It was with a sinking heart that Seymour rode up the hill toward Fairview Hall a few days later. There had been a light fall of snow during the preceding night, and the brilliant sun of the early morning had not yet gained sufficient strength to melt it away. There was a softening1 touch therefore about the familiar scene, and Seymour, who had never viewed it in the glory of its summer, thought he had never known it to look so beautiful. Heartily2 greeted as he passed on by the various servants of the family, with whom he was a great favorite, he finally drew rein3 and dismounted before the great flight of steps which led up to the terrace upon which the house stood. His arrival had not been unnoticed, and Madam Talbot was standing4 in the doorway5 to greet him. He noticed that she looked paler and thinner and older, but she held herself as erect6 and carried herself as proudly as she had always done. Grief and disappointment and broken hope might change and destroy the natural tissues and fibres of her being, but they could not alter her iron will. Tossing the bridle7 to one of the attendant servants, Seymour, hat in hand, walked slowly up the steps and across the grass plat, and stepped upon the porch. She watched him in silence, with a frightful8 sinking of the heart; the gravity of his demeanor9 and the pallor of his face, in which she seemed to detect a shade of pity which her pride resented, apprised10 her that whatever news he had brought would be ill for her to hear, but her rigid11 face and composed manner gave no indication of the deadly conflict within. Seymour bowed low to her, and she returned his salute12 with a sweeping13 courtesy, old-fashioned and graceful14.
"Lieutenant15 Seymour is very welcome to Fairview Hall, though I trust it be not the compelling necessity of a wound which makes him seek our hospitality again," she said, faintly smiling.
"Oh, madam," said Seymour, softly, yet in utter desperation as to how to begin, "unfortunately it is not to be cured of wounds, but to inflict16 them that this time I am come. I—I am sorry—that I have to tell you that—I—" he continued with great hesitation17.
"You are a bearer of ill tidings, I perceive," she continued gravely. "Speak your message, sir. Whatever it may be, I trust the God I serve to give me strength to bear it. Is it—is it—Hilary?" she went on, with just a suggestion of a break in her even, carefully modulated18 tones.
"Yes, dear madam. He—he—"
"Stop! I had almost forgotten my duty. Tell me first of the armies of my king. The king first of all with our house, you know."
Poor Seymour! he must overwhelm her with bad news in every field of her affection. For a moment he almost wished the results had been the other way. The perspiration19 stood out upon his forehead in spite of the coldness, and he felt he would rather charge a battery than face this terrible old woman who put the armies of a king—and such a king too—before the fate of her only son! And yet he knew that what he had to tell her would break down even her iron will, and reaching the mother's heart beating warm within her in spite of her assumed coldness and self-repression, would probably give her a death-blow. He felt literally20 like a murderer before her, but he had to answer. Talbot's own letter, General Washington's command, and the promptings of his own affection had made him an actor in this pathetic drama. He had no choice but to proceed. The truth must be told. Nerving himself to the inevitable21, he replied to her question,—
"The armies of the king have been defeated and forced to retire. General Washington has outmanoeuvred and outfought them; they are now shut up in New York again. The Jerseys22 are free, and we have taken upward of two thousand prisoners, and many are killed and wounded among them,—on both sides, in truth," he added.
"The worst news first," she replied. "One knows not why these things are so. It seems the God of Justice slumbers23 when subjects rebel against their rightful kings! But I have faith, sir. The right will win in the end—must win."
"So be it," he said, accepting the implied challenge, but adding nothing further. He would wait to be questioned now, and this strange woman should have the story in the way that pleased her best. As for her she could not trust herself to speak. Never before had her trembling body, her beating heart escaped from the domination of her resolute24 will. Never before had her mobile lips refused to formulate25 the commands of her active brain. She fought her battle out in silence, and finally turned toward him once more.
"There was something else you said, I think. My—my son?" Her voice sank to a whisper; in spite of herself one hand went to her heart. Ah, mother, mother, this was indeed thy king! "Is—is he wounded?—My God, sir! Not dead?"
His open hand which he had extended to her held two little objects. What were they? The bright sunlight was reflected from one of them, the locket she had given him. There was a dark discoloration on one side of it which she had never seen before. The other was his Prayer Book. O God—prayer! Was there then a God, that such things could happen? Where was He that day? She had given that book to him when he was yet a child. "Dead,"—she whispered,—"dead," shrinking back and staring at him.
"Would God I had died in his place, dear madam!" he said with infinite pity.
"How—how was it?" she went on, dry-eyed, in agony, moistening her cracking lips.
"Fighting like a hero over the body of General Mercer at Princeton. His men retreated and left them—"
"The rebel cowards," she interrupted.
"Nay26, not cowards, but perhaps less brave than he. The British charged with their bayonets; our men had not that weapon, they fell back."
"Were you there, sir?"
"Surely not! Should I be here now if I had been there then, madam?" he replied proudly.
"True, true! you at least are a gentleman. Forgive the question."
"General Mercer and some of his officers sprang at the line. I had it from his own lips. Some one cut the general down; Hilary interposed, and enabled him to rise to his feet; they were attacked, fought bravely until—until—they died."
Stricken to the death at least, but determined27 to die as the rest had died, fighting, she drew herself up resolutely28, and lifted her hand to that pitiless heaven above her. "So—be—it—unto—all—the—enemies—" When had he heard her say that before, he wondered in horror. She stopped, her face went whiter before him, the light went out of it.
"Oh, my son, my son—O God, my son, my son—Oh, give him back, my son—my son!" She reeled and fell against him, moaning and beating the air with her little feeble hands. The break had come at last; she was no longer a Talbot, but a woman. With infinite pity and infinite care he half led, half carried her into the house, and then, after being bidden not to summon assistance, he sank down on his knees by her side, where she lay on the sofa in the parlor29, crushed, broken, feeble, helpless, old. With many interruptions he told her the sad story. He laid the long dark lock of hair he had cut from her son's head in her hand. There was a letter from George Washington which he read to her, in which, after many tender words of consolation30, he spoke31 of Talbot as "one who would have done honor to any country." He told her of that military funeral, the kind words of Cornwallis, the guard of honor, the soldiers of the king, and then he put Talbot's own letter to him before her, and she must be told of the loss of the frigate32. Kate dead too, and Colonel Wilton. Alas33, poor friends! But all her plans and hopes were gone; what mattered it—what mattered anything now!
"Oh, what a load must those unrighteous men bear before God who have inaugurated this wicked war!" she cried; but no echo of her reproach was heard in the houses of Parliament in London, or whispered in the antechamber of the king, to whom, assuredly, they belonged.
And by and by he left her. It wrung34 his heart so to do, but the call of duty was stronger than her need. His ship was ready, or would be in a short time, and he had snatched a few days from his pressing work to fulfil this task. His presence was absolutely necessary on the vessel35, and he must go. Saying nay to her piteous plea that he should stay, and most reluctantly refusing her proffers36 of hospitality, after leaving with her the letters and the pictures, he left the room. But in the doorway he looked back at her. The tears had come at last. Moved by a sudden impulse, he ran back and knelt down by her, and took her old face between his hands and kissed her.
"Good-by, dear madam," he whispered; "would it had been I!"
She laid her thin hands upon his head.
"Good-by," she whispered; "God bless you. Oh, my boy—my boy!" She turned her face to the wall in bitterness, and so he fled.
On the brow of the hill one could see, if he were keen-eyed, the Wilton place. There was the boat-house. There she had said she loved him. He struck spurs to his horse and galloped37 madly away. Was there nothing but grief and sorrow, then, under the sun?
The lawyer and the doctor and the minister were with Madam Talbot all that day, but it was little they could do. She added a codicil38 to her will with the lawyer, submissively took the medicine the doctor left her, and listened quietly to the prayers of the priest. In the morning they found her whiter, stiller, calmer than ever. She had gone to meet her son in that new country where none rebel against the King!
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
softening
|
|
| 变软，软化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
rein
|
|
| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
bridle
|
|
| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
frightful
|
|
| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
demeanor
|
|
| n.行为；风度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
apprised
|
|
| v.告知，通知( apprise的过去式和过去分词 )；评价 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
rigid
|
|
| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
salute
|
|
| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
sweeping
|
|
| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
graceful
|
|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
lieutenant
|
|
| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
inflict
|
|
| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
modulated
|
|
| 已调整[制]的，被调的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
perspiration
|
|
| n.汗水；出汗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
literally
|
|
| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
jerseys
|
|
| n.运动衫( jersey的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
slumbers
|
|
| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
resolute
|
|
| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
formulate
|
|
| v.用公式表示；规划；设计；系统地阐述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
nay
|
|
| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
resolutely
|
|
| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
parlor
|
|
| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
consolation
|
|
| n.安慰，慰问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
frigate
|
|
| n.护航舰，大型驱逐舰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
wrung
|
|
| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
vessel
|
|
| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
proffers
|
|
| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
37
galloped
|
|
| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
codicil
|
|
| n.遗嘱的附录 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |