Mr. Lyon's invitation was for a week. Before the end of the week I was called to New York to consult Mr. Henderson in regard to a railway investment in the West, which was turning out more permanent than profitable. Rodney Henderson--the name later became very familiar to the public in connection with a certain Congressional investigation--was a graduate of my own college, a New Hampshire boy, a lawyer by profession, who practiced, as so many American lawyers do, in Wall Street, in political combinations, in Washington, in railways. He was already known as a rising man.
When I returned Mr. Lyon was still at our house. I understood that my wife had persuaded him to extend his visit--a proposal he was little reluctant to fall in with, so interested had he become in studying social life in America. I could well comprehend this, for we are all making a "study" of something in this age, simple enjoyment1 being considered an unworthy motive2. I was glad to see that the young Englishman was improving himself, broadening his knowledge of life, and not wasting the golden hours of youth. Experience is what we all need, and though love or love-making cannot be called a novelty, there is something quite fresh about the study of it in the modern spirit.
Mr. Lyon had made himself very agreeable to the little circle, not less by his inquiring spirit than by his unaffected manners, by a kind of simplicity3 which women recognize as unconscious, the result of an inherited habit of not thinking about one's position. In excess it may be very disagreeable, but when it is combined with genuine good-nature and no self-assertion, it is attractive. And although American women like a man who is aggressive towards the world and combative4, there is the delight of novelty in one who has leisure to be agreeable, leisure for them, and who seems to their imagination to have a larger range in life than those who are driven by business--one able to offer the peace and security of something attained5.
There had been several little neighborhood entertainments, dinners at the Morgans' and at Mrs. Fletcher's, and an evening cup of tea at Miss Forsythe's. In fact Margaret and Mr. Lyon had been thrown much together. He had accompanied her to vespers, and they had taken a wintry walk or two together before the snow came. My wife had not managed it--she assured me of that; but she had not felt authorized6 to interfere7; and she had visited the public library and looked into the British Peerage. Men were so suspicious. Margaret was quite able to take care of herself. I admitted that, but I suggested that the Englishman was a stranger in a strange land, that he was far from home, and had perhaps a weakened sense of those powerful social influences which must, after all, control him in the end. The only response to this was, "I think, dear, you'd better wrap him up in cotton and send him back to his family."
Among her other activities Margaret was interested in a mission school in the city, to which she devoted8 an occasional evening and Sunday afternoons. This was a new surprise for Mr. Lyon. Was this also a part of the restlessness of American life? At Mrs. Howe's german the other evening the girl had seemed wholly absorbed in dress, and the gayety of the serious formality of the occasion, feeling the responsibility of it scarcely less than the "leader." Yet her mind was evidently much occupied with the "condition of women," and she taught in a public school. He could not at all make it out. Was she any more serious about the german than about the mission school? It seemed odd at her age to take life so seriously. And was she serious in all her various occupations, or only experimenting? There was a certain mocking humor in the girl that puzzled the Englishman still more.
"I have not seen much of your life," he said one night to Mr. Morgan; "but aren't most American women a little restless, seeking an occupation?"
"Perhaps they have that appearance; but about the same number find it, as formerly9, in marriage."
"But I mean, you know, do they look to marriage as an end so much?"
"I don't know that they ever did look to marriage as anything but a means."
"I can tell you, Mr. Lyon," my wife interrupted, "you will get no information out of Mr. Morgan; he is a scoffer10."
"Not at all, I do assure you," Morgan replied. "I am just a humble11 observer. I see that there is a change going on, but I cannot comprehend it. When I was young, girls used to go in for society; they danced their feet off from seventeen to twenty-one. I never heard anything about any occupation; they had their swing and their fling, and their flirtations; they appeared to be skimming off of those impressionable, joyous13 years the cream of life."
"And you think that fitted them for the seriousness of life?" asked his wife.
"Well, I am under the impression that very good women came out of that society. I got one out of that dancing crowd who has been serious enough for me."
"And little enough you have profited by it," said Mrs. Morgan.
"I'm content. But probably I'm old-fashioned. There is quite another spirit now. Girls out of pinafores must begin seriously to consider some calling. All their flirtation12 from seventeen to twenty-one is with some occupation. All their dancing days they must go to college, or in some way lay the foundation for a useful life. I suppose it's all right. No doubt we shall have a much higher style of women in the future than we ever had in the past."
"You allow nothing," said Mrs. Fletcher, "for the necessity of earning a living in these days of competition. Women never will come to their proper position in the world, even as companions of men, which you regard as their highest office, until they have the ability to be self-supporting."
"Oh, I admitted the fact of the independence of women a long time ago. Every one does that before he comes to middle life. About the shifting all round of this burden of earning a living, I am not so sure. It does not appear yet to make competition any less; perhaps competition would disappear if everybody did earn his own living and no more. I wonder, by-the-way, if the girls, the young women, of the class we seem to be discussing ever do earn as much as would pay the wages of the servants who are hired to do the housework in their places?"
"That is a most ignoble14 suggestion," I could not help saying, "when you know that the object in modern life is the cultivation15 of the mind, the elevation16 of women, and men also, in intellectual life."
"I suppose so. I should like to have asked Abigail Adams's opinion on the way to do it."
"One would think," I said, "that you didn't know that the spinning-jenny and the stocking-knitter had been invented. Given these, the women's college was a matter of course."
"Oh, I'm a believer in all kinds of machinery17 anything to save labor18. Only, I have faith that neither the jenny nor the college will change human nature, nor take the romance out of life."
"So have I," said my wife. "I've heard two things affirmed: that women who receive a scientific or professional education lose their faith, become usually agnostics, having lost sensitiveness to the mysteries of life."
"And you think, therefore, that they should not have a scientific education?"
"No, unless all scientific prying19 into things is a mistake. Women may be more likely at first to be upset than men, but they will recover their balance when the novelty is worn off. No amount of science will entirely20 change their emotional nature; and besides, with all our science, I don't see that the supernatural has any less hold on this generation than on the former."
"Yes, and you might say the world was never before so credulous21 as it is now. But what was the other thing?"
"Why, that co-education is likely to diminish marriages among the co-educated. Daily familiarity in the classroom at the most impressionable age, revelation of all the intellectual weaknesses and petulances, absorption of mental routine on an equality, tend to destroy the sense of romance and mystery that are the most powerful attractions between the sexes. It is a sort of disenchanting familiarity that rubs off the bloom."
"Have you any statistics on the subject?"
"No. I fancy it is only a notion of some old fogy who thinks education in any form is dangerous for women."
"Yes, and I fancy that co-education will have about as much effect on life generally as that solemn meeting of a society of intelligent and fashionable women recently in one of our great cities, who met to discuss the advisability of limiting population."
"Great Scott!" I exclaimed, "this is an interesting age."
I was less anxious about the vagaries22 of it when I saw the very old-fashioned way in which the international drama was going on in our neighborhood. Mr. Lyon was increasingly interested in Margaret's mission work. Nor was there much affectation in this. Philanthropy, anxiety about the working-classes, is nowhere more serious or in the fashion than it is in London. Mr. Lyon, wherever he had been, had made a special study of the various aid and relief societies, especially of the work for young waifs and strays.
One Sunday afternoon they were returning from the Bloom Street Mission. Snow covered the ground, the sky was leaden, and the air had a penetrating23 chill in it far more disagreeable than extreme cold.
"We also," Mr. Lyon was saying, in continuation of a conversation, "are making a great effort for the common people."
"But we haven't any common people here," replied Margaret, quickly. "That bright boy you noticed in my class, who was a terror six months ago, will no doubt be in the City Council in a few years, and likely enough mayor."
"Oh, I know your theory. It practically comes to the same thing, whatever you call it. I couldn't see that the work in New York differed much from that in London. We who have leisure ought to do something for the working-classes."
"I sometimes doubt if it is not all a mistake most of our charitable work. The thing is to get people to do something for themselves."
"But you cannot do away with distinctions?"
"I suppose not, so long as so many people are born vicious, or incompetent24, or lazy. But, Mr. Lyon, how much good do you suppose condescending25 charity does?" asked Margaret, firing up in a way the girl had at times. "I mean the sort that makes the distinctions more evident. The very fact that you have leisure to meddle26 in their affairs may be an annoyance27 to the folks you try to help by the little palliatives of charity. What effect upon a wretched city neighborhood do you suppose is produced by the advent28 in it of a stylish29 carriage and a lady in silk, or even the coming of a well-dressed, prosperous woman in a horse-car, however gentle and unassuming she may be in this distribution of sympathy and bounty30? Isn't the feeling of inequality intensified31? And the degrading part of it may be that so many are willing to accept this sort of bounty. And your men of leisure, your club men, sitting in the windows and seeing the world go by as a spectacle-men who never did an hour's necessary work in their lives--what effect do you suppose the sight of them has upon men out of work, perhaps by their own fault, owing to the same disposition32 to be idle that the men in the club windows have?"
"And do you think it would be any better if all were poor alike?"
"I think it would be better if there were no idle people. I'm half ashamed that I have leisure to go every time I go to that mission. And I'm almost sorry, Mr. Lyon, that I took you there. The boys knew you were English. One of them asked me if you were a 'lord' or a 'juke' or something. I cannot tell how they will take it. They may resent the spying into their world of an 'English juke,' and they may take it in the light of a show."
Mr. Lyon laughed. And then, perhaps after a little reflection upon the possibility that the nobility was becoming a show in this world, he said:
"I begin to think I'm very unfortunate, Miss Debree. You seem to remind me that I am in a position in which I can do very little to help the world along."
"Not at all. You can do very much."
"But how, when whatever I attempt is considered a condescension33? What can I do?"
"Pardon me," and Margaret turned her eyes frankly34 upon him. "You can be a good earl when your time comes."
Their way lay through the little city park. It is a pretty place in summer--a varied35 surface, well planted with forest and ornamental36 trees, intersected by a winding37 stream. The little river was full now, and ice had formed on it, with small openings here and there, where the dark water, hurrying along as if in fear of arrest, had a more chilling aspect than the icy cover. The ground was white with snow, and all the trees were bare except for a few frozen oak-leaves here and there, which shivered in the wind and somehow added to the desolation. Leaden clouds covered the sky, and only in the west was there a gleam of the departing winter day.
Upon the elevated bank of the stream, opposite to the road by which they approached, they saw a group of people--perhaps twenty-drawn closely together, either in the sympathy of segregation38 from an unfeeling world, or for protection from the keen wind. On the hither bank, and leaning on the rails of the drive, had collected a motley crowd of spectators, men, women, and boys, who exhibited some impatience39 and much curiosity, decorous for the most part, but emphasized by occasional jocose40 remarks in an undertone. A serious ceremony was evidently in progress. The separate group had not a prosperous air. The women were thinly clad for such a day. Conspicuous41 in the little assembly was a tall, elderly man in a shabby long coat and a broad felt hat, from under which his white hair fell upon his shoulders. He might be a prophet in Israel come out to testify to an unbelieving world, and the little group around him, shaken like reeds in the wind, had the appearance of martyrs42 to a cause. The light of another world shone in their thin, patient faces. Come, they seemed to say to the worldlings on the opposite bank--come and see what happiness it is to serve the Lord. As they waited, a faint tune43 was started, a quavering hymn44, whose feeble notes the wind blew away of first, but which grew stronger.
Before the first stanza45 was finished a carriage appeared in the rear of the group. From it descended46 a middle-aged47 man and a stout48 woman, and they together helped a young girl to alight. She was clad all in white. For a moment her thin, delicate figure shrank from the cutting wind. Timid, nervous, she glanced an instant at the crowd and the dark icy stream; but it was only a protest of the poor body; the face had the rapt, exultant49 look of joyous sacrifice.
The tall man advanced to meet her, and led her into the midst of the group.
For a few moments there was prayer, inaudible at a distance. Then the tall man, taking the girl by the hand, advanced down the slope to the stream. His hat was laid aside, his venerable locks streamed in the breeze, his eyes were turned to heaven; the girl walked as in a vision, without a tremor50, her wide-opened eyes fixed51 upon invisible things. As they moved on, the group behind set up a joyful52 hymn in a kind of mournful chant, in which the tall man joined with a strident voice. Fitfully the words came on the wind, in an almost heart-breaking wail53:
"Beyond the smiling and the weeping I shall be soon;
Beyond the waking and the sleeping,
Beyond the sowing and the reaping, I shall be soon."
They were near the water now, and the tall man's voice sounded out loud and clear:
"Lord, tarry not, but come!"
They were entering the stream where there was an opening clear of ice; the footing was not very secure, and the tall man ceased singing, but the little band sang on:
"Beyond the blooming and the fading I shall be soon."
The girl grew paler and shuddered54. The tall man sustained her with an attitude of infinite sympathy, and seemed to speak words of encouragement. They were in the mid-stream; the cold flood surged about their waists. The group sang on:
"Beyond the shining and the shading,
Beyond the hoping and the dreading55, I shall be soon."
The strong, tender arms of the tall man gently lowered the white form under the cruel water; he staggered a moment in the swift stream, recovered himself, raised her, white as death, and the voices of the wailing56 tune came:
"Love, rest, and home
Sweet hope! Lord, tarry not, but come!"
And the tall man, as he struggled to the shore with his almost insensible burden, could be heard above the other voices and the wind and the rush of the waters:
"Lord, tarry not, but come!"
The girl was hurried into the carriage, and the group quickly dispersed57. "Well, I'll be--" The tender-hearted little wife of the rough man in the crowd who began that sentence did not permit him to finish it. "That'll be a case for a doctor right away," remarked a well-known practitioner58 who had been looking on.
Margaret and Mr. Lyon walked home in silence. "I can't talk about it," she said. "It's such a pitiful world."
1 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 combative | |
adj.好战的;好斗的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 attained | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 authorized | |
a.委任的,许可的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 interfere | |
v.(in)干涉,干预;(with)妨碍,打扰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 scoffer | |
嘲笑者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 flirtation | |
n.调情,调戏,挑逗 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 ignoble | |
adj.不光彩的,卑鄙的;可耻的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 cultivation | |
n.耕作,培养,栽培(法),养成 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 elevation | |
n.高度;海拔;高地;上升;提高 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 machinery | |
n.(总称)机械,机器;机构 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 labor | |
n.劳动,努力,工作,劳工;分娩;vi.劳动,努力,苦干;vt.详细分析;麻烦 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 prying | |
adj.爱打听的v.打听,刺探(他人的私事)( pry的现在分词 );撬开 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 credulous | |
adj.轻信的,易信的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 vagaries | |
n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 );异想天开;异常行为;难以预测的情况 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 penetrating | |
adj.(声音)响亮的,尖锐的adj.(气味)刺激的adj.(思想)敏锐的,有洞察力的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 incompetent | |
adj.无能力的,不能胜任的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 condescending | |
adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 meddle | |
v.干预,干涉,插手 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 annoyance | |
n.恼怒,生气,烦恼 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 advent | |
n.(重要事件等的)到来,来临 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 stylish | |
adj.流行的,时髦的;漂亮的,气派的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 bounty | |
n.慷慨的赠予物,奖金;慷慨,大方;施与 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 intensified | |
v.(使)增强, (使)加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 condescension | |
n.自以为高人一等,贬低(别人) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 frankly | |
adv.坦白地,直率地;坦率地说 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 varied | |
adj.多样的,多变化的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 ornamental | |
adj.装饰的;作装饰用的;n.装饰品;观赏植物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 winding | |
n.绕,缠,绕组,线圈 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 segregation | |
n.隔离,种族隔离 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 impatience | |
n.不耐烦,急躁 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 jocose | |
adj.开玩笑的,滑稽的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 conspicuous | |
adj.明眼的,惹人注目的;炫耀的,摆阔气的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 martyrs | |
n.martyr的复数形式;烈士( martyr的名词复数 );殉道者;殉教者;乞怜者(向人诉苦以博取同情) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 tune | |
n.调子;和谐,协调;v.调音,调节,调整 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 hymn | |
n.赞美诗,圣歌,颂歌 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 stanza | |
n.(诗)节,段 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 middle-aged | |
adj.中年的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 exultant | |
adj.欢腾的,狂欢的,大喜的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 tremor | |
n.震动,颤动,战栗,兴奋,地震 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 joyful | |
adj.欢乐的,令人欢欣的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 wail | |
vt./vi.大声哀号,恸哭;呼啸,尖啸 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 shuddered | |
v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 dreading | |
v.害怕,恐惧,担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 wailing | |
v.哭叫,哀号( wail的现在分词 );沱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 dispersed | |
adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 practitioner | |
n.实践者,从事者;(医生或律师等)开业者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |