It was a cosy2 enough little room in winter-time. A cheery fire crackled in the open grate, while a heavy velvet3 curtain was drawn5 across the door that gave egress6 to the terrace, effectually screening out the ubiquitous draught7 which invariably seeks entry through crack and hinge-space.
Claire was at the Dower House this evening, where a New Year’s dinner-party was in progress, but Jean had no heart for festivities of any kind even had she not been precluded8 from taking part in them by reason of her father’s death.
The grief and strain of the last four months had set their mark upon her. She was much thinner than formerly—her extreme slenderness accentuated9 by the clinging black of the dress she was wearing—while faint purple shadows lay beneath her eyes, giving her a look of frailty10 and fatigue11.
She and Claire led a very sober and uneventful existence at Chamwood, the one absorbed in her quiet happiness, the other in her quiet grief. But the bond of their friendship had held true throughout the differing fortunes which had fallen to the lot of each, and although for Jean there was inevitable12 additional pain involved in still remaining within the neighbourhood of Staple13, it was counterbalanced by the comfort she drew from Clare’s companionship.
Besides, as she reflected dispiritedly, where else had she to go? The Dower House would have been open to her, of course, at any time, but there she would be certain to encounter Blaise more frequently, and of late her principal preoccupation had been to avoid such meeting whenever possible. And she could not face Beirnfels yet—alone! Some day, when Claire was married, she knew that she must brace14 herself to return there—to a house of dreams that would never come true now. But at present she shrank intolerably from the idea. She craved15 companionship—above all, the consoling, tender understanding which Claire, who had herself suffered, was so well able to give her.
The book that she had been reading earlier in the evening lay open on her knee, and her thoughts were with Claire now. She pictured her sitting next to Nick at dinner, her flower-like face radiant with unclouded happiness, and Jean was thankful to the very bottom of her heart that she was able to feel glad—glad of that happiness. At least her own sorrow had not yet taught her the grudging17 envy which cannot endure another’s joy.
With a quickly repressed sigh, she turned again to her book. Its pages fluttered faintly, as though stirred by some passing current of air, and Jean, coming suddenly out of her reverie, was conscious of a cool draught wafting18 towards her from the direction of the terrace door.
Vaguely19 surprised, she glanced up, and a startled cry broke from her lips. The door was open, the folds of the curtain had been drawn aside, and in the aperture20 stood Blaise Tormarin.
Jean sprang up from her chair and stood staring at him with dilated21 eyes, one hand gripping the edge of the chimney-piece.
“Blaise!... You!” The words issued stammeringly22 from her lips.
“Yes,” he returned shortly. “May I come in?”
Without waiting for an answer he closed the door behind him, letting the curtain fall back into its place, and crossed the room to her side.
Jean felt her heart contract as her eyes marked the changes wrought23 in him by the few weeks which had elapsed since she had seen him. His face was haggard as though from lack of sleep, and the lines on either side the mouth were scored deep into the flesh. The mouth itself closed in a tense line of savage24 misery25 and the stark26 bitterness of his eyes filled her with grief and pity, knowing how utterly27 powerless she was to help or comfort him.
Distrusting her self-control, she snatched at the first conventional remark that suggested itself.
“I thought—I thought you and Nesta were both dining at the Dower House,” she said confusedly.
“Nesta is there. I made an excuse. I came here instead.”
Something in the curt4, clipped sentences sounded a note of warning in her ears.
“But you ought not to have come here,” she replied quickly—defensively almost. “Why have you come, Blaise?”
“I came,” he said slowly, “because I can’t bear my life without you a day longer. Because—— Oh, Jean! Jean!... Beloved! Do you need to ask me why I came?”
With a swift, irresistible28 movement he swept her up into his arms, holding her crushed against his breast, his mouth on hers, kissing her as a man kisses when love that has been long thwarted29 and denied at last bursts asunder30 the shackles31 which constrained33 it.
And Jean, starved for four long months of the touch of the beloved arms, the pressure of the beloved lips upon her own, had yielded to him almost before she was aware of her surrender.
Then the remembrance of the woman who stood between them rushed across her and she tore herself free from his embrace, white and trembling in every limb.
“Blaise!... Blaise!... What are you thinking of? Oh! We’re mad—mad!”
She covered her face with her shaking hands but he drew them away, gazing down at her with eyes that worshipped.
“No, beloved, we’re not mad,” lie cried triumphantly34. “We’re sane—sane at last. We were mad to think we could live apart, mad to dream we could starve love like ours. That was when we were mad! But we’ll never be parted again; sweet——”
“Blaise,” she whispered, staring at him with horrified35, dilated eyes. “You don’t know what you are saying! You’re forgetting Nesta—your wife. Oh, go—go quickly! You must not stay here and talk like this to me!”
“No,” he returned. “I won’t go, Jean. I’ve come to take you away with me.” Once more his arms went round her. “Belovedest, I can’t live without you any longer. I’ve tried—and I can’t do it. Jean, you’ll come? You love me enough—enough to come away with me to the ends of the earth where we’ll find happiness at last?”
She sought to free herself from his, clasp, pressing with straining hands against his chest.
“No! No!” she cried breathlessly. “I can’t go with you... you know I can’t! Ah! Don’t ask me, Blaise!” There was an agony of supplication36 in her voice.
“But I do ask you. And if you love me”—his eyes holding hers—“you’ll come, Jean.”
“I do love you,” she answered earnestly. “But it isn’t the you I love asking me this, Blaise. It’s some other man—a stranger——”
“If you love me, you’ll come,” he reiterated37 doggedly38. “I can’t live without you, Jean. I want you—oh, heart’s beloved, if you knew—” And the burning, passionate40 words, the pent-up love and longing41 of months of separation and despair, came pouring from his lips—beseeching and demanding, wringing42 her heart, pulling at the love within her that ached to give him the answer which he craved.
“Oh, Blaise, dearest of all—hush43! Hush!” She checked him brokenly, with quivering lips. “I can’t go with you. It wouldn’t bring us happiness. Ah, listen to me, dear!” She came close to him and laid her hands imploringly44 on his arm, lifting her white, stricken face to his. “It would only spoil our love—to take it like that when we have no right to. It would smirch and soil it, make it something different. I think—I think, in the end, Blaise, it would kill it.”
“Nothing would ever kill my love for you,” he exclaimed passionately45. “Jean, little Jean, think of what our life together might be—the glory and beauty of it—just you and I in our House of Dreams!”
She caught her breath. Oh! Why did he make it so hard for her? With every fibre of her being yearning46 towards him she must refuse, deny him, drive him away from her.
“No, no!” she cried tremulously. “We could never reach our House of Dreams that way—Oh, I know it! At least, not the sort of House of Dreams that would be worth anything to you or me, Blaise. It would only be a sham47, a make-believe. You can’t build true on a rotten foundation.... Don’t ask me any more, dear. It’s so hard—so hard to keep on saying no when everything in me wants to say yes. But I must say it. And you... you must go back to Nesta.”
Her voice almost failed her. She could feel her strength ebbing48 with every moment that he stayed beside her. She knew that she would not be able to resist his pleading much longer. Her own heart was fighting against her—fighting on his side!
He saw her weakness and caught at it eagerly.
“Do you know what you’re asking?” he demanded hoarsely49. “Do you know what you are sending me back to? Our life together—Nesta’s and mine—has been simple hell upon earth. I obeyed you—and I took her back. But I have done no good by it. She is as weak and worthless as she ever was. Our days are one continual round of bickering50 and quarrels.” His face darkened. “And she is not satisfied! Her nominal51 position as my wife does not con16 tent her. Do you understand what that must mean—if I go back?” He paused, his eyes bent52 steadily53 upon her. “Jean”—very low—“now that you know—will you still send me hack32 to Nesta? Or will you come with me and let us find our happiness together?”
He watched the scarlet54 flood surge into her face and then retreat, leaving it a pallid55 white.
“Answer me!” he persisted, as she remained silent.
“Wait... wait a little...” she muttered helplessly.
She turned away from him and, leaning her elbows on the chimney-piece, buried her face in her hands.
The supreme56 test had come at last. She realised, now, that her renunciation—that renunciation which had cost her so much pain and bitterness—had been, after all, only something superficial and incomplete. She had not made the full sacrifice that duty and honour demanded of her. Though she had outwardly renounced58 her lover—bade him return to Nesta—she still held him hers by the utter faithfulness of his love for her. Nesta had had but the husk, the shell—a husband in name only, every hour of their life together an insult to her pride and womanhood.
Jean’s thoughts lashed59 her. Her shoulders bent and cowered60 a little as though beneath a physical blow.
There had been a time—oh! very long ago, it seemed, before Destiny had come with her snuffers and quenched61 the twin flames and love and happiness—a time when dimly, as in some exquisite62 dream, she had heard the sound of little voices, felt the helpless touch of tiny hands. Perhaps Nesta, too, had heard those voices, felt those clinging hands, while her soul quickened to the vision of a future which might hold some deeper meaning, some more sacred trust and purpose, than her empty, wayward past.
And she, Jean, had stood between Nesta and the fulfilment of that dream, forever forbidding her entrance to her woman’s kingdom.
She saw it all now with a terrible clarity of vision, understood to the full the two alternatives which faced her—to go with Blaise, as he implored63, or to send him—her man, the man she loved—hack to Nesta. There was no longer any middle course.
A voice sounded in her ears.
“No true happiness ever came of running away from duty. And if ever I’m up against such a thing—a choice like this—I hope to God I’d be able to hang on, to run straight, even if it half-killed me to do it!”
The words sounded so clear and distinct that Jean half raised her head to see who spoke64 them. And then, in an overwhelming rush of memory, she recognised that it was no actual voice she heard but the mental echo of her own words to Nick—to Nick at the time when he had been passing through a like fire of fierce temptation.
How easily, in her young, untried ignorance, the words had fallen from her lips as she had urged Nick to renounce57 his fixed65 resolve! Such eminently66 wise and excellent counsel! And how little—how crassly67 little had she realised at the time the huge demand that she was making!
She had spoken as though it were comparatively easy to reject the wrong and choose the right—to follow the stern and narrow path of Duty, through the mists and utter darkness that enshrouded it, up to those shining heights which lie beyond human sight—the outposts of Eternal Heaven itself.
Easy!.... Oh, God!....
When at last Jean uncovered her face and lifted it to meet the set gaze of the man beside her, it was wan39 and ravaged68 “the face of one who has come through some fierce purgatory69 of torment70.”
“Well?” he demanded, his voice roughened because he found himself unable to steady it with that strained and altered face upturned to his. “Well? Are you going to send me back to Nesta?”
She did not answer his question. Instead, she put another.
“Do you think she—loves you?”
He stared.
“Nesta? Yes. As far as her sort can love, I believe she does.”
Jean nodded, as though it were the answer she had expected.
“Blaise... I’m going to send you back to her. I’m sure now. I know. It’s the only thing we can do... We must say good-bye—altogether—never see each other again.”
“Never?” The word came draggingly.
“Never. It—it would be too hard for us, Blaise, to see each other.”
“Yes,” he answered slowly. “It would be too hard.”
They were both silent. The minutes ticked away unregarded. Time had ceased to count. This farewell was till the end of time.
“Blaise—” All the resonance71 had gone out of her voice. It sounded flat and tired. “You—you will go back to her?”
“Yes, I will go back.”
She stretched out her hands flutteringly.
“Then go.... go soon, Blaise! I—I can’t bear very much more.”
He opened his arms, then, and she went to him, and for a space they clung together in silence. For the last time he set his lips to hers, held her once more against his heart. Then slowly they drew apart, stricken eyes gazing lingeringly into other eyes as stricken, and presently the closing of the terrace door told her that he had gone, and that she must turn her feet to the solitary72 path of those who have said farewell to love.
Henceforth, she would be alone—living or dying, quite alone.
It was long past midnight when Claire returned from the Dower House.
She found Jean sitting beside the grey embers of a burnt-out fire, her hands lying folded upon her knee, her eyes staring stonily73 in front of her in a fixed, unseeing gaze.
Claire called to her softly, as when one wakes a sleeper74.
“Jean!”
Jean turned her head.
“So you have got back?” she said dully. She stood up stiffly, as though her limbs were cramped75. “Claire, I am going away—right away from here—to Beirnfels.”
“Why?” asked Claire.
She waited tensely for the answer.
“Blaise has been here. He asked me to go away with him. I’ve sent him back to Nesta.”
The short, stilted76 sentences fell mechanically from her lips. She spoke exactly like a child repeating a lesson learned by rote77.
Claire’s eyes grew very pitiful.
“And must you go to Beirnfels alone?” she asked quietly. “Won’t you take me with you?”
“Will you come?”—incredulously.
“Of course I’ll come. I shouldn’t dream of letting you go by yourself.”
And then, all at once, Jean’s tired body, exhausted78 by the soul’s long conflict, gave way, and she slipped to the ground in a dead faint.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
frightful
|
|
| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
cosy
|
|
| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
velvet
|
|
| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
curt
|
|
| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
egress
|
|
| n.出去；出口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
draught
|
|
| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
precluded
|
|
| v.阻止( preclude的过去式和过去分词 )；排除；妨碍；使…行不通 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
accentuated
|
|
| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
frailty
|
|
| n.脆弱；意志薄弱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
fatigue
|
|
| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
staple
|
|
| n.主要产物，常用品，主要要素，原料，订书钉，钩环；adj.主要的，重要的；vt.分类 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
brace
|
|
| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
craved
|
|
| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
con
|
|
| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
grudging
|
|
| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
wafting
|
|
| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
vaguely
|
|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
aperture
|
|
| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
dilated
|
|
| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
stammeringly
|
|
| adv.stammering（口吃的）的变形 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
23
wrought
|
|
| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
stark
|
|
| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
irresistible
|
|
| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
thwarted
|
|
| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
asunder
|
|
| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
shackles
|
|
| 手铐( shackle的名词复数 )； 脚镣； 束缚； 羁绊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
hack
|
|
| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
constrained
|
|
| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
triumphantly
|
|
| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
horrified
|
|
| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
supplication
|
|
| n.恳求，祈愿，哀求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
reiterated
|
|
| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
doggedly
|
|
| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
wan
|
|
| (wide area network)广域网 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
wringing
|
|
| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
hush
|
|
| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
imploringly
|
|
| adv. 恳求地, 哀求地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
passionately
|
|
| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
yearning
|
|
| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
sham
|
|
| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
ebbing
|
|
| （指潮水）退( ebb的现在分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
hoarsely
|
|
| adv.嘶哑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
bickering
|
|
| v.争吵( bicker的现在分词 )；口角；（水等）作潺潺声；闪烁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
nominal
|
|
| adj.名义上的；(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
scarlet
|
|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
pallid
|
|
| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
supreme
|
|
| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
renounce
|
|
| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
renounced
|
|
| v.声明放弃( renounce的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布放弃；宣布与…决裂；宣布摒弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
lashed
|
|
| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
cowered
|
|
| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
quenched
|
|
| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
implored
|
|
| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
eminently
|
|
| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
crassly
|
|
| adv.粗鲁地，愚钝地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
ravaged
|
|
| 毁坏( ravage的过去式和过去分词 )； 蹂躏； 劫掠； 抢劫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
purgatory
|
|
| n.炼狱；苦难；adj.净化的，清洗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
torment
|
|
| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
resonance
|
|
| n.洪亮；共鸣；共振 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
stonily
|
|
| 石头地，冷酷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
sleeper
|
|
| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
cramped
|
|
| a.狭窄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
stilted
|
|
| adj.虚饰的；夸张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
rote
|
|
| n.死记硬背，生搬硬套 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |