The interim1 between the death of Peter's father and Peter's ascent2 into Oxford3 was filled with small events which impertinently buzzed about him. Even his father's funeral left no deep impression. It was formal and necessary. Peter was haunted, as the ceremony dragged on, with a reproachful sense that he was not, as he should, responding to its solemnity. Passion, of love or grief or adoration5, came to Peter by inspiration. He could not punctually answer. He marvelled6 how easily at the graveside the tears of his friends and neighbours were able to flow. He himself had buried his father upon the night of his father's death, and had started life anew. The funeral was for him no more than the ghost of a dead event.
Next came the removal of Mrs. Paragon7 into the well-appointed house of Uncle Henry. Henry had arranged that henceforth his sister should live with him; that Peter should look to him as a guardian8, and think of himself as his uncle's inheritor. All these new arrangements passed high over Peter's head. They were a background of rumour9 and confusion to days of exquisite10 sensibility and peace. Only one thing really mattered. Uncle Henry's house was in the fashionable road that ran parallel to that in which Peter was born,[Pg 65] so that Peter could reach Miranda by way of the garden, which met hers at the wall's end.
Adolescence11 carried him high and far, winging his fancy, giving to the world forms and colours he had never yet perceived. His passion, unaware12 of its physical texture13, had almost disembodied him. Miranda focussed the rays of his soul, and drew his energy to a point. He was pure air and fire. Standing14 on the high balcony of his new room, he felt that, were he to leap down, he must float like gossamer15. Or, as he lay in the grass beside Miranda, staring almost into the eye of the sun, he acknowledged a kinship with the passing birds, imagined that he heard the sap of the green world ebb16 and flow; or, pressing his cheeks to the cool earth, he would seem to feel it spinning enormously through space.
They talked hardly at all, and then it was of some small intrusion into their happy silence—the chatter17 of a bird in distress18 or the ragged4 flying of a painted moth19. Only seldom did Peter turn to assure himself that Miranda was still beside him. He was absorbed with his own vast content and gratitude20 for the warm and lovely world, his precious agony of aspiration21 towards the inexpressible, his sense of immense, unmeasured power. Miranda was his precious symbol. Uttered in her, for his intimate contemplation, he spelled the message with which the air was burdened, which shivered on the vibrating leaves, and burned in the summer heat. When, after long[Pg 66] gazing into blue distances of air, he turned to find Miranda, it seemed that the blue had broken and yielded its secret.
From the balcony of his room at night he saw things so lovely that he stood for long moments still, as though he listened. The trees, massed solemnly together, waited sentiently22 to be stirred. The stars drew him into the deep. Voices broke from the street. Light shining from far windows, and the smoke of chimneys fantastically grouped, filled him with a sense of pulsing, intimate life; a world of energy whose stillness was the measure of its power, the slumber23 of a bee's wing.
One of the far lighted windows belonged to Miranda. He was content to know she was there, and recalled, clear in his mind's eye, the lines and gestures of her face. The beauty he saw there had seemed almost to break his heart. It wavered upon him alternate with the stars and the dark trees of the garden. Loveliness and a perpetual riddle24 delicately lurked25 in the corners of her mouth. Sometimes, when they were together, he would lay his finger very softly on Miranda's lips.
He rarely kissed her. The flutter of his pulse died under an ecstasy26 bodiless as his passion for the painted sky. He did not yet love the girl who sometimes with a curious ferocity flung her arms about him and crushed his face against her shabby dress. Rather he loved the beauty of the world and his inspired ability, through her, to embrace it.
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1 interim | |
adj.暂时的,临时的;n.间歇,过渡期间 | |
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2 ascent | |
n.(声望或地位)提高;上升,升高;登高 | |
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3 Oxford | |
n.牛津(英国城市) | |
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4 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
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5 adoration | |
n.爱慕,崇拜 | |
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6 marvelled | |
v.惊奇,对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7 paragon | |
n.模范,典型 | |
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8 guardian | |
n.监护人;守卫者,保护者 | |
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9 rumour | |
n.谣言,谣传,传闻 | |
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10 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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11 adolescence | |
n.青春期,青少年 | |
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12 unaware | |
a.不知道的,未意识到的 | |
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13 texture | |
n.(织物)质地;(材料)构造;结构;肌理 | |
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14 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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15 gossamer | |
n.薄纱,游丝 | |
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16 ebb | |
vi.衰退,减退;n.处于低潮,处于衰退状态 | |
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17 chatter | |
vi./n.喋喋不休;短促尖叫;(牙齿)打战 | |
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18 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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19 moth | |
n.蛾,蛀虫 | |
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20 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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21 aspiration | |
n.志向,志趣抱负;渴望;(语)送气音;吸出 | |
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22 sentiently | |
adv.有感觉能力地 | |
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23 slumber | |
n.睡眠,沉睡状态 | |
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24 riddle | |
n.谜,谜语,粗筛;vt.解谜,给…出谜,筛,检查,鉴定,非难,充满于;vi.出谜 | |
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25 lurked | |
vi.潜伏,埋伏(lurk的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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26 ecstasy | |
n.狂喜,心醉神怡,入迷 | |
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