“When is Marius going to wait on Rose?” asked the elder lady. “He has been home now two days.”
Susannah Chressham turned quickly.
“Rose is so occupied—since he hath gone into the Ministry3, he is seldom at home.”
“It isn’t always service in the Ministry keeps him abroad,” remarked his mother lightly.
“Marius has been to his reception, you know,” said Miss Chressham, “and will call privately4 tomorrow.”
She came slowly down the centre of the room.
“It is nearly a year since Marius came home before,” she said; she seated herself near the Countess and her pink striped dress rustled5 against the other lady’s lavender muslins; the room was all white and pale colours, flowers were painted on the walls and Cupids smiled from the ceiling; the furniture was Aubusson, finely carved and of melting hues6; the candles were scented7 and set in crystal sconces; in one corner stood an elegant spinet8, and close by Susannah’s gold harp9; on a tulip-wood table rested a beau-pot of forget-me-nots, the most vivid thing in the chamber10.
“A year ago,” repeated the Countess vaguely11; “yes, just before Rose married.”
“I was thinking of Lavinia,” said Miss Chressham quietly; “he has not seen her since.”
The Countess Agatha laughed.
“I expect he has forgotten her, my dear, certainly she has forgotten him.”
“I suppose so; but, just at first, it might be painful for them, and can one forget, like that?”
Miss Chressham took her musing12 face in her two fair hands and gazed absently at her own lovely reflection in the oval mirror opposite.
“Oh! my dear, you get too deep for me,” the Countess smiled prettily13; “it was vastly sad at the time, but now everything moves along quite properly, and Lavinia has behaved very well.”
“She has acquired a manner,” responded Miss Chressham, “and she has been discreet14.”
“Which is quite sufficient; but then you never liked her.”
“How could I? No, I dislike her, and her maid.”
“It is quite a pity,” answered the Countess, “for really I can discern no fault in her; of course she was wild at first, and difficult; and, of course, she is only middle-class at heart now, but she is not in any way openly discreditable; indeed, she passes very well for a lady of fashion.”
“That is not what I mean,” said Miss Chressham. “I think there is mischief15 in her, and mischief in that Honoria Pryse; and I think it may be difficult, with Marius.”
The Countess laughed; a habit with her that did not in the least imply that she was amused.
“I am sure you are wrong, Susannah,” she replied languidly. “Lavinia is merely bent16 on enjoying herself.”
“Well, I trust her not; she hath a quick sly way of questioning; the last time I saw her she was trying to discover from me what I knew of Selina Boyle.”
“Can you blame her if she is sometimes jealous?” asked the Countess.
Miss Chressham’s foot beat the delicate-hued carpet.
“But Rose has not seen Selina save in public since he married, and ’tis understood that it is to be a match between her and Sir Francis,” she answered impatiently. “And I know not how she can be jealous of one whom she doth not even pretend a regard for.”
“Well, you always thought Rose’s marriage a mistake,” remarked the elder lady placidly17; she could not say she did, there was the money, and she had enjoyed it, was enjoying it, vastly.
Miss Chressham suddenly swerved18 from the subject.
“Selina and her father are coming to town; they have taken a house in Golden Square for the season. Sir Francis is delighted; I suppose they will be married this year.”
The Countess raised her delicate head and looked at the silver-gilt clock.
“Where has Marius gone, my dear; isn’t he late?”
Susannah was well used to reminding her aunt of things that lady knew perfectly19 well.
“He has gone to attend my Lord Willouby,” she smiled. “And I think he will be back very soon.”
“I recall it,” said the Countess Agatha. “Do you think he will be ordered abroad again?”
“Not to Madrid, I hope; he seems wearied of it to the death, doth he not?”
“Yes,” sighed his mother. “And I want to keep him at home; he spoke20 of an appointment in Paris, in the suite21 of my Lord Northcote; I trust he will not go.”
Miss Chressham rose.
“The mantua-maker is coming at six, shall we not go upstairs?”
“Oh, la!” cried my lady, shaking her laces into place; “it should be very modish22, should it not, that watered tabby—which minds me that all the best heads have ribbon in the lapels—I wish to order some of a precise red.”
Susannah Chressham smiled, for the Countess Agatha spoke with more animation23 and decision than she had used when discussing her sons and their affairs.
The two ladies left the room; a few moments after their departure the timepiece struck six, and before the clear chimes had ceased Marius entered—Captain the Honourable24 Marius Lyndwood of the 2nd Buffs now, of a slightly weightier presence, a slightly quieter manner, otherwise not changed at all by his year in the train of the English ambassador in Spain.
He wore his buff and blue uniform, and his hair was powdered and rolled into stiff military side-curls; he moved with an air of precision that made him look older than he was. Finding the room empty he walked up and down idly a while, then stopped before the spinet and began turning over Susannah’s fragrant25 music-sheets. One took his fancy, he had been fond of music and not unskilled; this was a piece of Scarlatti, showy, foreign.
He sat down before the keyboard, making a clatter26 with his sword, and began to play; he laughed to himself at his own mistakes, and commenced whistling the air.
The white door opened and Miss Chressham entered; Marius rose, flushing a little, and both smiled.
“I thought you must have returned,” said Susannah, coming across the room. “Well, what of the Paris appointment?”
“The post has been offered me,” he answered rather gravely. “But my lord says it is as I wish; it can easily be arranged that I stay in London.”
“Are you going?” asked Miss Chressham.
He fixed27 his eyes on the keys.
“I think so.”
She moved away to the table that held the forget-me-nots and bent over them; then he looked at her, at the long fair curls flowing between her shoulders over her gleaming pink gown, and the slender hand hanging by her side.
“I want to do something worth while, Susannah,” he said quietly “to make a position for myself—this has all been Rose, Rose’s money.”
“I think you had better go,” she answered slowly, “though we miss you very much, Marius.”
He went suddenly pale.
“I want to thank you for writing to me so often,” he said abruptly28. “If I go away will you still write to me?”
She faced him, smiling.
“Of course, Marius.”
He sat silent; she noticed his pallor and his serious mouth, and faintly wondered; he had been rather moody29 since his return.
“Well,” she said, “my lady sent me to see if you were here, that was all; we have the mantua-maker upstairs; but expect us at dinner!” she laughed.
“Can you not stay?” he demanded.
“Not now,” a touch of surprise was in her tone; “indeed I must go.”
Again he made no reply, and she smiled at him and left him.
Marius returned again to Scarlatti, swaying a little to the music, the long lace at his wrists sweeping30 the ivory keys; and again he was interrupted.
The servant opened the door.
“The Countess of Lyndwood.”
His brother’s wife stepped into the chamber and stood facing him; for a moment he did not know her; he received the impression of a slight dark lady, of a vivid personality, gorgeously dressed.
She wore black velvet31, a large hat with black plumes32, and a silver scarf; at her breast was a cluster of pink geranium; she appeared utterly33 out of harmony with the delicate taste of the chamber.
“Good evening, Captain Lyndwood,” she said.
He had not seen her since the Earl had turned her from the library at Lyndwood Holt, nearly a year ago; he opened his lips, but nothing came, and she laughed, pointing his silence.
“Are my lady and Miss Chressham out?” she asked, coming forward.
“They are upstairs, madam,” he answered, remaining standing34 by the spinet.
“Well, I can wait.” She moved slowly, trailing her heavy dress and revealing the fragile grace of her figure effectively and obviously; her hat was well tilted35 off her face, in her powdered hair was a knot of pink ribbon, and on her left cheek a black patch.
“Am I much changed?” she asked, and her eyes were slightly insolent36.
“Yes,” said Marius in a troubled way. “I think you have changed, madam.”
She sank lightly into the gold chair by Susannah’s little work-table.
“Think! You know!” she cried; “but you are very much the same, Captain Lyndwood.”
He coloured furiously, and looked sternly at the page of music lying before him on the spinet.
“You must excuse me, madam,” he said formally, “that I have not yet waited on you. I am intending to visit Lyndwood House tomorrow.”
The Countess smiled.
“I heard of your return, from the Gazette; why did you not write to me?”
“My lord knew of my home-coming, madam,” he answered coldly.
“Do you imagine that I am in my lord’s confidence? I say I learnt it from the Gazette.”
There was no reply possible to her astonishing directness; her lately acquired manner of ease and presence but emphasised her graceless ignoring of the screen of words used by people of breed.
Marius looked at her; she was painted and powdered, beneath her gown showed her violet velvet shoe sparkling with a great diamond buckle37; she leant forward a little, and gazed at him with eyes that were desperately38 unhappy; again she laughed.
“What were you playing?” she asked. “La! but I did not know that you were a player.”
“’Twas Scarlatti, madam,” he answered.
Their eyes met and she rose.
“I will play you something,” she said, and pulled off her grey gloves. “I am credited with some skill, Captain Lyndwood.”
He moved away from the spinet, mistrusting her, uneasy, the colour still in his fair face; he kept his eyes on her, noting how different she was, admitting her slender elegance39 and flaunting40 grace.
She played a little prelude41, not looking at the notes but at him; then she glanced down at her slim hands and began to sing:
“I hung a bird in a wicker cage
To catch the morning sun,
And saw below the people rage
And press, and shout, and run,
To see her walk, her guards between,
With her face to the Maytime sun.”
Marius fingered his sword and walked up and down, but he was listening and she knew it.
“I was a clerk at a window, with learnèd books to write,
She was a Mary Martyr42 and sin in the Church’s sight.”
The Countess did not raise her eyes; she sang softly, and the words of the laboured incongruous song struck to the heart of her listener.
“The bird sang in his prison
To a captive daffodil,
That with the spring had risen,
In the pot on my window sill.
The sky was bright as a jewel
Through the trees on Tower Hill.
As her stainèd feet crept onward43, I saw the people turn—
And I looked at the Mary Martyr whose body and soul must burn.
“Young was she and slender,
Lo! but a wondrous44 thing.
Her face was as full of splendour
As the primrose45 woods in spring,
When God bends through the branches,
To hear the mavis sing.
She was but a Mary Martyr, cursed for her heresy46,
But her eyes were clear as water and troubled the heart in me.”
The Countess rose swiftly.
“Are you glad to be in London?” she said; she came towards him, swinging her gloves; he was aware of the perfume of her garments, of the heavy soft sound of her moving velvet.
“I think I am leaving again for Paris, madam,” he looked at her straightly. “Shall I not fetch Miss Chressham?”
“No,” answered Lady Lyndwood. “I came to see you. I learned from the mantua-maker she would be here at this hour. I chanced finding you alone.”
He thought her speech outrageous47; his nostrils48 distended49 a little and his eyes darkened.
“You flatter me,” he said shortly.
She smiled.
“And now I have seen you, and you have nothing to say.”
“What should we have to say to one another, my lady?” His mouth set, and he frowned.
“Do not do that,” said the Countess suddenly. “You look like your brother.”
She moved to the work-table and picked up her gloves; he bit his lip and was silent.
The Countess spoke again.
“This is a beautiful room, is it not? This house cost my lord a vast sum—you Lyndwoods are very extravagant,” she drew her gauntlets on slowly. “I doubt if even a wealthy match can save you—the fortune of a merchant’s daughter has its limits—if the marriage were to last only as long as the money I were soon free.”
Marius turned to gaze at her.
“Do you mean to insult us?” he said in a goaded50 way.
She shrugged51 her shoulders.
“What do you think I mean?” her dark eyes held an unfathomable expression, one that could not fail to stir his blood with excitement, with wonder and confusion; she held her head very high and her complexion52 flushed beneath the rouge53; “when we are all damned together each shall know perhaps what the other meant, not before.”
With an air of bright and deep passion she moved towards the door; it seemed that she would leave without another word, nor did he offer to detain her, though his curious gaze was eagerly on her; but abruptly she stopped and looked back.
“Are you not grown up yet, Marius?” she said wildly and softly.
He stood perfectly still and she held out her hand.
“Good-bye, Captain Lyndwood,” she said quietly. “I will not ask you to see me to my carriage.”
He began some hot reply, but was interrupted; Susannah Chressham entered.
“You, madam!” she said, sincerely surprised.
The Countess gave her a veiled glance.
“I am taking my departure, madam. I had a fancy to come in, but it is too late to stay.”
She lifted the heavy skirt off the twinkling paste on her shoes; certainly the most composed of the three.
“I sang to Captain Lyndwood!” actually she laughed; “and he never commended it! What are our gallants coming to? Good-night, madam; au revoir, sir.”
She curtsied and was gone.
Miss Chressham stared at her cousin.
“What is this, Marius? she has not been here for months; and the hour and the manner of her leaving!”
“I do not know anything of it,” said Marius shortly.
Miss Chressham crossed to the spinet.
“How dare she play my instrument!” the fair countenance54 was angry. “And come here in this manner to my lady’s house?”
“I do not know,” said Marius again, staring at the floor.
Susannah looked up at him sharply.
“I think you had better go to Paris,” she said slowly.
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收听单词发音
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1
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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3
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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7
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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8
spinet
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| n.小型立式钢琴 | |
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harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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12
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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13
prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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14
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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15
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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16
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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17
placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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18
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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20
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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21
suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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modish
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| adj.流行的，时髦的 | |
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23
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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24
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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26
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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27
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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28
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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29
moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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30
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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31
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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32
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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33
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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34
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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35
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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37
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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38
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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39
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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40
flaunting
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| adj.招摇的，扬扬得意的，夸耀的v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的现在分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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41
prelude
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| n.序言，前兆，序曲 | |
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42
martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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43
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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44
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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45
primrose
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| n.樱草，最佳部分， | |
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46
heresy
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| n.异端邪说；异教 | |
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47
outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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48
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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49
distended
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| v.（使）膨胀，肿胀( distend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
goaded
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| v.刺激( goad的过去式和过去分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
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51
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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52
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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53
rouge
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| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
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54
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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