— ROBERT BROWNING.
RACHEL left Westhope Abbey the day after Lord Newhaven’s funeral, and returned to London. And the day after that Hugh came to see her, and proposed, and was accepted.
He had gone over in his mind a hundred times all that he should say to her on that occasion. If he had said all that he was fully1 resolved to say it is hardly credible2 that any woman, however well disposed towards him, would have accepted so tedious a suitor. But what he really said, in a hoarse3 inaudible voice, was, “Rachel, will you marry me?” He was looking so intently into a little grove4 of Roman hyacinths that perhaps the hyacinths heard what he said; at any rate, she did not. But she supposed from long experience that he was proposing, and she said “Yes” immediately.
She had not intended to say so, at least not at first. She had made up her mind that it would be only right to inform him that she was fourteen months older than he (she had looked him out in Burke where she herself was not to be found); that she was “old enough to be his mother”; also that she was of a cold revengeful temper not calculated to make a home happy, and several other odious5 traits of character which she had never dreamed of confiding6 to any of the regiment7 of her previous lovers.
But the only word she had breath to say when the time came was “Yes.”
Rachel had shivered and hesitated on the brink8 of a new love long enough. Her anxiety about Hugh had unconsciously undermined her resistance. His confession9 had given her instantly the confidence in him which had been wanting. It is not perfection that we look for in our fellow creatures, but for what is apparently10 rarer, a little plain dealing11.
How they rise before us! — the sweet reproachful faces of those whom we could have loved devotedly12 if they had been willing to be straightforward13 with us; whom we have lost, not by our own will, but by that paralysis14 of feeling which gradually invades the heart at the discovery of small insincerities. Sincerity15 seems our only security against losing those who love us, the only cup in which those who are worth keeping will care to pledge us when youth is past.
Rachel was not by nature de celles qui se jettent dan l’amour comme dans un précipice. But she shut her eyes, recommended her soul to God, and threw herself over. She had climbed down once — with assistance — and she was not going to do that again. That she found herself alive at the bottom was a surprise to her, but a surprise that was quickly forgotten in the constant wonder that Hugh could love her as devotedly as it was obvious he did.
Women would have shared that wonder, but not men. There was a home ready-made in Rachel’s faithful, dog-like eyes which at once appealed to the desire of expansion of empire in the heart of the free-born Briton.
Hugh had, until lately, considered woman as connected with the downward slope of life. He would have loudly disclaimed16 such an opinion if it had been attributed to him; but nevertheless it was the key-note of his behaviour towards them, his belief concerning them which was of a piece with his cheap cynicism and dilettante18 views of life. He now discovered that woman was made out of something more than man’s spare rib17.
It is probable that if he had never been in love with Lady Newhaven Hugh would never have loved Rachel. He would have looked at her, as many men did, with a view to marriage, and would probably have dismissed her from his thoughts as commonplace. He knew better now. It was Lady Newhaven who was commonplace. His worldliness was dropping from him day by day as he learned to know Rachel better.
Where was his cynicism now that she loved him?
His love for her, humble19, triumphant20, diffident, passionate21, impatient by turns, now exacting22, now selfless, possessed23 him entirely24. He remembered once with astonishment25 that he was making a magnificent match. He had never thought of it, as Rachel knew, as she knew well.
December came in bleak26 and dark. The snow did its poor best, laying day after day its white veil upon the dismal27 streets. But it was misunderstood. It was scraped into murky28 heaps. It melted and then froze, and then melted again. And London groaned29 and shivered on its daily round.
Every afternoon Hugh came, and every morning Rachel made her rooms bright with flowers for him. The flower shop at the corner sent her tiny trees of white lilac, and sweet little united families of hyacinths and tulips. The time of azalias was not yet. And once he sent her a bunch of daffodils. He knew best how he had obtained them.
Their wild sweet faces peered at Rachel, and she sat down faint and dizzy, holding them in her nerveless hands. If one daffodil knows anything, all daffodils know it to the third and fourth generation.
“Where is he?” they said, “that man whom you loved once? We were there when he spoke30 to you. We saw you stand together by the attic31 window. We never say, but we heard, we remember. And you cried for joy at right afterwards. We never say. But we heard. We remember.”
Rachel’s secretary in the little room on the ground floor was interrupted by a tap at the door. Rachel came in laden32 with daffodils. Their splendour filled the grey room.
“Would you mind having them?” she said smiling, and laying them down by her. "And would you kindly33 write a line to Jones telling him not to send me daffodils again. They are a flower I particularly dislike.”
“Rachel?”
“Hugh!”
“Don’t you think it would be better if we were married immediately?”
“Better than what?”
“Oh! I don’t know, better than breaking it off.”
“You can’t break it off now. I’m not a person to be trifled with. You have gone too far.”
“If you gave me half your attention, you would understand that I am only expressing a wish to go a little further, but you have become so frivolous34 since we have been engaged that I hardly recognise you.”
“I suit myself to my company.”
“Are you going to talk to me in that flippant manner when we are married. I sometimes fear, Rachel, you don’t look upon me with sufficient awe35. I foresee I shall have to be very firm when we are married. When may I begin to be firm?”
“Are these such evil days, Hugh?”
“I am like Oliver Twist,” he said, “I want more.”
They were sitting together one afternoon in the firelight in silence. They often sat in silence together.
“A wise woman once advised me,” said Rachel at last, “if married, never to tell my husband of any previous attachment36. She said, Let him always believe that he was the first
That ever burst
Into that silent sea.
I believe it was good advice, but it seems to me to have one drawback — to follow it may be to tell a lie. It would be in my case.”
Silence.
“I know that a lie and an adroit37 appeal to the vanity of man are supposed to be a woman’s recognised weapons. The same woman told me that I might find myself mistaken in many things in this world, but never in counting on the vanity of man. She said that was a reed which would never pierce my hand. I don’t think you are vain, Hugh.”
“Not vain! Why I am so conceited38 at the fact that you are going to marry me that I look down on every one else. I only long to tell them so. When may I tell my mother, Rachel? She is coming to London this week.”
“You have the pertinacity39 of a fly. You always come back to the same point. I am beginning to be rather bored with your marriage. You can’t talk of anything else.”
“I can’t think about anything else.”
He drew her cheek against his. He was an ingratiating creature.
“Neither can I,” she whispered.
And that was all Rachel ever said of all she meant to say about Mr. Tristram.
A yellow fog. It made rings round the shaded electric lamp by which Rachel was reading. The fire burned tawny40 and blurred41. Even her red gown looked dim. Hugh came in.
“What are you reading?” he said, sitting down by her.
He did not want to know, but if you are reading a book on another person’s knee you cannot be a very long way off. He glanced with feigned42 interest at the open page, stooping a little for he was short-sighted now and then — at least now.
Rachel took the opportunity to look at him. You can’t really look at a person when he is looking at you. Hugh was very handsome, especially side face, and he knew it, but he was not sure whether Rachel thought so.
He read mechanically:
Take back your vows44.
Elsewhere you trimmed and taught these lamps to burn;
You bring them stale and dim to serve my turn.
You lit those candles in another shrine45,
Guttered46 and cold you offer them on mine.
Take back your vow43.
A shadow fell across Hugh’s mind. Rachel saw it fall.
“You do not think that of me, Rachel,” he said, pointing to the verse. It was the first time he had alluded47 to that halting confession which had remained branded on the minds of both.
He glanced up at her, and she suffered him for a moment to look through her clear eyes into her soul.
“I never thought that of you,” she said with difficulty. “I am so foolish that I believe the candles are lit now for the first time. I am so foolish that I believe you love me nearly as much as I love you.”
“It is a dream,” said Hugh passionately48, and he fell on his knees, and hid his white face against her knee. “It is a dream. I shall wake, and find you never cared for me.”
She sat for a moment stunned49 by the violence of his emotion, which was shaking him from head to foot. Then she drew him into her trembling arms, and held his head against her breast.
She felt his tears through her gown.
“What is past will never come between us,” she said brokenly at last. “I have cried over it, too, Hugh, but I have put it from my mind. When you told me about it, knowing you risked losing me by telling me, I suddenly trusted you entirely. I had not quite up till then. I can’t say why, except that perhaps I had grown suspicious because I was once deceived. But I do now because you were open with me. I think, Hugh, you and I can dare to be truthful50 to each other. You have been so to me, and I will be so to you. I knew about that long before you told me. Lady Newhaven, poor thing, confided51 in me last summer. She had to tell some one. I think you ought to know that I know. And oh, Hugh, I knew about the drawing of lots, too.”
Hugh started violently, but he did not move.
Would she have recognised that ashen52 convulsed face if he had raised it?
“Lady Newhaven listened at the door when you were drawing lots, and she told me. But we never knew which had drawn53 the short lighter54 till Lord Newhaven was killed on the line. Only she and I and you know that that was not an accident. I know what you must have gone through all the summer, feeling you had taken his life as well. But you must remember it was his own doing, and a perfectly55 even chance. You ran the same risk. His blood is on his own head. But oh, my darling, when I think it might have been you!”
Hugh thought afterwards that if her arms had not been round him, if he had been a little distance from her, he might have told her the truth. He owed it to her, this woman who was the very soul of truth. But if she had withdrawn56 from him, however gently, in the moment when her tenderness had for the first time vanquished57 her natural reserve, if she had taken herself away then, he could not have borne it. In deep repentance58 after Lord Newhaven’s death, he had vowed59 that from that day forward he would never deviate60 again from the path of truth and honour, however difficult it might prove. But this frightful61 moment had come upon him unawares. He drew back instinctively62, giddy and unnerved, as from a chasm63 yawning suddenly among the flowers, one step in front of him. He was too stunned to think. When he rallied they were standing64 together on the hearthrug, and she was saying — he did not know what she was saying, for he was repeating over and over again to himself, “The moment is past. The moment is past.”
At last her words conveyed some meaning to him. “We will never speak of this again, my friend,” she said; “but now that no harm can be done by it, it seemed right to tell you I knew.”
“I ought never to have drawn,” said Hugh hoarsely65.
“No,” said Rachel. “He was in fault to demand such a thing. It was inhuman66. But having once drawn he had to abide67 by it, as you would have done if you had drawn the short lighter.”
She was looking earnestly at him, as at one given back from the grave.
“Yes,” said Hugh, feeling she expected him to speak. “If I had drawn it I should have had to abide by it.”
“I thank God continually that you did not draw it. You made him the dreadful reparation he asked. If it recoiled68 upon himself you were not to blame. You have done wrong, and you have repented69. You have suffered, Hugh. I know it by your face. And perhaps I have suffered, too, but that is past. We will shut up the past, and think of the future. Promise me that you will never speak of this again.”
“I promise,” said Hugh mechanically.
“The moment to speak is past,” he said to himself.
Had it ever been present?
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1
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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credible
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| adj.可信任的，可靠的 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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8
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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devotedly
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| 专心地； 恩爱地； 忠实地； 一心一意地 | |
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13
straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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14
paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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15
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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16
disclaimed
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| v.否认( disclaim的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17
rib
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| n.肋骨，肋状物 | |
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dilettante
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| n.半瓶醋，业余爱好者 | |
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19
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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20
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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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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22
exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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23
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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24
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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25
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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26
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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27
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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28
murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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29
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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30
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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31
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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32
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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33
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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34
frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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35
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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36
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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37
adroit
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| adj.熟练的，灵巧的 | |
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38
conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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39
pertinacity
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| n.执拗，顽固 | |
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40
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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41
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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42
feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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43
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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45
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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46
guttered
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| vt.形成沟或槽于…（gutter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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49
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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50
truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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51
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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52
ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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53
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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54
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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55
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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56
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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57
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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58
repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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59
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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deviate
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| v.(from)背离，偏离 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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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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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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66
inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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67
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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68
recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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69
repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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