What a gift is that of the painter, whose whole story can be read at one glance, who puts what we require three thick volumes to narrate17 into a few feet of canvas, who with one touch of his brush gives an expression which we pen-and-ink workers should take pages to convey, and even then could never hope to do it half so happily!--who sees his work grow beneath his hand, and can himself judge of its effect on others;--who can sit with his pipe in his mouth, and chirp18 away merrily to his friend, the while his right hand is gaining him wealth and honour and fame!
The spirit was on Geoffrey Ludlow, and the result came out splendidly. He hoped to gain a good place on the Academy walls, he hoped to do justice to the commissions which Mr. Stompff had given him; but there was something beyond these two incentives19 which spurred his industry and nerved his touch. After all his previous failures, it seemed as though Scylla the governess would have the best of it at last. Charybdis was a splendid creature, a bold, black-eyed, raven-haired charmer, with her hair falling in thick masses over her shoulders, and with a gorgeous passion-flower hanging voluptuously20 among her tresses; a goddess amongst big Guardsmen, who would sit and suck their yellow moustaches and express their admiration21 in fragmentary ejaculations, or amongst youths from the Universities, with fluff instead of hair, and blushes in place of _aplomb_. But in his later work the artist's heart seemed to have gone with Scylla, who was to her rival as is a proof after Sir Joshua to a French print, as a glass of Amontillado to a _petit verre_ of Chartreuse,--a slight delicate creature, with violet eyes and pallid22 complexion23, and deep-red hair brought down in thick braids, and tucked away behind such dainty little ears; her modest gray dress contrasting, in its quaker-like simplicity24, with the brilliant-hued robe and rich laces of her rival. His morning's work must have been successful, for--rare thing with him--Geoff himself was pleased with it; no doubt of the inspiration now, he tried to deny it to himself, but could not--the likeness25 came out so wonderfully. So he gave way to the charm, and as he sat before the canvas, thoughtfully gazing at it, he let his imagination run riot, and gave his pleasant memories full play.
He had worked well and manfully, and had tolerably satisfied himself, and was sitting resting, looking at what he had done, and thinking over what had prompted his work, when there came a tap at the door, and his sister Til crept noiselessly in. She entered softly, as was her wont26 when her brother was engaged, and took up her position behind him. But Miss Til was demonstrative by nature, and after a minute's glance could not contain herself.
"Oh, you dear old Geoff; that is charming! oh, Geoff, how you have got on! But I say, Geoff; the governess--what do you call her? I never can recollect27 those Latin names, or Greek is it?--you know, and it does not matter; but she is--you know, Geoff, I know you don't like me to say so, but I can't find any other word--she is stunning28! Not that I think--I don't know, you know, of course, because we don't mix in that sort of society--not that--that I think that people who--well, I declare, I don't know any other word for them I--I mean swells29--would allow their governess to have her hair done in that style; but she is de-licious! you've got a new model, Geoff; at least you've never attempted any thing in that style before and I declare you've made a regular hit. You don't speak, Geoff; don't you like what I'm saying?"
"My dear child, you don't give me the chance of saying any thing. You rattle30 on with 'I know' and 'you know' and 'don't you know,' till I can scarcely tell where I am. One thing I do manage to glean31, however, and that is that you are pleased with the picture, which is the very best news that I could have. For though you're a most horrible little rattletrap, and talk nineteen to the dozen, there is some sense in what you say and always a great deal of truth."
"Specially32 when what I say is complimentary33, eh, Geoff? Not that I think I have ever said much in any other strain to you. But you haven't told me about your new model, Geoff. Where did she come from?"
"My new model?"
"Yes, yes, for the governess, you know. That's new--I mean that hair and eyes, and all that. You've never painted any thing like that before. Where did she come from?"
There were few things that Geoffrey Ludlow would have kept from his sister, but this was one of them; so he merely said:
"O, a model, Til dear--one of the usual shilling-an-hour victims."
"Sent you by Mr. Charles Potts, I suppose," said Miss Til, with unusual asperity34; "sent you for--" But here a knock at the door cut short the young lady's remarks. "O, but if that is Mr. Potts," she resumed, "don't say a word about what I said just now; don't, Geoff, there's a dear."
It was not Mr. Potts who responded to Geoffrey Ludlow's "Come in." It was Mr. Bowkees head which was thrust through the small space made by the opening of the door; and it was Mr. Bowker's deep voice which exclaimed:
"Engaged, eh? Your William will look in again."
But Til, with whom Mr. Bowker was a special favourite, from his strange unconventional manners and rough _bonhomie_, called out at once: "Mr. Bowker, it's only I--Geoff's sister Til;" and Geoff himself roaring out that "Bowker was growing modest in his old age," that gentleman was persuaded to come in; and closing the door lightly behind him, he went up to the young lady, and bending over her hand, made her a bow such as any _preux chevalier_ might have envied. A meeting with a lady was a rare oasis35 in the desert of William Bowkees wasted life; but whenever he had the chance he showed that he had been something more than the mere12 pot-walloping boon-companion which most men thought him.
"Geoff's sister Til!" he repeated, looking at the tall handsome girl before him,--"Geoff's sister Til! Ah, then it's perfectly36 right that I should have lost all my hair, and that my beard should be grizzled, and that I have a general notion of the omnipresence of old age. I was inclined to grumble37; but if 'Geoff's sister Til,' who I thought was still a little child, is to come up and greet me in this guise38, I recant: Time is right; and your William is the only old fool in the matter."
"It is your own fault, Mr. Bowker, that you don't know the changes that take place in us. You know we are always glad to see you, and that mamma is always sending you messages by Geoff."
"You are all very good, and--well, I suppose it is my fault; let's say it is, at all events. What! going? There, you see the effect my presence has when I come up on a chance visit."
"Not at all," said Til; "I should have gone five minutes ago if you had not come in. I'll make a confidant of you, Mr. Bowker, and let you into a secret. Those perpetual irritable39 pulls at the bell are the tradespeople waiting for orders; and I must go and settle about dinner and all sorts of things. Now goodbye." She shook hands with him, nodded brightly at her brother, and was gone.
"That's a nice girl," said William Bowker, as the door closed after her; "a regular nice girl--modest, ladylike, and true; none of your infernal fal-lal affectations--honest as the day; you can see that in her eyes and in every word she says. Where do you keep your tobacco? All right. Your pipes want looking after, Geoff. Ive tried three, and each is as foul40 as a chimney. Ah, this will do at last; now I'm all right, and can look at your work. H--m! that seems good stuff. You must tone-down that background a little, and put a touch of light here and there on the dress, which is infernally heavy and Hamlet-like. Hallo, Geoff, are you going in for the P.-R.-B. business?"
"Not I. What do you mean?"
"What do _you_ mean by this red-haired party, my boy? This is a new style for you, Geoff, and one which no one would have thought of your taking up. You weren't brought up to consider this the right style of thing in old Sassoon's academy, Geoff. If the old boy could rise from his grave, and see his favourite pupil painting a frizzy, red-haired, sallow-faced woman as the realisation of beauty, I think he'd be glad he'd been called away before such awful times."
There was a hesitation41 in Geoff's voice, and a hollowness in his smile, as he answered:
"P.-R.-B. nonsense! Old Sassoon couldn't teach everything; and as for his ideas of beauty, look how often he made us paint Mrs. S. and the Miss S.'s, who, Heaven knows, were anything but reproductions of the Venus Calipyge. The simple question, as I take it, is this--is the thing a good thing or a bad one? Tell me that."
"As a work of art?"
"Of course; as you see it. What else could I mean?"
"As a work of art, it's good--undeniably good, in tone, and treatment, and conception; as a work of prudence42, it's infernally bad."
Geoff looked at him sharply for a minute, and William Bowker, calmly puffing43 at his pipe, did not shrink from his friend's glance. Then, with a flush, Geoff said:
"It strikes me that it is as a work of art you have to regard it. As to what you say about a work of prudence, you have the advantage of me. I don't understand you."
"Don't you?" said William. "I'm sorry for you. What model did you paint that head from?"
"From no model."
"From life?"
"N-no; from memory--from--Upon my soul, Bowker, I don't see what right you have to cross-question me in this way."
"Don't you?" said Bowker. "Give your William something to drink, please; he can't talk when he's dry. What is that? B. and soda44. Yes, that'll do. Look here, Geoffrey Ludlow, when you were little more than a boy, grinding away in the Life-School, and only too pleased if the Visitor gave you an encouraging word, your William, who is ten years your senior, had done work which made him be looked upon as the coming man. He had the ball at his foot, and he had merely to kick it to send it where he chose. He does not say this out of brag--you know it?"
Geoffrey Ludlow inclined his head in acquiescence45.
"Your William didn't kick the bail46; something interfered47 just as his foot was lifted to send it flying to the goal--a woman."
Again Geoffrey Ludlow nodded in acquiescence.
"You have heard the story. Every body in town knew it, and each had his peculiar48 version; but I will tell you the whole truth myself. You don't know how I struggled on against that infatuation;--no, you may think you do, but I am a much stronger man than you--am, or was--and I saw what I was losing by giving way. I gave way. I knocked down the whole fabric49 which, from the time I had had a man's thoughts, a man's mind, a man's energy and power, I had striven to raise. I kicked it all down, as Alnaschar did his basket of eggs, and almost as soon found how vain had been my castle-building. I need scarcely go into detail with you about that story: it was published in the Sunday newspapers of the time; it echoed in every club-room; it has remained lingering about art-circles, and in them is doubtless told with great gusto at the present day, should ever my name be mentioned. I fell in love with a woman who was married to a man of more than double her age,--a woman of education, taste, and refinement50; of singular beauty too--and that to a young artist was not her least charm--tied for life to an old heartless scoundrel. My passion for her sprung from the day of my first seeing her; but I choked it down. I saw as plainly as I see this glass before me now what would be the consequence of any absurd escapade on my part; how it would crush me, how, infinitely51 more, it would drag _her_ down. I knew what was working in each of us; and, so help me Heaven! I tried to spare us both. I tried--and failed, dismally52 enough. It was for no want of arguing with myself--from no want of forethought of all the consequences that might ensue. I looked at all point-blank; for though I was young and mad with passion, I loved that woman so that I could even have crushed my own selfishness lest it should be harm to her. I could have done this: I did it until--until one night I saw a blue livid mark on her shoulder. God knows how many years that is ago, but I have the whole scene before me at this moment. It was at some fine ball (I went into what is called 'society' then), and we were standing53 in a conservatory54, when I noticed this mark. I asked her about it, and she hesitated; I taxed her with the truth, which she first feebly denied, then admitted. He had struck her, the hound! in a fit of jealous rage,--had struck her with his clenched55 fist! Even as she told me this, I could see him within a few yards of us, pretending to be rapt in conversation, but obviously noting our conduct. I suppose he guessed that she had told me of what had occurred. I suppose he guessed it from my manner and the expression of my face, for a deadly pallor came over his grinning cheeks; and as we passed out of the conservatory, he whispered to her--not so low but that I caught the words--'You shall pay for this, madam--you shall pay for this!' That determined me, and that night we fled.--Give me some more brandy and soda, Geoff. Merely to tell this story drags the heart out of my breast."
"We went to Spain, and remained there many months; and there it was all very well. That slumbering57 country is even now but little haunted by your infernal British tourist; but then scarcely any Englishman came there. Such as we came across were all bachelors, your fine lad can't stand the mule-travelling and the roughing it in the posadas; and they either had not heard the story, or didn't see the propriety58 of standing on any squeamishness, more especially when the acquaintance was all to their advantage, and we got on capitally. Nelly had seen nothing, poor child, having left school to be married; and all the travel, and the picturesque59 old towns, and the peasantry, and the Alhambra, and all the rest of it, made a sort of romantic dream for her. But then old Van den9 Bosch got his divorce; and so soon as I had heard of that, like a madman as I was, I determined to come back to England. The money was running short, to be sure; but I had made no end of sketches60, and I might have sent them over and sold them; but I wanted to get back. A man can't live on love alone; and I wanted to be amongst my old set again, for the old gossip and the old _camaraderie_; and so back we came. I took a little place out at Ealing, and then I went into the old haunts, and saw the old fellows, and--for the first time--so help me Heaven! for the first time I saw what I had done. They cut me, sir, right and left! There were some of them--blackguards who would have hobnobbed with Greenacre, if he'd stood the drink--who accepted my invitations, and came Sunday after Sunday, and would have eaten and drunk me out of house and home, if I'd have stood it; but the best--the fellows I really cared about--pretty generally gave me the cold shoulder. Some of them had married during my absence, and of course they couldn't come; others were making their way in their art, working under the patronage61 of big swells in the Academy, and hoping for election there, and they daren't be mixed up with such a notoriously black sheep as your William. I felt this, Geoff, old boy. By George, it cut me to the heart; it took all the change out of me; it made me low and hipped62, and, I fear, sometimes savage63. And I suppose I showed it at home; for poor Nell seemed to change and wither64 from the day of our return. She had her own troubles, poor darling, though she thought she kept them to herself. In a case like that, Geoff, the women get it much hotter than we do. There were no friends for her, no one to whom she could tell her troubles. And then the story got known, and people used to stare and nudge each other, and whisper as she passed. The parson called when we first came, and was a good pleasant fellow; but a fortnight afterwards he'd heard all about it, and grew purple in the face as he looked straight over our heads when we met him. And once a butcher, who had to be spoken to for cheating, cheeked her and alluded65 to her story; but I think what I did to him prevented any repetition of that kind of conduct. But I couldn't silence the whole world by thrashing it, old fellow; and Nell drooped66 and withered67 under all the misery68--drooped and--died! And I--well, I became the graceless, purposeless, spiritless brute69 you see me now!"
Mr. Bowker stopped and rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, and gave a great cough before finishing his drink; and then Geoffrey patted him on the shoulder and said, "But you know how we all love you, old friend; how that Charley Potts, and I, and Markham, and Wallis, and all the fellows, would do anything for you."
Mr. Bowker gave his friend's hand a tight grip as he said, "I know, Geoff; I know you boys are fond of your William but it wasn't to parade my grief, or to cadge70 for sympathy from them, that I told you that story. I had another motive71."
"And that was--"
"To set myself up as an example and a warning to--any one who might be going to take a similar step. You named yourself just now, Geoff, amongst those who cared for me. Your William is a bit of a fogy, he knows; but some of you do care for him, and you amongst them."
"Of course. You know that well enough."
"Then why not show your regard for your William, dear boy?
"Show my regard--how shall I show it?"
"By confiding72 in him, Geoff; by talking to him about yourself; telling him your hopes and plans; asking him for some of that advice which seeing a great many men and cities, and being a remarkably73 downy old skittle, qualifies him to give. Why not confide74 in him, Geoff?"
"Confide in you? About what? Why on earth not speak out plainly at once?"
"Well, well, I won't beat about the bush any longer. I daresay there's nothing in it; but people talk and cackle so confoundedly, and, by George, men--some men, at least--are quite as bad as women in that line; and they say you're in love, Geoff; regularly hard hit--no chance of recovery!"
"Do they?" said Geoff, flushing very red--"do they? Who are 'they,' by the way?--not that it matters, a pack of gabbling fools! But suppose I am, what then?"
"What then! Why, nothing then--only it's rather odd that you've never told your William, whom you've known so long and so intimately, any thing about it. Is that" (pointing to the picture) "a portrait of the lady?"
"There--there is a reminiscence of her--her head and general style."
"Then your William would think that her head and general style must be doosid good. Any sisters?"
"I--I think not."
"Are her people pleasant--do you get on with them?"
"I don't know them."
"Ah, Geoff, Geoff, why make me go on in this way? Don't you know me well enough to be certain that I'm not asking all these questions for impertinence and idle curiosity? Don't you see that I'm dragging bit by bit out of you because I'm coming to the only point any of your friends can care about? Is this girl a good girl; is she respectable; is she in your own sphere of life; can you bring her home and tell the old lady to throw her arms round her neck, and welcome her as a daughter? Can you introduce her to that sweet sister of yours who was here when I came in?"
There came over Geoffrey Ludlow's face a dark shadow such as William Bowker had never seen there before. He did not speak nor turn his eyes, but sat fixed75 and rigid76 as a statue.
"For God's sake think of all this, Geoff! Ive told you a thousand times that you ought to be married; that there was no man more calculated to make a woman happy, or to have his own happiness increased by a woman's love. But then she must be of your own degree in life, and one of whom you could be every where proud. I would not have you married to an ugly woman or a drabby woman, or any thing that wasn't very nice; how much less, then, to any one whom you would feel ashamed of, or who could not be received by your dear ones at home! Geoff, dear old Geoff, for heaven's sake think of all this before it is too late! Take warning by my fatal error, and see what misery you would prepare for both of you."
Geoffrey Ludlow still sat in the same attitude. He made no reply for some minutes; then he said, dreamily, "Yes--yes, you're quite right, of course,--quite right. But I don't think we'll continue the conversation now. Another time, Bowker, please--another time." Then he ceased, and Mr. Bowker rose and pressed his hand, and took his departure. As he closed the door behind him, that worthy77 said to himself: "Well, I've done my duty, and I know I've done right; but it's very little of Geoff's mutton that your William will cut, and very little of Geoff's wine that your William will drink, if that marriage comes off. For of course he'll tell her all I've said, and _won't_ she love your William!"
And for hours Geoffrey Ludlow sat before his easel, gazing at the Scylla head, and revolving78 all the detail of Mr. Bowker's story in his mind.
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1
enthralled
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| 迷住，吸引住( enthrall的过去式和过去分词 )； 使感到非常愉快 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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counteracting
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| 对抗，抵消( counteract的现在分词 ) | |
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6
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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7
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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12
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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narrate
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| v.讲，叙述 | |
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chirp
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| v.(尤指鸟)唧唧喳喳的叫 | |
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incentives
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| 激励某人做某事的事物( incentive的名词复数 )； 刺激； 诱因； 动机 | |
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voluptuously
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| adv.风骚地，体态丰满地 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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28
stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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swells
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| 增强( swell的第三人称单数 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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31
glean
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| v.收集(消息、资料、情报等) | |
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32
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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asperity
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| n.粗鲁，艰苦 | |
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oasis
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| n.（沙漠中的）绿洲，宜人的地方 | |
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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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grumble
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| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
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guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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41
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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42
prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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43
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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44
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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46
bail
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| v.舀（水），保释；n.保证金，保释，保释人 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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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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fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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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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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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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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gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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57
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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patronage
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| n.赞助，支援，援助；光顾，捧场 | |
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hipped
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| adj.着迷的，忧郁的 | |
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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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wither
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| vt.使凋谢，使衰退，(用眼神气势等)使畏缩；vi.枯萎，衰退，消亡 | |
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alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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cadge
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| v.乞讨 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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73
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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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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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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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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revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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