His eyes, as he filled that black despatch case, looked as if at any moment they might blaze up with anger. So gleams the eye of a schoolboy, baited by a ring of his companions; but he controls himself, deterred4 by the fearful odds5 against him. And old Jolyon controlled himself, keeping down, with his masterful restraint now slowly wearing out, the irritation6 fostered in him by the conditions of his life.
He had received from his son an unpractical letter, in which by rambling7 generalities the boy seemed trying to get out of answering a plain question. ‘I’ve seen Bosinney,’ he said; ‘he is not a criminal. The more I see of people the more I am convinced that they are never good or bad — merely comic, or pathetic. You probably don’t agree with me!’
Old Jolyon did not; he considered it cynical8 to so express oneself; he had not yet reached that point of old age when even Forsytes, bereft9 of those illusions and principles which they have cherished carefully for practical purposes but never believed in, bereft of all corporeal10 enjoyment11, stricken to the very heart by having nothing left to hope for — break through the barriers of reserve and say things they would never have believed themselves capable of saying.
Perhaps he did not believe in ‘goodness’ and ‘badness’ any more than his son; but as he would have said: He didn’t know — couldn’t tell; there might be something in it; and why, by an unnecessary expression of disbelief, deprive yourself of possible advantage?
Accustomed to spend his holidays among the mountains, though (like a true Forsyte) he had never attempted anything too adventurous12 or too foolhardy, he had been passionately13 fond of them. And when the wonderful view (mentioned in Baedeker —‘fatiguing but repaying’)— was disclosed to him after the effort of the climb, he had doubtless felt the existence of some great, dignified14 principle crowning the chaotic15 strivings, the petty precipices16, and ironic17 little dark chasms18 of life. This was as near to religion, perhaps, as his practical spirit had ever gone.
But it was many years since he had been to the mountains. He had taken June there two seasons running, after his wife died, and had realized bitterly that his walking days were over.
To that old mountain — given confidence in a supreme19 order of things he had long been a stranger.
He knew himself to be old, yet he felt young; and this troubled him. It troubled and puzzled him, too, to think that he, who had always been so careful, should be father and grandfather to such as seemed born to disaster. He had nothing to say against Jo — who could say anything against the boy, an amiable20 chap? — but his position was deplorable, and this business of June’s nearly as bad. It seemed like a fatality21, and a fatality was one of those things no man of his character could either understand or put up with.
In writing to his son he did not really hope that anything would come of it. Since the ball at Roger’s he had seen too clearly how the land lay — he could put two and two together quicker than most men — and, with the example of his own son before his eyes, knew better than any Forsyte of them all that the pale flame singes22 men’s wings whether they will or no.
In the days before June’s engagement, when she and Mrs. Soames were always together, he had seen enough of Irene to feel the spell she cast over men. She was not a flirt23, not even a coquette — words dear to the heart of his generation, which loved to define things by a good, broad, inadequate24 word — but she was dangerous. He could not say why. Tell him of a quality innate25 in some women — a seductive power beyond their own control! He would but answer: ‘Humbug26!’ She was dangerous, and there was an end of it. He wanted to close his eyes to that affair. If it was, it was; he did not want to hear any more about it — he only wanted to save June’s position and her peace of mind. He still hoped she might once more become a comfort to himself.
And so he had written. He got little enough out of the answer. As to what young Jolyon had made of the interview, there was practically only the queer sentence: ‘I gather that he’s in the stream.’ The stream! What stream? What was this new-fangled way of talking?
He sighed, and folded the last of the papers under the flap of the bag; he knew well enough what was meant.
June came out of the dining-room, and helped him on with his summer coat. From her costume, and the expression of her little resolute27 face, he saw at once what was coming.
“I’m going with you,” she said.
“Nonsense, my dear; I go straight into the City. I can’t have you racketting about!”
“I must see old Mrs. Smeech.”
“Oh, your precious ‘lame ducks!” grumbled28 out old Jolyon. He did not believe her excuse, but ceased his opposition29. There was no doing anything with that pertinacity30 of hers.
At Victoria he put her into the carriage which had been ordered for himself — a characteristic action, for he had no petty selfishnesses.
“Now, don’t you go tiring yourself, my darling,” he said, and took a cab on into the city.
June went first to a back-street in Paddington, where Mrs. Smeech, her ‘lame duck,’ lived — an aged31 person, connected with the charring interest; but after half an hour spent in hearing her habitually32 lamentable33 recital34, and dragooning her into temporary comfort, she went on to Stanhope Gate. The great house was closed and dark.
She had decided35 to learn something at all costs. It was better to face the worst, and have it over. And this was her plan: To go first to Phil’s aunt, Mrs. Baynes, and, failing information there, to Irene herself. She had no clear notion of what she would gain by these visits.
At three o’clock she was in Lowndes Square. With a woman’s instinct when trouble is to be faced, she had put on her best frock, and went to the battle with a glance as courageous36 as old Jolyon’s itself. Her tremors37 had passed into eagerness.
Mrs. Baynes, Bosinney’s aunt (Louisa was her name), was in her kitchen when June was announced, organizing the cook, for she was an excellent housewife, and, as Baynes always said, there was ‘a lot in a good dinner.’ He did his best work after dinner. It was Baynes who built that remarkably38 fine row of tall crimson39 houses in Kensington which compete with so many others for the title of ‘the ugliest in London.’
On hearing June’s name, she went hurriedly to her bedroom, and, taking two large bracelets40 from a red morocco case in a locked drawer, put them on her white wrists — for she possessed41 in a remarkable42 degree that ‘sense of property,’ which, as we know, is the touchstone of Forsyteism, and the foundation of good morality.
Her figure, of medium height and broad build, with a tendency to embonpoint, was reflected by the mirror of her whitewood wardrobe, in a gown made under her own organization, of one of those half-tints, reminiscent of the distempered walls of corridors in large hotels. She raised her hands to her hair, which she wore a la Princesse de Galles, and touched it here and there, settling it more firmly on her head, and her eyes were full of an unconscious realism, as though she were looking in the face one of life’s sordid43 facts, and making the best of it. In youth her cheeks had been of cream and roses, but they were mottled now by middle-age, and again that hard, ugly directness came into her eyes as she dabbed44 a powder-puff45 across her forehead. Putting the puff down, she stood quite still before the glass, arranging a smile over her high, important nose, her, chin, (never large, and now growing smaller with the increase of her neck), her thin-lipped, down-drooping mouth. Quickly, not to lose the effect, she grasped her skirts strongly in both hands, and went downstairs.
She had been hoping for this visit for some time past. Whispers had reached her that things were not all right between her nephew and his fiancee. Neither of them had been near her for weeks. She had asked Phil to dinner many times; his invariable answer had been ‘Too busy.’
Her instinct was alarmed, and the instinct in such matters of this excellent woman was keen. She ought to have been a Forsyte; in young Jolyon’s sense of the word, she certainly had that privilege, and merits description as such.
She had married off her three daughters in a way that people said was beyond their deserts, for they had the professional plainness only to be found, as a rule, among the female kind of the more legal callings. Her name was upon the committees of numberless charities connected with the Church-dances, theatricals46, or bazaars47 — and she never lent her name unless sure beforehand that everything had been thoroughly48 organized.
She believed, as she often said, in putting things on a commercial basis; the proper function of the Church, of charity, indeed, of everything, was to strengthen the fabric49 of ‘Society.’ Individual action, therefore, she considered immoral50. Organization was the only thing, for by organization alone could you feel sure that you were getting a return for your money. Organization — and again, organization! And there is no doubt that she was what old Jolyon called her —“a ‘dab’ at that”— he went further, he called her “a humbug.”
The enterprises to which she lent her name were organized so admirably that by the time the takings were handed over, they were indeed skim milk divested51 of all cream of human kindness. But as she often justly remarked, sentiment was to be deprecated. She was, in fact, a little academic.
This great and good woman, so highly thought of in ecclesiastical circles, was one of the principal priestesses in the temple of Forsyteism, keeping alive day and night a sacred flame to the God of Property, whose altar is inscribed52 with those inspiring words: ‘Nothing for nothing, and really remarkably little for sixpence.’
When she entered a room it was felt that something substantial had come in, which was probably the reason of her popularity as a patroness. People liked something substantial when they had paid money for it; and they would look at her — surrounded by her staff in charity ballrooms53, with her high nose and her broad, square figure, attired54 in an uniform covered with sequins — as though she were a general.
The only thing against her was that she had not a double name. She was a power in upper middle-class society, with its hundred sets and circles, all intersecting on the common battlefield of charity functions, and on that battlefield brushing skirts so pleasantly with the skirts of Society with the capital ‘S.’ She was a power in society with the smaller ‘s,’ that larger, more significant, and more powerful body, where the commercially Christian55 institutions, maxims56, and ‘principle,’ which Mrs. Baynes embodied57, were real life-blood, circulating freely, real business currency, not merely the sterilized58 imitation that flowed in the veins59 of smaller Society with the larger ‘S.’ People who knew her felt her to be sound — a sound woman, who never gave herself away, nor anything else, if she could possibly help it.
She had been on the worst sort of terms with Bosinney’s father, who had not infrequently made her the object of an unpardonable ridicule60. She alluded61 to him now that he was gone as her ‘poor, dear, irreverend brother.’
She greeted June with the careful effusion of which she was a mistress, a little afraid of her as far as a woman of her eminence62 in the commercial and Christian world could be afraid — for so slight a girl June had a great dignity, the fearlessness of her eyes gave her that. And Mrs. Baynes, too, shrewdly recognized that behind the uncompromising frankness of June’s manner there was much of the Forsyte. If the girl had been merely frank and courageous, Mrs. Baynes would have thought her ‘cranky,’ and despised her; if she had been merely a Forsyte, like Francie — let us say — she would have patronized her from sheer weight of metal; but June, small though she was — Mrs. Baynes habitually admired quantity — gave her an uneasy feeling; and she placed her in a chair opposite the light.
There was another reason for her respect which Mrs. Baynes, too good a churchwoman to be worldly, would have been the last to admit — she often heard her husband describe old Jolyon as extremely well off, and was biassed63 towards his granddaughter for the soundest of all reasons. To-day she felt the emotion with which we read a novel describing a hero and an inheritance, nervously64 anxious lest, by some frightful65 lapse66 of the novelist, the young man should be left without it at the end.
Her manner was warm; she had never seen so clearly before how distinguished67 and desirable a girl this was. She asked after old Jolyon’s health. A wonderful man for his age; so upright, and young looking, and how old was he? Eighty-one! She would never have thought it! They were at the sea! Very nice for them; she supposed June heard from Phil every day? Her light grey eyes became more prominent as she asked this question; but the girl met the glance without flinching68.
“No,” she said, “he never writes!”
Mrs. Baynes’s eyes dropped; they had no intention of doing so, but they did. They recovered immediately.
“Of course not. That’s Phil all over — he was always like that!”
“Was he?” said June.
The brevity of the answer caused Mrs. Baynes’s bright smile a moment’s hesitation69; she disguised it by a quick movement, and spreading her skirts afresh, said: “Why, my dear — he’s quite the most harum-scarum person; one never pays the slightest attention to what he does!”
The conviction came suddenly to June that she was wasting her time; even were she to put a question point-blank, she would never get anything out of this woman.
‘Do you see him?’ she asked, her face crimsoning70.
The perspiration71 broke out on Mrs. Baynes’ forehead beneath the powder.
“Oh, yes! I don’t remember when he was here last — indeed, we haven’t seen much of him lately. He’s so busy with your cousin’s house; I’m told it’ll be finished directly. We must organize a little dinner to celebrate the event; do come and stay the night with us!”
“Thank you,” said June. Again she thought: ‘I’m only wasting my time. This woman will tell me nothing.’
She got up to go. A change came over Mrs. Baynes. She rose too; her lips twitched72, she fidgeted her hands. Something was evidently very wrong, and she did not dare to ask this girl, who stood there, a slim, straight little figure, with her decided face, her set jaw73, and resentful eyes. She was not accustomed to be afraid of asking question’s — all organization was based on the asking of questions!
But the issue was so grave that her nerve, normally strong, was fairly shaken; only that morning her husband had said: “Old Mr. Forsyte must be worth well over a hundred thousand pounds!”
And this girl stood there, holding out her hand — holding out her hand!
The chance might be slipping away — she couldn’t tell — the chance of keeping her in the family, and yet she dared not speak.
Her eyes followed June to the door.
It closed.
Then with an exclamation74 Mrs. Baynes ran forward, wobbling her bulky frame from side to side, and opened it again.
Too late! She heard the front door click, and stood still, an expression of real anger and mortification75 on her face.
June went along the Square with her bird-like quickness. She detested76 that woman now whom in happier days she had been accustomed to think so kind. Was she always to be put off thus, and forced to undergo this torturing suspense77?
She would go to Phil himself, and ask him what he meant. She had the right to know. She hurried on down Sloane Street till she came to Bosinney’s number. Passing the swing-door at the bottom, she ran up the stairs, her heart thumping78 painfully.
At the top of the third flight she paused for breath, and holding on to the bannisters, stood listening. No sound came from above.
With a very white face she mounted the last flight. She saw the door, with his name on the plate. And the resolution that had brought her so far evaporated.
The full meaning of her conduct came to her. She felt hot all over; the palms of her hands were moist beneath the thin silk covering of her gloves.
She drew back to the stairs, but did not descend79. Leaning against the rail she tried to get rid of a feeling of being choked; and she gazed at the door with a sort of dreadful courage. No! she refused to go down. Did it matter what people thought of her? They would never know! No one would help her if she did not help herself! She would go through with it.
Forcing herself, therefore, to leave the support of the wall, she rang the bell. The door did not open, and all her shame and fear suddenly abandoned her; she rang again and again, as though in spite of its emptiness she could drag some response out of that closed room, some recompense for the shame and fear that visit had cost her. It did not open; she left off ringing, and, sitting down at the top of the stairs, buried her face in her hands.
Presently she stole down, out into the air. She felt as though she had passed through a bad illness, and had no desire now but to get home as quickly as she could. The people she met seemed to know where she had been, what she had been doing; and suddenly — over on the opposite side, going towards his rooms from the direction of Montpellier Square — she saw Bosinney himself.
She made a movement to cross into the traffic. Their eyes met, and he raised his hat. An omnibus passed, obscuring her view; then, from the edge of the pavement, through a gap in the traffic, she saw him walking on.
And June stood motionless, looking after him.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
inhaling
|
|
| v.吸入( inhale的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
permeates
|
|
| 弥漫( permeate的第三人称单数 )； 遍布； 渗入； 渗透 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
despatch
|
|
| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
deterred
|
|
| v.阻止，制止( deter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
odds
|
|
| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
irritation
|
|
| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
rambling
|
|
| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
cynical
|
|
| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
bereft
|
|
| adj.被剥夺的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
corporeal
|
|
| adj.肉体的，身体的；物质的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
adventurous
|
|
| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
passionately
|
|
| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
dignified
|
|
| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
chaotic
|
|
| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
precipices
|
|
| n.悬崖，峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
ironic
|
|
| adj.讽刺的，有讽刺意味的，出乎意料的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
chasms
|
|
| 裂缝( chasm的名词复数 )； 裂口； 分歧； 差别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
supreme
|
|
| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
fatality
|
|
| n.不幸，灾祸，天命 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
singes
|
|
| v.浅表烧焦( singe的第三人称单数 )；（毛发）燎，烧焦尖端[边儿] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
flirt
|
|
| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
inadequate
|
|
| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
innate
|
|
| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
humbug
|
|
| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
resolute
|
|
| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
grumbled
|
|
| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
opposition
|
|
| n.反对，敌对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
pertinacity
|
|
| n.执拗，顽固 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
31
aged
|
|
| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
habitually
|
|
| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
lamentable
|
|
| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
recital
|
|
| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
courageous
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
tremors
|
|
| 震颤( tremor的名词复数 )； 战栗； 震颤声； 大地的轻微震动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
remarkably
|
|
| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
bracelets
|
|
| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
sordid
|
|
| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
dabbed
|
|
| （用某物）轻触( dab的过去式和过去分词 )； 轻而快地擦掉（或抹掉）； 快速擦拭； （用某物）轻而快地涂上（或点上）… | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
puff
|
|
| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
theatricals
|
|
| n.（业余性的）戏剧演出，舞台表演艺术；职业演员；戏剧的( theatrical的名词复数 )；剧场的；炫耀的；戏剧性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
bazaars
|
|
| （东方国家的）市场( bazaar的名词复数 )； 义卖； 义卖市场； （出售花哨商品等的）小商品市场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
fabric
|
|
| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
immoral
|
|
| adj.不道德的，淫荡的，荒淫的，有伤风化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
divested
|
|
| v.剥夺( divest的过去式和过去分词 )；脱去（衣服）；2。从…取去…；1。（给某人）脱衣服 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
inscribed
|
|
| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
ballrooms
|
|
| n.舞厅( ballroom的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
attired
|
|
| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
maxims
|
|
| n.格言，座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
embodied
|
|
| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
sterilized
|
|
| v.消毒( sterilize的过去式和过去分词 )；使无菌；使失去生育能力；使绝育 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
veins
|
|
| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
ridicule
|
|
| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
alluded
|
|
| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
eminence
|
|
| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
biassed
|
|
| （统计试验中）结果偏倚的，有偏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
64
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
frightful
|
|
| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
lapse
|
|
| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
flinching
|
|
| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
crimsoning
|
|
| 变为深红色（crimson的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
71
perspiration
|
|
| n.汗水；出汗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
twitched
|
|
| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
jaw
|
|
| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
exclamation
|
|
| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
mortification
|
|
| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
detested
|
|
| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
suspense
|
|
| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
thumping
|
|
| adj.重大的，巨大的；重击的；尺码大的；极好的adv.极端地；非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词)；狠打；怦怦地跳；全力支持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
descend
|
|
| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |