“Mr. Williamson is out, my lord,” the solemn functionary12 said, who was far more important and dignified13 than the master of the house. “I asked to see Miss Williamson,” Lord Erradeen repeated, with a little impatience14; and he saw the man’s eyebrows15 raised.
So far as the servants were concerned, and through them the whole district, Walter’s “intentions” stood revealed.
Katie Williamson was alone. She was in her favourite room—the room especially given over to her amusements and occupations. It was not a small room, for such a thing scarcely existed in Birkenbraes. It was full of windows, great expanses of plate glass, through which the mountains and the loch appeared uninterrupted, save by a line of framework here and there, with a curious open-air effect. It was in one of the corners of the house, and the windows formed two sides of the brilliant place; on the others were mirrors reflecting the mountains back again. She sat between them, her little fair head the only solid thing which the light encountered. When she rose, with a somewhat astonished air, to receive her visitor, her trim figure, neat and alert, stood out against the background of the trees and rocks on the lower slopes of the hills. A curious transparency, distinctness, and absence of privacy and mystery were in the scene. The two seemed to stand together there in the sight of all the world.
“Lord Erradeen!” Katie said, with surprise, almost consternation16. “But if I had been told, I should have come down-stairs to you. Nobody but my great friends, nobody but women, ever come here.”
“I should have thought that any one might come. There are no concealments here,” he said, expressing the sentiment of the place unconsciously. Then, seeing that Katie’s colour rose: “Your boudoir is not all curtained and shadowy, but open and candid—as you are.”
“That last has saved you,” said Katie, with a laugh. “I know what you mean—and that is that my room (for it is not a boudoir—I never boude) is far too light, too clear for the fashion. But this is my fashion, and people who come to me must put up with it.” She added, after a moment: “What did you say to Sanderson, Lord Erradeen, to induce him to bring you here?”
“I said I wanted to see Miss Williamson.”
“That was understood,” said Katie, once more with an increase of colour, and looking at him with a suppressed question in her eyes. Her heart gave a distinct knock against her breast, but did not jump up and flutter, as hearts less well regulated will do in such circumstances; for she too perceived what Sanderson had perceived, that the interview was not one to take place amid all the interruptions of the drawing-room. Sanderson was a very clever person, and his young mistress agreed with him; but, nevertheless, made a private memorandum17 that he should have notice, and that she would speak to papa.
“Yes, I think it must be easily understood. I have come to you with a great deal that is very serious to say.”
“You look very serious,” said Katie; and then she added, hurriedly, “And I want very much to speak to you, Lord Erradeen. I want you to tell me—who was that gentleman at Kinloch Houran? I have never been able to get him out of my mind. Is he paying you a visit? What is his name? Has he been in this country before? But oh, to be sure, he must have been, for he knew everything about the castle. I want to know, Lord Erradeen——”
“After you have heard what I have got to say——”
“No, not after—before. I tremble when I think of him. It is ridiculous, I know; but I never had any such sensation before. I should think he must be a mesmerist, or something of that sort,” Katie said, with a pale and nervous smile; “though I don’t believe in mesmerism,” she added, quickly.
“You believe in nothing of the kind—is it not so? You put no faith in the stories about my family, in the influence of the past on the present, in the despotism—But why say anything on that subject. You laugh.”
“I believe in superstition,” said Katie somewhat tremulously, “and that it impresses the imagination, and puts you in a condition to believe—things. And then there is a pride in having anything of the sort connected with one’s own family,” she said recovering herself. “If it was our ghost I should believe in it too.”
“Ghost—is not a word that means much?” Walter said. And then there was a pause. It seemed to him that his lips were sealed, and that he had no longer command of the ordinary words. He had known what he had meant to say when he came, but the power seemed to have gone from him. He stood and looked out upon the wide atmosphere, and the freedom of the hills, with a blank in his mind, and that sense that nothing is any longer of importance or meaning which comes to those who are baffled in their purpose at the outset. It was Katie who with a certain sarcasm18 in her tone recalled him to himself. “You came—because you had something serious to say to me, Lord Erradeen.” She was aware of what he intended to say; but his sudden pause at the very beginning had raised the mocking spirit in Katie. She was ready to defy and provoke, and silence with ridicule19, the man whom she had no objection to accept as her husband—provided he found his voice.
“It is true—I had something very serious to say. I came to ask you whether you could—” All this time he was not so much as looking at her; his eyes were fixed20 dreamily and rather sadly upon the landscape, which somehow seemed so much more important than the speck21 of small humanity which he ought to have been addressing. But at this point Walter recollected22 himself, and came in as it were from the big, silent, observing world, to Katie, sitting expectant, divided between mockery and excitement, with a flush on her cheeks, but a contraction23 of her brows, and an angry yet smiling mischief24 in her eyes.
“To ask you,” he said, “whether you would—pass your life with me. I am not much worth the taking. There is a poor title, there is a family which we might restore and—emancipate perhaps. You are rich, it would be of no advantage to you. But at all events it would not be like asking you to banish25 yourself, to leave all you cared for. I have little to say for myself,” he went on after a pause with a little more energy, “you know me well enough. Whether I should ever be good for anything would—most likely—rest with you. I am at present under great depression—in trouble and fear—”
Here he came to another pause, and looked out upon the silent mountains and great breadths of vacant air in which there was nothing to help: then with a sigh turned again and held out his hand. “Will you have me—Katie?” he said.
Katie sat gazing at him with a wonder which had by degrees extinguished the sarcasm, the excitement, the expectation, that were in her face. She was almost awestricken by this strangest of all suits that could be addressed to a girl—a demand for herself which made no account of herself, and missed out love and every usual preliminary. It was serious indeed—as serious as death: more like that than the beginning of the most living of all links. She could not answer him with the indignation which in other circumstances she might have felt. It was too solemn for any ebullition of feeling. She felt overawed, little as this mood was congenial to her.
“Lord Erradeen,” she said, “you seem to be in great trouble.”
He made an affirmative movement of his head, but said no more.
“—Or you would not put such a strange question to me,” she went on. “Why should I have you? When a man offers himself to a girl he says it is because he loves her. You don’t love me—”
She made a momentary27 breathless pause with a half-hope of being interrupted; but save by a motion of his hand, Walter made no sign. “You don’t love me,” she went on with some vehemence28, “nor do you ask me to love you. Such a proposal might be an insult. But I don’t think you mean it as an insult.”
“Not that. You know better. Anything but that!”
“No—I don’t think it is that. But what is it then, Lord Erradeen?”
Her tone had a certain peremptory29 sound which touched the capricious spring by which the young man’s movements were regulated. He came to himself. “Miss Williamson,” he said, “when you ran away from me in London it was imminent30 that I should ask you this question. It was expected on all sides. You went away, I have always believed, to avoid it.”
“Why should it have been imminent? I went away,” cried Katie, forgetting the contradiction, “because some one came in who seemed to have a prior right. She is here now with the same meaning.”
“She has no prior right. She has no right at all, nor does she claim any,” he said hurriedly. “It is accident. Katie! had you stayed, all would have been determined31 then, and one leaf of bitter folly32 left out of my life.”
“Supposing it to be so,” she said calmly, “I am not responsible for your life, Lord Erradeen. Why should I be asked to step in and save you from—bitter folly or anything else? And this life that you offer me, are you sure it is fit for an honest girl to take? The old idea that a woman should be sacrificed to reform a man has gone out of fashion. Is that the r?le you want me to take up?” Katie cried, rising to her feet in her excitement. “Captain Underwood (whose word I would never take) said you were bad, unworthy a good woman. Is that true?”
“Yes,” he said in a low tone, “it is true.”
Katie gazed at him for a moment, and then in her excitement sat down and cried, covering her face with her hands. She it was, though she was not emotional, who was overcome with feeling. Walter stood gazing at her with a sort of stupefaction, seeing the scene pass with a sense that he was a spectator rather than an actor in it, his dark figure swaying slightly against the clearness of the landscape which took so strange a part in all that was happening. It had passed now altogether out of his hands.
As for Katie, it would be impossible to tell what sudden softening33, what pity, mingled34 with keen vexation and annoyance35, forced these tears from her eyes. Her heart revolted against him and melted towards him all at once. Her pride would not let her accept such a proposal; and yet she would have liked to accept him, to take him in hand, to be his providence36, and the moulder37 of his fate. A host of hurrying thoughts and sentiments rushed headlong through her mind. She had it in her to do it, better than any silly woman of the world, better than a creature of visionary soul like Oona. She was practical, she was strong, she could do it. But then all her pride rose up in arms. She wept a few hot impatient tears which were irrestrainable: then raised her head again.
“I am very sorry for you,” she said. “If you were my brother, Lord Erradeen, I would help you with all my might, or if I—cared for you more than you care for me. But I don’t,” she added after a pause.
He made an appealing, deprecating movement with his hands, but did not speak.
“I almost wish I did,” said Katie regretfully; “if I had been fond of you I should have said yes: for you are right in thinking I could do it. I should not have minded what went before. I should have taken you up and helped you on. I know that I could have done it; but then I am not—fond of you,” she said slowly. She did not look at him as she spoke38; but had he renewed his claim upon her, even with his eyes, Katie would have seen it, and might have allowed herself to be persuaded still. But Walter said nothing. He stood vaguely39 in the light, without a movement, accepting whatever she might choose to say. She remained silent for a time, waiting. And then Katie sprang to her feet again, all the more indignant and impatient that she had been so near yielding, had he but known. “Well!” she said, “is it I that am to maintain the conversation? Have you anything more to say, Lord Erradeen?”
“I suppose not,” he answered slowly. “I came to you hoping perhaps for deliverance, at least partial—for deliverance—Now that you will not, there is nothing for it but a struggle to the death.”
She looked at him with a sort of vertigo40 of amazement41. Not a word about her, no regret for losing her, not a touch of sentiment, of gratitude42, not even any notice of what she had said! The sensation of awe26 came back to her as she stood before this insensibility which was half sublime43. Was he mad? or a wretch44, an egotist, wanting a woman to do something for him, but without a thought for the woman?
“I am glad,” she said, with irrepressible displeasure, “that it affects you so little. And now I suppose the incident is over and we may return to our occupations. I was busy—with my housekeeping,” she said with a laugh. “One might sometimes call a struggle with one’s bills a struggle to the death.”
He gave her a look which was half-anger, half-remonstrance; and then to Katie’s amazement resumed in a moment the tone of easy intercourse45 which had always existed between them.
“You will find your bills refreshing46 after this highflown talk,” he said. “Forgive me. You know I am not given to romantic sentiment any more than yourself.”
“I don’t know,” said Katie, offended, “that I am less open to the romantic than other people when the right touch is given.”
“But it is not my hand that can give the right touch?” he said. “I accept my answer as there is nothing else for me to do. But I cannot abandon the country,” he added after a moment, “and I hope we may still meet as good friends.”
“Nothing has happened,” said Katie with dignity, “to lessen47 my friendship for you, Lord Erradeen.” She could not help putting a faint emphasis on the pronouns. The man rejected may dislike to meet the woman who has rejected him, but the woman can have no feeling in the matter. She held out her hand with a certain stateliness of dismissal. “Papa need not know,” she said, “and so there will be nothing more about it. Good-bye.”
Walter took her hand in his, with a momentary perception that perhaps there had been more than lay on the surface in this interview, on her side as well as his. He stooped down and kissed it respectfully, and even with something like tenderness. “You do not refuse it to me, in friendship, even after all you have heard?”
“It shall always be yours in friendship,” Katie said, the colour rising high in her face.
She was glad he went away without looking at her again. She sat down and listened to his footsteps along the long corridor and down the stairs with a curious sensation as if he carried something with him that would not return to her again. And for long after she sat in the broad daylight without moving, leaving the books upon the table—which were not housekeeping books—untouched—going over this strange interview, turning over all the past that had any connection with Lord Erradeen. It seemed all to roll out before her like a story that had been full of interest: and now here was the end of it. Such a fit of wistful sadness had seldom come over the active and practical intelligence of Katie. It gave her for the moment a new opening in nature. But by degrees her proper moods came back. She closed this poetical48 chapter with a sigh, and her sound mind took up with a more natural regret the opportunity for congenial effort which she had been compelled to give up. She said to herself that she would not have minded that vague badness which he had owned, and Underwood had accused him of. She could have brought him back. She had it in her to take the charge even of a man’s life. So she thought in inexperience, yet with the powerful confidence which so often is the best means of fulfilling triumphantly49 what it aims at. She would not have shrunk from the endeavour. She would have put her vigorous young will into his feeble one, she thought, and made him, with her force poured into him, a man indeed, contemptuous of all miserable50 temptations, able to sail over and despise them. As she mused51 her eyes took an eager look, her very fingers twitched52 with the wish to be doing. Had he come back then it is very possible that Katie would have announced to him her change of mind, her determination “to pull him through.” For she could have done it! she repeated to herself. Whatever his burdens had been, when she had once set her shoulder to the wheel she would have done it. Gambling53, wine, even the spells of such women as Katie blushed to think of—she would have shrunk before none of these. His deliverance would not have been partial, as he had said, but complete. She would have fought the very devils for him and brought him off. What a work it was that she had missed! not a mere54 commonplace marriage with nothing to do. But with a sigh Katie had to acknowledge that it was over. She could not have accepted him, she said, excusing herself to herself. It would have been impossible. A man who asks you like that, not even pretending to care for you—you could not do it! But, alas55! what an opportunity lost! Saying this she gave herself a shake, and smoothed her hair for luncheon56, and put the thought away from her resolutely57. Katie thought of Dante’s nameless sinner who made “the great refusal.” She had lost perhaps the one great opportunity of her life.
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1
beset
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| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
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tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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3
tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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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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5
abhorrent
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| adj.可恶的，可恨的，讨厌的 | |
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6
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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8
isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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prow
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| n.(飞机)机头，船头 | |
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10
reminders
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| n.令人回忆起…的东西( reminder的名词复数 )；提醒…的东西；（告知该做某事的）通知单；提示信 | |
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11
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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12
functionary
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| n.官员；公职人员 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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15
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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16
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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memorandum
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| n.备忘录，便笺 | |
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18
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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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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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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contraction
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| n.缩略词，缩写式，害病 | |
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24
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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25
banish
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| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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moulder
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| v.腐朽，崩碎 | |
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38
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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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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40
vertigo
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| n.眩晕 | |
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41
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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42
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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43
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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44
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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45
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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46
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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47
lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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48
poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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49
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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50
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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51
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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52
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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53
gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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54
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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55
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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56
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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57
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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