His mind did not dwell on his own situation as it might have done, either, if it had not been for Fanny Glen. Instinctively7 he had stepped forward to gather her in his arms when she fainted before him on the wharf8 that night, but he had been sternly waved back by the general, and without being given a chance to learn anything about her condition he had been hurried to headquarters and heavily guarded in the room where he was to be held pending9 Beauregard's further pleasure. As for Fanny Glen, although Sempland could not know it, the surgeon who had been present had speedily revived that young woman, a carriage had been summoned, and she had been taken home under the escort of one of the staff officers.
Sempland was utterly10 unable to fathom11 her mysterious conduct. He had thought upon it swiftly as he could during those trying moments which had been so filled with action, but he had not had time, until in the quiet and solitude12 of his confinement, to give it any calm consideration. He was at a loss to understand her actions.
Was she a traitor to the South? Did she think to prevent the loss of the flagship of the Federal fleet by detaining him? That could not be, for if ever truth and sincerity13 shone in a woman's face and were evinced in a woman's actions, they were in Fanny Glen's appearance and life. Her patriotism14 was unquestioned. That hypothesis must be dismissed at once.
Was it because she loved him so that, fancying the expedition promised certain death to him, she had taken this unfortunate method of preserving his life? He had not been too agitated15 in the strong room of her house to realize as he held her that in some mysterious way she was happy at being in his arms. His heart leaped at the recollection. She had not struggled. She had almost nestled against him.
He could recall the clasp of her arms, the kiss that she had given him, the words that she had said. He was almost sure that she loved him as he thought of these things.
Yet—she had disgraced him, dishonored him! That was not the act of a loving woman. She had shown herself possessed16 of a full measure of womanly heroism17 and courage. She knew exactly what was involved in his failure to carry out his orders. How could she have done it? Was it all acting18 then? Did her kisses betray him? Was she indeed a traitor—and to him? Yet—for whom?
There was Lacy—oh, had he repented19 after all? Had he wished to resume the command he had so reluctantly surrendered? Had she been a party to any plan whereby the matter might be brought about? Was he to be shamed and sacrificed for Lacy's glory and honor by this woman? Perish the thought! Yet why had she fainted on the wharf? Was it at the mention of Lacy's name? Was she alarmed for his safety? If that were the case, why had she not striven to restrain Lacy and allowed him to go in his place?
Suddenly there flashed into his mind that there might be some one on the Wabash whom she wished to protect! Could that be the solution of the mystery? No one knew anything of her origin, her past history. Was she faithful to the South, yet had she a—a—lover in the union fleet? Was she indeed what he called her, a heartless coquette? He could have sworn from that brief moment when he held her in his arms, when he looked at her, that she loved him. She had returned his kiss. Oh, had she? Was it a dream? A play? To deceive him? Great God! was he going mad?
Of only one thing was he certain. He could never disclose to any one the cause of his failure to present himself on the wharf in time. Whether she loved Lacy, or some one in the union fleet, made no difference to his love. He would love her till he died. Ay, he would love her even in the face of her treachery, her faithlessness—everything! He hated himself for this, but it was true, he could not deny it.
And he would save her from the consequences of her action at the cost of his life—his honor even. What had he to live for anyway, if she were taken from him? Death might come. It would come. He would make no defence. It was quite within the power of a court-martial20 to order him shot. And it was quite within the power of a court-martial to punish Fanny Glen, too, if he fastened the culpability21 for his failure upon her; perhaps not by death, but certainly by disgrace and shame. The city was under martial rule, General Beauregard was supreme22. No, he could not expose her to that condemnation—he loved her too well.
Yet he wished that he could hate her, as he paced up and down the long room, stopping at the windows to stare out into the dark in the direction of the sea—where he should have been if all had gone well.
He was too far away to hear the explosion of the torpedo23, which was muffled24, because it took place under water, but he could hear the batteries of the ships as they opened on the blockade-runners, and the answer from the forts, and he knew that something had happened at any rate. And his suspense25 as to that added to his wretchedness. Lacy had supplanted26 him and reaped the glory—again. It was maddening. No one came to bring him any word. The general concluded to postpone27 his inquiry28 until the next morning, and Sempland paced the floor the night long in a pitiable condition of wounded love, blasted hope, shattered fame.
At home, not far away, poor Fanny Glen was even more miserable29 than Rhett Sempland, for she had divined—yes, so soon as the two men had left her presence the afternoon before, she had recognized the fact—that she loved Sempland. Conviction had grown upon her swiftly, and in those moments when she was fearful that he would succeed in his purpose, when she had kept him a prisoner in her home to prevent him from taking out the David to try to blow up the Wabash, she knew that she loved him.
When he had held her in his arms in that bold and successful effort to escape, when he had strained her to his breast, when he had kissed her—oh, that kiss!—the consciousness of her passion overwhelmed her. The recollection of it even filled her with passionate31 tenderness. She had not been afraid when he had threatened her with the pistol. She could have died easily then—in his arms, with his kiss upon her lips, his heart beating against her own. He loved her! Nothing else mattered for the moment.
She had endeavored to keep him a prisoner partly for his own sake, but principally for another and greater reason. She had not thought of disgrace or shame to him. It had all come so swiftly. She had no time to reflect at all. She had decided32 upon impulse, with but one thought at first—to save the union ship. In her sudden alarm and anxiety she had not realized that she was playing a traitor's part. Or if she had, she had done it willingly, in the belief that the punishment would fall upon her, and that he would be held blameless.
But for whatever reason she had acted as she had, she had failed after all, for another had taken Sempland's part, and the flagship, if the David succeeded, was doomed33. Her sacrifice was unavailing. She had lost everything. Sempland had shrunk away from her when she had confronted him and the general on the wharf, and when she had recovered consciousness he was gone. She could not know his heart had gone out to her lying there, nor how they had hurried him away from her prostrate34 figure.
He would never forgive her—never! she thought miserably35. He was under arrest now. What was that word she had caught as she ran toward them? Coward! They would kill him perhaps. She had lost all—love, the ship, everything! Lacy, too, was gone. He had taken the boat out in Sempland's place. Why had she not thought of that possibility? And he had loved her, and he would never come back.
With a misery36 akin30 to Sempland's she heard the bombardment which proclaimed that something had happened. Had the flagship been blown up? Nothing was left to her. She would go to the general and tell the truth in the morning, and then—he would be free. They could punish her and she could die. Well, death would be welcome.
"Poor little Fanny Glen ... she had lost on every hand."
"Poor little Fanny Glen ... she had lost on every hand."
Poor little Fanny Glen! She had played, and played the fool exceedingly—and she had lost on every hand!
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收听单词发音
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1
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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confinement
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| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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3
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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4
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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intrepidity
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| n.大胆，刚勇；大胆的行为 | |
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traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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7
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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8
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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9
pending
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| prep.直到，等待…期间；adj.待定的；迫近的 | |
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10
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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11
fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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12
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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13
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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14
patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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15
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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16
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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17
heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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18
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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19
repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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20
martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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21
culpability
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| n.苛责，有罪 | |
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22
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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23
torpedo
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| n.水雷，地雷；v.用鱼雷破坏 | |
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24
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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25
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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26
supplanted
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| 把…排挤掉，取代( supplant的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27
postpone
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| v.延期，推迟 | |
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28
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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29
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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30
akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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31
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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32
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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33
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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34
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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35
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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36
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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