Awhile the heart would pause and flutter to a shock: he was in the act of consummating7 all earthly bliss8 by pressing his lips to the small white hand. Only to do that, and die! cried the Magnetic Youth: to fling the Jewel of Life into that one cup and drink it off! He was intoxicated9 by anticipation10. For that he was born. There was, then, some end in existence, something to live for! to kiss a woman’s hand, and die! He would leap from the couch, and rush to pen and paper to relieve his swarming11 sensations. Scarce was he seated when the pen was dashed aside, the paper sent flying with the exclamation12, “Have I not sworn I would never write again?” Sir Austin had shut that safety-valve. The nonsense that was in the youth might have poured harmlessly out, and its urgency for ebullition was so great that he was repeatedly oblivious13 of his oath, and found himself seated under the lamp in the act of composition before pride could speak a word. Possibly the pride even of Richard Feverel had been swamped if the act of composition were easy at such a time, and a single idea could stand clearly foremost; but myriads14 were demanding the first place; chaotic15 hosts, like ranks of stormy billows, pressed impetuously for expression, and despair of reducing them to form, quite as much as pride, to which it pleased him to refer his incapacity, threw down the powerless pen, and sent him panting to his outstretched length and another headlong career through the rosy-girdled land.
Toward morning the madness of the fever abated16 somewhat, and he went forth17 into the air. A lamp was still burning in his father’s room, and Richard thought, as he looked up, that he saw the ever-vigilant head on the watch. Instantly the lamp was extinguished, the window stood cold against the hues18 of dawn.
Strong pulling is an excellent medical remedy for certain classes of fever. Richard took to it instinctively19. The clear fresh water, burnished20 with sunrise, sparkled against his arrowy prow21; the soft deep shadows curled smiling away from his gliding22 keel. Overhead solitary23 morning unfolded itself, from blossom to bud, from bud to flower; still, delicious changes of light and colour, to whose influences he was heedless as he shot under willows24 and aspens, and across sheets of river-reaches, pure mirrors to the upper glory, himself the sole tenant25 of the stream. Somewhere at the founts of the world lay the land he was rowing toward; something of its shadowed lights might be discerned here and there. It was not a dream, now he knew. There was a secret abroad. The woods were full of it; the waters rolled with it, and the winds. Oh, why could not one in these days do some high knightly26 deed which should draw down ladies’ eyes from their heaven, as in the days of Arthur! To such a meaning breathed the unconscious sighs of the youth, when he had pulled through his first feverish27 energy.
He was off Bursley, and had lapsed28 a little into that musing29 quietude which follows strenuous30 exercise, when he heard a hail and his own name called. It was no lady, no fairy, but young Ralph Morton, an irruption of miserable31 masculine prose. Heartily32 wishing him abed with the rest of mankind, Richard rowed in and jumped ashore33. Ralph immediately seized his arm, saying that he desired earnestly to have a talk with him, and dragged the Magnetic Youth from his water-dreams, up and down the wet mown grass. That he had to say seemed to be difficult of utterance34, and Richard, though he barely listened, soon had enough of his old rival’s gladness at seeing him, and exhibited signs of impatience35; whereat Ralph, as one who branches into matter somewhat foreign to his mind, but of great human interest and importance, put the question to him:
“I say, what woman’s name do you like best?”
“I don’t know any,” quoth Richard, indifferently. “Why are you out so early?”
In answer to this, Ralph suggested that the name of Mary might be considered a pretty name.
Richard agreed that it might be; the housekeeper36 at Raynham, half the women cooks, and all the housemaids enjoyed that name; the name of Mary was equivalent for women at home.
“Yes, I know,” said Ralph. “We have lots of Marys. It’s so common. Oh! I don’t like Mary best. What do you think of Lucy?”
Richard thought it just like another.
“Do you know,” Ralph continued, throwing off the mask and plunging37 into the subject, “I’d do anything on earth for some names — one or two. It’s not Mary, nor Lucy. Clarinda’s pretty, but it’s like a novel. Claribel, I like. Names beginning with ‘Cl’ I prefer. The ‘Cl’s’ are always gentle and lovely girls you would die for! Don’t you think so?”
Richard had never been acquainted with any of them to inspire that emotion. Indeed these urgent appeals to his fancy in feminine names at five o’clock in the morning slightly surprised him, though he was but half awake to the outer world. By degrees he perceived that Ralph was changed. Instead of the lusty boisterous38 boy, his rival in manly39 sciences, who spoke40 straightforwardly41 and acted up to his speech, here was an abashed42 and blush-persecuted youth, who sued piteously for a friendly ear wherein to pour the one idea possessing him. Gradually, too, Richard apprehended43 that Ralph likewise was on the frontiers of the Realm of Mystery, perhaps further toward it than he himself was; and then, as by a sympathetic stroke, was revealed to him the wonderful beauty and depth of meaning in feminine names. The theme appeared novel and delicious, fitted to the season and the hour. But the hardship was, that Richard could choose none from the number; all were the same to him; he loved them all.
“Don’t you really prefer the ‘Cl’s’?” said Ralph, persuasively44.
“Not better than the names ending in ‘a’ and ‘y,’” Richard replied, wishing he could, for Ralph was evidently ahead of him.
“Come under these trees,” said Ralph. And under the trees Ralph unbosomed. His name was down for the army: Eton was quitted for ever. In a few months he would have to join his regiment46, and before he left he must say good-bye to his friends. . . . Would Richard tell him Mrs. Forey’s address? he had heard she was somewhere by the sea. Richard did not remember the address, but said he would willingly take charge of any letter and forward it.
Ralph dived his hand into his pocket. “Here it is. But don’t let anybody see it.”
“My aunt’s name is not Clare,” said Richard, perusing47 what was composed of the exterior48 formula. “You’ve addressed it to Clare herself.”
That was plain to see.
“Emmeline Clementina Matilda Laura, Countess Blandish,” Richard continued in a low tone, transferring the names, and playing on the musical strings49 they were to him. Then he said: “Names of ladies! How they sweeten their names!”
He fixed50 his eyes on Ralph. If he discovered anything further he said nothing, but bade the good fellow good-bye, jumped into his boat, and pulled down the tide. The moment Ralph was hidden by an abutment of the banks, Richard perused51 the address. For the first time it struck him that his cousin Clare was a very charming creature: he remembered the look of her eyes, and especially the last reproachful glance she gave him at parting. What business had Ralph to write to her? Did she not belong to Richard Feverel? He read the words again and again: Clare Doria Forey. Why, Clare was the name he liked best — nay52, he loved it. Doria, too — she shared his own name with him. Away went his heart, not at a canter now, at a gallop53, as one who sights the quarry54. He felt too weak to pull. Clare Doria Forey —— oh, perfect melody! Sliding with the tide, he heard it fluting55 in the bosom45 of the hills.
When nature has made us ripe for love, it seldom occurs that the Fates are behindhand in furnishing a temple for the flame.
Above green-flashing plunges56 of a weir57, and shaken by the thunder below, lilies, golden and white, were swaying at anchor among the reeds. Meadow-sweet hung from the banks thick with weed and trailing bramble, and there also hung a daughter of earth. Her face was shaded by a broad straw hat with a flexible brim that left her lips and chin in the sun, and, sometimes nodding, sent forth a light of promising58 eyes. Across her shoulders, and behind, flowed large loose curls, brown in shadow, almost golden where the ray touched them. She was simply dressed, befitting decency59 and the season. On a closer inspection60 you might see that her lips were stained. This blooming young person was regaling on dewberries. They grew between the bank and the water. Apparently61 she found the fruit abundant, for her hand was making pretty progress to her mouth. Fastidious youth, which revolts at woman plumping her exquisite62 proportions on bread-and-butter, and would (we must suppose) joyfully63 have her scraggy to have her poetical64, can hardly object to dewberries. Indeed the act of eating them is dainty and induces musing. The dewberry is a sister to the lotus, and an innocent sister. You eat: mouth, eye, and hand are occupied, and the undrugged mind free to roam. And so it was with the damsel who knelt there. The little skylark went up above her, all song, to the smooth southern cloud lying along the blue: from a dewy copse dark over her nodding hat the blackbird fluted65, calling to her with thrice mellow66 note: the kingfisher flashed emerald out of green osiers: a bow-winged heron travelled aloft, seeking solitude67: a boat slipped toward her, containing a dreamy youth; and still she plucked the fruit, and ate, and mused68, as if no fairy prince were invading her territories, and as if she wished not for one, or knew not her wishes. Surrounded by the green shaven meadows, the pastoral summer buzz, the weir-fall’s thundering white, amid the breath and beauty of wild flowers, she was a bit of lovely human life in a fair setting; a terrible attraction. The Magnetic Youth leaned round to note his proximity69 to the weir-piles, and beheld70 the sweet vision. Stiller and stiller grew nature, as at the meeting of two electric clouds. Her posture71 was so graceful72, that though he was making straight for the weir, he dared not dip a scull. Just then one enticing73 dewberry caught her eyes. He was floating by unheeded, and saw that her hand stretched low, and could not gather what it sought. A stroke from his right brought him beside her. The damsel glanced up dismayed, and her whole shape trembled over the brink74. Richard sprang from his boat into the water. Pressing a hand beneath her foot, which she had thrust against the crumbling75 wet sides of the bank to save herself, he enabled her to recover her balance, and gain safe earth, whither he followed her.
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1
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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2
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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tilts
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| （意欲赢得某物或战胜某人的）企图，尝试( tilt的名词复数 ) | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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consummating
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| v.使结束( consummate的现在分词 )；使完美；完婚；（婚礼后的）圆房 | |
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bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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chaotic
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| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
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abated
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| 减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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21
prow
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| n.(飞机)机头，船头 | |
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gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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23
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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knightly
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| adj. 骑士般的 adv. 骑士般地 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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29
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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30
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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38
boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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40
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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41
straightforwardly
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| adv.正直地 | |
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42
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
apprehended
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| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 )； 理解 | |
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44
persuasively
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| adv.口才好地；令人信服地 | |
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45
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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46
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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47
perusing
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的现在分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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48
exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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49
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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50
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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51
perused
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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52
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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53
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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54
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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55
fluting
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| 有沟槽的衣料； 吹笛子； 笛声； 刻凹槽 | |
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56
plunges
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| n.跳进，投入vt.使投入，使插入，使陷入vi.投入，跳进，陷入v.颠簸( plunge的第三人称单数 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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57
weir
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| n.堰堤，拦河坝 | |
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58
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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60
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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61
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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62
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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64
poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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65
fluted
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| a.有凹槽的 | |
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66
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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67
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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68
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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69
proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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70
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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71
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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72
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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73
enticing
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| adj.迷人的；诱人的 | |
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74
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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75
crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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