Will Locke lay dying. One would have thought, from his tranquillity1, confidence, and love of work, even along with spare diet, that he would have lived long. But dreamland cannot be a healthy region for a man in the body to inhabit. Will was going where his visions would be as nought2 to the realities. He was still one of the most peaceful, the happiest of fellows, as he had been all his life. He babbled3 of the pictures he would paint in another region, as if he were conscious that he had painted in a former state. It seemed, too, that the poor fellow's spiritual life, apart from his artist career, took sounder, cheerier substance and form, as the other life grew dimmer and wilder. Dulcie was almost reconciled to let Will go; for he would be more at home in the spirit-world than here, and she had seen sore trouble, which taught her to acquiesce4, when there were a Father and a Friend seen glimmeringly5 but hopefully beyond the gulf6. Dulcie moved about, with her child holding by her skirts, resigned and helpful in her sorrow.
The most clouded faces in the old room in St. Martin's Lane—with its old litter, so grievous to-day, of brushes, and colours, and graving tools, and wild pictures which the painter would never touch more—were those of Sam Winnington and Clary. Will had bidden Sam and Clary be sent for to his deathbed; and, offended as they had been, and widely severed7 as they were now, they rose and came trembling to obey the summons. Clary gave one [Page 162]look, put her handkerchief quickly to her eyes, and then turned and softly covered the tools, lifted the boiling pot to the side of the grate, and took Dulcie's fretful, wondering child in her lap. She was not a fine lady now, but a woman in distress8. Sam stood immoveable and uncertain, with a man's awkwardness, but a face working with suppressed emotion.
Will felt no restraint; he sat up in his faded coat with his cravat9 open to give him air, and turning his wan10 face with its dark shadow towards Sam Winnington in his velvet11 coat, with a diamond ring sparkling on his splashed hand, and his colour, which had grown rosy12 of late years, heightened with emotion, addressed his old friend.
"I wanted to see you, Sam; I had something on my mind, and I could not depart with full satisfaction without saying it to you; I have done you wrong."
Sam raised his head, startled, and stared at the sick man: poor Will Locke; were his wits utterly13 gone? they had always been somewhat to seek: though he had been a wonderful fellow, too, in his own way—wonderful at flowers, and birds, and beasts, if he had but been content with them.
"I called you a mere14 portrait-painter, Sam," continued the dying man; "I refused to acknowledge your inspiration, and I knew better: I saw that to you was granted the discernment to read the human face and the soul behind it, as to me it was given to hold converse15 with nature and the subtle essence of good and evil. Most painters before you have painted masks; but yours are the clothings of immortals16: and your flesh is wonderful, Sam—how [Page 163]you have perfected it! And it is not true what they tell you of your draperies: you are the only man alive who can render them picturesque17 and not absurd, refined and not stinted18. You were a genteel fellow, too, from the beginning, and would no more do a dirty action when you had only silver coins to jingle19 in your pockets, than now when they are stuffed with gold moidores."
"Oh, Will, Will!" cried Sam, desperately20 bowing his head; "I have done little for you."
"Man!" cried Will, with a kingly incredulity, "what could you do for me? I wanted nothing. I was withdrawn21 somewhat from my proper field, to mould and colour for daily bread; but Dulcie saved me many a wasted hour, and I could occupy the period of a mechanical job in conceiving—no, in marshalling my visions. Mine was a different, an altogether higher line than yours, Sam; you will forgive me if I have told you too abruptly," and the poverty-stricken painter, at his last gasp22, looked deprecatingly at his old honoured associate.
But he was too far gone for ceremony; he was too near release for pain. He had even shaken hands with the few family cares he was capable of experiencing, and had commended Dulcie to Sam Winnington without a single doubt. He felt, like Gainsborough, that they were all going to heaven, and Vandyke was in the company. Where was the room for misunderstanding now! Here was the end of strife23, and the conclusion of the whole matter. Some other sentences Will spoke24 before his parting breath; and when his hearers heard him murmuring the word "garment," they fancied he still raved25 of his calling—on to the [Page 164]end. But his mind had turned and taken refuge in another calling, and it was in reference to it that he quoted the fragment of a verse, "And besought26 him that they might touch if it were but the border of his garment; and as many as touched him were made whole." "Sam, have you put forth27 your hand?"
Thus Will Locke departed rejoicing. Dulcie, a thin forlorn widow woman, talked with a lingering echo of his elevation28, of her Will's being beyond lamentation29, and of herself and her boy's being well off with their faith in the future. Dulcie had a proud, constant presentiment30 in the recesses31 of her woman's heart that the husband and father's good name and merited reputation would surely find his memory out in this world yet. She had no material possessions save a few of his gorgeous, gruesome, hieroglyphical32 pictures, and what she had borrowed or inherited of his lower cunning in tinting33, a more marketable commodity in the present mind of society.
Dulcie disposed of Will's paintings, reluctantly, realizing an astonishing amount; astonishing, unless you take into account the fact that his companions and contemporaries were not sure that he was a mere madman now that he had gone from their ranks. They wished to atone34 for their dislike to his vagaries35 by preserving some relics36 of the curious handling, the grotesque37 imagination, the delicate taste, and the finely accurate knowledge of vegetable and animal forms which had passed away.
Then Dulcie went back in the waggon38 to her old friends at Fairfax, and, by so doing, probably saved her sole remaining child. Dulcie did not know whether to be glad [Page 165]or sorry when she found that Will's boy had no more of his father's genius than might have been derived39 from her own quick talents, and neat, nice fingers. And she was comforted: not in the sense of marrying again—oh dear, no! she cherished the memory of her Will as a sacred thing, and through all her returning plumpness and rosiness—for she was still a young woman—never forgot the honour she had borne in being a great painter's wife and companion for half-a-dozen years. Perhaps, good as she was, she grew rather to brandish40 this credit in the faces of the cloth-workers and their wives; to speak a little bigly of the galleries and the Academy, of chiaroscuro41 and perspective, of which the poor ignoramuses knew nothing: to be obstinate42 on her dignity, and stand out on her gentility far before that of the attorneys' and the doctors' wives;—and all this though she had been, as you may remember, the least assuming of girls, the least exacting43 of wives. But women have many sides to their nature, and remain puzzles—puzzles in their virtues44 as in their vices45; and if Dulcie were ever guilty of ostentation46, you have not to dive deep to discover that it was out of respect to her Will—to her great, simple, single-hearted painter.
No, Will Locke's was not a life wrecked47 on the rocks of adversity, any more than Sam Winnington's was stranded48 on the sandbanks of prosperity. The one did a little to mellow49 the other before the scenes closed, and Will Locke was less obliged to Sam Winnington than Sam to Will in the end. Will's nature and career were scarcely within the scope of Sam's genial50 material philosophy; but the thought of them did grow to cross Sam's mind during his [Page 166]long work-hours; and good painters' hours are mostly stoutly51, steadily52, indefatigably53 long. He pondered them even when he was jesting playfully with the affable aristocrat54 under his pencil; he spoke of them often to Clary when he was sketching55 at her work-table of an evening; and she, knitting beside him, would stop her work and respond freely. Then Sam would rise, and, with his hands behind his back, go and look at that lush, yet delicate picture of the Redwater Bower56 which he had got routed out, framed, and hung in Clary's drawing-room. He would contemplate57 it for many minutes at a study, and he would repeat the study scores and scores of times with always the same result—the conviction of the ease and security resulting from spiritualizing matter, and the difficulty and hopelessness of materializing spirit. And after these long looks into the past, Sam would be more forbearing in pronouncing verdicts on his brethren, worsted in the effort to express what was inherent in their minds; would not decide quite so dogmatically, that all a man had to do was to be sound and diligent58, and keep himself far apart from high-flown rubbish, like a common-sense, sober-minded Englishman. And Sam came to be less feverishly59 anxious about his own monopoly of public esteem60; less nettled61 at art-criticism; perhaps less vivacious62 in his talents and well-doing, but more manly63 and serene64 in his triumph, as Will Locke had been manly and serene in his failure.
Will Locke's life and death, so devoid65 of pomp and renown66, might be beyond lamentation, after all.
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1
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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2
nought
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| n.／adj.无，零 | |
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babbled
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| v.喋喋不休( babble的过去式和过去分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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acquiesce
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| vi.默许，顺从，同意 | |
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glimmeringly
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| 微光，隐约的一瞥 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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10
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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14
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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immortals
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| 不朽的人物( immortal的名词复数 )； 永生不朽者 | |
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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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stinted
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| v.限制，节省（stint的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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19
jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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21
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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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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25
raved
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| v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
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26
besought
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| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的过去式和过去分词 )；(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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27
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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lamentation
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| n.悲叹，哀悼 | |
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30
presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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31
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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32
hieroglyphical
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| n.象形文字，象形文字的文章 | |
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33
tinting
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| 着色，染色（的阶段或过程） | |
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atone
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| v.赎罪，补偿 | |
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35
vagaries
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| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
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relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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37
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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38
waggon
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| n.运货马车，运货车；敞篷车箱 | |
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39
derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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40
brandish
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| v.挥舞，挥动；n.挥动，挥舞 | |
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41
chiaroscuro
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| n.明暗对照法 | |
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42
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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43
exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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44
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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45
vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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46
ostentation
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| n.夸耀，卖弄 | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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48
stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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49
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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50
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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51
stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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52
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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53
indefatigably
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| adv.不厌倦地，不屈不挠地 | |
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54
aristocrat
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| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
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55
sketching
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| n.草图 | |
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56
bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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57
contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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diligent
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| adj.勤勉的，勤奋的 | |
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59
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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60
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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61
nettled
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| v.拿荨麻打，拿荨麻刺（nettle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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62
vivacious
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| adj.活泼的，快活的 | |
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63
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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64
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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65
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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66
renown
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| n.声誉，名望 | |
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