The house, added to at her ladyship’s pleasure, and without regard to cost, covered a considerable extent of ground. The new part consisted of a straight range of about a hundred and twenty feet, facing the lake, and commandingly placed on the crest4 of a steepish slope; the old buildings, at right angles with the new, made a quadrangle, the third and fourth sides of which were formed by the dead walls of servants’ rooms and coach-houses, which had no windows upon this inner enclosed side. The old buildings were low and irregular, one portion of the roof thatched, another tiled. In the quadrangle there was an old-fashioned garden, with geometrical flower-beds, a yew5 tree hedge, and a stone sun-dial in the centre. A peacock stalked about in the morning light, and greeted the newly risen sun with a discordant6 scream. Presently a man came out of a half glass door under a verandah which shaded one side of the quadrangle, and strolled about the garden, stopping here and there to cut a dead rose, or trim a geranium, a stoutly-built broad shouldered man, with gray hair and beard, the image of well-fed respectability.
Mr. Hammond wondered a little at the man’s leisurely8 movements as he sauntered about, whistling to the peacock. It was not the manner of a servant who had duties to perform — rather that of a gentleman living at ease, and hardly knowing how to get rid of his time.
“Some superior functionary9, I suppose,” thought Hammond, “the house-steward, perhaps.”
He rambled10 a long way over the hill, and came back to Fellside by a path of his own discovering, which brought him to a wooden gate leading into the stable-yard, just in time to meet Maulevrier and Lady Mary emerging from the kennel11, where his lordship had been inspecting the terriers.
‘Angelina is bully12 about the muzzle,’ said Maulevrier; ‘we shall have to give her away.’
‘Oh, don’t,’ cried Mary. ‘She is a most perfect darling, and laughs so deliciously whenever she sees me.’
Angelina was in Lady Mary’s arms at this moment; a beautifully marked little creature, all thew and sinew, palpitating with suppressed emotions, and grinning to her heart’s content.
Lady Mary looked very fresh and bright in her neat tailor gown, kilted kirtle, and tight-fitting bodice, with neat little brass13 buttons. It was a gown of Maulevrier’s ordering, made at his own tailor’s. Her splendid chestnut14 hair was uncovered, the short crisp curls about her forehead dancing in the morning air. Her large, bright; brown eyes were dancing, too, with delight at having her brother home again.
She shook hands with Mr. Hammond more graciously than last night; but still with a carelessness which was not complimentary15, looking at him absently, as if she hardly knew that he was there, and hugging Angelina all the time.
Hammond told his friend about his ramble2 over the hills, yonder, up above that homely16 bench called ‘Rest, and be Thankful,’ on the crest of Loughrigg Fell. He was beginning to learn the names of the hills already. Yonder darkling brow, rugged17, gloomy looking, was Nab Scar; yonder green slope of sunny pasture, stretching wide its two arms as if to enfold the valley, was Fairfield; and here, close on the left, as he faced the lake, were Silver Howe and Helm Crag, with that stony18 excrescence on the summit of the latter known as the ‘Lion and the Lamb.’ Lady Maulevrier’s house stood within a circle of mountain peaks and long fells, which walled in the deep, placid19, fertile valley.
‘If you are not too tired to see the gardens, we might show them to you before breakfast,’ said Maulevrier. ‘We have three-quarters of an hour to the good.’
‘Half an hour for a stroll, and a quarter to make myself presentable after my long walk,’ said Hammond, who did not wish to face the dowager and Lady Lesbia in disordered apparel. Lady Mary was such an obvious Tomboy that he might be pardoned for leaving her out of the question.
They set out upon an exploration of the gardens, Mary clinging to her brother’s arm, as if she wanted to make sure of him, and still carrying Angelina.
The gardens were as other gardens, but passing beautiful. The sloping lawns and richly-timbered banks, winding20 shrubberies, broad terraces cut on the side of the hill, gave infinite variety. All that wealth and taste and labour could do to make those grounds beautiful had been done — the rarest conifers, the loveliest flowering shrubs21 grew and flourished there, and the flowers bloomed as they bloom only in Lakeland, where every cottage garden can show a wealth of luxurious22 bloom, unknown in more exposed and arid23 districts. Mary was very proud of those gardens. She had loved them and worked in them from her babyhood, trotting24 about on chubby25 legs after some chosen old gardener, carrying a few weeds or withered26 leaves in her pinafore, and fancying herself useful.
‘I help ‘oo, doesn’t I, Teeven?’ she used to say to the gray-headed old gardener, who first taught her to distinguish flowers from weeds.
‘I shall never learn as much out of these horrid27 books as poor old Stevens taught me,’ she said afterwards, when the gray head was at rest under the sod, and governesses, botany manuals, and hard words from the Greek were the order of the day.
Nine o’clock was the breakfast hour at Fellside. There were no family prayers. Lady Maulevrier did not pretend to be pious28, and she put no restraints of piety29 upon other people. She went to Church on Sunday mornings for the sake of example; but she read all the newest scientific books, subscribed30 to the Anthropological31 Society, and thought as the newest scientific people think. She rarely communicated her opinions among her own sex; but now and then, in strictly32 masculine and superior society, she had been heard to express herself freely upon the nebular hypothesis and the doctrine33 of evolution.
‘After all, what does it matter?’ she said, finally, with her grand air; ‘I have only to marry my granddaughters creditably, and prevent my grandson going to the dogs, and then my mission on this insignificant34 planet will be accomplished35. What new form that particular modification36 of molecules37 which you call Lady Maulevrier may take afterwards is hidden in the great mystery of material life.’
There was no family prayer, therefore, at Fellside. The sisters had been properly educated in their religious duties, had been taught the Anglican faith carefully and well by their governess, Fr?ulein Müller, who had become a staunch Anglican before entering the families of the English nobility, and by the kind Vicar of Grasmere, who took a warm interest in the orphan38 girls. Their grandmother had given them to understand that they might be as religious as they liked. She would be no let or hindrance39 to their piety; but they must ask her no awkward questions.
‘I have read a great deal and thought a great deal, and my ideas are still in a state of transition,’ she told Lesbia; and Lesbia, who was somewhat automatic in her piety, had no desire to know more.
Lady Maulevrier seldom appeared in the forenoon. She was an early riser, being too vivid and highly strung a creature, even at sixty-seven years of age, to give way to sloth40. She rose at seven, summer and winter, but she spent the early part of the day in her own rooms, reading, writing, giving orders to her housekeeper41, and occasionally interviewing Steadman, who, without any onerous42 duties, was certainly the most influential43 person in the house. People in the village talked of him, and envied him so good a berth44. He had a gentleman’s house to live in, and to all appearance lived as a gentleman. This tranquil45 retirement46, free from care or labour, was a rich reward for the faithful service of his youth. And it was known by the better informed among the Grasmere people that Mr. Steadman was saving money, and had shares in the North–Western Railway. These facts had oozed47 out, of themselves, as it were. He was not a communicative man, and rarely wasted half an hour at the snug48 little inn near St. Oswald’s Church, amidst the cluster of habitations that was once called Kirktown. He was an unsociable man, people said, and thought himself better than Grasmere folk, the lodging-house keepers, and guides, and wrestlers, and the honest friendly souls who were the outcome of that band of Norwegian exiles which found a home in these peaceful vales.
Miss Müller, more commonly known as Fr?ulein, officiated at breakfast. She never appeared at the board when Lady Maulevrier was present, but in her ladyship’s absence Miss Müller was guardian49 of the proprieties50. She was a stout7, kindly51 creature, and by no means a formidable dragon. When the gong sounded, John Hammond went into the dining-room, where he found Miss Müller seated alone in front of the urn52.
He bowed, quick to read ‘governess’ or ‘companion’ in the lady’s appearance; and she bowed.
‘I hope you have had a nice walk,’ she said. ‘I saw you from my bedroom window.’
‘Did you? Then I suppose yours is one of the few windows which look into that curious old quadrangle?’
‘No, there are no windows looking into the quadrangle. Those that were in the original plan of the house were walled up at her ladyship’s orders, to keep out the cold winds which sweep down from the hills in winter and early spring, when the edge of Loughrigg Fell is white with snow. My window looks into the gardens, and I saw you there with his lordship and Lady Mary.’
Lady Lesbia came in at this moment, and saluted53 Mr. Hammond with a haughty54 inclination55 of her beautiful head. She looked lovelier in her simple morning gown of pale blue cambric than in her more elaborate toilette of last evening; such purity of complexion56, such lustrous57 eyes; the untarnished beauty of youth, breathing the delicate freshness of a newly-opened flower. She might be as scornful as she pleased, yet John Hammond could not withhold58 his admiration59. He was inclined to admire a woman who kept him at a distance; for the general bent60 of young women now-a-days is otherwise.
Maulevrier and Mary came in, and everyone sat down to breakfast. Lady Lesbia unbent a little presently, and smiled upon the stranger. There was a relief in a stranger’s presence. He talked of new things, places and people she had never seen. She brightened and became quite friendly, deigned61 to invite the expression of Mr. Hammond’s opinions upon music and art, and after breakfast allowed him to follow her into the drawing-room, and to linger there fascinated for half an hour, looking over her newest books, and her last batch62 of music, but looking most of all at her, while Maulevrier and Mary were loafing on the lawn outside.
‘What are you going to do with yourself this morning?’ asked Maulevrier, appearing suddenly at the window.
‘Anything you like,’ answered Hammond. ‘Stay, there is one pilgrimage I am eager to make. I must see Wordsworth’s grave, and Wordsworth’s house.’
‘You shall see them both, but they are in opposite directions — one at your elbow, the other a four mile walk. Which will you see first? We’ll toss for it,’ taking a shilling from a pocketful of loose cash, always ready for moments of hesitation63. ‘Heads, house; tails, grave. Tails it is. Come and have a smoke, and see the poet’s grave. The splendour of the monument, the exquisite64 neatness with which it is kept, will astound65 you, considering that we live in a period of Wordsworth worship.’
Hammond hesitated, and looked at Lady Lesbia.
‘Aren’t you coming?’ called Maulevrier from the lawn. ‘It was a fair offer. I’ve got my cigarette case.’
‘Yes, I’m coming,’ answered the other, with a disappointed air.
He had hoped that Lesbia would offer to show him the poet’s grave. He could not abandon that hope without a struggle.
‘Will you come with us, Lady Lesbia? We’ll suppress the cigarettes!’
‘Thanks, no,’ she said, becoming suddenly frigid66. ‘I am going to practice.’
‘Do you never walk in the morning — on such a lovely morning as this?’
‘Not very often.’
She had re-entered those frozen regions from which his attentions had lured67 him for a little while. She had reminded herself of the inferior social position of this person, in whose conversation she had allowed herself to be interested.
‘Filons!’ cried Maulevrier from below, and they went.
Mary would have very much liked to go with them, but she did not want to be intrusive68; so she went off to the kennels69 to see the terriers eat their morning and only meal of dog biscuit.
点击收听单词发音
1 abode | |
n.住处,住所 | |
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2 ramble | |
v.漫步,漫谈,漫游;n.漫步,闲谈,蔓延 | |
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3 rambles | |
(无目的地)漫游( ramble的第三人称单数 ); (喻)漫谈; 扯淡; 长篇大论 | |
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4 crest | |
n.顶点;饰章;羽冠;vt.达到顶点;vi.形成浪尖 | |
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5 yew | |
n.紫杉属树木 | |
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6 discordant | |
adj.不调和的 | |
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8 leisurely | |
adj.悠闲的;从容的,慢慢的 | |
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9 functionary | |
n.官员;公职人员 | |
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10 rambled | |
(无目的地)漫游( ramble的过去式和过去分词 ); (喻)漫谈; 扯淡; 长篇大论 | |
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11 kennel | |
n.狗舍,狗窝 | |
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12 bully | |
n.恃强欺弱者,小流氓;vt.威胁,欺侮 | |
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13 brass | |
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器 | |
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14 chestnut | |
n.栗树,栗子 | |
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15 complimentary | |
adj.赠送的,免费的,赞美的,恭维的 | |
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16 homely | |
adj.家常的,简朴的;不漂亮的 | |
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17 rugged | |
adj.高低不平的,粗糙的,粗壮的,强健的 | |
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18 stony | |
adj.石头的,多石头的,冷酷的,无情的 | |
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19 placid | |
adj.安静的,平和的 | |
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20 winding | |
n.绕,缠,绕组,线圈 | |
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21 shrubs | |
灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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22 luxurious | |
adj.精美而昂贵的;豪华的 | |
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23 arid | |
adj.干旱的;(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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24 trotting | |
小跑,急走( trot的现在分词 ); 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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25 chubby | |
adj.丰满的,圆胖的 | |
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26 withered | |
adj. 枯萎的,干瘪的,(人身体的部分器官)因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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27 horrid | |
adj.可怕的;令人惊恐的;恐怖的;极讨厌的 | |
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28 pious | |
adj.虔诚的;道貌岸然的 | |
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29 piety | |
n.虔诚,虔敬 | |
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30 subscribed | |
v.捐助( subscribe的过去式和过去分词 );签署,题词;订阅;同意 | |
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31 anthropological | |
adj.人类学的 | |
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32 strictly | |
adv.严厉地,严格地;严密地 | |
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33 doctrine | |
n.教义;主义;学说 | |
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34 insignificant | |
adj.无关紧要的,可忽略的,无意义的 | |
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35 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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36 modification | |
n.修改,改进,缓和,减轻 | |
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37 molecules | |
分子( molecule的名词复数 ) | |
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38 orphan | |
n.孤儿;adj.无父母的 | |
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39 hindrance | |
n.妨碍,障碍 | |
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40 sloth | |
n.[动]树懒;懒惰,懒散 | |
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41 housekeeper | |
n.管理家务的主妇,女管家 | |
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42 onerous | |
adj.繁重的 | |
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43 influential | |
adj.有影响的,有权势的 | |
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44 berth | |
n.卧铺,停泊地,锚位;v.使停泊 | |
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45 tranquil | |
adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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46 retirement | |
n.退休,退职 | |
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47 oozed | |
v.(浓液等)慢慢地冒出,渗出( ooze的过去式和过去分词 );使(液体)缓缓流出;(浓液)渗出,慢慢流出 | |
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48 snug | |
adj.温暖舒适的,合身的,安全的;v.使整洁干净,舒适地依靠,紧贴;n.(英)酒吧里的私房 | |
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49 guardian | |
n.监护人;守卫者,保护者 | |
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50 proprieties | |
n.礼仪,礼节;礼貌( propriety的名词复数 );规矩;正当;合适 | |
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51 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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52 urn | |
n.(有座脚的)瓮;坟墓;骨灰瓮 | |
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53 saluted | |
v.欢迎,致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 );赞扬,赞颂 | |
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54 haughty | |
adj.傲慢的,高傲的 | |
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55 inclination | |
n.倾斜;点头;弯腰;斜坡;倾度;倾向;爱好 | |
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56 complexion | |
n.肤色;情况,局面;气质,性格 | |
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57 lustrous | |
adj.有光泽的;光辉的 | |
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58 withhold | |
v.拒绝,不给;使停止,阻挡 | |
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59 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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60 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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61 deigned | |
v.屈尊,俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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62 batch | |
n.一批(组,群);一批生产量 | |
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63 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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64 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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65 astound | |
v.使震惊,使大吃一惊 | |
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66 frigid | |
adj.寒冷的,凛冽的;冷淡的;拘禁的 | |
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67 lured | |
吸引,引诱(lure的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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68 intrusive | |
adj.打搅的;侵扰的 | |
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69 kennels | |
n.主人外出时的小动物寄养处,养狗场;狗窝( kennel的名词复数 );养狗场 | |
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