“’Tis near an hour before they are due,” smiled Marius, looking at his watch. “How impatient you are!”
“To see her, yes.” Miss Chressham unfurled her pink parasol. “I am quite agitated2.”
“Shall we return to the house?”
“No, it is very pleasant here; let us go to my rose garden, it will pass the time, and really some of the blooms are beautiful.”
They took a path that led towards the lake across the cedar-shaded lawn; the sun was strong before its setting and cast a soft glow through the rosy3 silk of Miss Chressham’s parasol on to her bare brown head and white dress; Marius Lyndwood was very exquisitely4 arrayed in dove-coloured satins; as he walked beside his cousin he played with the red tassels5 on his ivory-headed cane6.
“Has Rose written to you of late?” asked Miss Chressham suddenly.
“I received a letter from him two days ago, as I was leaving Brereton’s,” answered Marius half shyly. “I spoke7 of it to my lady, but she did not encourage me to show it to her.”
He switched at the thick daisies with his cane.
“Rose wrote from Calais—charmingly—he enclosed bills to a large amount, and said he had arranged a captaincy for me in the Blues—’twas all very sweetly worded.”
“Rose has a chivalrous8 soul,” said Miss Chressham.
Marius flushed.
“You, with him, make me out a selfish boor9, maybe,” and the crimson10 deepened in his cheeks. “I was passionate11 with my lord, but he hath given me no chance to put it aright.”
They were now skirting the borders of the lake, and their bright dresses were reflected like painted shadows in the still water.
Susannah spoke firmly.
“What Rose has done he did because he was the head of the house and because you and my lady made it clear that you expected his duty of him—it was natural that you should——”
“Ye make me uneasy with this talk of his sacrifice,” cried Marius.
“I said duty, not sacrifice,” returned Miss Chressham; “this marriage hath saved the estates, the name, my lady and you.”
It was at the irises12 growing at the water’s edge that Marius struck now with his impetuous cane.
“But,” he said as if in self-justification, “a man in my lord’s position must marry, and ’tis usually an heiress; the thing is done every day; many might have expected Rose to do it sooner, before it came to openly making a bargain of it.”
Susannah Chressham tilted13 her parasol and turned keen eyes on his half-ashamed face.
“Would you have cared to marry a stranger, Marius, because she had a hundred thousand pounds to her dowry, and her father had paid your debts?”
“I am not the Earl,” said he, wincing14.
“But had you been——”
He interrupted.
“Had I been, Susannah, maybe I had not so wasted my fortunes that I had need to mend them in this way; take it as you will, my lord is a rake and a prodigal15; why, Beau Lyndwood is the most conspicuous16 name in town.”
“My lord,” she answered warmly, “hath lived as his father before him, and ye have no cause to speak; your romance lies open to you—my lord has paid, and with the price he gets you can save yourself from my lord’s sins.”
Marius answered in a soft troubled voice.
“Do not blame me, cousin, ’tis not entirely17 for me that he does this——”
“Very largely for you, that you may have the chance to win this lady who may be all in all to you.”
“I am grateful,” said Marius simply. “For indeed I want little else but that same lady—we shall not trouble Rose.”
They had turned away from the lake into a little grove18 of Eastern shrubs19, myrtles, laurels20 and oleanders; Susannah’s skirt trailing over the fallen fragrant21 leaves made a pleasant sound; she softly closed the parasol.
“Has she written to you, Marius?”
“No,” he looked away, “but she said she would not be returning to London till September, and, of course, it does not matter whether she writes or no.”
“You are so sure of her?” breathed Susannah.
“So sure,” he smiled.
“Not even knowing her name!”
He lifted a bough22 of myrtles from the path.
“I called her in my fancy ‘Aspasia’ from Mr. Fletcher’s play, ’twas enough; I only spoke to her twice; the first time we said so little! the second time I gave her my name and she gave me her picture. ‘I will write to you,’ she said—and so—and so——”
“You are very fortunate,” answered Miss Chressham in a hushed way, “it must make you more tender with my lord.”
She passed under the trellis arch that led into the garden, he followed, and they stood among the heavy roses looking at each other.
“What do you mean, cousin?” asked Marius.
She put her hand among the thorns and leaves and shook a huge crimson bloom free from wet.
“This—do not be over-righteous, Marius—when you have found her, and won her, and are as happy as you dreamed, remember my lord’s unlovely marriage, and be a little sorry for him.”
Her voice broke; she turned away, pressing against the rose bushes; Marius lifted her hand and kissed it in silence.
“I grow sentimental,” she cried. “Come, which of these flowers do you think the new Countess would give the preference to?”
She shifted her parasol and her fingers fondled the ribbon on the handle.
“We must pick her some of my roses,” she added. “I want to like her, Marius—my lady will be cold with fear, but she might have been sour or vain or common; Rose has always spoken of her as gentle and sweet.”
“Her birth is well enough,” answered Marius uneasily. “Her people have never been less than gentlefolk.”
He did not care to think his brother had mated too utterly23 beneath him, and it seemed that Susannah was making too much of it—as the matter really only interested him obliquely24 he would have had it taken for granted and put aside; he would have preferred to relate how he first met Aspasia in the Luxembourg gardens in Paris; Susannah could be, when she chose, a perfect listener.
But she would not suffer the subject to change. “It must be difficult for her—at first,” she said. “I am very curious to see her. Lavinia hath quite a pretty sound, hath it not? I wonder if she likes riding.”
“Ye seem very desirous to please her,” smiled Marius.
Susannah paused before an opulent bush bearing roses red almost to a purple tinge25.
“I want her to like me,” she repeated.
Marius looked at his cousin; certainly she was making too much of it; he could not find Rose’s wife of such importance.
“Why?” he asked. “Why do you want her to like you?”
Miss Chressham answered with an ardent26 gravity.
“Because I am afraid of hating her,” she said; “I wish to like her before I am lured27 into loathing28 her.”
She pulled two roses from the stem, never heeding29 the thorns, and gazed intently at them.
“I think you take it over heavily,” replied Marius with a judicial30 air. “Rose was bound to marry and to marry a fortune—he would scarcely have made a love match.” Marius was boyishly pompous31. “We hear the lady has qualities, is as desirable as another lady with a hundred thousand pounds, and I cannot think Rose would ever let his wife interfere32 with him.”
Susannah’s eyes flashed over the gorgeous blooms she held to her lips.
“And you will supply sentiment for two; well, no doubt I am foolishly romantical.”
But the words were a mere33 dismissal of a subject she disdained34 to discuss with one who would not understand.
“I think we might go now,” she added; “surely it is time?”
“The moments have been vastly swift!” He glanced at his watch. “Yes, they are due—shall I go straight to the lodge?”
“Had you not better? My lady awaits them in the withdrawing-room. She thinks of her own home-coming, I know—a triumphal arch, villagers lining35 the road with flowers—and regrets this for Rose; but his commands were stern.”
Miss Chressham spoke rapidly. Her restless eyes and fluttering lashes36 showed agitation37. As Marius parted from her by the lake she laughed nervously38, and waved her hand to the careless youthful figure hurrying through the shrubbery.
She was very glad Marius was happy; it was as pleasant to watch his eager joy in life as to survey the content of a loving dog; and as sad to see him miserable39 as to behold40 an animal in distress41.
Susannah had much the same faith in his Aspasia as he himself possessed42. She considered him likely enough to come across his fate early—likely enough to love, to be loved, to satisfy, and be satisfied.
He was simple, she thought—no makings of a rake in him. Honest and brave he was, but no more to be compared with Rose.
She kept her thoughts from the Earl, and fell to, somewhat desperately43, considering his wife. Miss Lavinia Hilton, daughter of merchant, child of a parvenu44, Countess of Lyndwood now—the wife of Rose!
The thing was so monstrous45 that it must be taken without exclaim, naturally, or it became a horror unendurable, a wonder all credulity strained at. He, so fastidious, asking for wit as well as beauty, breed as well as grace, polish as well as youth—mated to a melancholy46 schoolgirl whose father had spent his life in the countinghouse!
To Susannah this was a picture to be ignored, not even glanced at—to contemplate47 it was to behold the cruel elements of tragedy.
Susannah dropped her skirt, closed her parasol, and looked at the two long-stemmed roses she carried, holding them up against the fading blue sky.
A little further and she came into view of the house; its brick front was warmed by the universal glow of the setting sun. On the terrace in front bloomed peonies and Turks’ caps, the stone vases held trailing masses of geraniums, scarlet48 amid their bright leaves. All was peaceful, stately, and beautiful. “What a home for her to come to!” thought Susannah.
She went slowly to the front where the magnificent lawn, broken with one dark cedar-tree, reached to the fountains and the lake where the white swans glittered, and as she neared the wide steps, a coach and six, swinging on its leathers, came up the chestnut49 drive.
It drew up with a scramble50 of the horses’ hoofs51 on the gravel52. The first thing to strike Miss Chressham was that this equipage was not belonging to the new Countess. She had seen it last year in London. Her second thought was that he could never have kept it but for the Hilton money.
The postillions and footmen jumped down, but, quicker than they, Rose Lyndwood opened the door and sprang out.
“Ah, Susannah!” he said. His voice had a note of relief; he pulled off his glove and offered her his hand.
Miss Chressham glanced at his face, and her heart gave a sick swerve53.
“Where is my lady?” asked the Earl.
Susannah forced herself.
“In the house. I sent Marius to the gate; he must have missed you.”
Her eyes travelled anxiously to the coach door. My lord held it open and assisted a lady to alight.
“This is Lavinia,” he said.
Susannah’s first impression was that she was extremely young and quite pretty; her second that she did not know how to dress.
“My cousin Susannah!” said the Earl.
The Countess swept a nervous curtsey, and stared at Miss Chressham.
Her plain purple coat and wide Leghorn hat, with black ribbons, had the effect not of elegance54, but of insignificance55. Susannah thought it ostentatious, too.
“I am rejoiced to see you,” said Miss Chressham; “but ’tis difficult to say so without a set speech, and I expect you are tired—may I call you Lavinia?”
A pair of brown eyes were gravely fixed56 on her from under the shade of the Leghorn hat.
“If you will, please,” answered Lady Lyndwood, with never the flicker57 of a smile.
Another coach had arrived with the servants and the baggage. Rose was half-way up the steps. He did not look at his wife, nor she at him. Susannah, under cover of the confusion of arrival, took the Countess’s arm.
“You look rather fatigued58,” she ventured, “the roads are rough.”
“I am very fatigued.”
They ascended59 the steps together. In the doorway60 stood the dowager Countess, radiant in lace and gold silk.
If Rose’s wife had been of her own choice, she could not have been more gracious.
“My dear!” she took the new Countess prettily61 by the hands. “You are as sweet as Rose described you, and I cannot say more.” She kissed her. “Forgive my lord’s mother the impertinence of welcoming you to your own house.”
Lavinia disengaged herself.
“I thank you, madam,” she said.
“Where is Marius?” asked my lord.
“He went, as I said, to meet you,” replied Susannah. “He must be back any moment.”
Now Lady Lyndwood looked at her husband, only for a second; her baited glance turned with an expression of relief to Miss Chressham.
“Please, I am very tired—sick with the jolting62 of the coach; might I go to my room?”
Before Susannah had time to answer the elder Countess had swept her up the shining oak stairs, in a cloud of graceful63 speeches.
Rose did not look after them. He turned into the library and his cousin followed him. She still held the two red roses, and as he seated himself at the table she drew their stems through the lace at her breast.
The Earl rested his cheek on his hand and his elbow on the table. He had not removed his dark-green travelling coat. It set off the grace and fineness of his figure as the high black stock relieved the weary pallor of his face. At the corner of his lip was the familiar bat-shaped patch, and under the paste buckle64 in his hair the turquoise65 ribbon he affected66.
Susannah looked at him. Her cousin, Rose Lyndwood, home again, in his old place!
And upstairs, his wife!
“I am sorry Marius missed you,” she said.
He turned his grey eyes on her.
“’Tis no matter,” he said, in a lifeless manner.
Then Miss Chressham threw aside restraint.
“Oh, Rose,” she cried, coming up to the table. “What have you done? What is she like?”
“What makes you say that?” he demanded, raising his head.
“Your face—her face!” she answered. “Don’t you suppose I can see what this is going to be?”
He made a movement with his hand on the table, as if his nerves were strained almost beyond bearing.
“It is well enough,” he said, looking away. “What did I expect? I suppose my lady is pleased?”
“She takes it for granted. She never realised it.”
The Earl rose and crossed to the fireplace.
“And Marius?”
“Marius is happy; you have that satisfaction.”
Susannah’s eyes were anxious and tender as she gazed at her cousin.
“That is, as you say, some satisfaction,” said my lord. “Otherwise it was not worth it—by God, not worth it!”
His tone, his expression, startled her.
“Why did you do it?” she cried. “You were madly reckless.”
He took his pipe from his pocket and filled it with a trembling hand.
“To have sold myself!” he muttered.
Again her heart gave the lurch67 it had done when she first saw his expression; but before she could speak he had made an effort with himself.
“But I do not know why I speak like this. You are too sympathetic, my dear”—he smiled—“and I suppose I am a little tired, too, of sitting still in a coach. Is Marius pleased with his commission under Willouby?”
“Marius is very well content,” replied Susannah, but her mind was not on what she said.
The Countess Agatha entered.
“Rose! I have not spoken to you! What manner of journey had you? Lavinia seems exhausted68. I have sent her woman to her, and she wishes to be excused coming down, poor thing! I fear she hath a sad headache.”
It might have been her own daughter she spoke of, so naturally and gracefully69 did she refer to Rose’s wife.
The Earl turned to the door.
“I will go find Marius,” he said shortly, and left them.
“Rose is out of humour,” remarked his mother.
“Yes,” said Susannah abruptly70.
The Countess looked absently at the reflection of her frail71 charming person in the mirror by the bookcase.
“And no wonder, my dear, all day shut up in a coach with that girl! And Rose of all men!” She laughed, half under her breath.
Miss Chressham glanced at her in a kind of shock.
“What do you think of her?” she asked.
“She is impossible!” answered the Countess at once. “Gauche, vapourish, no style, a little sullen72, I think. Of course, quite pretty behind a bourgeois73 tea-table, but no manners! La, poor Rose! She seems afraid of him, too.”
Susannah was silent. It was startling to find the shallow judgment74 of the Countess pronounce thus.
“But,” added that lady sweetly, “what does it matter? Rose will get used to her.”
“And there is the money,” finished Miss Chressham bitterly.
“Of course, there is the money.” The Countess raised her brows; she thought the remark not quite genteel.
“And Marius can have his romance unspoiled, his commission, and his happy future,” continued Miss Chressham. “But what is before Rose?”
“Oh, my dear, I am no prophetess! I suppose Rose can manage his own affairs. He can certainly manage his own wife; he is so different from Marius.” Then she gave the younger woman a sudden pleading look. “Do you think I am vastly selfish in being glad of Rose’s marriage, and what it has meant to Marius?”
Susannah stooped and kissed her. She could not say anything, nor was it necessary. The Countess brightened at once under the caress75.
“Did you see her dress?” cried Lady Lyndwood mischievously76, with the pleasure even a good-natured coquette feels in seeing another woman make the least of herself. “La! She will never start a fashion! Which reminds me, I wonder if Rose brought those satins I asked of him!”
Miss Chressham roused herself from depths of different thoughts.
“Let us go after him, Aunt Agatha. I think he will be in the withdrawing-room.”
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收听单词发音
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1
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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tassels
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| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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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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chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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boor
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| n.举止粗野的人；乡下佬 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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irises
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| n.虹( iris的名词复数 )；虹膜；虹彩；鸢尾（花） | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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wincing
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
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prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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obliquely
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| adv.斜； 倾斜； 间接； 不光明正大 | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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heeding
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
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judicial
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| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
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pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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disdained
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| 鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
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lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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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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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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42
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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parvenu
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| n.暴发户，新贵 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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48
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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49
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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51
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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52
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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53
swerve
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| v.突然转向，背离；n．转向，弯曲，背离 | |
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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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insignificance
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| n.不重要；无价值；无意义 | |
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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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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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buckle
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| n.扣子，带扣；v.把...扣住，由于压力而弯曲 | |
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turquoise
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| n.绿宝石；adj.蓝绿色的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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bourgeois
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| adj./n.追求物质享受的(人)；中产阶级分子 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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mischievously
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| adv.有害地；淘气地 | |
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