In a few days Miss Monro obtained a most satisfactory reply to her letter of inquiries1 as to whether a daily governess could find employment in East Chester. For once the application seemed to have come just at the right time. The canons were most of them married men, with young families; those at present in residence welcomed the idea of such instruction as Miss Monro could offer for their children, and could almost answer for their successors in office. This was a great step gained. Miss Monro, the daughter of a precentor to this very cathedral, had a secret unwillingness2 to being engaged as a teacher by any wealthy tradesman there; but to be received into the canons' families, in almost any capacity, was like going home. Moreover, besides the empty honour of the thing, there were many small pieces of patronage4 in the gift of the Chapter--such as a small house opening on to the Close, which had formerly5 belonged to the verger, but which was now vacant, and was offered to Miss Monro at a nominal6 rent.
Ellinor had once more sunk into her old depressed7 passive state; Mr. Ness and Miss Monro, modest and undecided as they both were in general, had to fix and arrange everything for her. Her great interest seemed to be in the old servant Dixon, and her great pleasure to lie in seeing him, and talking over old times; so her two friends talked about her, little knowing what a bitter, stinging pain her "pleasure" was. In vain Ellinor tried to plan how they could take Dixon with them to East Chester. If he had been a woman it would have been a feasible step; but they were only to keep one servant, and Dixon, capable and versatile8 as he was, would not do for that servant. All this was what passed through Ellinor's mind: it is still a question whether Dixon would have felt his love of his native place, with all its associations and remembrances, or his love for Ellinor, the stronger. But he was not put to the proof; he was only told that he must leave, and seeing Ellinor's extreme grief at the idea of their separation, he set himself to comfort her by every means in his power, reminding her, with tender choice of words, how necessary it was that he should remain on the spot, in Mr. Osbaldistone's service, in order to frustrate9, by any small influence he might have, every project of alteration10 in the garden that contained the dreadful secret. He persisted in this view, though Ellinor repeated, with pertinacious11 anxiety, the care which Mr. Johnson had taken, in drawing up the lease, to provide against any change or alteration being made in the present disposition12 of the house or grounds.
People in general were rather astonished at the eagerness Miss Wilkins showed to sell all the Ford13 Bank furniture. Even Miss Monro was a little scandalized at this want of sentiment, although she said nothing about it; indeed justified14 the step, by telling every one how wisely Ellinor was acting15, as the large, handsome, tables and chairs would be very much out of place and keeping with the small, oddly-shaped rooms of their future home in East Chester Close. None knew how strong was the instinct of self-preservation, it may almost be called, which impelled16 Ellinor to shake off, at any cost of present pain, the incubus17 of a terrible remembrance. She wanted to go into an unhaunted dwelling18 in a free, unknown country--she felt as if it was her only chance of sanity19. Sometimes she thought her senses would not hold together till the time when all these arrangements were ended. But she did not speak to any one about her feelings, poor child; to whom could she speak on the subject but to Dixon? Nor did she define them to herself. All she knew was, that she was as nearly going mad as possible; and if she did, she feared that she might betray her father's guilt20. All this time she never cried, or varied21 from her dull, passive demeanour. And they were blessed tears of relief that she shed when Miss Monro, herself weeping bitterly, told her to put her head out of the post-chaise window, for at the next turning of the road they would catch the last glimpse of Hamley church spire22.
Late one October evening, Ellinor had her first sight of East Chester Close, where she was to pass the remainder of her life. Miss Monro had been backwards23 and forwards between Hamley and East Chester more than once, while Ellinor remained at the parsonage; so she had not only the pride of proprietorship24 in the whole of the beautiful city, but something of the desire of hospitably25 welcoming Ellinor to their joint26 future home.
"Look! the fly must take us a long round, because of our luggage; but behind these high old walls are the canons' gardens. That high-pitched roof, with the clumps27 of stonecrop on the walls near it, is Canon Wilson's, whose four little girls I am to teach. Hark! the great cathedral clock. How proud I used to be of its great boom when I was a child! I thought all the other church clocks in the town sounded so shrill28 and poor after that, which I considered mine especially. There are rooks flying home to the elms in the Close. I wonder if they are the same that used to be there when I was a girl. They say the rook is a very long-lived bird, and I feel as if I could swear to the way they are cawing. Ay, you may smile, Ellinor, but I understand now those lines of Gray's you used to say so prettily--
And breathe a second spring."
Now, dear, you must get out. This flagged walk leads to our front-door; but our back rooms, which are the pleasantest, look on to the Close, and the cathedral, and the lime-tree walk, and the deanery, and the rookery."
It was a mere33 slip of a house; the kitchen being wisely placed close to the front-door, and so reserving the pretty view for the little dining- room, out of which a glass-door opened into a small walled-in garden, which had again an entrance into the Close. Upstairs was a bedroom to the front, which Miss Monro had taken for herself, because as she said, she had old associations with the back of every house in the High-street, while Ellinor mounted to the pleasant chamber34 above the tiny drawing-room both of which looked on to the vast and solemn cathedral, and the peaceful dignified35 Close. East Chester Cathedral is Norman, with a low, massive tower, a grand, majestic36 nave37, and a choir38 full of stately historic tombs. The whole city is so quiet and decorous a place, that the perpetual daily chants and hymns39 of praise seemed to sound far and wide over the roofs of the houses. Ellinor soon became a regular attendant at all the morning and evening services. The sense of worship calmed and soothed40 her aching weary heart, and to be punctual to the cathedral hours she roused and exerted herself, when probably nothing else would have been sufficient to this end.
By-and-by Miss Monro formed many acquaintances; she picked up, or was picked up by, old friends, and the descendants of old friends. The grave and kindly41 canons, whose children she taught, called upon her with their wives, and talked over the former deans and chapters, of whom she had both a personal and traditional knowledge, and as they walked away and talked about her silent delicate-looking friend Miss Wilkins, and perhaps planned some little present out of their fruitful garden or bounteous42 stores, which should make Miss Monro's table a little more tempting44 to one apparently45 so frail46 as Ellinor, for the household was always spoken of as belonging to Miss Monro, the active and prominent person. By-and- by, Ellinor herself won her way to their hearts, not by words or deeds, but by her sweet looks and meek48 demeanour, as they marked her regular attendance at cathedral service: and when they heard of her constant visits to a certain parochial school, and of her being sometimes seen carrying a little covered basin to the cottages of the poor, they began to try and tempt43 her, with more urgent words, to accompany Miss Monro in her frequent tea-drinkings at their houses. The old dean, that courteous49 gentleman and good Christian50, had early become great friends with Ellinor. He would watch at the windows of his great vaulted51 library till he saw her emerge from the garden into the Close, and then open the deanery door, and join her, she softly adjusting the measure of her pace to his. The time of his departure from East Chester became a great blank in her life, although she would never accept, or allow Miss Monro to accept, his repeated invitations to go and pay him a visit at his country- place. Indeed, having once tasted comparative peace again in East Chester Cathedral Close, it seemed as though she was afraid of ever venturing out of those calm precincts. All Mr. Ness's invitations to visit him at his parsonage at Hamley were declined, although he was welcomed at Miss Monro's, on the occasion of his annual visit, by every means in their power. He slept at one of the canon's vacant houses, and lived with his two friends, who made a yearly festivity, to the best of their means, in his honour, inviting52 such of the cathedral clergy53 as were in residence: or, if they failed, condescending54 to the town clergy. Their friends knew well that no presents were so acceptable as those sent while Mr. Ness was with them; and from the dean, who would send them a hamper55 of choice fruit and flowers from Oxton Park, down to the curate, who worked in the same schools as Ellinor, and who was a great fisher, and caught splendid trout--all did their best to help them to give a welcome to the only visitor they ever had. The only visitor they ever had, as far as the stately gentry56 knew. There was one, however, who came as often as his master could give him a holiday long enough to undertake a journey to so distant a place; but few knew of his being a guest at Miss Monro's, though his welcome there was not less hearty57 than Mr. Ness's--this was Dixon. Ellinor had convinced him that he could give her no greater pleasure at any time than by allowing her to frank him to and from East Chester. Whenever he came they were together the greater part of the day; she taking him hither and thither58 to see all the sights that she thought would interest or please him; but they spoke47 very little to each other during all this companionship. Miss Monro had much more to say to him. She questioned him right and left whenever Ellinor was out of the room. She learnt that the house at Ford Bank was splendidly furnished, and no money spared on the garden; that the eldest59 Miss Hanbury was very well married; that Brown had succeeded to Jones in the haberdasher's shop. Then she hesitated a little before making her next inquiry60:
"I suppose Mr. Corbet never comes to the Parsonage now?"
"No, not he. I don't think as how Mr. Ness would have him; but they write letters to each other by times. Old Job--you'll recollect61 old Job, ma'am, he that gardened for Mr Ness, and waited in the parlour when there was company--did say as one day he heerd them speaking about Mr. Corbet; and he's a grand counsellor now--one of them as goes about at assize-time, and speaks in a wig62."
"A barrister, you mean," said Miss Monro.
"Ay; and he's something more than that, though I can't rightly remember what,"
Ellinor could have told them both. They had _The Times_ lent to them on the second day after publication by one of their friends in the Close, and Ellinor, watching till Miss Monro's eyes were otherwise engaged, always turned with trembling hands and a beating heart to the reports of the various courts of law. In them she found--at first rarely--the name she sought for, the name she dwelt upon, as if every letter were a study. Mr. Losh and Mr. Duncombe appeared for the plaintiff, Mr. Smythe and Mr. Corbet for the defendant63. In a year or two that name appeared more frequently, and generally took the precedence of the other, whatever it might be; then on special occasions his speeches were reported at full length, as if his words were accounted weighty; and by-and-by she saw that he had been appointed a Queen's counsel. And this was all she ever heard or saw about him; his once familiar name never passed her lips except in hurried whispers to Dixon, when he came to stay with them. Ellinor had had no idea when she parted from Mr. Corbet how total the separation between them was henceforward to be, so much seemed left unfinished, unexplained. It was so difficult, at first, to break herself of the habit of constant mental reference to him; and for many a long year she kept thinking that surely some kind fortune would bring them together again, and all this heart-sickness and melancholy64 estrangement65 from each other would then seem to both only as an ugly dream that had passed away in the morning light.
The dean was an old man, but there was a canon who was older still, and whose death had been expected by many, and speculated upon by some, any time for ten years at least. Canon Holdsworth was too old to show active kindness to any one; the good dean's life was full of thoughtful and benevolent66 deeds. But he was taken, and the other left. Ellinor looked out at the vacant deanery with tearful eyes, the last thing at night, the first in the morning. But it is pretty nearly the same with church dignitaries as with kings; the dean is dead, long live the dean! A clergyman from a distant county was appointed, and all the Close was astir to learn and hear every particular connected with him. Luckily he came in at the tag-end of one of the noble families in the peerage; so, at any rate, all his future associates could learn with tolerable certainty that he was forty-two years of age, married, and with eight daughters and one son. The deanery, formerly so quiet and sedate67 a dwelling of the one old man, was now to be filled with noise and merriment. Iron railings were being placed before three windows, evidently to be the nursery. In the summer publicity68 of open windows and doors, the sound of the busy carpenters was perpetually heard all over the Close: and by-and-by waggon-loads of furniture and carriage-loads of people began to arrive. Neither Miss Monro nor Ellinor felt themselves of sufficient importance or station to call on the new comers, but they were as well acquainted with the proceedings69 of the family as if they had been in daily intercourse70; they knew that the eldest Miss Beauchamp was seventeen, and very pretty, only one shoulder was higher than the other; that she was dotingly fond of dancing, and talked a great deal in a _tete- a-tete_, but not much if her mamma was by, and never opened her lips at all if the dean was in the room; that the next sister was wonderfully clever, and was supposed to know all the governess could teach her, and to have private lessons in Greek and mathematics from her father; and so on down to the little boy at the preparatory school and the baby-girl in arms. Moreover, Miss Monro, at any rate, could have stood an examination as to the number of servants at the deanery, their division of work, and the hours of their meals. Presently, a very beautiful, haughty-looking young lady made her appearance in the Close, and in the dean's pew. She was said to be his niece, the orphan71 daughter of his brother, General Beauchamp, come to East Chester to reside for the necessary time before her marriage, which was to be performed in the cathedral by her uncle, the new dignitary. But as callers at the deanery did not see this beautiful bride elect, and as the Beauchamps had not as yet fallen into habits of intimacy72 with any of their new acquaintances, very little was known of the circumstances of this approaching wedding beyond the particulars given above.
Ellinor and Miss Monro sat at their drawing-room window, a little shaded by the muslin curtains, watching the busy preparations for the marriage, which was to take place the next day. All morning long, hampers73 of fruit and flowers, boxes from the railway--for by this time East Chester had got a railway--shop messengers, hired assistants, kept passing backwards and forwards in the busy Close. Towards afternoon the bustle74 subsided75, the scaffolding was up, the materials for the next day's feast carried out of sight. It was to be concluded that the bride elect was seeing to the packing of her trousseau, helped by the merry multitude of cousins, and that the servants were arranging the dinner for the day, or the breakfast for the morrow. So Miss Monro had settled it, discussing every detail and every probability as though she were a chief actor, instead of only a distant, uncared-for spectator of the coming event. Ellinor was tired, and now that there was nothing interesting going on, she had fallen back to her sewing, when she was startled by Miss Memo's exclamation76:
"Look, look! here are two gentlemen coming along the lime-tree walk! it must be the bridegroom and his friend." Out of much sympathy, and some curiosity, Ellinor bent77 forward, and saw, just emerging from the shadow of the trees on to the full afternoon sunlit pavement, Mr. Corbet and another gentleman; the former changed, worn, aged3, though with still the same fine intellectual face, leaning on the arm of the younger taller man, and talking eagerly. The other gentleman was doubtless the bridegroom, Ellinor said to herself; and yet her prophetic heart did not believe her words. Even before the bright beauty at the deanery looked out of the great oriel window of the drawing-room, and blushed, and smiled, and kissed her hand--a gesture replied to by Mr. Corbet with much _empressement_, while the other man only took off his hat, almost as if he saw her there for the first time--Ellinor's greedy eyes watched him till he was hidden from sight in the deanery, unheeding Miss Monro's eager incoherent sentences, in turn entreating78, apologising, comforting, and upbraiding79. Then she slowly turned her painful eyes upon Miss Monro's face, and moved her lips without a sound being heard, and fainted dead away. In all her life she had never done so before, and when she came round she was not like herself; in all probability the persistence80 and wilfulness81 she, who was usually so meek and docile82, showed during the next twenty-four hours, was the consequence of fever. She resolved to be present at the wedding; numbers were going; she would be unseen, unnoticed in the crowd; but whatever befell, go she would, and neither the tears nor the prayers of Miss Monro could keep her back. She gave no reason for this determination; indeed, in all probability she had none to give; so there was no arguing the point. She was inflexible83 to entreaty84, and no one had any authority over her, except, perhaps, distant Mr. Ness. Miss Monro had all sorts of forebodings as to the possible scenes that might come to pass. But all went on as quietly as though the fullest sympathy pervaded85 every individual of the great numbers assembled. No one guessed that the muffled86, veiled figure, sitting in the shadow behind one of the great pillars, was that of one who had once hoped to stand at the altar with the same bridegroom, who now cast tender looks at the beautiful bride; her veil white and fairy-like, Ellinor's black and shrouding87 as that of any nun88.
Already Mr. Corbet's name was known through the country as that of a great lawyer; people discussed his speeches and character far and wide; and the well-informed in legal gossip spoke of him as sure to be offered a judgeship at the next vacancy89. So he, though grave, and middle-aged90, and somewhat grey, divided attention and remark with his lovely bride, and her pretty train of cousin bridesmaids. Miss Monro need not have feared for Ellinor: she saw and heard all things as in a mist--a dream; as something she had to go through, before she could waken up to a reality of brightness in which her youth, and the hopes of her youth, should be restored, and all these weary years of dreaminess and woe91 should be revealed as nothing but the nightmare of a night. She sat motionless enough, still enough, Miss Monro by her, watching her as intently as a keeper watches a madman, and with the same purpose--to prevent any outburst even by bodily strength, if such restraint be needed. When all was over; when the principal personages of the ceremony had filed into the vestry to sign their names; when the swarm92 of townspeople were going out as swiftly as their individual notions of the restraints of the sacred edifice93 permitted; when the great chords of the "Wedding March" clanged out from the organ, and the loud bells pealed94 overhead--Ellinor laid her hand in Miss Monro's. "Take me home," she said softly. And Miss Monro led her home as one leads the blind.
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1
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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unwillingness
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| n. 不愿意，不情愿 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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patronage
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| n.赞助，支援，援助；光顾，捧场 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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nominal
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| adj.名义上的；(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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versatile
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| adj.通用的，万用的；多才多艺的，多方面的 | |
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frustrate
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| v.使失望；使沮丧；使厌烦 | |
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alteration
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| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
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pertinacious
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| adj.顽固的 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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incubus
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| n.负担；恶梦 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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proprietorship
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| n.所有（权）；所有权 | |
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hospitably
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| 亲切地，招待周到地，善于款待地 | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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gales
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| 龙猫 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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nave
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| n.教堂的中部；本堂 | |
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choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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bounteous
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| adj.丰富的 | |
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tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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45
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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46
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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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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48
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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49
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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50
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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51
vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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53
clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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54
condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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hamper
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| vt.妨碍，束缚，限制；n.(有盖的)大篮子 | |
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gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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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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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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defendant
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| n.被告；adj.处于被告地位的 | |
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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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estrangement
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| n.疏远，失和，不和 | |
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benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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hampers
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的第三人称单数 ) | |
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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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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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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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entreating
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的现在分词 ) | |
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upbraiding
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| adj.& n.谴责（的）v.责备，申斥，谴责( upbraid的现在分词 ) | |
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persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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wilfulness
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| 任性；倔强 | |
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docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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shrouding
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| n.覆盖v.隐瞒( shroud的现在分词 )；保密 | |
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nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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pealed
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| v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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