The cares of business sat lightly on this good man’s shoulders, and he could at any moment have retired5 with a large independence; but early habits and inclination6 kept him to the office, long after his daily presence there was unnecessary, and he wished to remain there until his son was old enough to take his place. His office hours, however, were very short, and when they were over he assiduously cultivated the society of painters and men of letters. Many a struggling artist had cause to bless his liberality. The walls of his house were decorated with some of the finest paintings of the period; and he loved nothing better than to add to his collection by discovering genius, and paying liberally for its works, long before the trumpet7 of fame had given those works a price in the market.
Although himself a strict man of business, he loved Bohemian society and Bohemian ways, always holding good-humouredly that it was the prerogative8 of artists and authors to play pranks9 denied to plain men like himself. His admiration10 for genius was quite simple and boy-like. In certain departments of literature, particularly in that of early English poetry, he had an almost special knowledge, gained in the course of his acquisition of a fine old-fashioned library; and nothing delighted him more than to communicate informally to the ‘Megatherium’ or to ‘Notes and Queries’ occasional notes and correspondence on the pet subjects of his study.
He had known White for years, and been his staunchest helper and benefactor11. Poor White, the best and kindliest fellow in the world, had neither the art of making money nor the knack12 of keeping it when it came; so that he was generally neck deep in difficulties, and would have sunk often in the quagmire13 of bankruptcy14 had no helping15 hand been near. As a painter he was not a genius; yet Forster bought his pictures, very often commissioning and paying for them long before they had taken shape on the easel. So that the gentle Bohemian had been heard more than once to exclaim that, in the course of his long heavenward pilgrimage, he had encountered only one guardian16 angel, and that angel was James Forster.
The day after the interview described in a recent chapter, White and Forster sat alone dining at a quiet table in the Junior Athen?um Club, of which the merchant was a member.
‘I am glad she has told you,’ said Forster quietly. ‘Yes, I have asked her to become my wife.’
White did not speak for some minutes, and his expression was very sad and scared.
‘I am very sorry,’ he murmured at last. ‘I can’t tell how sorry I am. I—I don’t know what to say, upon my soul. It is such an honour—such a surprise too—and you, God knows you are the best man in the world. But it can’t be. You had it from her own lips. She will never marry.’
White’s eyes were full of tears, and he gulped17 down a glass of wine in extreme emotion.
‘After all,’ he added eagerly, not meeting the other’s eyes, ‘she’s only a poor girl, and it wouldn’t be right for a man in your position to marry an actress.’
‘I never loved a woman before,’ returned the merchant, ‘and I know I shall never love again. My first marriage was not altogether a happy one, and I was driven more than led into it; but, thank God, I did my duty, and I have my boy. But I’m a lonely man—you don’t know how lonely, and I thought—I thought this might have been.’
‘I wish to God it could, I do with all my soul.’
‘I am sure of that.’
‘And oh, my dear Forster,’ cried White, almost sobbing18, ‘don’t fancy that my dear girl doesn’t value you at your worth. She knows how good you are. She knows what a friend you have been to us all, but—but——’
‘But she does not love me. Well, I could hardly dare to expect it.’
‘It’s not that. I swear it’s not that. As I’m a living man I believe she worships the very ground you tread on. “Dear Guardian,” she said to me last night, “I never was so happy and proud, and yet I never was so sad. Tell him how grateful I am, how gladly I would die to serve him—but as for marriage, you know it can never be.”’
‘Do you know that?’ asked Forster, looking keenly at his companion.
White’s face was pale as death.
‘I do know it.’
‘She will never marry?’
‘Never.’
I think I understand,’ said Forster, with a sigh of relief. ‘She has made up her mind to devote herself to her noble profession, and she believes, perhaps wisely, that a great artist should be free of all domestic ties. But do you think I am one of those idiots, those miserable19 moneybags, who account the profession of an actress a degradation20? She should never leave the stage, unless of her own wish and will. She should be encouraged, helped as far as a plain fellow like myself could help her—in all the aspirations21 of her art. I should glory in her success, and triumph in her triumph—I should indeed.’
White looked at the bright open face of Forster, and fairly wrung22 his hands in despair.
‘I wish it were possible,’ he groaned23. ‘For her sake, even more than yours.’
Forster leant over the table, and continued in rapid, eager tones.
‘If she loves another man, tell me, and I shall be satisfied. I don’t want to know his name, but if he is poor let me make him rich. More than anything in the world, even more than my own happiness, I seek her welfare. I love her, White, and mine is not a selfish love.’
‘You are wrong, dear friend. She loves no one else. Poor child! She has never known what love is, and she never will know it.’
Something in White’s manner at last awoke the other’s suspicion and wonder. The face of the poor fellow was so utterly24 forlorn, his words and gestures so extraordinary, that Forster began to share his agitation25.
‘There is some mystery. Cannot I know it?’ ‘Impossible. But you are right.’
‘Does it concern Madeline herself?’
‘Yes.’
‘Her friends and relations?’
‘No.’
‘For God’s sake, tell me—that is, if it can be told.’
White fell back in his chair, and let his hands drop heedlessly by his side, ‘It cannot be told. My poor darling! It is something in her past life.’
There he paused in despair. But Forster, himself trembling violently, touched him on the arm.
‘Her past life? What is that to me? I know nothing of it, and I seek to know nothing. If there is any page in her life she wishes me not to read, let her close the book; I will never ask her to open it. I love her too absolutely not to be content with what she is, the sweetest and purest woman I have ever known.’
‘You think her pure? So she is, God knows.’
‘I think she is worthy26 to be a queen. I think I am not worthy to tie her shoe-strings. But this does not prevent me loving her; it only makes my love something like idolatry. Don’t think that it is mere27 infatuation. I know my own mind well, and I shall never change.’
More followed in the same strain, but Forster did not succeed in eliciting28 any further explanation.
So White remained the very picture of misery29, and, with his eyes full of tears, wrung the merchant’s hand again and again, uttering wild professions of personal attachment30.
Some hours later they parted. White, with somewhat unsteady steps, for he had drunk liberally, made his way to his favourite club. Forster walked rapidly to Piccadilly, and, entering an omnibus, rode in sad reverie to South Kensington.
A footman in gorgeous livery admitted the plain man into his princely home; and along a lobby hung with choice pictures, up a staircase ornamented31 with some of the most perfect specimens32 of modern sculpture, he found his way to the drawing-room, where his sister Margaret was sitting in solitary33 state.
Margaret Forster was fresh and wholesome-looking like her brother, but her forehead was lower, her lips thinner and tighter, her whole expression colder, harder, and more respectable, and she wore much more gorgeous apparel She adored her brother and his child, with the quiet adoration34 of a frosty and impeccable well-dressed virgin35. In matters of religion she was very High Church, a staunch follower36 of the Rev3. Father Seraphin, of the Kensington Oratory37, and there was scarcely a day in the year on which she did not hear morning and evening mass.
‘You are late, James,’ she said as he entered. ‘I suppose you have dined?’
‘Yes, at the club. I have just time to dress for the theatre. Will you come and bring James? I have a box.’
‘What theatre, James?’
‘The Parthenon.’
‘What are they playing?’
‘Shakespeare’s “Cymbeline.”’
‘Why, James, you have seen that performance twice already to my knowledge,’ said Margaret, lifting her eyebrows38. ‘Is it so very good?’
‘So much so that I want you to see it again, and—and I want James to see it. The new actress is charming. But there is no time to lose, and the carriage will be at the door in half an hour.’
Margaret rose, smiling, well pleased at the attention of her brother, and passed upstairs to prepare her little nephew. Left alone in the drawing-room, Forster paced up and down in a somewhat gloomy brown study, muttering again and again to himself, and pausing from time to time to gaze into one of the great mirrors; he was not, however, gazing at his own reflection, though he seemed to be doing so—he was contemplating39 a visionary figure far away.
Later on in the evening, Forster, with his sister and his son, occupied a box in the Parthenon. They arrived late, and when they entered ‘Imogen’ was in the middle of her first parting with ‘Posthumus,’ but as she left the stage she glanced up and met Forster’s eyes. Margaret Forster saw that look, and in a moment her suspicions were awakened40. For the rest of the evening she was busily engaged, not following the play, but jealously watching her brother. As she did so, her face hardened and her eyes grew cold as steel; for she had discovered his secret.
The play ended, the curtain descended41, and in answer to the enthusiastic applause of the audience Imogen came before the curtain. Then Margaret Forster saw the actress glance up again with a smile of recognition.
They drove home and supped together in the great dining-room. Forster was generally a water-drinker, but on this occasion he ordered champagne42, and pressed his sister to partake of it with him. The wise virgin, who saw that something was coming, was not to be persuaded.
Presently Forster dismissed the footman in waiting; then, looking to Margaret with a bright but somewhat nervous smile he asked—
‘Well, how did you like her?’
‘Miss Vere? I think she is rather pretty and acts intelligently.’
‘Intelligently! She is a genius. Do take some champagne.’
Margaret shook her head. She saw that her brother was excited, and determined43 to keep cool. To try him, she changed the subject.
‘How pretty the Princess looked. I suppose the greyheaded gentleman with her was her father, the King of Denmark?’
‘Yes—but Miss Vere! How beautifully she spoke44 those lines at the mouth of the cave!’
‘I liked her best in the earlier portions of the play,’ returned Margaret quietly. ‘I have a prejudice against seeing women dressed up in male attire45. I suppose she is a modest woman, but—by the way, James, she seemed to recognise you? Do you know her?’
‘Yes.’
‘You cannot have met her in society?’
‘I was introduced to her by her guardian, White, the dramatic author. We have been acquainted for some time.’
‘Indeed!’ said Margaret, more coldly than ever.
She drew back her chair, and rose to go. ‘I am very tired. I think I will say good-night.’ ‘Don’t go yet,’ exclaimed Forster. ‘I—I want to talk to you.’
‘Yes?’
‘About Miss Vere.’ Then he continued, nervously46 and hurriedly, ‘I have not only a great respect for her, Margaret, but a stronger feeling. I should have spoken to you concerning her before, but I had certain reasons for keeping silence. Now I think you ought to know everything. I have asked her to marry me.’
Margaret Forster gazed at her brother in horror. Her face went ghastly pale, and she felt as if a sharp knife had stabbed her to the heart.
‘You cannot be serious!’ she cried.
‘Quite serious!’
‘My dear James, you are joking with me. I will never believe you capable of such folly47.’
‘You think it is folly to marry again?’
‘That is for you to determine, James; but whenever you marry, you will at least marry a lady.’
Forster’s face darkened. ‘He knew his sister’s strong prepossessions on certain subjects, but he hardly expected so decided48 an opposition49, ‘Listen to me, Margaret,’ he said firmly; ‘and before we go further let me beseech50 you, for my sake, to refrain from saying anything offensive concerning Miss Vere. Understand me clearly. I love her—deeply, passionately51; and with a man at my age, love means the highest sort of respect. She is as far my superior in every gift of nature as I, perhaps, am hers in worldly position.’
He paused, but Margaret made no sign. She kept her cold eyes fixed52 upon his face, as if fascinated by the horror of a degrading confession53; but her pulses temperately54 kept time, and her self-control was perfect.
Then he continued:—
‘I repeat, that I ought possibly to have consulted you earlier on this subject, and I am not at all astonished at your surprise. I never thought to have married a second time. My first experience, as you know, was not encouraging, and since her death you have made my home very happy. My dear Margaret, forgive me if I have seemed unkind, but setting aside the reasons to which I have alluded55, I thought it better not to speak of this until I had spoken to Miss Vere. Well, I have spoken, and I thought you ought to know the result. That is why I took you to the theatre. That is why I have spoken.’
He paused again. This time his sister replied—
‘Of course, James, you are your own master. I have no right to object.’
‘That is not the question,’ he cried impatiently. ‘I should certainly take no important step in life without consulting you. I am to understand, then, that you object?’
‘Most certainly.’
‘To my marrying?’
‘No, James. To your marrying a person in Miss Vere’s position.’
Forster rose to his feet with an angry exclamation56.
‘Her position is as good as mine. I am a clod, she is a genius.’
‘She is not a lady,’ returned Margaret, compressing her lips firmly.
‘Good heavens, what do you mean? There is not a whisper against her, she is divinely gifted, all the world is raving57 about her. Not a lady! she is a queen!’
Margaret smiled—a cold sickly smile of supreme58 feminine pity. Irritated by the smile, and driven out of his usual reticence59 by the wine he had taken at supper, Forster took a rapid turn round the room, and then, turning back to his sister, cried in a voice broken with agitation—
II thought you above these shameful60 prejudices. The profession of an actress is one of the noblest under the sun. The same insane bigotry61 which still pursues theatrical62 performers persecuted63 until lately all the arts, literature and painting more particularly. At the bottom of it all is the Church—the Church which denied Adrienne Lecouvreur Christian64 burial, and which from the beginning of time has been the enemy of light, freedom, knowledge.’
He was going on in the same strain when his sister quietly interfered—
‘My dear James, how absurd! I am very fond of the theatre, as you know.’
‘But you despise those who act.’
‘Nothing of the kind. I only desire to see them in their proper place in society.’
‘Where is that, pray?’
‘Among themselves—in their own artistic65 world. In point of fact, they are much happier there.’
‘Stop a moment, Margaret,’ said Forster, with a short, excited laugh. ‘You speak of their world. What is mine? To what sphere do I belong?’
‘You? My dear James, you are a merchant and a gentleman.’
‘I am a tradesman, Margaret, received in certain circles because I have so much money, rejected in others because I have neither the birth nor the breeding of an aristocrat66. The same measure you mete67 to Miss Vere is meted68 to me—to you also—by those who affect to be our social superiors. What nonsense it all is! What d—d nonsense!’
Margaret Forster shuddered69. She had never before in her life heard her brother swear, and his use of even so mild an oath showed the situation to be desperate. She went up to him gently, and put her cheek for his goodnight salute70.
‘I think I had better go now,’ she said. ‘We are both tired, and if you are really in earnest, we can talk it over to-morrow. Good-night, James.’
‘Good-night,’ returned Forster, just touching71 her cheek with his lips. ‘But don’t go till you have heard me out, I have told you that I love Miss Vere, and that I have proposed to her, but there is something more.’
‘Yes?’
‘She has refused me—that is all.’
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收听单词发音
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1
widower
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| n.鳏夫 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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rev
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| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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5
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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prerogative
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| n.特权 | |
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pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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benefactor
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| n. 恩人，行善的人，捐助人 | |
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knack
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| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
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quagmire
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| n.沼地 | |
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bankruptcy
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| n.破产；无偿付能力 | |
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15
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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17
gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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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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22
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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23
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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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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eliciting
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| n. 诱发, 引出 动词elicit的现在分词形式 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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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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adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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follower
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| n.跟随者；随员；门徒；信徒 | |
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oratory
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| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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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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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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48
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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beseech
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| v.祈求，恳求 | |
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51
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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52
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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53
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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temperately
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| adv.节制地，适度地 | |
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55
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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57
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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58
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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59
reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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61
bigotry
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| n.偏见，偏执，持偏见的行为[态度]等 | |
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62
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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63
persecuted
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| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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64
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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65
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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66
aristocrat
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| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
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67
mete
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| v.分配；给予 | |
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68
meted
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| v.（对某人）施以，给予（处罚等）( mete的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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70
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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71
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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