Good-natured Sedley took his arm, and said he, as they walked on together —
“Why don’t you smile on your luck, Cleve?”
“How do you know what my luck is?”
“All the world knows that pretty well.”
“All the world knows everything but its own business.”
“Well, people do say that your uncle has lately got the oldest peerage — one of them — in England, and an estate of thirty-seven thousand a year, for one thing, and that you are heir-presumptive to these trifles.”
“And that heirs-presumptive often get nothing but their heads in their hands.”
“No, you’ll not come Saint Denis nor any other martyr2 over us, my dear boy; we know very well how you stand in that quarter.”
“It’s pleasant to have one’s domestic relations so happily arranged by such very competent persons. I’m much obliged to all the world for the parental3 interest it takes in my private concerns.”
“And it also strikes some people that a perfectly4 safe seat in the House of Commons is not to be had for nothing by every fellow who wishes it.”
“But suppose I don’t wish it.”
“Oh! we may suppose anything.”
Tom Sedley laughed as he said this, and Cleve looked at him sharply, but saw no uncomfortable meaning in his face.
“There is no good in talking of what one has not tried,” said he. “If you had to go down to that tiresome5 House of Commons every time it sits; and had an uncle like mine to take you to task every time you missed a division — you’d soon be as tired of it as I am.”
“I see, my dear fellow, you are bowed down under a load of good luck.” They were at the door of Tom Sedley’s lodgings6 by this time, and opening it, he continued, “I’ve something in my room to show you; just run up with me for a minute, and you’ll say I’m a conjuror7.”
Cleve, not to be got into good spirits that evening, followed him upstairs, thinking of something else.
“I’ve got a key to your melancholy, Cleve,” said he, leading the way into his drawing-room. “Look there,” and he pointed8 to a clever copy in crayons of the famous Beatrice Cenci, which he had hung over his chimney-piece.
Tom Sedley laughed, looking in Cleve’s eyes. A slight flush had suddenly tinged9 his visitor’s face, as he saw the portrait. But he did not seem to enjoy the joke, on the contrary, he looked a little embarrassed and angry. “That’s Guido’s portrait — well, what about it?” he asked, rather surlily.
“Yes, of course; but who is it like?”
“Very few, I dare say, for it is very pretty; and except on canvas, there is hardly such a thing as a pretty girl to be seen. Is that all? for the life of me, I can’t see where the conjuring10 lies.”
“Not in the picture, but the likeness11; don’t you see it?”
“No” said Cleve. “I must go; are you coming?”
“Not see it!” said Tom. “Why if it were painted for her, it could not be more like. Why, it’s the Flower of Cardyllian, the Star of Malory. It is your Miss Fanshawe —my Margaret —our Miss Margaret Fanshawe. I’m making the fairest division I can, you see; and I would not be without it for all the world.”
“She would be very much gratified if she heard it. It is so flattering to a young lady to have a fellow buy a coloured lithograph12, and call it by her name, and crack jokes and spout13 mock heroics over it. It is the modern way of celebrating a lady’s name. Don’t you seriously think, Sedley, it would be better to smash it with a poker14, and throw it into the fire, than go on taking such liberties with any young lady’s name?”
“Upon my honour, Cleve, you mistake me; you do me great injustice15. You used to laugh at me, you know, when I’m quite sure, thinking over it now, you were awfully16 gone about her yourself. I never told any one but you why I bought that picture; it isn’t a lithograph, but painted, or drawn17, or whatever they call it, with chalks, and it cost five guineas; and no one but you ever heard me mention Miss Fanshawe’s name, except the people at Cardyllian, and then only as I might mention any other, and always with respect.”
“What does it signify?” interrupted Cleve, in the middle of a forced yawn. “I’m tired today, and cross — don’t you see; and man delights not me, nor woman neither. So, if you’re coming, come, for I must go.”
“And, really, Cleve, the Cardyllian people do say (I’ve had letters) that you were awfully in love with her yourself, and always haunting those woods of Malory while she was there, and went away immediately she left, and have never been seen in Cardyllian since.”
“Those Cretans were always liars18, Tom Sedley. That comes direct from the club. I can fancy old Shrapnell in the light of the bow-window, composing his farrago of dreams, and lies, and chuckling19 and cackling over it.”
“Well, I don’t say that Shrapnell had anything to do with it; but I did hear at first they thought you were gone about little Agnes Etherage.”
“Oh! they found that out — did they?” said Cleve. “But you know those people — I mean the Cardyllian people — as well, or better than I, and really, as a kindness to me, and to save me the trouble of endless explanations to my uncle, I would be so much obliged if you would not repeat their follies20 — unless, of course, you happen to believe them.”
Cleve did not look more cheerful as he drove away in a cab which he took to get rid of his friend Tom Sedley. It was mortifying21 to find how vain were his clever stratagems22, and how the rustic23 chapmen of that Welsh village and their wives had penetrated24 his diplomacy25. He thought he had killed the rumours26 about Malory, and yet that grain of mustard seed had grown while his eye was off it, with a gigantic luxuriance, and now was large enough to form a feature in the landscape, and quite visible from the windows of Ware27 — if his uncle should happen to visit that mansion28 — overtopping the roofs and chimneys of Cardyllian. His uncle meditated29 an early visit to Cardyllian, and a short stay at Ware, before the painters and gilders got possession of the house; a sort of ovation30 in demi-toilette, grand and friendly, and a foretaste of the splendours that were coming. Cleve did hope that those beasts would be quiet while Lord Verney was (as he in his grand manner termed it) “among them.” He knew the danger of a vague suspicion seizing on his mind, how fast it clung, how it fermented31 like yeast32, fantastic and obstinate33 as a foolish woman’s jealousy34 — and as men sometimes will, he even magnified this danger. Altogether, Cleve was not causelessly anxious and alarmed. He had in the dark to navigate35 a channel which even in broad daylight tasked a good steersman.
When Cleve reached Verney House it was eight o’clock. Lord Verney had ordered his brougham at half-past, and was going down to the House; he had something to say on Lord Frompington’s bill. It was not very new, nor very deep, nor very much; but he had been close at it for the last three weeks. He had amused many gentlemen — and sometimes even ladies — at many dinner parties, with a very exact recital36 of his views. I cannot say that they were exactly his, for they were culled37, perhaps unconsciously, from a variety of magazine articles and pamphlets, which happened to take Lord Verney’s view of the question.
It is not given to any mortal to have his heart’s desire in everything. Lord Verney had a great deal of this world’s good things — wealth, family, rank. But he chose to aim at official station, and here his stars denied him.
Some people thought him a goose, and some only a bore. He was, as we know, pompous38, conceited39, obstinate, also weak and dry. His grandfather had been a cabinet minister, respectable and silent; and was not he wiser, brighter, and more learned than his grandfather? “Why on earth should not he?” His influence commanded two boroughs40, and virtually two counties. The minister, therefore, treated him with distinction; and spoke41 of him confidentially42 as horribly foolish, impracticable, and at times positively43 impertinent.
Lord Verney was subject to small pets and huffs, and sometimes was affronted44 with the Premier45 for four or five weeks together, although the fact escaped his notice. And when the viscount relented, he would make him a visit to quiet his mind, and show him that friendly relations were reestablished; and the minister would say, “Here comes that d —— d Verney; I suppose I must give him half-an-hour!” and when the peer departed, thinking he had made the minister happy, the minister was seriously debating whether Lord Verney’s boroughs were worth the price of Lord Verney’s society.
His lordship was now in that sacred apartment, his library; where not even Cleve had a right to disturb him uninvited. Preliminaries, however, were now arranged; the servant announced him, and Cleve was commanded to enter.
“I have just had a line to say I shall be in time at half-past ten o’clock, about it. Frompington’s bill won’t be on till then; and take that chair and sit down, about it, won’t you? I’ve a good many things on my mind; people put things upon me. Some people think I have a turn for business, and they ask me to consider and direct matters about theirs, and I do what I can. There was poor Wimbledon, who died, about it, seven years ago. You remember Wimbledon — or — I say — you either remember him or you don’t recollect46 him; but in either case it’s of no importance. Let me see: Lady Wimbledon — she’s connected with you, about it — your mother, remotely — remotely also with us, the Verneys. I’ve had a world of trouble about her settlements — I can’t describe — I can’t describe — I was not well advised, in fact, to accept the trust at all. Long ago, when poor Frompington — I mean poor Wimbledon, of course — have I been saying Wimbledon?”
Cleve at once satisfied him.
“Yes, of course. When poor Wimbledon looked as healthy and as strong as I do at this moment, about it — a long time ago. Poor Wimbledon! — he fancied, I suppose, I had some little turn, about it, for business —some of my friends do— and I accepted the trust when poor Wimbledon looked as little likely to be hurried into eternity47, about it, as I do. I had a regard for him, poor Wimbledon, and he had a respect for me, and thought I could be of use to him after he was dead, and I have endeavoured, and people think I have. But Lady Wimbledon, the dowager, poor woman! She’s very long-winded, poor soul, and gives me an infinity48 of trouble. One can’t say to a lady, ‘You are detaining me; you are wandering from the subject; you fail to come to the point.’ It would be taking a liberty, or something, about it. I had not seen Lady Wimbledon, simple ‘oman, for seven years or more. It’s a very entangled49 business, and I confess it seems rather unfair, that I should have my time, already sufficiently50 occupied with other, as I think, more important affairs, so seriously interrupted and abridged51. There’s going to be a bill filed — yes, and a great deal of annoyance52. She has one unmarried daughter, Caroline, about it, who is not to have any power over her money until she is thirty-one. She’s not that now. It was hardly fair to me, putting it in trust so long. She is a very superior person — a young woman one does not meet with every day, about it; and — and very apprehensive53 — a great deal of mind — quite unusual. Do you know her?”
The viscount raised his eyes toward the ceiling with a smile that was mysterious and pleased.
Cleve did know that young lady of eight-and-twenty, and her dowager mamma, “simple ‘oman,” who had pursued him with extraordinary spirit and tenacity54 for several years, but that was past and over. Cleve experienced a thrill of pain at his heart. He suspected that the old torturing idea was again active in his uncle’s mind.
Yes, he did know them — ridiculous old woman; and the girl — he believed she’d marry any one; he fancied she would have done him that honour at one time, and he fancied that the trust, if it was to end when she was thirty-one, could not be very long in force.
“My dear Cleve, don’t you think that’s rather an odd way of speaking of a young lady? People used not in my time — that is, when I was a young man of two or three-and-twenty, about it — to talk so of young ladies. It was not considered a thing that ought to be done. I— I never heard a word of the kind.”
Lord Verney’s chivalry55 had actually called a little pink flush to his old cheeks, and he looked very seriously still at the cornice, and tapped a little nervous tattoo56 with his pencil-case on the table as he did so.
“I really did not mean — I only meant — in fact, uncle, I tell you everything; and poor Caroline is so much older than I, it always struck me as amusing.”
“Their man of business in matters of law is Mr. Larkington, about it. Our man, you know — you know him.”
“Oh, yes. They could not do better. Mr. Larkin — a very shrewd fellow. I went, by-the-by, to see that old man, Dingwell.”
“Ah, well, very good. We’ll talk of that by-and-by, if you please; but it has been occurring to my mind, Cleve, that — that you should look about you. In fact, if you don’t like one young lady, you may like another. It strikes me I never saw a greater number of pretty young women, about it, than there are at present in town. I do assure you, at that ball — where was it? — the place I saw you, and sent you down to the division — don’t you remember? — and next day, I told you, I think, they never said so much as ‘I’m obliged to you’ for what I had done, though it was the saving of them, about it. I say I was quite struck; the spectacle was quite charming, about it, from no other cause; and you know there is Ethel — I always said Ethel — and there can be no objection there; and I have distinct reasons for wishing you to be well connected, about it — in a political sense — and there is no harm in a little money; and, in fact, I have made up my mind, my dear Cleve, it is indispensable, and you must marry. I’m quite clear upon the point.”
“I can promise you, my dear uncle, that I shan’t marry without your approbation57.”
“Well, I rather took that for granted,” observed Lord Verney, with dry solemnity.
“Of course. I only say it’s very difficult sometimes to see what’s wisest. I have you, I know, uncle, to direct me; but you must allow I have also your example. You relied entirely58 upon yourself for your political position. You made it without the aid of any such step, and I should be only too proud to follow your example.”
“A— yes — but the cases are different; there’s a difference, about it. As I said in the debate on the Jewish Disabilities, there arc no two cases, about it, precisely59 parallel; and I’ve given my serious consideration to the subject, and I am satisfied that for every reason you ought to choose a wife immediately; there’s no reason against it, and you ought to choose a wife, about it, immediately; and my mind is made up quite decidedly, and I have spoken repeatedly; but now I tell you I recognise no reason for further delay — no reason against the step, and every reason for it; and in short, I shall have no choice but to treat any dilatory60 procedure in the matter as amounting to a distinct trifling61 with my known wishes, desire, and opinion.”
And the Right Hon. Lord Viscount Verney smote62 his thin hand emphatically at these words, upon the table, as he used to do in his place in the House.
Then followed an impressive silence, the peer holding his head high, and looking a little flushed; and Cleve very pale, with the ghost of the smile he had worn a few minutes before.
There are instruments that detect and measure with a beautiful accuracy, the presence and force of invisible influences — heat, electricity, air, moisture. If among all these “meters”— electronometers, hygrometers, anemometers — an odynometer, to detect the presence and measure the intensity63 of hidden pain, were procurable64, and applied65 to the breast of that pale, smiling young man at that moment, I wonder to what degree in its scale its index would have pointed!
Cleve intended to make some slight and playful remark, he knew not what, but his voice failed him.
He had been thinking of this possibility — of this hour— for many a day, as some men will of the Day of Judgment66, and putting it aside as a hateful thought, possibly never to be embodied67 in fact, and here it was come upon him, suddenly, inevitably68, in all its terrors.
“Well, certainly, uncle — as you wish it. I must look about me — seriously. I know you wish me to be happy. I’m very grateful; you have always bestowed69 so much of your thought and care upon me —too good, a great deal.”
So spoke the young man — white as that sheet of paper on which his uncle had been pencilling two or three of what he called his thoughts — and almost as unconscious of the import of the words he repeated.
“I’m glad, my dear Cleve, you are sensible that I have been, I may say, kind; and now let me say that I think Ethel has a great deal in her favour. There are others, however, I am well aware, and there is time to look about, but I should wish something settled this season — in fact, before we break up, about it; in short I have, as I said, made up my mind. I don’t act without reasons; I never do, and mine are conclusive70; and it was on this topic, my dear Cleve, I wished to see you. And now I think you may as well have some dinner. I’m afraid I’ve detained you here rather long.”
And Lord Verney rose, and moved toward a book-case with Hansard in it, to signify that the conference was ended, and that he desired to be alone in his study.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
martyr
|
|
| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
parental
|
|
| adj.父母的；父的；母的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
tiresome
|
|
| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
lodgings
|
|
| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
conjuror
|
|
| n.魔术师，变戏法者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
tinged
|
|
| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
conjuring
|
|
| n.魔术 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
likeness
|
|
| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
lithograph
|
|
| n.平板印刷，平板画；v.用平版印刷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
spout
|
|
| v.喷出，涌出；滔滔不绝地讲；n.喷管；水柱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
poker
|
|
| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
injustice
|
|
| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
awfully
|
|
| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
liars
|
|
| 说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
chuckling
|
|
| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
follies
|
|
| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
mortifying
|
|
| adj.抑制的，苦修的v.使受辱( mortify的现在分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
stratagems
|
|
| n.诡计，计谋( stratagem的名词复数 )；花招 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
rustic
|
|
| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
penetrated
|
|
| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
diplomacy
|
|
| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
rumours
|
|
| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
ware
|
|
| n.(常用复数)商品，货物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
mansion
|
|
| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
meditated
|
|
| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
ovation
|
|
| n.欢呼，热烈欢迎，热烈鼓掌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
fermented
|
|
| v.（使）发酵( ferment的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）激动；骚动；骚扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
yeast
|
|
| n.酵母；酵母片；泡沫；v.发酵；起泡沫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
obstinate
|
|
| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
jealousy
|
|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
navigate
|
|
| v.航行，飞行；导航，领航 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
recital
|
|
| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
culled
|
|
| v.挑选，剔除( cull的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
pompous
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
conceited
|
|
| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
boroughs
|
|
| （尤指大伦敦的）行政区( borough的名词复数 )； 议会中有代表的市镇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
confidentially
|
|
| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
positively
|
|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
affronted
|
|
| adj.被侮辱的，被冒犯的v.勇敢地面对( affront的过去式和过去分词 )；相遇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
premier
|
|
| adj.首要的；n.总理，首相 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
recollect
|
|
| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
eternity
|
|
| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
infinity
|
|
| n.无限，无穷，大量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
entangled
|
|
| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
abridged
|
|
| 削减的，删节的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
annoyance
|
|
| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
apprehensive
|
|
| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
tenacity
|
|
| n.坚韧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
chivalry
|
|
| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
tattoo
|
|
| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
approbation
|
|
| n.称赞；认可 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
dilatory
|
|
| adj.迟缓的，不慌不忙的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
trifling
|
|
| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
smote
|
|
| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
intensity
|
|
| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
procurable
|
|
| adj.可得到的，得手的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
embodied
|
|
| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
inevitably
|
|
| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
bestowed
|
|
| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
conclusive
|
|
| adj.最后的，结论的；确凿的，消除怀疑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |