Mrs. Dunlop and Mary had not been present at the ceremony. Mary was confined to her bed in a state of nervous collapse8, and Mrs. Dunlop, much as she loved Robert, and honored him for the noble step he was taking, could not leave the stricken girl. It was her wish and determination to keep Mary with her as long as she could content herself there. Her kind, motherly heart ached in silent sympathy for the child who had received such a bitter disappointment, and who was bearing her sorrows with such patient fortitude9. Before Robert left the city she wrote for him to come and see her, assuring him of her continued friendship, etc., etc. That evening[288] found him seated beside his stanch10 friend in whom he confided11 his hopes and his fears for the future, and soon he had poured out the bitterness of his heart, the yearnings of his soul, all the cruel disappointments of his tempestuous12 life. She listened in sympathetic silence, a smile of encouragement, every now and then, lighting13 up her face. When he had finished, she told him how proud she was of him, how she gloried in his strength of purpose, his new-made resolutions, cautioned him not to forget the new vows14 he had so lately formed, warned him of the many vices15, the back-sliding state into which one of his temperament16 was so apt to fall. Then with infinite tenderness she told him of the courage of the sweet maiden17 who now lay upon her bed of sorrow in the upper room, told him of her loyalty18, her pride in his greatness, in his nobility, while he listened with the burning tears streaming unchecked down his quivering cheeks. After a pause she took him by the hand and led him softly to the door of Mary’s chamber19. “For the last farewell,” she whispered sadly. Then she left him standing20 before the door, gazing at it as though it were the gates of Heaven which were about to open for him at his bidding. A sweet voice bade him enter, in answer to his timid knock, and softly opening the door, he stepped into the room.
Mary opened her beautiful, tired blue eyes, thinking it was her dear benefactress, and then what a[289] divine rapture—what a dazzling wonder and joy flashed into them, giving them back their old luster21 of sunlight sparkling on an azure22 sea. She sprang up in her bed and stretched out her arms.
Mrs. Dunlop came back and softly closed the door on the sacred stillness that followed. Then she slowly wended her way down to her sitting-room24 and sat down with a deep sigh. “What a sad old world this is,” she thought. The time dragged along very slowly as she patiently waited for Robert to come down. Presently she heard the door above close ever so gently, and then his low footfall down the thick stair carpet. She rose and met him in the reception hall. He stood on the lowest step, his hand on the balustrade, his breast heaving with the strain of his emotions. Mrs. Dunlop took his hand tenderly and pressed it in loving sympathy.
By and by he spoke25, and the intense suffering in his voice touched her keenly. “As ye sow, so shall ye reap,” he muttered brokenly. She could only press his hand in silent sympathy. Gradually his grief became quiet and a look of melancholy26 resignation came over his expressive27 face.
“When will you leave the city?” she asked quietly.
He thought a moment. “My affairs will be settled by the week’s end,” he replied, “then I shall go[290] straight to Ellisland. I——” He paused a moment, then straightened himself, and continued in a firm voice, “Jean has gone to Mauchline. She will remain there until the house at Ellisland is in condition to receive her.” He held out his hand. “And now, dear, good friend, good-by.”
“No, not good-by, laddie,” she answered tearfully. “Just au revoir, for I mean to visit you some day,” and she smiled through her tears.
With a last shake of the hand, he left her, while above stairs a sweet, wan28, tear-stained face, pressed close against the pane29, watched his bowed figure striding moodily30 toward his lodging31, watched it as it faded, growing dimmer and dimmer, till it was lost to sight.
Robert Burns
点击收听单词发音
1 awaken | |
vi.醒,觉醒;vt.唤醒,使觉醒,唤起,激起 | |
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2 virtuous | |
adj.有品德的,善良的,贞洁的,有效力的 | |
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3 peculiarities | |
n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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4 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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5 remorse | |
n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
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6 yearning | |
a.渴望的;向往的;怀念的 | |
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7 rendering | |
n.表现,描写 | |
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8 collapse | |
vi.累倒;昏倒;倒塌;塌陷 | |
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9 fortitude | |
n.坚忍不拔;刚毅 | |
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10 stanch | |
v.止住(血等);adj.坚固的;坚定的 | |
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11 confided | |
v.吐露(秘密,心事等)( confide的过去式和过去分词 );(向某人)吐露(隐私、秘密等) | |
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12 tempestuous | |
adj.狂暴的 | |
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13 lighting | |
n.照明,光线的明暗,舞台灯光 | |
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14 vows | |
誓言( vow的名词复数 ); 郑重宣布,许愿 | |
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15 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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16 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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17 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
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18 loyalty | |
n.忠诚,忠心 | |
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19 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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20 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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21 luster | |
n.光辉;光泽,光亮;荣誉 | |
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22 azure | |
adj.天蓝色的,蔚蓝色的 | |
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23 sobbingly | |
啜泣地,呜咽地,抽抽噎噎地 | |
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24 sitting-room | |
n.(BrE)客厅,起居室 | |
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25 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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26 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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27 expressive | |
adj.表现的,表达…的,富于表情的 | |
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28 wan | |
(wide area network)广域网 | |
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29 pane | |
n.窗格玻璃,长方块 | |
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30 moodily | |
adv.喜怒无常地;情绪多变地;心情不稳地;易生气地 | |
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31 lodging | |
n.寄宿,住所;(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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