risk of that. I'm very sorry I disturbed the house, but I _was_ late, I confess; but I did some good, though."
"O yes, Geoffrey, we know," said Matilda. "Got some new notions for a subject, or heard some aesthetic45 criticism; or met some wonderful lion, who's going to astonish the world, and of whom no one ever hears again! You always have done something extraordinary when you're out very late, I find."
"Well, I did something really extraordinary last night. I sold my picture the 'Ballroom,' you know; and for what do you think?--two hundred pounds."
"O, Geoff, you dear, darling old Geoff! I am so glad! Two hundred pounds! O, Geoff, Geoff! You dear, lucky old fellow!" and Miss Till flung her arms round her brother's neck and hugged him with delight. Mrs. Ludlow said never a word; but her cross melted away momentarily, her eyes filled with tears, and her lips quivered. Geoffrey noticed this, and so soon as he had returned his sister's hearty46 embrace, he went up to his mother, and kneeling by her side, put up his face for her kiss.
"God bless you, my son!" said the old lady reverently47, as she gave it; "God bless you! This is brave news, indeed. I knew it would come in time; but--"
"Yes; but tell us all about it, Geoff. How did it come about? and however did you pluck up courage, you dear, bashful, nervous old thing, to ask such a price?"
"I--why, Til, you know that I--and you, dear mother, you know too that--not that I am bashful, as Til says; but still there's something. O, I should never have sold the picture, I believe, if I'd been let alone. It was Charley Potts sold it for me."
"Charles Potts! That ridiculous young man! Well, I should never have thought it," said Mrs. Ludlow.
Miss Matilda said nothing, but a faint flush rose on her neck and cheeks, and died away again as quickly as it came.
"O, he's a capital man of business--for anybody else, that's to say. He don't do much good for himself. He sold the picture for me, and prevented my saying a word in the whole affair. And who do you think has bought it? Mr. Stompff, the great dealer48, who tells me he'll take as many more of the same style as I like to paint."
"This is great news, indeed, my boy," said the old lady. "You've only to persevere49, and your fortune's made. Only one thing, Geoffrey,--never paint on Sunday, or you'll never become a great man."
"Well but, mother," said Geoff, smiling, "Sir Joshua Reynolds painted always on Sundays until Johnson's death and he was a great man."
"Ah, well, my dear," replied his mother forcibly, if not logically, "that's nothing to do with it."
Then Geoffrey, who had been hurrying through his sausage, and towards the last began to grow nervous and fidgety--accounted for by his mother and sister from his anxiety to go and see Mr. Stompff, and at once fling himself on to fresh canvases--finished his breakfast, and went out to get his hat. Mrs. Ludlow, with her "cross" rapidly coming upon her, sat down to "do the books,"--an inspection of the household brigade of tradesmen's accounts which she carried on weekly with the sternest rigour; and Matilda, who was by no means either a romantic or a strong-minded woman commenced to darn a basketful of Geoffrey's socks. Then the sock-destroyer put his head in at the door, his mouth ornamented51 with a large cigar, and calling out "Goodbye," departed on his way.
The fragile form, the thin hands, and the soft low voice had it all their own way with Geoffrey Ludlow now. He was going to see their owner; in less than an hour he should know the colour of the eyes and the hair; and figuratively Geoffrey walked upon air; literally52, he strode along with bright eyes and flushed cheeks, swinging his stick, and, but for the necessity of clenching53 his cigar between his teeth, inclined to hum a tune50 aloud. He scarcely noticed any of the people he met; but such as he did casually54 glance at he pitied from the bottom of his soul: there were no thin hands or soft voices waiting for them. And it must be owned that the passers-by who noticed him returned his pity. The clerks on the omnibuses, sucking solemnly at their briar-root pipes, or immersed in their newspapers, solemn staid men going in "to business," on their regular daily routine, looked up with wonder on this buoyant figure, with its black wideawake hat and long floating beard, its jerky walk, its swinging stick, and its general air of light-hearted happiness. The cynical55 clerks, men with large families, whom nothing but an increase of salary could rouse, interchanged shoulder-shrugs of contempt, and the omnibus-conductor, likewise a cynic, after taking a long stare at Geoffrey, called out to his driver, "'Appy cove56 that! looks as if he'd found a fourpennypiece, don't he?"
Entirely57 ignorant of the attention he was attracting, Geoff blithely58 pursued his way. He lived at Brompton, and he was bound for the neighbourhood of Portland Place; so he turned in at the Albert Gate, and crossing the enclosure and the Row, made for Grosvenor Gate. In the Park he was equally the object of remark: the nurse-girls called their charges to come "to heel" out of the way of that "nasty ugly big man;" the valetudinarians taking their constitutional in the Row loathed59 him for swinging his stick and making their horses shy as he passed; the park-keepers watched him narrowly, as one probably with felonious intent to the plants or the ducks.
Still, utterly60 unconscious, Geoffrey went swinging along across Grosvenor Square, down Brook61 Street; and not until he turned into Bond Street did he begin to realise entirely the step he was about to take. Then he wavered, in mind and in gait; he thought he would turn back: he did turn back, irresolute62, doubtful. Better have nothing more to do with it; nip it in the bud; send Charley Potts with a couple of sovereigns to Mrs. Flexor's, and tell her to set the girl on her way again, and wish her God-speed. But what if she were still ill, unable to move? people didn't gain sufficient strength in twelve hours; and Charley, though kind-hearted, was rather _brusque_; and then the low voice, with the "Bless you!--saved me!" came murmuring in his ear; and Geoffrey, like Whittington, turned again, and strode on towards Little Flotsam Street.
When he got near Flexor's door, he faltered63 again, and very nearly gave in: but looking up, saw Mrs. Flexor standing64 on the pavement; and perceiving by her manner that his advent14 had been noticed, proceeded, and was soon alongside that matron.
"Good morning, Mrs. Flexor."
"Good momin', sir; thought you'd be over early, though not lookin' for you now, but for Reg'las, my youngest plague, so called after Mr. Scumble's Wictory of the Carthageniums, who has gone for milk for some posset for our dear; who is much better this momin', the Lord a mussy! Dr. Rollix have been, and says we may sit up a little, if taking nourishment65 prescribed; and pleased to see you we shall be. A pretty creetur, Mr. Ludlow, though thin as thin and low as low: but what can we expect?"
"She is better, then?"
"A deal better, more herself like; though not knowing what she was before, I can't exactly say. Flexor was fine and buffy when he came home last night, after you was gone, sir. Them nasty Titiums, he always gets upset there. And now he's gone to sit to Mr. Potts for--ah, well, some Roman party whose name I never can remember."
"Is your patient up, Mrs. Flexor?"
"Gettin'. We shall be ready to see you in five minutes, sir. I'll go and see to her at once."
Mrs. Flexor retired66, and Geoffrey was left to himself for a quarter of an hour standing in the street, during which time he amused himself as most people would under similar circumstances. That is to say, he stared at the houses opposite and at the people who passed; and then he beat his stick against his leg, and then he whistled a tune, and then, having looked at his watch five times, he looked at it for the sixth. Then he walked up the street, taking care to place his foot on the round iron of every coal-shoot; and then he walked down the street, carrying out a determination to step in the exact centre of every flagstone; and then, after he had pulled his beard a dozen times, and lifted his wideawake hat as many, that the air might blow upon his hot forehead, he saw Mrs. Flexor's head protrude67 from the doorway68, and he felt very much inclined to run away. But he checked himself in time, and entered the house, and, after a ghostly admonition from Mrs. Flexor "not to hagitate her," he opened the parlour-door, which Mrs. Flexor duly shut behind him, and entered the room.
Little light ever groped its way between the closely-packed rows of houses in Little Flotsam Street, even on the brightest summer day; and on a dark and dreary69 winter's morning Mrs. Flexor's little front parlour was horribly dark. The worthy70 landlady71 had some wild notion, whence derived72 no one knew, that an immense amount of gentility was derived from keeping the light out; and consequently the bottom parts of her windows were fitted with dwarf73 wire-blinds, and the top parts with long linen-blinds, and across both were drawn74 curtains made of a kind of white fishing-net; so that even so little daylight as Little Flotsam Street enjoyed was greatly diluted75 in the Flexorian establishment.
But Geoffrey Ludlow saw stretched out on a miserable76 black horsehair sofa before him there this fragile form which had been haunting his brain for the last twelve hours. Ah, how thin and fragile it was; how small it looked, even in, its worn draggled black-merino dress! As he advanced noiselessly, he saw that the patient slept; her head was thrown back, her delicate white hands (and almost involuntarily Geoffrey remarked that she wore no wedding-ring) were clasped across her breast, and her hair, put off her dead-white face, fell in thick clusters over her shoulders.
With a professional eye Geoffrey saw at once that whatever trouble she might have taken, she could not have been more artistically77 posed than in this natural attitude. The expression of her eyes was wanting; and, as he sunk into a chair at her feet, her eyes opened upon him. Then he saw her face in its entirety; saw large deep-violet eyes, with dark lashes78 and eyebrows79; a thin, slightly aquiline80 nose; small thin close lips, and a little chin; a complexion81 of the deadest white, without the smallest colour and hair, long thick rich luxuriant hair, of a deep, red-god colour--not the poetic82 "auburn," not the vulgar "carrots;" a rich metallic83 red, unmistakable, admitting of no compromise, no darkening by grease or confining by fixature--a great mass of deep-red hair, strange, weird84, and oddly beautiful. The deep-violet eyes, opening slowly, fixed85 their regard on his face without a tremor86, and with a somewhat languid gaze; then brightening slowly, while the hands were unclasped, and the voice--how well Geoff remembered its tones, and how they thrilled him again!--murmured faintly, "It is you!"
What is that wonderful something in the human voice which at once proclaims the social status of the speaker? The proletary and the _roturier_, Nature willing, can have as good features, grow as flowing beards, be as good in stature87, grace, and agility88, as the noblest patrician89, or the man in whose veins90 flows the purest _sangre azul_; but they fail generally in hands, always in voice. Geoffrey Ludlow, all his weakness and irresolution notwithstanding, was necessarily by his art a student of life and character; and no sooner did he hear those three little words spoken in that tone, than all his floating ideas of shamming91 tramp or hypocritical streetwalker, as connected with the recipient92 of his last night's charity, died away, and he recognised at once the soft modulations of education, if not of birth.
But those three words, spoken in deep low quivering tones, while they set the blood dancing in Geoffrey Ludlow's veins, made him at the same time very uncomfortable. He had a dread93 of anything romantic; and there flashed through his mind an idea that he could only answer this remark by exclaiming, "Tis I!" or "Ay, indeed!" or something else equally absurd and ridiculous. So he contented94 himself with bowing his head and putting out his hand--into which the long lithe fingers came fluttering instantly. Then with burning cheeks Geoffrey bent95 forward, and said, "You are better to-day?"
"Oh, so much--so much better! thanks to you, thanks to you!"
"Your doctor has been?" She bowed her head in reply.
"And you have everything you wish for?" She bowed again, this time glancing up--with, O, such a light in the deep-violet eyes--into Geoffrey's face!
"Then--then I will leave you now," said he, awkwardly enough. The glance fell as he said this; but flashed again full and earnest in an instant; the lithe fingers wound round his wrist, and the voice, even lower and more tremulously than before, whispered, "You'll come to-morrow?"
Now this was a short, and not a particularly satisfactory, interview; but the smallest detail of it remained in Geoffrey Ludlow's mind, and was reproduced throughout the remainder of that day and the first portion of the succeeding night, for him to ponder over. He felt the clasp of her fingers yet on his wrist, and he heard the soft voice, "You'll come to-morrow?" It must be a long distance, he thought, that he would not go to gaze into those eyes, to touch that hand, to hear that voice again!
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1
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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comatose
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| adj.昏睡的，昏迷不醒的 | |
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rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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stertorous
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| adj.打鼾的 | |
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growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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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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conservatory
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| n.温室，音乐学院；adj.保存性的，有保存力的 | |
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flora
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| n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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simultaneously
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haven
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lithe
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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inspection
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benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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mitigate
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irresolution
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| n.不决断，优柔寡断，犹豫不定 | |
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dominion
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| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
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humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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avalanches
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| n.雪崩( avalanche的名词复数 ) | |
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benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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asperity
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| n.粗鲁，艰苦 | |
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specially
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annoyance
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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intruded
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| n.侵入的，推进的v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 )；把…强加于 | |
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lugged
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| vt.用力拖拉（lug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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metaphorically
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| adv. 用比喻地 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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aesthetic
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| adj.美学的，审美的，有美感 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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persevere
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| v.坚持，坚忍，不屈不挠 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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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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cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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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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blithely
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| adv.欢乐地，快活地，无挂虑地 | |
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loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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irresolute
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| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
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faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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protrude
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| v.使突出，伸出，突出 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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dwarf
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| n.矮子，侏儒，矮小的动植物；vt.使…矮小 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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diluted
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| 无力的，冲淡的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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artistically
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| adv.艺术性地 | |
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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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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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aquiline
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| adj.钩状的，鹰的 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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agility
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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patrician
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| adj.贵族的，显贵的；n.贵族；有教养的人；罗马帝国的地方官 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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shamming
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| 假装，冒充( sham的现在分词 ) | |
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recipient
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| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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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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