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them. He himself had the Saturday Review. There is nothing so sustaining as this sense of being better than one’s neighbours. It comforted poor Andrew, and kept him warm during his journey. The gentlemen in the sleeping-carriages might rest better, but they did not, nay13 could not, feel half the moral elevation14 of the schoolmaster in his corner of the third-class.
London, too, veiled in a grey-and-yellow fog, through which the lamps, not yet extinguished, and a line of dusky sunrise among the clouds, looked red, brought an excitement to his mind which few perhaps of the companions of his journey shared. Andrew greeted the great city as people greet it in books,—as adventurers in the days of Dr. Johnson saluted15 that centre of the world. He thought with a tingle16 of strange emotion in his breast that the great roar of humanity might become familiar to his ears ere long. He rose to the sound and commotion17 with a sense of predestined greatness. The people in the sleeping-carriages tumbled out drowsily18, rubbing their eyes in the midst of a dream. But Andrew stepped forth19 inspired by the recollection of many a great man who had arrived like himself, not knowing what might befall him. His hopes, his courage rose more and more as he felt where he was—in a great place where he was sure to be understood, and where the human mind was in a perpetual progress, not stagnant20 as in the country. He felt, indeed, not as he had done when he left home, as if his mission were a forlorn hope, but rather as if he were coming like a conqueror21 to see and to vanquish22. It wanted only, he said to himself, that touch of reality to chase all the chimeras23 away. He would, he must, find Joyce faithful as ever, keeping silence only because her plans were not yet ripened24 for his advancement25. He would find her father full of that respect which the man of action feels for the man of mind. He would be received as an honoured guest; he would be admitted into their confidence, and made acquainted with their hopes. Visions of a noble old house in some sort of cloistered26 dignified centre of learning rose again before his eyes—A. Halliday, Headmaster. He did not definitely fix upon Eton or Harrow, having no actual knowledge of either of those places; but something exhilarating, sweet, a strong yet soft delusion27, stole into his being. He was so entirely28 inexperienced and full of the ignorance of his class (although a man so well instructed), that he was not aware of any restriction29 upon such appointments that could not be got over by sufficiently30 powerful influence. Influence could do everything, Halliday thought.
He got a bath and breakfast at the nearest hotel, undiscouraged even by its grim and chill nakedness, and feeling a wonderful free
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dom and elation31 in the consciousness of thus doing what the best people did, and being waited upon, served by a man-servant (if you liked to put it in that way) like the best. It cost a good deal, but it was worth the expenditure32. The fog cleared off as the morning advanced, and it was in the sunshine of a bright hazy33 morning that he set off on the final stage of his journey. He had dressed himself with the utmost care and all the resources of his wardrobe. His tie was blue, his coat a frock-coat of extreme solemnity, which he usually wore at funerals. He thought, as he was a traveller, that it was the right thing to wear with this a round hat such as he wore in the country. He had a pair of lavender gloves, his umbrella was very neatly34 rolled up—in short, at half a mile off you recognised his unquestionable character and doubtful gentility with as much ease as if he had written Andrew Halliday, schoolmaster at Comely35 Green, upon his manly36 breast; but he had not the least idea of that. His clear and ruddy complexion37 was a little paled by the night’s journey, and by the mixture of agitation38 and excitement which he could not but feel as the moment of meeting approached. He looked a most respectable young man, very respectable, honest as the day. You would scarcely have suspected, however, to see him, how superior he felt to the people in the sleeping-carriages, and how, when they got the Field and the Sporting Times at the bookstalls, he had bought the Saturday Review.
He went by the railway from Waterloo, admiring the river which ran glistening39 grey, like a great worm, under the shining of the wintry sun—and got out with a great heartbeat at the station. How near he was now! He felt inclined to take a walk, to see the place and look at the view, pushing off the decision for a time, the certainty—for he had so little doubt by this time that it was a certainty—of the happy meeting. To see Joyce in perhaps a few minutes; to hear her cry of astonishment40 and delight; to have her come up to him in her shy way, never demonstrative, unless perhaps the long separation might have made her more so. ‘Oh, Andrew! and I was just going to write to tell you——’ He would not wait till she said ‘about the headmastership.’ He would take her in his arms, whoever was there (for had he not the right?), and say, ‘About yourself, my dearest—that’s what I want to hear about.’ He thought he would take a walk first to savourer a little this delightful41 scene, and think how she would look and what he would say. It was so near, so very near! He would keep it at arm’s-length a little in order to enjoy it the more.
It sobered him, however, to hear that Colonel Hayward’s house
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was some distance off, and to receive confused instructions which he could not follow. As a matter of fact, the instructions were not at all confused, they were only too rapid and clear. ‘First turning to the right, second turning to the left; then go straight on till you pass the church; then first turning, second turning.’ How could he keep all that in his mind? It was he that was confused, not the direction. If they had said, turn to the west and then a little to the north—— He stumbled along, forgetting whether it was the first, second, or third turning he ought to take, till he came to a church, which was not the church to which he had been directed; and from thence he stumbled on again by a great many roads clothed with pretty houses, which bewildered him. He stopped finally to ask his way of a brisk little lady, who cried, ‘Oh, Colonel Hayward’s!’ her eyes dancing with instant interest, and a look full of interrogations, as if she would have liked to ask him a hundred things. Andrew could scarcely restrain himself from asking, ‘Do you know Joyce?’ He felt at once that this eager little lady jumped at some conclusion about himself, and was eager to ask who he was—perhaps whether he was the lover of whom Joyce must have spoken to everybody with whom she was intimate. And Andrew’s instinct was indeed not far wrong: for Mrs. Sitwell immediately divined him to be somebody out of the mysterious past life of which none of the Haywards spoke42, and wondered whether, perhaps, he was some one with whom Joyce had got ‘entangled’ in these dark ages. She stood and looked after him when she had given him his instructions, with curious eyes, noting his long frock-coat and his low hat. How dreadful! she said to herself, and could scarcely contain the curiosity that filled her. Should she make a hurried round through the district, and then approach the Haywards’ on the other side, so as to catch him there, and see with her own eyes the position of affairs? Mrs. Sitwell knew that Joyce would be just going in with her father from their morning walk, and would be caught by the visitor, and would be unable to escape.
Certainly she must know Joyce: she must divine who he was: Andrew said this to himself, and was further exhilarated and strengthened by the idea. Of course, Joyce must have told her friends. He went on with better success this time, inspired by the little active lady with those eager eyes, who must know—and at last got to the very door. His heart was beating now very quickly indeed. Joyce’s door—so different from the cottage where he used to find her. There she had always been shy, keeping behind old Janet, never willing to permit any demonstration43.
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Would things be different now? Would she rush to him after his long separation, laying her head upon his shoulder? This image filled Andrew’s face with light and colour as he knocked at her father’s door.
‘Is Miss Hayward at home?’ The appearance of Baker44 gave him a distinct sensation of pleasure. Colonel Hayward’s butler or upper servant, a domestic of a high class. Andrew would have liked to see a footman or two behind, but pleased himself with the thought that this must be considered higher ton. ‘Is Miss Hayward at home?’
‘Miss Hayward? well, I can’t say. She’s been out walking with the Colonel, and whether they’ve come back or not, I can’t tell you. Mrs. Hayward is in,’ Baker said. He was not impressed by the appearance of the visitor. He thought it must be some man from a shop, or a person about a subscription45, at the best.
‘It is not Mistress Hayward but Miss Hayward I want.’
‘Very well,’ said Baker— ‘I hear you. If you’ll wait a bit, I’ll go and see.’
And Andrew had to wait, sadly against his will, outside the door. ‘You’ll excuse me, but Missis’s charges are as the door is always to be shut,’ Baker said, with a restrained chuckle46, instinctively47 delighted to do his duty in a way that was offensive to the newcomer, whom he saw to be of inferior condition, and likely to be an undesirable48 guest. Andrew’s sensations when he was left outside his love’s door were not pleasant. He ceased to think of the butler as a high-class domestic, and called him in his mind a pampered49 menial, but consoled himself with the thought of the downfall that would happen to Baker when he knew who it was whom he had shut out. It was, however, a disagreeable moment of suspense50. He tried to distract his mind by an examination of the great flower-vases at the door, the shrubs51 in their winter green, the perfectly52 swept and close-cut turf, all the careful surroundings of the place, not imposing53 or vast, but so exquisitely54 kept,—more perfect even than Bellendean. To think that he should have time to investigate all this, while she sat within with a beating heart, divining—would she divine?—his approach. When the butler described him, she would know, and come rushing out. She would rush to him, and the pampered menial would see—— At this moment the door opened quickly, and Baker said, ‘Hi! Missis will be obliged if you’ll send in your name.’
This unceremonious address startled Andrew. He said, ‘My name?’ arrested in the middle of his thoughts.
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‘I suppose you’ve got one,’ Baker said.
Though this was so far from the reception he expected, he was not unprepared. He took his card-case out of his pocket, partially55 restored to himself by the pleasure of using it, which was a thing that did not occur often, and gave the pampered menial a card. He stepped briskly inside as he did so, resolved to bear no more of this, and followed the man as he returned to the drawing-room with the card in his hand. Andrew’s heart beat very quickly now,—his tranquillity56 was considerably57 disturbed. The moment had come: another instant and Joyce would be in his arms, putting all pampered menials to scorn——
The door opened. There was a faint rustle58 of ladies’ dresses, a glow of softened59 light, the sound of his own name, ‘Mr. Andrew ‘Alliday,’ and then a cry. She did not rush into his arms. He came to himself after that interval60 of excitement, and saw Joyce standing61, her hands clasped, her eyes with a look of horror in them, drawing back as if she would have fled, with her face turned towards the door. He put down his hat upon the nearest chair, and crying ‘Joyce!’ went forward with outstretched arms.
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1
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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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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firmament
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| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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trudge
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| v.步履艰难地走；n.跋涉，费力艰难的步行 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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16
tingle
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| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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drowsily
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| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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conqueror
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| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
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vanquish
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| v.征服，战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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23
chimeras
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| n.（由几种动物的各部分构成的）假想的怪兽( chimera的名词复数 )；不可能实现的想法；幻想；妄想 | |
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24
ripened
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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advancement
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| n.前进，促进，提升 | |
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cloistered
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| adj.隐居的，躲开尘世纷争的v.隐退，使与世隔绝( cloister的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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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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restriction
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| n.限制，约束 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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32
expenditure
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| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
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hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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40
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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41
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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42
spoke
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| 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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demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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subscription
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| n.预订，预订费，亲笔签名，调配法，下标（处方） | |
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46
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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48
undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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49
pampered
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| adj.饮食过量的，饮食奢侈的v.纵容，宠，娇养( pamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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51
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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52
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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53
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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54
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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55
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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56
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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57
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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58
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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59
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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60
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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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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