"Oh! it is Mr. Arling; he is very welcome." And Coralie, who had seen Bergan two or three times in her father's office, greeted him with marked cordiality, and gave him her small, soft hand.
It is odd how strong a resemblance can co-exist with perfect dissimilarity of features and complexion3. Though she was very lovely—this Coralie Youle—and with a blithesome4 and bewitching loveliness all her own, Bergan had never been able to look upon her, nor could he see her now, without some deep, keen pain, as from an unhealed wound. There were tones in her voice which reminded him of one that he would hear no more; and she had ways and gestures which continually awakened5 memories not yet softened6 by distance into lines and tints7 of perfect purity and peace. And yet, what an irresistible8, subtle charm in her was this very power to pain him!
"You said that Mr. Arling was a conquering hero, papa," she went on, turning to Mr. Youle. "Have you gained the case, then, after all? That is wonderful indeed! How did it happen? Tell me all about it."
Nothing loath9, Mr. Youle gave a sufficiently10 graphic11 account of the scene in the court-room, taking occasion to lavish13 no small amount of hearty14 encomium15 upon Bergan's share in it.
"How I wish I could have been there to see!" exclaimed Coralie, when the recital16 was ended, her cheeks glowing with sympathetic excitement; "it sounds like a chapter out of a novel, rather than a bit of real life. Mr. Arling does, in truth, deserve the laurels of victory; and, by the way—Diva! where are you?—here is some one who is worthy17 to give them to him."
No one had noticed, until now, that a lady was standing18 in the window, half concealed19 by the curtain. But, as she came forward everything else seemed to fade out of sight, for the moment, and leave only her, standing there alone in the clear, cold light of her marvellous beauty.
Before this, Bergan's ideal of proud and queenly beauty had been painted with dark hair and eyes; he now saw reason to change it at once and forever. The lady was the most perfect blonde that he had ever seen. Her hair was of the palest brown, with only a faint gold light in it; her eyes were blue or gray, he could not tell which, at the moment, nor would he have been less puzzled after a much longer acquaintance; and her complexion was fair and colorless, almost, as marble; yet never had he beheld20 anything so stately, so proud, so calm, and—it must needs be said—so cold. She came forth21 from the shadow of the curtain as Galatea might have done, had she been endowed with life only, not with love.
Worthy she might be to crown a victor, in right of her queenliness, but the laurels from her hands, Bergan thought, would be very chill!
"Miss Thane!" exclaimed Mr. Youle, "why this is a surprise, and a most pleasant one. It is seldom that you allow any of us to see you here, except Coralie."
"Because my visits are usually morning visits," replied Miss Thane, in a low, yet singularly musical monotone, that harmonized perfectly22 with her face, "when I know that you are sure to be better engaged than in gossipping with me."
Mr. Youle slightly raised his eyebrows23, in good-humored recognition of the possibly careless, possibly studied, ambiguity24 of this explanation; but he let it pass without comment, as Coralie hastened to present her guests to each other.
Bergan bowed low, with the graceful25 deference26 which always marked his bearing toward women; but Miss Thane was guilty of no waste of civility. She slightly inclined her head, vouchsafed27 him a single glance out of her wondrous28 eyes, and coolly turned back to the window, to lose herself, a moment after, in a fit of abstraction.
Miss Youle—Mr. Youle's maiden29 sister, and the mistress of his household since his wife's death, many years ago—now appeared, clad in a thick, black silk that rustled30 like a field of corn in the wind, and dropped Bergan her stately, old-time courtesy. And Coralie immediately began to repeat the story of the trial to her, aided and abetted31 by Mr. Youle; from which embarrassing iteration Bergan would have been glad to escape, by joining Miss Thane at her window, had not her manner seemed to indicate so clearly that she was amply sufficient to herself, and did not care to be anything to anybody else. But the eloquence32 of Coralie and Mr. Youle finally came to a pause, if not to an end; Miss Thane roused from her abstraction; and the party went down to dinner.
Bergan was inclined to be somewhat silent, at first. Lonely dweller33 in offices, hotels, and restaurants, that he had been, for the year past, he had half lost the habit of conversation; besides, Coralie's tones continually swept the chords of association in a way to thrill him with a sombre mixture of pain and pleasure, and keep his mind confusedly vibrating between the present and the past. But he was too conscientiously34 courteous35 to allow himself long to remain a dead weight upon his hosts; and, though it cost him an effort, he was soon talking with the old ease and fluency36, enriched by a profounder thoughtfulness, and a subtler play of imagination. In his hands, commonplace subjects discovered hidden treasures; while loftier themes gleamed and glowed like stained windows seen against a golden western sky. Miss Thane lost something of her apathetic37 manner, after awhile, and paid him the compliment of listening with attention, if not with interest. And opposite to him was Coralie's listening, speaking face, full of such quick comprehension and sympathy, that he could scarcely help being beguiled38 into a fuller, freer expression of thought, opinion, and feeling, than he would have believed possible, an hour before.
But was it not Miss Thane's subtle management, rather than Coralie's sympathy, which finally led the talk into the sombre channels dug by human disappointments, losses, and failures, and kept it there until they had returned to the drawing-room? Then Bergan said, by way of dismissing the subject:—"But all these things are to be looked at as materials, not results. Happy the prophetic vision which sees the perfect form of the Future rising from the chaos39 of past and present!—as a sculptor40 sees before him, not a rough block of marble, but the finished statue,—an architect, not shapeless heaps of stone and mortar41, but the grand completed temple."
"Let him but look far enough," rejoined Miss Thane, "and he can behold42 a sadder phase,—the statue broken and defaced, the temple overthrown43 and prostrate44; once more a rough block of marble, and shapeless heaps of stone."
"Nay," replied Bergan, "it is at that very point that Prophecy should spread her whitest wings, and soar to the temple not made with hands, and the jewelled walls of the city let down from the clouds. Miss Coralie," he continued, glancing at the open piano, "do you sing?"
"Not much; I play mostly. But Miss Thane does. Dear Diva, won't you sing for us?"
Miss Thane looked at Bergan, but he said nothing. If he had added a word to Coralie's entreaty45, the chances are that she would not have sung. But since she had only Coralie to oblige—Coralie, who alone seemed to have found the deep way to her heart, and to whom she rarely refused anything—she went straight to the piano, took the first music that presented itself, which happened to be Rossini's "Cujus Animam," and began to sing, not only with perfect method—that might have been expected—but with exquisite46 feeling. Her voice was a rich contralto, deep and broad as a river flowing to the sea, and bearing the listener whither it pleased. There were tears in the eyes of her auditors47, when she had finished, and would have been, doubtless, had she sung anything else, for the quality of her voice touched that point of perfection, which, in this world, gives a pleasure closely akin12 to pain.
She waited a moment, but no one spoke48; then she put her fingers again on the keys, and, looking far out into the evening dusk, sang a dismal49, hopeless dirge50, which Bergan felt intuitively to be her own; and which wrung51 his heart with passionate52 longing53 and pain. She would sing no more.
Yet no one could talk after those heartbreaking strains. So Bergan quietly took his leave.
Coralie wound her arm round her friend's waist, and drew her to the window, to watch him down the street. "What do you think of him?" she asked.
"I think—that he has a genius for conversation," replied Miss Thane, coolly.
"Oh, Diva, you know that is not what I mean! How do you like him?"
"I like no one—but you. I think I might respect him in time. As for you, little one, take care you do not like him too well."
"Why?" asked Coralie, blushing.
"Because he has buried his heart—the best part of it—in somebody's grave."
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1
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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blithesome
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| adj.欢乐的，愉快的 | |
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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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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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7
tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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8
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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graphic
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| adj.生动的，形象的，绘画的，文字的，图表的 | |
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akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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14
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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encomium
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| n.赞颂；颂词 | |
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recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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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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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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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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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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ambiguity
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| n.模棱两可；意义不明确 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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28
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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29
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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abetted
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| v.教唆（犯罪）( abet的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；怂恿；支持 | |
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32
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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dweller
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| n.居住者，住客 | |
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conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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fluency
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| n.流畅，雄辩，善辩 | |
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apathetic
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| adj.冷漠的，无动于衷的 | |
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beguiled
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| v.欺骗( beguile的过去式和过去分词 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
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39
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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40
sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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41
mortar
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| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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42
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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43
overthrown
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| adj. 打翻的，推倒的，倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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44
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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45
entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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46
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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47
auditors
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| n.审计员，稽核员( auditor的名词复数 )；（大学课程的）旁听生 | |
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48
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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49
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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50
dirge
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| n.哀乐，挽歌，庄重悲哀的乐曲 | |
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51
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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52
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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53
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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