“Mother,” he cried, looking up at those eyes which had returned, and were fixed19 upon him,—“mother, I am your son! My father is dead and undisturbed in his grave; he has sent me to his wife. It is I, it is no other. He is with the saints, where there are no names. It is I who am Sermoneta; mother! Oh, heaven, does she not hear me? will she not hear me? It was I, only I. It was Luigi, Countess! If I must not bear your name, I must bear my own. I say it was I, not my father, who can neither do evil nor endure it,—me, either Luigi Sermoneta or Lewis Mortimer, as you will,—your son!”
It is impossible to describe the effect this had upon us all. Aunt Milly burst forth20 into weeping, convulsive, and not to be restrained. Poor Carson’s bosom21 heaved with silent sobs22. Luigi, who had risen up as he said these last words, stood erect23 in a passionate24 self-assertion and defence before his miserable25 mother. Even she changed under this sudden blaze of revelation. She sat up in her chair, and grew more human; her rigid26 head began to tremble, her dread-eyes to lose their horror. Now it was no longer that mad ghastly stare with which she regarded the young man before her. She looked at him, leaning forward, slowly recovering her powers. Some convulsive gasps28 or sobs in her throat alone interrupted this pause of terrible silence. She looked at him, from head to foot, with a slow,{339} dismal29 scrutiny30. Only once before in her life had she met him face to face; then she had been strong enough to send him away and disown him. Now, perforce, the mother looked at her son. The young man trembled under that steady gaze; he held out his hands, and cried out “Mother!” as if all the eloquence31 in the world lay in that word. She continued perusing32 him all over with that slow examination. Gradually she returned to be herself again. Not changed, not subdued33! Out of that death and agony there came forth, not a repentant34 woman, but Sarah Mortimer, a creature who would not believe in everlasting35 truth and justice—not though one should rise from the dead.
“If you are Count Sermoneta,” she said, with all her old expression, pausing between the words to get strength, but speaking in her usual voice, “how do you dare come to me and offer what your father refused? Impostor! you shall never, never, never sit in my father’s place! I disown you. I—I have nothing to do with you. What! would you kill me again?”
Here I interposed; I could not help myself. My very soul sickened at her. I came forward, without knowing what I was doing. “Let her alone,” I cried out, “don’t say anything. She has died and come alive again, and is no better. Do you think you can move her? Oh, Aunt Milly, it is your part now. Take him away out of her sight, leave her alone in her wretchedness. Can you bear to see her smiling there?—smiling at us! She is dead, and it is a devil that has come into her frame!”
“Milly, hush36, hush, you are mad,” cried Sara Cresswell, behind me; but Aunt Milly did not think I was mad. She came and put her arm into Luigi’s, her tears driven away by horror and indignation. “As sure as God sees us all,” cried Aunt Milly, “I will do you justice. Come away from her, as Milly, says. You make her wickeder and wickeder—Oh, wickeder than she really is! Oh, Sarah,” she cried out, turning suddenly round, “is it true?—is he your son?”
Miss Mortimer said nothing;—the very colour had returned to her face. Her head trembled excessively, but she had forced some frightful37 caricature of a smile upon her lip. She held out her hand and pointed at them in a kind of derision. “You were always a fool,” she said at last, with a gasp27. Aunt Milly did not wait or hesitate any longer. She was possessed38, like me, with a sudden impatience and intolerance of that inhuman{340} hard-heartedness. She went away hastily out of the room, drawing Luigi with her. Miss Mortimer listened to the sound of their steps till it had quite died away. Then she turned round to Carson with some instinctive39 confession40 of weakness at last. Their eyes met; but even Carson could no longer receive this dreadful confidence. She stumbled back from her mistress with a cry. “I cannot, I cannot!” cried Carson, “anything but this. I held him in my arms a baby, and I’ll never disown him, if I was to die.” As her mistress turned round upon her, Carson retreated back till she came to the wall, and stood there, fixed and desperate, holding up her hands as if to keep off those pursuing eyes. “Whatever you please!” cried Carson, “but not to disown him as I dressed the first day he was in this world. No! not for no payment nor coaxing41! I’ve served you faithful all times and seasons, but I’ll not do no more, not if I was to die!”
Miss Mortimer sat gazing at her rebellious42 maid. What no other appeal could do this did. She sank into the frail43 old woman she was, as she gazed at Carson, who had forsaken44 her. She broke forth into feeble, passionate tears. She could bear to send her son away from her, but she could not bear to lose her faithful companion and attendant of forty years. “Carson!” cried the broken voice, in a tone of absolute despair. Then Miss Mortimer rose up. I ran forward to her in terror, and so did Sara, but she waved us both away, steadied herself, cast a long look upon the woman who stood trembling against the wall, and slowly turned to make her way out of the room. She walked like some one upon whom sudden blindness had fallen, wavering, stopping to steady herself, putting out her hand to pilot the way, groping through the piercing daylight that penetrated45 every corner of the room. We followed her, trembling and terrified. As she went slowly through the long room, heavy sobs came from her poor breast, sobs of which she was not conscious; her muslin scarf had been torn and crushed in her dreadful faint, if it was a faint, and hung all dishevelled from her shoulders. One hand hung loosely down by her side, the other she groped with as she made her way. Now and then she moaned aloud. Oh, miserable forsaken creature! there had been still one link of life to hold her on to the living world.
We went after her, silent, hushing our very steps lest she should turn upon us, and watching with a perfect awe46 of wonder how she steered47 herself through the room; she stumbled on the stair, but still rejected any assistance. All the way up{341} she went forlorn, accepting no support. When we reached her door, I rushed forward not to let her shut me out. “Let me be your maid to-night,” I cried out, laying my hand upon hers. Her hand made me shiver; it was cold, as if it had actually been dead. She pushed me back, not looking at me, and shut the door. What she did, or how she sustained herself in that vacant room, we could see no longer. Sara and I, arrested at the door, turned and looked into each other’s faces. Sara broke out into the passionate tears of excitement and agitation which could be restrained no longer. “She will kill herself!” cried Sara. “Oh, godmamma, let me in, let me in. I will never cross you or trouble you. I will wait upon you night and day, godmamma!” No answer came. We tried to open the door, but she had fastened it. We could do nothing but leave her alone in this dreadful solitude48. For a little while a rustling49 sound of motion was in the room, and still those pathetic, unconscious moans breaking at intervals50 into the silence. But after a while all became still. She had not fainted or fallen, for we should have heard her. She made no answer to our entreaties—dead silence reigned52 in the room where that living spirit, with all its dread forces and passions, palpitated within its veil of worn-out flesh. I could imagine her taking possession of that dreadful solitude, losing at a blow far more than reputation or fair-fame, all that made her life tolerable to her, entering upon a new, unthought of, murderous purgatory53. We could not make up our minds to leave that closed door. Sara was still crying, and almost hysterical54 with her long strain of excitement. I made her go into the neighbouring room, where Lizzie was with my boy, while I ran downstairs for Aunt Milly. Oh, what a contrast it was! I snatched little Harry55 into my arms to kiss him, and went away again, with a pity, I cannot describe, past the door where that dreadful forsaken woman lay alone in the silence. I could not bear it. God alone knew how she had sinned; but to leave her thus deserted56 in her misery57 was not in the heart of man.
I ran downstairs very hastily without waiting to think—at the foot of the stairs Carson stood crying. She gasped58 out an inquiry at me which was not audible at first. “Is she alone? alone? alone? Will nobody stay with her?” cried Carson. “Oh, ma’am, my missis will never let me near her again! I know it’s no use trying; but, for the love of mercy, let somebody get into the room! There’s poisons and all sorts there. God forgive me! couldn’t I have held my tongue?” cried the poor woman, in an agony of terror. I was angry with her in{342} the impatience of my thoughts. I did not consider for how many long years Carson had endured all.
“But why can’t you go up now? try if she will let you in; she is fond of you, Carson,” said I. “Oh, go, go, and try.”
“She’ll never look at me more,” said Carson with mournful certainty; “but I’ll go, I’ll try. If it was at the end of the world, I’d go; but she’ll never see me again.” The poor woman went upstairs saying this over to herself, and dreadful as it was to think so, I was certain she was right.
And I went on to the library where Aunt Milly was. She had forgotten her sister. She was listening, with a glowing face, with tears, and outcries, and lamentations, to the tale Luigi told her. Some papers were lying before them, and a miniature, which caught my eye even at such a moment—a picture of a lovely fair woman, imperious and splendid. I cannot say that it bore any resemblance to the wretched, solitary59 creature upstairs; but I knew it was Sarah Mortimer,—Sarah Mortimer, unkind, untrue, a woman making no account of love or tenderness; but not the Sarah Mortimer who had delivered herself to the devil, and turned her back upon nature. I pointed at it unconsciously in my excitement. It was easier than naming her name.
“Do you know she is alone upstairs, by herself?” cried I, “perhaps dying, and nobody with her! Aunt Milly, you are her sister. She will neither let us in, nor answer us. You have a right to go to her. There are all kinds of dangerous things in the room—she might die!”
“But Carson—Carson is there,” cried Aunt Milly, grasping my hand, to bring me to myself. “My dear, Carson is a better companion than either you or me.”
“But Carson has gone,” I cried, “Carson will never be with her any more. Hush! was that a sound upstairs? Come, I entreat51 you! She is all alone, quite alone, not a creature with her. It is heartrending to think what she is doing there—come! come!”
Aunt Milly stood perplexed60. She could not comprehend Carson’s absence, and I might have had a long account of the whole matter to go through had not Luigi come to my assistance. He took her hand hurriedly, and pressed it in his own.
“My aunt, I can wait,” said Luigi, “and I will till there is time for me; but my mother, my mother is——”
Aunt Milly started, and understood all in a moment. His{343} mother, the unfortunate wretched woman who had disowned and rejected him—no need for over-much explaining, or setting-forth of all the darker shades of the picture to show her wretchedness. Nature and she had parted company, and there was nothing too dreadful that might not befall her in the fatal silence of that secluded61 room.
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1
revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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2
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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3
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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4
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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5
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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6
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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7
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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8
imperatively
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| adv.命令式地 | |
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imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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10
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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11
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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12
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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13
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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14
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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15
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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16
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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17
babbling
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| n.胡说，婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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18
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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19
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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20
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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21
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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22
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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23
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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24
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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25
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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26
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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27
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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29
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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30
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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31
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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32
perusing
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的现在分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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33
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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34
repentant
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| adj.对…感到悔恨的 | |
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35
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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36
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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37
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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38
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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39
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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40
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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41
coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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42
rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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43
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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44
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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45
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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46
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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47
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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48
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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49
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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50
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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51
entreat
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| v.恳求，恳请 | |
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52
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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53
purgatory
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| n.炼狱；苦难；adj.净化的，清洗的 | |
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54
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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55
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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56
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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57
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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58
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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59
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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60
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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61
secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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