And when later, by almost imperceptible steps, we drew the gentle creature back to health, the singular phenomenon persisted.
We physicians are, of course, accustomed in similar circumstances, to find a strong distaste in the patient suffering from shock to any effort of memory. Memory, indeed, by one of those marvellous dispensations of nature, is reluctant to bring back the events which have caused the mischief7. But, with the beautiful Lady G—— (it is always thus I must recall her) there was something more than the mere8 recoil9 of weakness....
On e?t pu croire que cette am ebrisée de passion, abreuvée de douleur, s'était dit qu'elle n'en voulait plus; qu'elle n'en pouvait plus. Co n'était pas, ici, les souvenirs, qui faisaient défaut. Je l'ai trop observée pour m'y méprendre. En avait-elle des souvenirs et d'assez poignants, mon Dieu! ... But with a strength of will which surprised me in her state, she put these memories from her and deliberately10 lived in the present. Elle goutait son présent, elle savourait la paix voluptueuse de sa convalescence11....
Je n'ai qu'à fermer les yeux, pour la revoir, sur son lit—longue, blanche et belle12. Je revois ce jeune teint—divinement jeune sous cette grande chevelure d'argent; cet air de lys au soleil, à la fois languissant et mystérieusement heureux. Ces yeux noyés dans une pensée profonde. Ces lévres entr'ouvertes par5 un léger sourire. A qui rêvaitelle—à quoi? Cette belle bouche muette n'en soufflait jamais mot....
Of the three who had loved her, for whom was that smile? Certes, not for the poor Sir! And of the other two? (I must here frankly13 set down the humiliating admission, to me, that woman was, and remains14 Sphynx—yes, Sphynx, even to me, her physician, who beheld15 her, watched, tended her, through all those moments of suffering, weakness, défaillance where the soul reveals itself.) Which of the two, then, reigned16 in her secret dream? The sardonic17 Major, who had tracked her till she could escape him no longer, whose love was merciless. There are women, and many, who would never know passion but for defeat. The husband? The reincarnated18 ghost? Well reincarnated, that one!—The most virile19 type that I ever met. Nature of fire, born lover, under all his reticence20 of English gentleman and soldier. I have seen that face of his, half bronze, half marble, grow crimson21 and white within the minute, as I spoke22 to him of the woman, the while there would not be a tremble in the hand that held this pipe. I will confess he had all my sympathy; he was worthy23 of her. But she—why, to this day I ask myself: does the man who possesses her know the secret of her heart?
The day after the damaged motor had carried away the poor Governor—machine détraquée, clopin-clopant, symbole de cette vie qui jusqu'ici semblait rouler en triomphe et qui, desormais, se trainera si gauchement—the day following Sir G——'s departure, I say, the Major B—— also left. It was the very least he could have done. And after the astounding24 fact of his betrothal25 to the pretty little Miss C——, I myself felt his presence antipathetic.... Ah, but a strategist, that officer of Guides, strategist of the first order! A masterly move, that betrothal, to disarm26 any possible suspicion of his friend and keep the while a footing in his beloved's house! But the little one, she deserved better ... delicieuse enfant! With what innocent eyes she looked at me when I told her that, above all things, she must not whisper to my patient a word of her engagement. "Understand well, Miss," said I to her; and was ashamed of myself thus to join with him who was deceiving her. "It is because the least agitation27, even a happy one, must be avoided." "Ah, that is why," said she, "you will not let her poor husband go to her?" "That is why," I replied, dissembling, "above all things, above all things, she must not be hurried."
* * * * *
She must not be hurried!
"If she wants me?" had said Harry28 English to Dr. Chatelard, in that dawn hour of dire29 omen6.
"My dear sir," had answered the other, "immediately, of course!"
Rosamond lay, restored to those that loved her, a pale rose among her white tresses, and Harry English still waited her summons.
Still waiting!
* * * * *
"Above all," repeated the genial30 physician, who had stood by them so stoutly31 in their hour of trouble, as he took his reluctant departure from a house where his presence was, obviously, no longer needed, and where yet—unfortunate psychologist—he had failed to probe the story to the core, "above all, she must not be hurried!"
These were his farewell instructions.
It seemed to him that the patient husband had a strange smile on hearing this admonition.
"How much does he know?" asked Chatelard of himself, clinging with characteristic pertinacity32 to his peculiar33 interpretation34 of events. "How much does he suspect?"
Never before, perhaps, had the active-minded and gregarious35 Frenchman found himself thus regretting the prospect36 of a return to the congenial movement of his native city. But it was with a definite sense of reluctance37 that, on this March morning, he drove away through the budding orchard38 trees, leaving the Old Ancient House and all the desolate39 moorland behind him. This lonely antique habitation still held close the enigma40 of lives in which he had become deeply interested—interested, not only with that vivid intelligence which was ever eager to know, but with the warmth of a very excellent heart.
He would dearly have loved to know, true; but, above all, he would dearly have loved to help.
"Eh, Dieu sait," he sighed, as the fly jingled41 and bumbled over the grass-grown avenue, "Dieu sait ce qui va se passer là-bas, maintenant que je n'y suis plus!"
He gave a lingering look at the twisted chimney-stacks against the pale sky, before setting his face for Paris, Ville Lumière, once more.
* * * * *
"She must not be hurried!—Until she asks for me; then," had resolved Harry English, "I will wait."
And at first, indeed, it seemed as if the waiting could not be hard. For with the young year had come new hopes to the Old Ancient House. And with Rosamond turning to life in her room upstairs under the gables, he who loved her could well afford to sit with patience below.
Yet time went by, and the summons came not.
Upon that first blessed morning, indeed, when after all these long days she had awakened42 at last, and looked upon the world with seeing eyes once more, Rosamond had whispered to Aspasia:
"Harry—is he here?"
The girl's heart had leaped with joy.
"Yes," came her eager answer. "Will you see him?"
Like a little Mercury, one foot poised43, hand outstretched to grasp the happy moment, Aspasia stood ready to take flight upon her errand of comfort. But the pale woman in the bed shrank. The old shy withdrawal44 from the thought of emotion—as once from sorrow, now from joy—seemed to be upon her.
"Not yet," she faintly sighed.
And, day by day, the singular little scene was re-enacted. In defiance45 of doctor's orders, Baby—with the sense of that other's hungry disappointment heavy upon her heart—would put her query46 ever more pleadingly:
"Will you not see him? Can you not see him? May it not be for to-day?"
But ever would come the same reply, while the lids sank over the timid eyes, and colour mounted slowly in the transparent47 face:
"Not yet."
Then the woman would fall back into her secret dream, lying hours in that quietude at which her physician marvelled48, while he welcomed its healing power. It was a pause in life. So the young mother may lie and hold her infant in her languid arms and be happy because of its very weakness and incompleteness; and deem it more safely her own that it has yet no speech for her, no will to meet hers, even no power of love with which to answer hers.
It is harder to be patient in happiness than in sorrow. These days of waiting began to tell upon Harry English more than all the years had done.
Yet it was idle to say: "She must not be hurried," since time marches with us all, whether we will or no; and with time, the events which change our destiny. The most guarded being cannot escape the influence of those lives with which Fate has thrown his fortune, and Rosamond was destined49 at last to be shaken out of her dreams by the combined energies of other fortunes.
M. Chatelard had been gone some time. The green buds were swelling50 over the March land. The convalescent had been promoted to her armchair for an hour or two daily, when a telegram summoned Harry English to London.
Bethune had undertaken all the preliminary official steps for his friend. Now the moment could not be delayed when the missing officer must give his personal explanations. The excuse of his wife's danger could no longer be maintained for his absence: he had to leave the Old House without having seen her again.
For two mornings after his departure Baby entered her aunt's room to find her lying among a bower52 of flowers. The husband was pleading for himself, wooing his love, for the third time. At first he sent no word with his gift, but let these most gracious messengers speak in fragrance53. Aspasia was wise enough to hold her tongue upon the subject. Even to her downright perceptions the silence which enwrapped the invalid54 seemed stirred, palpitating with the awakening55 of emotions, just as, all over the land, after her winter sleep, the earth was stirred, palpitating, to the promise of spring.
The third morning the girl was unwontedly late in making her appearance. But Rosamond did not seem to miss her. She rested, smiling among her pillows, her diaphanous56 hand enfolding the letter that Mary had (with a subdued57 look of triumph) brought her on top of an open box overflowing58 with lily-of-the-valley.
Rosamond's first love-letter had come to her blent with the same perfume. The acrid59 sweetness rose like a greeting, an intangible intermingling of past and present. It spoke more eloquently61 than even his words. She drew the flowers slowly from their case. Below all, nestling beneath the waxen bells, she found one deep-hearted dark crimson rose.
She held it to her lips, the while she read his letter.
* * * * *
And so Baby's presence was not missed. At mid-day she rushed into the room and flung herself upon the bed with so much of her old impetuosity that Rosamond sat up, startled at first, then smiling, shaken from her languor62.
"What is it, Baby? What a little face of blushes!"
In the midst of her own turmoil63 of emotion, Baby's faithful heart leaped with joy. Rosamond had not spoken with that natural air these months.
"What is it?" repeated the woman, smiling.
Aspasia edged along the bed till her hot cheeks were hidden on Rosamond's neck. Then she thrust out her left hand blindly for inspection64.
"Look!"
"What——?"
Yes, in very truth, Rosamond was laughing.
"What is it, Baby? ... Ah——"
Baby moved her long musician fingers slowly one after the other and finally stuck out the third.
"Ah," cried Rosamond again, sharply.
"She has seen," thought Aspasia, and was fain to raise her head to behold65 the effect of the great surprise.
"Is it possible," said the other, slowly, "or are you playing me some trick?"
"A trick," echoed Aspasia, indignantly. "No such thing!" She surveyed the important hand, with head on one side and an air of great complacency. Yet never had it appeared a more childish object. Upon the pink out-thrust finger the wedding-ring seemed absurdly misplaced.
"Baby, Baby, how is it you have never told me? Major Bethune, of course?"
"Yes," said the bride, suddenly shy. "They would not let me tell you. Idiots!"
The next instant the two women were clasped in each other's arms—both crying a little, as they kissed.
"There now," cried the new wife, at last, awakening to the conviction that she was hardly carrying out the doctor's instructions; and, indeed, it was evident that, left to her own devices, Aspasia had peculiar views upon the art of breaking news. "There now, this won't do. You lie still, and I'll tell you everything."
Placidly66 enough to reassure67 a more anxious nurse, Rosamond obeyed, her hand creeping down to her letter once more. This was but a surface agitation, after all—there was only one in the world who had power to stir the deeps.
Aspasia knelt down by the bed, and began to pour forth68 her story.... They had been engaged, oh, ever so long; but she never would have dreamed of anything so preposterous69 as marriage, especially now—not for ages, at least, but Raymond had ramped70 so....
It was only from the youthful Mrs. Bethune's picturesque71 tongue that such a description of Bethune's reticent72 wooing could have fallen.
And then something had happened, out there, and his blessed leave was curtailed73, and, he had said, he positively74 would not go without her. "And so," said Baby, laughing and crying together, as pretty and absurd a spring bride as it was possible to see; "so he came down from London yesterday—with a special licence in his pocket—he went to the Inn, but he came to see me last night. I don't know how it happened, but we were married this morning, at the little church—you know, your little church, Aunt Rosamond.... Did you ever hear of such a thing? Without a trousseau, without a present, without a lawyer, without a cake! And I am going to Vienna for my honeymoon75."
She laughed a little wildly, and dabbed76 her wet cheeks with a corner of the sheet. Then she stopped suddenly, abashed77. Rosamond's eyes were lost in space; she was not even listening.
"I knew you did not want me," said Aspasia—a very different quality of tears welling up.
Rosamond started:
"I, not want you! Why, Baby, what makes you say that?"
"Oh," cried the girl, with a swift change of mood, "how can you want me, have you not got him? Dear Aunt Rosamond, darling Aunt Rosamond, don't keep him waiting any more!"
She was going to cast herself upon the bed in another fervent78 embrace, when something in Rosamond's look arrested her. Here were the deeps astir! It was as if a flame enkindled in a fragile lamp, as if she could see it tremble and burn.
She drew back before a mystery to which she vaguely79 felt she would never have the key.
"You know, he will return to-day," stammered80 she at last. "It's all right about his business. He is coming back."
"I know," answered Harry English's wife, in a low vibrating voice. Then she hesitated, and turned to look at the girl, a wistful inquiry81 in her shadowed eyes.
"Have they told him?" she asked, under her breath, raising one of the heavy white locks that lay across her breast.
"Oh," exclaimed Aspasia, springing to her meaning, "but you are beautiful with it, you are more beautiful than ever! No—I don't know if they've told him. Oh, darling," she cried, melting all into tenderness, pity, and amusement, as over a child, "it wasn't for that, it could not be for that, you wouldn't see him?"
"For that!" said Rosamond. A flame seemed to pass over her again. She quivered from head to foot, and a deep flush rose to the very roots of her blanched82 hair. "Oh, Baby, no. How could you guess, how could you understand—poor little bride of an hour?"
And, as once before, upon that crucial morning in the distant Indian palace, she had taken all her golden hair to cover her face and hide its misery83 from violating eyes, Rosamond now swept the silver veil across the betrayal of her blood, that even Baby might not look upon the tumult84 of her heart.
The scent51 of the dark rose, stronger even than the lilies, filled the room.
* * * * *
Bethune carried off his bride unobtrusively—unromantically. Rosamond was still upstairs. And that no farewells should take place between her and Major Bethune fell out so naturally that even Baby scarcely commented upon it. Rosamond had always held herself so much aloof85. That this procedure should have been planned by Bethune himself because he could not trust himself in this good-bye, would have been the last thought to enter the little wife's head; her Raymond had always rather disliked poor Aunt Rosamond than otherwise. Such was her conviction. He could never forgive her for having been his friend's forgetful widow.
She herself had shed torrents86 of easy tears of parting within the walls of the panelled bedroom; and had subsequently driven away beside the man of her choice (in the selfsame fly, smelling of straw, that had provoked her enthusiasm at arrival, her modest luggage atop), petulantly87 reviling88 her bridegroom for his inconsiderate hurry, the while nestling comfortably into the hollow of his shoulder.
How far was she from guessing at the complex emotions that made the heart, against which she leaned, beat so heavily; from guessing that this very haste, this wilfully89 informal departure, this quick marriage itself, were all part of the determined90 act of renunciation he had sealed in his soul, with the touch of her lips on his! Renunciation, it is true, of no more tangible60 passion than a thought. Yet, had she known, she need not have feared, for he who can renounce91 the insidious92 sweetness of a dream, need fear no overthrow93 from realities.
As for her, her marriage was the irresponsible mating of a little bird. And she was setting forth with as airy a freedom, with as busy and cheerful an importance, as any small winged lady of the woods on the flight to choose a favourable94 aspect for her nest.
As the vehicle wheeled out of the noiseless grassy95 avenue upon the moorland road, Bethune caught her to him, and kissed her with more of ardour than he had ever shown.
"And so, Robin," said he, "you are going to set all traditions at defiance, and pipe your pretty songs in the morning land."
Mrs. Bethune smiled importantly; she still chose to keep up the fiction that in matrimony she by no means intended to give up her musical career, that career, with a capital C, that she had so often flourished defiantly96 in Sir Arthur's face! But, in her heart, she knew very well that when she had let love enter in, it had driven forth ambition.
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1
benign
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| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
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delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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tout
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| v.推销，招徕；兜售；吹捧，劝诱 | |
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milieu
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| n.环境；出身背景；(个人所处的)社会环境 | |
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par
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| n.标准，票面价值，平均数量；adj.票面的，平常的，标准的 | |
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omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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7
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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8
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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9
recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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10
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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convalescence
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| n.病后康复期 | |
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belle
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| n.靓女 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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15
beheld
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| 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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16
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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reincarnated
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| v.赋予新形体，使转世化身( reincarnate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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virile
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| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
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reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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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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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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betrothal
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| n. 婚约, 订婚 | |
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disarm
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| v.解除武装，回复平常的编制，缓和 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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pertinacity
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| n.执拗，顽固 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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gregarious
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| adj.群居的，喜好群居的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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jingled
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| 喝醉的 | |
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42
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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43
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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45
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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48
marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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50
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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51
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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52
bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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53
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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54
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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56
diaphanous
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| adj.(布)精致的，半透明的 | |
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57
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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overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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reassure
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| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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ramped
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| 土堤斜坡( ramp的过去式和过去分词 )； 斜道； 斜路； （装车或上下飞机的）活动梯 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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curtailed
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| v.截断，缩短( curtail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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honeymoon
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| n.蜜月（假期）；vi.度蜜月 | |
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dabbed
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| （用某物）轻触( dab的过去式和过去分词 )； 轻而快地擦掉（或抹掉）； 快速擦拭； （用某物）轻而快地涂上（或点上）… | |
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abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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blanched
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| v.使变白( blanch的过去式 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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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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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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petulantly
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reviling
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| v.辱骂，痛斥( revile的现在分词 ) | |
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wilfully
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| adv.任性固执地；蓄意地 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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renounce
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| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
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insidious
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| adj.阴险的，隐匿的，暗中为害的，（疾病）不知不觉之间加剧 | |
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overthrow
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| v.推翻，打倒，颠覆；n.推翻，瓦解，颠覆 | |
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favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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