But the long coaching of her mother and Lady Bridgminster had wrought8 its inevitable9 work. She was merely one more victim of the disabilities of her sex. She could not go frankly10 forth11 and woo the man to whom she had immediately surrendered her heart; she must scheme, and wait, blow hot and cold, demoralize her character generally. She had no cleverness save in female craft, but she was vaguely12 conscious during those weeks when Ordham wooed her with a silken rope round his neck and a padded prod13 at his back, that the crystalline quality of her girl’s mind was permanently14 clouding.
She had assumed, of course, that after marriage her influence would be paramount15. Had not momma ruled poppa? Was not the ascendency of the American woman one of the truisms of the century? She rode gayly into the breakers of generalities oblivious16 of the rocks beneath, whose other name is facts.
The result of that triumphant17 little confession18 in the library had given her self-confidence a profound shock. As time went on she found her husband more and more of a mystery, caught blinding glimpses of wants far beyond her comprehension, of dissimilar tastes, of an almost world-old brain, and, in spite of his youthful ardours, of an inner impenetrable reserve. She had almost despised him at times during the courtship, so easy had been the game, so completely had he been deluded19. But Ordham was not a man to be despised for more than a moment at a time, and he had won her complete respect on that fatal day in the library when he had given her to understand that when people were so simple as to lay their cards on the table no will but his would prevail. But after the lachrymal attack was over (genuine enough upon this occasion), she had reflected that the cleverest of men would be no match for three clever women if they kept their cards out of sight. She had lost no time calling to her aid Lady Bridgminster and her mother, and a new campaign of gentle manipulation began. Live on the Continent she would not; where one could never drink water and the food ruined one’s complexion20, where she must be taken in to dinner by an attaché, instead of by a prince of the blood, where she must play fourth fiddle21 to old frumps with frizzed fronts and bugles22 and not a tenth part of her income. Not she. Jackie could have all the career he wanted in England.
She was enchanted23 at the idea of having a baby, not only because she possessed24 all those charming feminine instincts which would have made her an estimable woman had circumstances permitted, but because it gratified her to feel one of a line, to be the indispensable connecting link between one Bridgminster and the next. It is only the well-born American that is deeply impressed with the antiquity25 of English blood, of a descent in which figure historic names; for all these represent what they feel they have just missed, and to capture them for their issue is a triumph far more subtle than that experienced by the American who belongs to the aristocracy of wealth alone. Not that Mabel was capable of any such analysis, but her mother was; the instinct was in her, however, and it is doubtful if she would have adored Ordham as blindly and devoutly26 as she did had it not been for that long record of his family in Burke, and the magnificence of Ordham Castle. But, to be sure, minus these causes, and he would not have been John Ordham.
Once more he was unconsciously demonstrating the inferiority of his sex when pitted against hers. But like many another, she forgot that there is a psychological statute27 of limitations, also that it is impossible to watch the man?uvres of an enemy whose existence is unknown. She was pouting28 in bed late on Sunday night, wondering if her husband intended to sit up until dawn again, almost hating the social triumphs that so oddly separated them, when the door between their rooms was pushed softly open and he entered.
She was lying in a mass of pale green satin and lace; her bedroom had been done over and looked like Undine’s bower29. Her hair, spread over the shimmering30 counterpane, might have been the golden fleece. No more enchanting31 vision was ever presented to a young husband; but Ordham was suffering (slightly) from conscience, and the familiar picture did not appeal to him. He kissed her affectionately, asked her solicitously32 if she were shockingly tired, and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“I must not awaken33 you in the morning,” he remarked. “I thought it better to run the risk to-night—to tell you that I must go up to London for a few days. I have some business to attend to.”
“What? Business?” She sat up straight, and she was so astonished that grievance34 stood off. “You never had any business in your life. You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
“But it is time I learned. I wish to consult my solicitors35 in regard to certain investments.”
“Well, I never!” She stared at him for a moment. Then she asked plaintively36: “Am I not your wife? I expect to share all your worries, although I can’t imagine your condescending37 to have any.” She knew that he disliked direct questions, but there are moments when no woman can be diplomatic, and she finally asked him if that were his only reason for going up to London on the eve of another house party.
He had anticipated glittering spheres, which he would dutifully stanch38, the while administering the lesson that he had not yielded a jot39 of his real liberty. But he answered promptly40, looking straight into her surprised but unclouded eyes: “Yes, I have another reason. Quaritch has some rare books that I am to have a first look at.”
“We go up to London before long, now. Books will keep.”
“Not these, I am afraid. There are many in England quite as keen as I am on first editions.”
She explored those large ingenuous41 orbs42. Hers was not a jealous nature, and she had been given ample opportunity to observe how little his devoted43 manner and challenging eyes meant, had often laughed at the girls who took him seriously. So the possibility of a feminine magnet in London she rejected with disdain44, but a sensation of antagonism45 took possession of her. It angered her that she could not understand him better, that he never really deferred46 to her, that he must be eternally “managed.” Still more did it incense47 her that he was indifferently depriving himself of several days of her society. But she could think of no ruse48 to keep him at home unless she whipped up a storm, and against this indulgence she had been warned by the doctor. As for tears, better reserve them until the Continent threatened again. Much to his surprise, she lay back in her pillows and said in the grand manner:
“Nothing that I could say will hold you back if you have made up your mind to go. I never expect to have the slightest influence over you.”
“I wish you would not say such things!” He looked as uncomfortable as she intended he should feel. “How can you? I shall be gone only four days. Please do not make me feel a brute49.”
“Four days will seem very long.”
She uttered these artistically50 simple words with a quiver of her little pink mouth, which was not altogether deliberate, for although she was determined51 not to be commonplace, those four days without her husband unrolled before her in an endless procession. He felt very contrite52, and kissed her fondly; but he did not retreat from his purpose. The next night saw him in London, enjoying himself hugely at the theatre, from which he had been divorced for nearly three months. It so happened that there were a number of good plays on, and Hans Richter was out of town when he arrived. Mabel received long impassioned telegrams and brief impassioned notes, apologies and explanations that would have hoodwinked a wronged and suspicious wife; but the castle did not see him again for ten days. Then he was so charming, so repentant53, so indignant at a cruel destiny, and so unfeignedly happy in being with his lovely little wife once more, that he was not only forgiven, but Mabel, in her joy at having him again after that dreary54 watch, was persuaded to move up to London a month earlier than she had intended.
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1
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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exigencies
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| n.急切需要 | |
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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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vowing
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的现在分词形式） | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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8
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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13
prod
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| vt.戳，刺；刺激，激励 | |
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permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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paramount
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| a.最重要的，最高权力的 | |
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oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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17
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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deluded
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| v.欺骗，哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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21
fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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22
bugles
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| 妙脆角，一种类似薯片但做成尖角或喇叭状的零食； 号角( bugle的名词复数 )； 喇叭； 匍匐筋骨草； （装饰女服用的）柱状玻璃（或塑料）小珠 | |
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23
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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24
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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statute
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| n.成文法，法令，法规；章程，规则，条例 | |
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pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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30
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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solicitously
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| adv.热心地，热切地 | |
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33
awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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solicitors
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| 初级律师( solicitor的名词复数 ) | |
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36
plaintively
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| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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stanch
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| v.止住（血等）；adj.坚固的；坚定的 | |
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jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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42
orbs
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| abbr.off-reservation boarding school 在校寄宿学校n.球，天体，圆形物( orb的名词复数 ) | |
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43
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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44
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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45
antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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46
deferred
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| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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47
incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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48
ruse
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| n.诡计，计策；诡计 | |
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49
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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50
artistically
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| adv.艺术性地 | |
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51
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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52
contrite
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| adj.悔悟了的，后悔的，痛悔的 | |
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53
repentant
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| adj.对…感到悔恨的 | |
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54
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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