Those letters, those early memorials, the very thought of which had once inspired dread8, now drew her like a magnet. Scarcely could she give herself to the necessary facts of life, so impatiently did she long for those solitary9 hours in his room, with him!
Every trifling10 note of his was pored over, dreamt upon in its turn. She had it in her to have lingered days upon a single line. Yet there was the sweetness of a tender surprise in every fresh sheet she took into her hands. And now it was her first "love letter" that she held.
It had come to her in the morning after their meeting in the salt wind, amid the gorse; had been brought to her—in the ugly top bedroom—on a basket brimming over with flowers. She could see them again, breathe them again: hot-house roses, languid-white and heavy-headed yellow, a huge clump11 of heliotrope12, lily of the valley bound by its pale green sheaths, sharp-scented, waxen ... then the narcissus, the jonquil, the darling commoner herd13 of spring things that had pushed their way in the open gardens! All this to Rosamond, starved of beauty, Rosamond who was wont14 to fill her vases with the budding boughs15 that the hedges give the gardenless! She had buried her face in the velvet16 coolness, drawn17 in the perfume as if she was drawing in the loveliness to her soul. Through the waste of those ten years she could again feel the touch of the petals18 on her cheek—she was back again, back again in her maidenhood19 and held her first love letter between her hands. Was it possible that the faded nondescript leaf that fell from between its pages had once been part of that exquisite20 basketful that could still bloom for her?
DARLING (wrote Harry21 English)—these are all I can send you. I wanted to send you roses, love, worthy22 of my Rose, the only Rose, of Rosamond, Rose of the World! I half dreamed of them last night, red, red, glowing, deep-scented like my love for you. I can find nothing but these pale mawkish23 things, far though I have hunted this morning! ...
This morning—and it was now but nine o'clock. How early he must have risen! It was not the Rosamond, the hard young untouched Rosamond of those old days, who thought thus with a mist before the eyes; it was the new Rosamond whose heart was beginning to teach her so many things.
Early had the lover risen indeed!
I could not sleep (went on the letter) for sheer tumult24 of happiness. I saw the dawn break over the water out on the sea bastion of this old fort. The sea was quite wrapt in mist, and I and my heart seemed first alone high up in the air, with the wash of the invisible waters below and the restless tapping of the flag line on the staff over my head. And then the dawn came. It seemed to me the first dawn I had ever beheld25, I, who have marched through many an Indian night and seen such fires as England never dreams of. But I look upon the world with new eyes. The meaning of things has become clear to me. I never saw beauty before I saw you; and through you, all other beauty is fulfilled to me. Grey and dove-coloured and pearl, faint roses and yellows and opals—the mists first became impregnated with all lovely tints26 and then rolled away. Then there was a straight ray of sun across the sea at my feet, and the water was gold and green. Glorious! Why do I write all this to you? I have never even thought of such things before. Will you laugh at me? I, who have known you for such a little while? But I have waited for you all the years of my manhood—this much I know at least. And you, who are the meaning of everything to me now, you will know the meaning of my heart.
All the meaning of her lover to Rosamond Tempest, in the top room over the straggling back garden, had been that he was her deliverer from an existence of utter negation28. She had read his words with the same pleasure with which she had gazed upon his flowers, inhaled29 their fragrance30: it had represented a new atmosphere of colour and beauty!
But now, as she bent31 over that faded leaf and read those vivid words from a hand long dust, her whole being gave itself responsive to the love that still spoke32.
* * * * *
In the garden below, under the nipped frost-bitten leaves, Aspasia poked33 about for hidden violets. From its bare brown stalks she had already culled34 the last dwindled35 chrysanthemum36. When Rosamond and she, in the marshalled palace of Sir Arthur, had planned this homely37 occupation, it had seemed an almost deliriously38 joyful39 prospect40 of freedom. Now, such is the futility41 of the granted wish, Aspasia, as she flicked42 with impatient fingers among the wet foliage43, was a prey44 to that abandonment of melancholy45 which is rarely known in its perfection after twenty. Indeed, poor Baby's outlook upon the world that December noon was a pitiable one. The only man she could have loved was dead before she had even known him! Another man, whom she was certain she could never have cared for, displayed the most reprehensible46 indifference47 as to whether he were as much as remembered. And those wonderful piano recitals48 of the gifted young genius, Miss Aspasia Cuningham, seemed hopelessly remote.
She could not even muster49 a smile for the kitten as it suddenly cantered across the path, every individual hair bristling50, body contorted, and legs stiffened51, to box a hanging leaf and fall prone52 on its back with four paws wildly beating the air. The very kitten was part of the general unsatisfactoriness of things. When she did have the heart to play with it, it was never to be found: but it had a Puck-like knowledge of the ripe moment when to mock her misery53.
Indeed, the claims of the eager young life were somewhat neglected in this old home of dreams.
Aspasia walked, in royal dignity of dolour, back to the house, set the violets in two shallow vases, and the chrysanthemum in a high narrow one. She placed the portable easel upon the open leaf of the grand piano; she detached from its panel the portrait of Captain English with the sad stern face, propped54 it on the easel, arranged her flowers round it, all with the solemn air of one going through a religious rite27. Then she sat down, heaved a noisy sigh from the depth of her little round chest, and began to play those throbbing55 strains of passion, yearning56 disappointment, and sorrow that, the legend says, came to Chopin one day, through the beat of raindrops against his window panes57, as he waited for her who failed him.
Baby had begun to find out that even in so serious an art as music those paltry58 things, the emotions, will insist on finding expression. She was in a very pretty state of artistic59 woe60 when, with a sudden discord61, the love notes fell mute. From the shadowy window-seat a tall figure had risen and come forward: eyes, ablaze62 with anger, were fixed63 upon her from a white and threatening face.
"Aunt Rosamond! ..." stammered64 the girl, too much startled to do anything but sit and stare.
"How dare you?" said Lady Gerardine, in a low voice, hardly above a whisper indeed, but charged with intense anger. She walked up to the piano and stood looking a second at the altar-like arrangement; then her eyes returned to Aspasia, who now blushed violently, guiltily, in spite of an irrepressible childish desire to giggle65.
"You shameless girl!" said Rosamond. "How dare you! What have you to do with him?" She took up the picture. "He is mine," she said, "mine only!" Then, holding it clasped to her breast, she swept from the room.
"Upon my word!" said Miss Aspasia. "Good gracious goodness me!" Resentment66 got the better of amusement; her cheeks were flaming scarlet67, she struck a series of defiant68 chords, as a sort of war cry in pursuit of the retreating figure. "Shameless girl, indeed; I've as much right to him, by this time, as anybody else, I should think. In heaven there's no marriage or giving in marriage ... and, if it comes to that, what about Runkle then?"
She plunged69 into the noisiest, most dishevelled Wagner-Liszt piece of her repertory; crashed, banged, and pounded till the staid old manor-house seemed to ring with amazement70, and the exasperated71 player, with flying hands, loosened hair, empurpled countenance72, and panting breath, could hardly keep her seat in the midst of her own gymnastics.
Henceforth there was one room in the manor-house without its presiding picture. And, opposite Rosamond's bed, where the tender child's face had once watched the mother's slumbers73, the soldier now looked down sternly and sadly upon the wife.
点击收听单词发音
1 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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2 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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3 recluse | |
n.隐居者 | |
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4 heeded | |
v.听某人的劝告,听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 );变平,使(某物)变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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5 heed | |
v.注意,留意;n.注意,留心 | |
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6 attic | |
n.顶楼,屋顶室 | |
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7 poignant | |
adj.令人痛苦的,辛酸的,惨痛的 | |
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8 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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9 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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10 trifling | |
adj.微不足道的;没什么价值的 | |
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11 clump | |
n.树丛,草丛;vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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12 heliotrope | |
n.天芥菜;淡紫色 | |
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13 herd | |
n.兽群,牧群;vt.使集中,把…赶在一起 | |
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14 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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15 boughs | |
大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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16 velvet | |
n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
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17 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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18 petals | |
n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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19 maidenhood | |
n. 处女性, 处女时代 | |
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20 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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21 harry | |
vt.掠夺,蹂躏,使苦恼 | |
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22 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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23 mawkish | |
adj.多愁善感的的;无味的 | |
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24 tumult | |
n.喧哗;激动,混乱;吵闹 | |
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25 beheld | |
v.看,注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 );瞧;看呀;(叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现)哎哟 | |
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26 tints | |
色彩( tint的名词复数 ); 带白的颜色; (淡色)染发剂; 痕迹 | |
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27 rite | |
n.典礼,惯例,习俗 | |
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28 negation | |
n.否定;否认 | |
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29 inhaled | |
v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30 fragrance | |
n.芬芳,香味,香气 | |
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31 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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32 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 | |
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33 poked | |
v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 );戳出;拨弄;与(某人)性交 | |
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34 culled | |
v.挑选,剔除( cull的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35 dwindled | |
v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36 chrysanthemum | |
n.菊,菊花 | |
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37 homely | |
adj.家常的,简朴的;不漂亮的 | |
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38 deliriously | |
adv.谵妄(性);发狂;极度兴奋/亢奋;说胡话 | |
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39 joyful | |
adj.欢乐的,令人欢欣的 | |
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40 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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41 futility | |
n.无用 | |
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42 flicked | |
(尤指用手指或手快速地)轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 ); (用…)轻挥; (快速地)按开关; 向…笑了一下(或瞥了一眼等) | |
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43 foliage | |
n.叶子,树叶,簇叶 | |
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44 prey | |
n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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45 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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46 reprehensible | |
adj.该受责备的 | |
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47 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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48 recitals | |
n.独唱会( recital的名词复数 );独奏会;小型音乐会、舞蹈表演会等;一系列事件等的详述 | |
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49 muster | |
v.集合,收集,鼓起,激起;n.集合,检阅,集合人员,点名册 | |
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50 bristling | |
a.竖立的 | |
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51 stiffened | |
加强的 | |
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52 prone | |
adj.(to)易于…的,很可能…的;俯卧的 | |
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53 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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54 propped | |
支撑,支持,维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55 throbbing | |
a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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56 yearning | |
a.渴望的;向往的;怀念的 | |
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57 panes | |
窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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58 paltry | |
adj.无价值的,微不足道的 | |
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59 artistic | |
adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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60 woe | |
n.悲哀,苦痛,不幸,困难;int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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61 discord | |
n.不和,意见不合,争论,(音乐)不和谐 | |
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62 ablaze | |
adj.着火的,燃烧的;闪耀的,灯火辉煌的 | |
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63 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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64 stammered | |
v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65 giggle | |
n.痴笑,咯咯地笑;v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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66 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
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67 scarlet | |
n.深红色,绯红色,红衣;adj.绯红色的 | |
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68 defiant | |
adj.无礼的,挑战的 | |
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69 plunged | |
v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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70 amazement | |
n.惊奇,惊讶 | |
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71 exasperated | |
adj.恼怒的 | |
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72 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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73 slumbers | |
睡眠,安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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