It is a dark and lonely walk, down the steep Hazelden Road, by the side of the wooded glen, from whose depths faintly rises the noise of the mill-stream. The path leads you down the side of the glen, with dense4 forest above and below you; the rocky steep ascending5 at the left hand, the wooded precipice6 descending7 into utter darkness at your right, and beyond that, rising black against the sky, the distant side of the wooded ravine. Cheery it was to emerge from the close overhanging trees, and the comparative darkness, upon the high road to Cardyllian, which follows the sweep of the estuary8 to the high street of the town, already quiet as at midnight.
The moon shone so broad and bright, the landscape looked so strange, and the air was so frosty and pleasant, that Tom Sedley could not resist the temptation to take a little walk which led him over the Green, and up the steep path overhanging the sea, from which you command so fine a view of the hills and headlands of the opposite side, and among other features of the landscape, of Malory, lying softly in its dark and misty9 woodlands.
Moonlight, distance, and the hour, aided the romance of my friend Tom Sedley, who stood in the still air and sighed toward that antique house.
With arms folded, his walking-cane grasped in his right hand, and passed, sword-fashion, under his left arm, I know not what martial10 and chivalric11 aspirations12 concerning death and combat rose in his good-natured heart, for in some temperaments13 the sentiment of love is mysteriously associated with the combative14, and our homage15 to the gentler sex connects itself magnanimously with images of wholesale16 assault and battery upon the other. Perhaps if he could have sung, a stave or two might have relieved his mind; or even had he been eloquent17 in the language of sentiment. But his vocabulary, unhappily, was limited, and remarkably18 prosaic19, and not even having an appropriate stanza20 by rote21, he was fain to betake himself to a cigar, smoking which he at his leisure walked down the hill toward Malory.
Halfway22 down, he seated himself upon the dwarf23 wall, at the roadside, and by the ivied stem of a huge old tree, smoked at his ease, and sighed now and then.
“I can’t understand it — it is like some confounded witchcraft,” said he. “I can’t get her out of my head.”
I dare say it was about the same time that his friend Cleve Verney was performing, though not with so sublime24 an enthusiasm, his romantic devotions in the same direction, across the water from Ware25.
As he stood and gazed, he thought he saw a figure standing26 near the water’s edge on the shingle27 that makes a long curve in front of Malory.
If a living figure, it was very still. It looked gray, nearly white, in the moonlight. Was there an upright shaft28 of stone there, or a post to moor29 the boats by? He could not remember.
He walked slowly down the road. “By Jove! I think it’s moving,” he said aloud, pulling up all at once and lowering his cigar. “No, it isn’t moving, but it did move, I think— yes, it has changed its ground a little — hasn’t it? Or is it only my stand-point that’s changed?”
He was a good deal nearer now, and it did look much more like a human figure — tall and slight, with a thin gray cloak on — but he could not yet be quite certain. Was there not a resemblance in the proportions — tall and slight? The uncertainty30 was growing intense; there was a delightful31 confusion of conjecture32. Tom Sedley dropped his cigar, and hastened forward with an instinctive33 stealthiness in his eagerness to arrive before this figure — if such it were — should be scared away by his approach.
He was now under the shadow of the tall trees that overhang the outer wall of Malory, and cast their shadows some way down upon the sloping shore, near the edge of which a tall female figure was undoubtedly34 standing, with her feet almost touching35 the ripple36 of the water, and looking steadfastly37 in the direction of the dim headland of Pendillion, which at the far side guards the entrance of the estuary.
In the wall of Malory, at some three hundred yards away from the gate, is a small door, a little sally-port that opens a nearly direct access from the house to the rude jetty where the boats are sometimes moored38. This little door stood now wide open, and through it the figure had of course emerged.
Tom Sedley now for the first time began to feel a little embarrassed. The general privacy of the place, the fact that the jetty, and in point of law the strand39 itself, here, belonged to Malory, from which the private door which still stood open, showed that the lady had emerged — all these considerations made him feel as if he were guilty of an impertinence, and very nearly of a trespass40.
The lady stood quite still, looking across the water. Tom Sedley was upon the road that skirts the wall of Malory, in the shadow of the great trees. It would not have done to walk straight across the shingle to the spot where the lady stood, neither could he place himself so as to intercept41 her return to the doorway42, directly so, as a less obvious stratagem43, he made a detour44, and sauntering along the water’s edge like a man intent solely45 on the picturesque46, with a beating heart he approached the female, who maintained her pose quite movelessly until he approached within a few steps.
Then she turned, suddenly, revealing an old and almost agonized47 face, that looked, in the intense moonlight, white, and fixed48 as if cut in stone. There is something ludicrous in the sort of shock which Tom Sedley experienced. He stood staring at the old lady with an expression which, if she had apprehended49 it, would not have flattered her feminine self-esteem, if any of that good quality remained to her.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said the old woman, with a nervous eagerness, drawing near. “But pray, can you see a sail in that direction, a yawl, sir, they call it, just there?”— she pointed50 —“I fancied about two miles beyond that vessel51 that lies at anchor there? I can’t see it now, sir, can you?”
She had come so close that Sedley could see not only the deep furrows52, but the finely etched wrinkles about the large eyes that gazed on him, and from him to the sea, with an imploring53 stare.
“There’s no sail, ma’am, between us and Pendillion,” said Sedley, having first raised his hat deferentially54; for did not this strange old lady with her gray mantle55 drawn56 over her head, nevertheless, represent Malory, and was not Malory saddened and glorified57 by the presence of that beautiful being whom he had told himself a thousand times since morning service, he never, never could forget?
“Ha, ha! I thought I saw it, exactly, sir, in that direction; pray look more carefully, sir, my old eyes tire, and fail me.”
“No, ma’am, positively58 nothing there. How long ago is it since you first saw it?”
“Ten — twenty — minutes, it must be.”
“A yawl will run a good way in that time, ma’am,” said Tom with a little shake of his head, and a smile. “The yawl they had at Ware last year would make eight knots an hour in this breeze, light as it is. She might have been up to Bryll by this time, or down to Pendrewist, but there’s no sail, ma’am, either way.”
“Oh! sir, are you very sure?”
“Quite sure, ma’am. No sail in sight, except that brig just making the head of Pendillion, and that can’t be the sail you saw, for she wasn’t in sight twenty minutes since. There’s nothing more, ma’am, except boats at anchor.”
“Thank you, sir,” said the lady, still looking across the water, and with a deep sigh. “No, I suppose there’s none. It sometimes happens to me — fancy, I suppose, and long expectation, from my window, looking out. It’s a clear view, between the trees, across the bay to Pendillion; my eyes tire, I think; and so I fancy I see it. Knowing, that is, feeling so very sure, it will come again. Another disappointment for a foolish old woman. I sometimes think it’s all a dream.” She had turned and was now stumbling over the large loose stones toward the door. “Foolish dreams — foolish head — foolish old head, yet, sir, it may be that which goes away may come back, all except life. I’ve been looking out that way,” and she turned and moved her hand towards the distant headlands. “You see nothing?”
“No sail, ma’am,” answered Tom.
“No, no sail,” she repeated to the shingle under her feet, as she picked her steps again homeward.
“A little longer — another wait; wait patiently. Oh! God, how slowly years and months go over!”
“May I see you to the door, ma’am?” asked Tom Sedley, prosaically59. The old lady, thinking, I dare say, of other things, made him no answer — a silence which he accepted as permission, and walked on beside her, not knowing what to say next, and terribly anxious to hit upon something, and try to found an acquaintance. The open door supplied him.
“Charming place this Cardyllian, ma’am. I believe no one ever was robbed in it. They leave their doors open half the night, just like that.”
“Do they, indeed?” said she. I think she had forgotten her companion altogether in the interval60. “I don’t remember. It’s fifteen years and upwards61 since I was there. I live here, at Malory.” She nodded, and raised her eyes to his face as she spoke62.
Suddenly she stopped, and looked at him more earnestly in silence for some seconds, and then said she —
“Sir, will you forgive me? Are you related to the Verneys?”
“No, I haven’t that honour,” said he, smiling. “I know Cleve Verney very well, and a very good fellow he is; but we’re not connected; my name is Sedley — Thomas Sedley.”
“Sedley!” she repeated once or twice, still looking at him, “I recollect63 the name. No — no connection, I dare say, Cleve; and how is Cleve?”
“Very well; he’s at Ware, now, for a few days.”
“Ah! I dare say, and very well; a pretty boy — very pretty; but not like — no, not the least.”
“I’ve heard people say he’s very like what his father was,” said Tom.
“Oh! yes, I think so; there is a likeness,” acquiesced64 she.
“His father’s been dead a long time, you know?”
“I know; yes. Cleve is at Oxford65 or Cambridge by this time?” she continued.
Tom Sedley shook his head and smiled a little.
“Cleve has done with all that ever so long. He’s in the House of Commons now, and likely to be a swell66 there, making speeches, and all that.”
“I know — I know. I had forgot how long it is since; he was a clever boy, wild, and talkative; yes, yes, he’ll do for Parliament, I suppose, and be a great man, some day, there. There was no resemblance though; and you, sir, are like him, he was so handsome — no one so handsome.”
Tom Sedley smiled. He fancied he was only amused. But I am sure he was also pleased.
“And I don’t know. I can make out nothing. No one can. There’s a picture. I think they’d burn it, if they knew. It is drawn in chalks by a French artist; they colour so beautifully. It hangs in my room. I pray before it, every morning, for him.”
The old lady moaned, with her hands folded together, and still looking steadfastly in his face.
“They’d burn it, I think, if they knew there was a picture. I was always told they were a cruel family. Well, I don’t know, I forgive him; I’ve forgiven him long ago. You are very like the picture, and even more like what I remember him. The picture was taken just when he came of age. He was twenty-seven when I first saw him; he was brilliant, a beautiful creature, and when I looked in his face I saw the sorrow that has never left me. You are wonderfully like, sir; but there’s a difference. You’re not so handsome.” Here was a blow to honest Tom Sedley, who again thought he was only amused, but was really chagrined67.
“There is goodness and kindness in your face; his had little of that, nothing soft in it, but everything brilliant and interesting; and yet you are wonderfully like.”
She pressed her hand on her thin bosom68.
“The wind grows cold. A pain shoots through me while I look at you, sir. I feel as if I were speaking to a spirit, God help me! I have said more to you to-night, than I have spoken for ten years before; forgive me, sir, and thank you, very much.”
She turned from him again, took one long look at the distant headland, and then, with a deep sigh, almost a sob69, she hastened towards the door. He followed her.
“Will you permit me to see you to the house?” he pleaded, with a benevolence70 I fear not quite disinterested71. She was by this time at the door, from which with a gesture, declining his offer, she gently waved him back, and disappeared within it, without another word. He heard the key turned in the lock, and remained without, as wise with respect to his particular quest as he had arrived.
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1
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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evergreens
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| n.常青树，常绿植物，万年青( evergreen的名词复数 ) | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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estuary
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| n.河口，江口 | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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chivalric
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| 有武士气概的，有武士风范的 | |
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aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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temperaments
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| 性格( temperament的名词复数 )； （人或动物的）气质； 易冲动； （性情）暴躁 | |
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combative
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| adj.好战的；好斗的 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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stanza
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| n.（诗）节，段 | |
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rote
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| n.死记硬背，生搬硬套 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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dwarf
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| n.矮子，侏儒，矮小的动植物；vt.使…矮小 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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ware
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| n.(常用复数)商品，货物 | |
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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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shingle
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| n.木瓦板；小招牌(尤指医生或律师挂的营业招牌)；v.用木瓦板盖（屋顶）；把（女子头发）剪短 | |
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shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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moored
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| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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trespass
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| n./v.侵犯，闯入私人领地 | |
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intercept
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| vt.拦截，截住，截击 | |
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42
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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stratagem
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| n.诡计，计谋 | |
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detour
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| n.绕行的路，迂回路；v.迂回，绕道 | |
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45
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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46
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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47
agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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48
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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49
apprehended
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| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 )； 理解 | |
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50
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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51
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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52
furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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53
imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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54
deferentially
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| adv.表示敬意地，谦恭地 | |
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55
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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56
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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57
glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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prosaically
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| adv.无聊地；乏味地；散文式地；平凡地 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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61
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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62
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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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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64
acquiesced
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| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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66
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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67
chagrined
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| adj.懊恼的，苦恼的v.使懊恼，使懊丧，使悔恨( chagrin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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69
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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70
benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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