Certain sweet little notes from Lucy sustained the lover during the first two weeks of exile. They ceased; and now Richard fell into such despondency that his father in alarm had to take measures to hasten their return to Raynham. At the close of the third week Berry laid a pair of letters, bearing the Raynham post-mark, on the breakfast-table, and, after reading one attentively13, the baronet asked his son if he was inclined to quit the metropolis14.
“For Raynham, sir?” cried Richard, and relapsed, saying, “As you will!” aware that he had given a glimpse of the Foolish Young Fellow.
Berry accordingly received orders to make arrangements for their instant return to Raynham.
The letter Sir Austin lifted his head from to bespeak15 his son’s wishes was a composition of the wise youth Adrian’s, and ran thus:
“Benson is doggedly16 recovering. He requires great indemnities17. Happy when a faithful fool is the main sufferer in a household! I quite agree with you that our faithful fool is the best servant of great schemes. Benson is now a piece of history. I tell him that this is indemnity18 enough, and that the sweet Muse19 usually insists upon gentlemen being half-flayed before she will condescend20 to notice them; but Benson, I regret to say, rejects the comfort so fine a reflection should offer, and had rather keep his skin and live opaque21. Heroism22 seems partly a matter of training. Faithful folly23 is Benson’s nature: the rest has been thrust upon him.
“The young person has resigned the neighbourhood. I had an interview with the fair Papist myself, and also with the man Blaize. They were both sensible, though one swore and the other sighed. She is pretty. I hope she does not paint. I can affirm that her legs are strong, for she walks to Bellingham twice a week to take her Scarlet24 bath, when, having confessed and been made clean by the Romish unction, she walks back the brisker, of which my Protestant muscular system is yet aware. It was on the road to Bellingham I engaged her. She is well in the matter of hair. Madam Godiva might challenge her, it would be a fair match. Has it never struck you that Woman is nearer the vegetable than Man? — Mr. Blaize intends her for his son — a junction25 that every lover of fairy mythology26 must desire to see consummated27. Young Tom is heir to all the agrémens of the Beast. The maids of Lobourne say (I hear) that he is a very Proculus among them. Possibly the envious28 men say it for the maids. Beauty does not speak bad grammar — and altogether she is better out of the way.”
The other letter was from Lady Blandish, a lady’s letter, and said:
“I have fulfilled your commission to the best of my ability, and heartily29 sad it has made me. She is indeed very much above her station — pity that it is so! She is almost beautiful —quite beautiful at times, and not in any way what you have been led to fancy. The poor child had no story to tell. I have again seen her, and talked with her for an hour as kindly30 as I could. I could gather nothing more than we know. It is just a woman’s history as it invariably commences. Richard is the god of her idolatry. She will renounce31 him, and sacrifice herself for his sake. Are we so bad? She asked me what she was to do. She would do whatever was imposed upon her — all but pretend to love another, and that she never would, and, I believe, never will. You know I am sentimental32, and I confess we dropped a few tears together. Her uncle has sent her for the Winter to the institution where it appears she was educated, and where they are very fond of her and want to keep her, which it would be a good thing if they were to do. The man is a good sort of man. She was entrusted34 to him by her father, and he never interferes35 with her religion, and is very scrupulous36 about all that pertains37 to it, though, as he says, he is a Christian38 himself. In the Spring (but the poor child does not know this) she is to come back, and be married to his lout39 of a son. I am determined40 to prevent that. May I not reckon on your promise to aid me? When you see her, I am sure you will. It would be sacrilege to look on and permit such a thing. You know, they are cousins. She asked me, where in the world there was one like Richard? What could I answer? They were your own words, and spoken with a depth of conviction! I hope he is really calm. I shudder41 to think of him when he comes, and discovers what I have been doing. I hope I have been really doing right! A good deed, you say, never dies; but we cannot always know — I must rely on you. Yes, it is, I should think, easy to suffer martyrdom when one is sure of one’s cause! but then one must be sure of it. I have done nothing lately but to repeat to myself that saying of yours, No. 54, C. 7, P.S.; and it has consoled me, I cannot say why, except that all wisdom consoles, whether it applies directly or not:
“‘For this reason so many fall from God, who have attained42 to Him; that they cling to Him with their Weakness, not with their Strength.’
“I like to know of what you are thinking when you composed this or that saying — what suggested it. May not one be admitted to inspect the machinery43 of wisdom? I feel curious to know how thoughts —real thoughts — are born. Not that I hope to win the secret. Here is the beginning of one (but we poor women can never put together even two of the three ideas which you say go to form a thought): ‘When a wise man makes a false step, will he not go farther than a fool?’ It has just flitted through me.
“I cannot get on with Gibbon, so wait your return to recommence the readings. I dislike the sneering44 essence of his writings. I keep referring to his face, until the dislike seems to become personal. How different it is with Wordsworth! And yet I cannot escape from the thought that he is always solemnly thinking of himself (but I do reverence45 him). But this is curious; Byron was a greater egoist, and yet I do not feel the same with him. He reminds me of a beast of the desert, savage46 and beautiful; and the former is what one would imagine a superior donkey reclaimed47 from the heathen to be-a very superior donkey, I mean, with great power of speech and great natural complacency, and whose stubbornness you must admire as part of his mission. The worst is that no one will imagine anything sublime48 in a superior donkey, so my simile49 is unfair and false. Is it not strange? I love Wordsworth best, and yet Byron has the greater power over me. How is that?”
(“Because,” Sir Austin wrote beside the query50 in pencil, “women are cowards, and succumb51 to Irony52 and Passion, rather than yield their hearts to Excellence53 and Nature’s Inspiration.”)
The letter pursued:
“I have finished Boiardo and have taken up Berni. The latter offends me. I suppose we women do not really care for humour. You are right in saying we have none ourselves, and ‘cackle’ instead of laugh. It is true (of me, at least) that ‘Falstaff is only to us an incorrigible54 fat man.’ I want to know what he illustrates55. And Don Quixote — what end can be served in making a noble mind ridiculous? — I hear you say — practical! So it is. We are very narrow, I know. But we like wit — practical again! Or in your words (when I really think they generally come to my aid — perhaps it is that it is often all your thought); we ‘prefer the rapier thrust, to the broad embrace, of Intelligence.’”
He trifled with the letter for some time, rereading chosen passages as he walked about the room, and considering he scarce knew what. There are ideas language is too gross for, and shape too arbitrary, which come to us and have a definite influence upon us, and yet we cannot fasten on the filmy things and make them visible and distinct to ourselves, much less to others. Why did he twice throw a look into the glass in the act of passing it? He stood for a moment with head erect56 facing it. His eyes for the nonce seemed little to peruse57 his outer features; the grey gathered brows, and the wrinkles much action of them had traced over the circles half up his high straight forehead; the iron-grey hair that rose over his forehead and fell away in the fashion of Richard’s plume58. His general appearance showed the tints59 of years; but none of their weight, and nothing of the dignity of his youth, was gone. It was so far satisfactory, but his eyes were wide, as one who looks at his essential self through the mask we wear. Perhaps he was speculating as he looked on the sort of aspect he presented to the lady’s discriminative60 regard. Of her feelings he had not a suspicion. But he knew with what extraordinary lucidity61 women can, when it pleases them, and when their feelings are not quite boiling under the noonday sun, seize all the sides of a character, and put their fingers on its weak point. He was cognizant of the total absence of the humorous in himself (the want that most shut him out from his fellows), and perhaps the clear-thoughted, intensely self-examining gentleman filmily conceived, Me also, in common with the poet, she gazes on as one of the superior — grey beasts!
He may have so conceived the case; he was capable of that great-mindedness, and could snatch at times very luminous62 glances at the broad reflector which the world of fact lying outside our narrow compass holds up for us to see ourselves in when we will. Unhappily, the faculty63 of laughter, which is due to this gift, was denied him; and having seen, he, like the companion of friend Balaam, could go no farther. For a good wind of laughter had relieved him of much of the blight64 of self-deception, and oddness, and extravagance; had given a healthier view of our atmosphere of life; but he had it not.
Journeying back to Bellingham in the train, with the heated brain and brilliant eye of his son beside him, Sir Austin tried hard to feel infallible, as a man with a System should feel; and because he could not do so, after much mental conflict, he descended65 to entertain a personal antagonism66 to the young woman who had stepped in between his experiment and success. He did not think kindly of her. Lady Blandish’s encomiums of her behaviour and her beauty annoyed him. Forgetful that he had in a measure forfeited67 his rights to it, he took the common ground of fathers, and demanded, “Why he was not justified68 in doing all that lay in his power to prevent his son from casting himself away upon the first creature with a pretty face he encountered?” Deliberating thus, he lost the tenderness he should have had for his experiment — the living, burning youth at his elbow, and his excessive love for him took a rigorous tone. It appeared to him politic69, reasonable, and just, that the uncle of this young woman, who had so long nursed the prudent70 scheme of marrying her to his son, should not only not be thwarted71 in his object but encouraged and even assisted. At least, not thwarted. Sir Austin had no glass before him while these ideas hardened in his mind, and he had rather forgotten the letter of Lady Blandish.
Father and son were alone in the railway carriage. Both were too preoccupied72 to speak. As they neared Bellingham, the dark was filling the hollows of the country. Over the pine-hills beyond the station a last rosy73 streak74 lingered across a green sky. Richard eyed it while they flew along. It caught him forward: it seemed full of the spirit of his love, and brought tears of mournful longing75 to his eyelids76. The sad beauty of that one spot in the heavens seemed to call out to his soul to swear to his Lucy’s truth to him: was like the sorrowful visage of his fleur-deluce, as he called her, appealing to him for faith. That tremulous tender way she had of half-closing and catching77 light on the nether-lids, when sometimes she looked up in her lover’s face — a look so mystic-sweet that it had grown to be the fountain of his dreams: he saw it yonder, and his blood thrilled.
Know you those wand-like touches of I know not what, before which our grosser being melts, and we, much as we hope to be in the Awaking, stand etherealized, trembling with new joy? They come but rarely; rarely even in love, when we fondly think them revelations. Mere78 sensations they are, doubtless: and we rank for them no higher in the spiritual scale than so many translucent79 glorious polypi that quiver on the shores, the hues80 of heaven running through them. Yet in the harvest of our days it is something for the animal to have had such mere fleshly polypian experiences to look back upon, and they give him an horizon — pale seas of luring81 splendour. One who has had them (when they do not bound him) may find the Isles82 of Bliss83 sooner than another. Sensual faith in the upper glories is something. “Let us remember,” says THE PILGRIM’S SCRIP, “that Nature, though heathenish, reaches at her best to the footstool of the Highest. She is not all dust, but a living portion of the spheres. In aspiration84 it is our error to despise her, forgetting that through Nature only can we ascend85. Cherished, trained, and purified, she is then partly worthy86 the divine mate who is to make her wholly so. St. Simeon saw the Hog87 in Nature, and took Nature for the Hog.”
It was one of these strange bodily exaltations which thrilled the young man, he knew not how it was, for sadness and his forebodings vanished. The soft wand touched him. At that moment, had Sir Austin spoken openly, Richard might have fallen upon his heart. He could not. He chose to feel injured on the common ground of fathers, and to pursue his System by plotting. Lady Blandish had revived his jealousy88 of the creature who menaced it, and jealousy of a System is unreflecting and vindictive89 as jealousy of woman.
Heath-roots and pines breathed sharp in the cool autumn evening about the Bellingham station. Richard stood a moment as he stepped from the train, and drew the country air into his lungs with large heaves of the chest. Leaving his father to the felicitations of the station-master, he went into the Lobourne road to look for his faithful Tom, who had received private orders through Berry to be in attendance with his young master’s mare90, Cassandra, and was lurking91 in a plantation92 of firs unenclosed on the borders of the road, where Richard, knowing his retainer’s zest93 for conspiracy94 too well to seek him anywhere but in the part most favoured with shelter and concealment95, found him furtively96 whiffing tobacco.
“What news, Tom? Is there an illness?”
Tom sent his undress cap on one side to scratch at dilemma97, an old agricultural habit to which he was still a slave in moments of abstract thought or sudden difficulty.
“No, I don’t want the rake, Mr. Richard,” he whinnied with a false grin, as he beheld98 his master’s eye vacantly following the action.
“Speak out!” he was commanded. “I haven’t had a letter for a week!”
Richard learnt the news. He took it with surprising outward calm, only getting a little closer to Cassandra’s neck, and looking very hard at Tom without seeing a speck99 of him, which had the effect on Tom of making him sincerely wish his master would punch his head at once rather than fix him in that owl-like way.
“Go on!” said Richard, huskily. “Yes? She’s gone! Well?”
Tom was brought to understand he must make the most of trifles, and recited how he had heard from a female domestic at Belthorpe of the name of Davenport, formerly100 known to him, that the young lady never slept a wink101 from the hour she knew she was going, but sat up in her bed till morning crying most pitifully, though she never complained. Hereat the tears unconsciously streamed down Richard’s cheeks. Tom said he had tried to see her, but Mr. Adrian kept him at work, ciphering at a terrible sum — that and nothing else all day! saying, it was to please his young master on his return. “Likewise something in Lat’n,” added Tom. “Nom’tive Mouser! —‘nough to make ye mad, sir!” he exclaimed with pathos102. The wretch103 had been put to acquire a Latin declension.
Tom saw her on the morning she went away, he said: she was very sorrowful-looking, and nodded kindly to him as she passed in the fly along with young Tom Blaize. “She have got uncommon104 kind eyes, sir,” said Tom, “and cryin’ don’t spoil them.” For which his hand was wrenched105.
Tom had no more to tell, save that, in rounding the road, the young lady had hung out her hand, and seemed to move it forward and back, as much as to say, Good-bye, Tom! “And though she couldn’t see me,” said Tom, “I took off my hat. I did take it so kind of her to think of a chap like me.” He was at high-pressure sentiment — what with his education for a hero and his master’s love-stricken state.
“You saw no more of her, Tom?”
“No, sir. That was the last!”
“That was the last you saw of her, Tom?”
“Well, sir, I saw nothin’ more.”
“And so she went out of sight!”
“Clean gone, that she were, sir.”
“Why did they take her away? what have they done with her? where have they taken her to?”
These red-hot questionings were addressed to the universal heaven rather than to Tom.
“Why didn’t she write?” they were resumed. “Why did she leave? She’s mine. She belongs to me! Who dared take her away? Why did she leave without writing? —— Tom!”
“Yes, sir,” said the well-drilled recruit, dressing106 himself up to the word of command. He expected a variation of the theme from the change of tone with which his name had been pronounced, but it was again, “Where have they taken her to?” and this was even more perplexing to Tom than his hard sum in arithmetic had been. He could only draw down the corners of his mouth hard, and glance up queerly.
“She had been crying — you saw that, Tom?”
“No mistake about that, Mr. Richard. Cryin’ all night and all day, I sh’d say.”
“And she was crying when you saw her?”
“She look’d as if she’d just done for a moment, sir.”
“But her face was white?”
“White as a sheet.”
Richard paused to discover whether his instinct had caught a new view from these facts. He was in a cage, always knocking against the same bars, fly as he might. Her tears were the stars in his black night. He clung to them as golden orbs107. Inexplicable108 as they were, they were at least pledges of love.
The hues of sunset had left the West. No light was there but the steadfast109 pale eye of twilight110. Thither111 he was drawn112. He mounted Cassandra, saying: “Tell them something, Tom. I shan’t be home to dinner,” and rode off toward the forsaken113 home of light over Belthorpe, wherein he saw the wan33 hand of his Lucy, waving farewell, receding114 as he advanced. His jewel was stolen — he must gaze upon the empty box.
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收听单词发音
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1
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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frenzies
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| 狂乱( frenzy的名词复数 )； 极度的激动 | |
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premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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ogled
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| v.（向…）抛媚眼，送秋波( ogle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8
meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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gender
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| n.（生理上的）性，（名词、代词等的）性 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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apprehend
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| vt.理解，领悟，逮捕，拘捕，忧虑 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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bespeak
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| v.预定；预先请求 | |
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doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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indemnities
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| n.保障( indemnity的名词复数 )；赔偿；赔款；补偿金 | |
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indemnity
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| n.赔偿，赔款，补偿金 | |
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muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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condescend
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| v.俯就，屈尊；堕落，丢丑 | |
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opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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mythology
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| n.神话，神话学，神话集 | |
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consummated
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| v.使结束( consummate的过去式和过去分词 )；使完美；完婚；（婚礼后的）圆房 | |
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envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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renounce
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| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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interferes
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| vi. 妨碍，冲突，干涉 | |
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scrupulous
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| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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pertains
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| 关于( pertain的第三人称单数 )； 有关； 存在； 适用 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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lout
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| n.粗鄙的人；举止粗鲁的人 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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42
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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45
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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46
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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47
reclaimed
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| adj.再生的；翻造的；收复的；回收的v.开拓( reclaim的过去式和过去分词 )；要求收回；从废料中回收（有用的材料）；挽救 | |
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48
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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simile
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| n.直喻，明喻 | |
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50
query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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51
succumb
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| v.屈服，屈从；死 | |
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52
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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53
excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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54
incorrigible
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| adj.难以纠正的，屡教不改的 | |
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55
illustrates
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| 给…加插图( illustrate的第三人称单数 )； 说明； 表明； （用示例、图画等）说明 | |
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56
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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peruse
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| v.细读，精读 | |
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plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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discriminative
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| 有判别力 | |
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lucidity
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| n.明朗，清晰，透明 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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blight
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| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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forfeited
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| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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politic
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| adj.有智虑的；精明的；v.从政 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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thwarted
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| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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translucent
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| adj.半透明的；透明的 | |
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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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luring
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的现在分词形式） | |
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isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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aspiration
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| n.志向，志趣抱负；渴望；(语)送气音；吸出 | |
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ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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hog
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| n.猪；馋嘴贪吃的人；vt.把…占为己有，独占 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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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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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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100
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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101
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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102
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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103
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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104
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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105
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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106
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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107
orbs
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| abbr.off-reservation boarding school 在校寄宿学校n.球，天体，圆形物( orb的名词复数 ) | |
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108
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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109
steadfast
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| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
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110
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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111
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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112
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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113
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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114
receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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