"Come in!" was the immediate2 response, in Miss Thane's clear, cold monotone.
Bergan pushed open the door, which was a little ajar, and found himself in the presence of the artist. She was standing3 at her easel, palette and brushes in hand; and she waited to give several touches to her work, before turning toward her visitor.
If she felt any surprise at sight of him, her face betrayed none. Yet it seemed to Bergan that some change had come over that face since he beheld4 it last—a certain suggestion of weariness under its languor5, of dissatisfaction under its chill pride—which he accepted as a good augury6 for the task that he had in hand.
Miss Thane seemed to divine, at once, that his visit had some object other than the pleasure of seeing either herself or her pictures. After a few quiet words of greeting, she rested one hand upon her easel, and stood waiting, calm, proud, and exceeding beautiful, to be informed of its nature.
Bergan was scarcely prepared to make known his errand so abruptly7. He had promptly8 entered the studio, in obedience9 to his first impulse; but he had counted upon some little time thereafter to arrange his thoughts and feel his way, some flow of conversation to be duly turned to his advantage, or some clue to the deep mystery of Miss Thane's sympathies,—possibly, too, some further light upon the inscrutable design of Providence10, in sending him hither.
After all, was not the most straightforward11 course likely to be the best one?
"Miss Thane," said he, gravely, "my own volition12 has had so little to do with bringing me here, that I scarcely know why I am come. But I believe that it is to try to interest you in a sister artist—a sculptor—who is in sore need of aid that you might give her."
Miss Thane put her hand into her pocket, and drew out her purse; but before she could open it, Bergan stopped her with a deprecating gesture.
"Pardon me," said he, "but that sort of aid, I can give myself, if it be necessary."
"What am I to do, then?" asked Miss Thane, wonderingly.
"Whatever one delicate, refined, large-hearted woman can do for another, in the way of cheer, encouragement, sympathy, and consolation13."
Miss Thane gave him a long look out of her deep eyes, partly surprised, partly meditative14.
"What put it into your head to come to me on such an errand?" she finally asked, with a singular, half satirical emphasis.
"Because when I was wondering to whom I could go," answered Bergan, "I found myself standing before your door. Because you did me the honor, two weeks ago, to ask me a certain question, and I thought that this might be the beginning of a better answer than I was able to give you."
Miss Thane slowly walked to the other end of the room, and fixed15 her eyes on the deep red gold of the western horizon, whence the sun still shed a soft posthumous16 influence over the earth.
"What does it matter," she murmured to Herself, "if I do surrender somewhat of my freedom? I have had a fair trial of an isolated17 life—divested of every irksome bond, burden, and duty, shut up to the one friend that I trust, and the one occupation that I love—and what has it done for me? Absolutely nothing; except to make me daily colder in heart, and narrower in mind. Is it not time to try something else?"
She turned back to Bergan, and her face, though it was still weary, was no longer proud.
"I am sensible of the honor that you have done me," said she, with unusual gentleness; "I will try to deserve your good opinion. Where am I to find the lady of whom you speak, and in what way can I render her the most essential service?"
Bergan quietly placed a chair for her.
"Sit down," said he, "and let me tell you the whole story; at least, as far as I know it myself."
As he talked, the gold faded out of the sky, and the gray twilight18 shadows crept into the room, turning the pictures on the walls into pale, vague outlines, and giving a wonderful softness to Miss Thane's listening face. Nor did the story end until the pictures had become indistinguishable masses of shadow, and nothing was left of the face but its deep, lustrous19 eyes. Its owner had not once spoken; and it quite escaped Bergan's notice, in the dimness, that she gave a sudden, violent start when Mrs. Lyte's full name was mentioned.
"Thus, you see," he concluded, "it is not only a disappointed, discouraged, anxious heart (soon, alas20! to become a mourning one) that I commend to your tender sympathies, but a sorely wounded faith. If you cannot heal the latter, do not, I charge you, help to destroy it."
"I will not," answered she, solemnly; "I promise you that I will not. How could I, when I am half inclined to believe that such faith—unfounded, illusory though it be—is a better thing than any reality that we exchange it for."
Bergan slightly lifted his eyebrows21. "May I ask," said he, quietly, "to what reality, or realities, you refer?"
"You press me hard," answered she, bitterly, after a pause; "none, none that I can think of just now. Everything seems vague, unreal, unsubstantial."
"Fall back on faith," returned Bergan, smiling. "If it be not a reality itself, it works realities. It fosters real virtues22, and inspires real heroism23; by it men live nobly, and die courageously24. What reality can do more for them,—indeed, what one does so much?"
He waited for a moment, expecting an answer. Seeing that none came, he bowed, and left her sitting there, gazing out into the silent night.
On the following morning, Astra was in her studio, busily plying25 her needle, while her mother slept, when there came a light knock on the door. Opening it, she found herself face to face with a lady of such rare and remarkable26 beauty, that she stood motionless, lost in wonder and admiration27.
The stranger bent28 her head with the stately, yet friendly, grace of one princess to another; and a smile just touched her lips, and then seemed to sink into her eyes, shining farther and farther down in their clear depths, until it vanished from sight.
"Will you allow me the pleasure of looking into your studio?" asked she, in a voice as perfect as her face; "I have heard so much of its marvels29, that I am desirous of seeing them for myself."
Astra mutely made way; her visitor glided31 into the room, cast a quick, comprehensive glance around, and sat down in front of the statue of Mercury.
"Do not let me interrupt you," she said to Astra, "but just go on with whatever you are about, and allow me to study this at my leisure."
Astra hesitated a moment, and then took up the work that she had dropped,—one of Cathie's much-enduring aprons32, that she was trying to darn into some semblance33 of respectability. But she could not help stealing an occasional glance at the clear-cut profile of her guest, until, all her artistic34 instincts being thoroughly35 aroused, she was fain to seize upon crayon and cardboard, and make sure of the lovely outline, ere it should vanish, as she expected it would soon do, utterly36 and forever from her sight.
The guest, meanwhile, studied the Mercury in profound silence. Yet Astra soon felt that an uncommonly37 deep and delicate discernment was brought to bear on her work, capable of accurately38 measuring both its excellences39 and its faults. There was something inspiriting in the very thought,—it was so seldom that her sculpture was favored with a really intelligent glance! Her eyes brightened, her hands recovered their cunning, the crayon sketch40 grew into lifelikeness without effort, almost without consciousness, save when she stopped to marvel30, now and then, at its exceeding beauty and delicacy41. Yet it did no more than justice to the original,—scarcely that, indeed;—where did she get that face, and who could she be!
She had left the Mercury now, after a few—a very few words of commendation, yet spoken so cordially and discriminately42 as to be worth volumes of ordinary praise to Astra; and she was looking gravely into the upturned eyes of the Cherub43. Glancing from, it to its creator, she said, with a faint smile;—
"I wish you could put that look into my face."
Astra shook her head. "I could not put it anywhere now," she answered, drearily44.
The stranger gave her a compassionate45 glance. "I wonder," said she, musingly46, "whether it is better to have had such faith and lost it, or never to have had it at all."
"It is better to have lost it," replied Astra quickly, and with a slight shudder47. "One can live in the hope of finding it again."
The visitor sighed, and turned to look at the sketches48 on the wall.
By and by, she slid easily into a discourse49 about various art-matters; holding Astra spellbound, for awhile, with the fluent richness of her diction, and the extent of her knowledge. Nor was Astra allowed to listen only. A certain graphic50 portrayal51 of art-life in Italy having stirred her to the depths, and kindled52 the old fire and energy of enthusiasm in her eyes, she was skilfully53 drawn54 on to talk of herself and her work, her aims, longings55, limitations, and needs, as she had never talked before, because she had never before met with so understanding and sympathetic an auditor56.
In the midst of one of her animated57 sentences, a low moan was heard from the inner room. "Excuse me," said Astra hurriedly, amazed to see how completely she had forgotten her cares, fears, and griefs, in the magic of the stranger's presence,—"Excuse me, I must go to my mother."
Mrs. Lyte had waked, as was too often the case, in a spasm58 of pain. Astra hastened to call Cathie from the kitchen to assist the laboring59 breath with gentle wafts60 of air from a fan, while she herself measured some drops of a soothing61 mixture, and lifted her mother's head on her arm, to enable her to swallow and to breathe more easily. Several anxious moments had passed thus, in silence broken only by the painful respirations of the invalid62, when a low, sweet strain of melody stole so gently into the room that Astra could not tell, at first, from whence it came. So soft was it that it melted into the ear without making any apparent demand upon the attention, yet so clear that not one liquid note was lost. The swollen63 veins64 of Mrs. Lyte's forehead subsided65; her chest ceased its agonized66 heaving; a peaceful, happy smile broke over her face.
"What is it?" she asked, wonderingly, when the strain ended,—not abruptly, but gradually growing fainter, until it was impossible to tell just at what point sound became silence.
Astra whispered softly that she had left a strange visitor in the studio, who appeared to be singing unconsciously to herself.
"If she would only sing again!" murmured Mrs. Lyte, wistfully.
With her usual impulsiveness67, Cathie rushed to the studio door. "Mamma wishes you would sing—" she began, and then stopped short, no less surprised and fascinated by the face that met her gaze than her sister had been.
The stranger reflected for a moment, then her voice again pervaded68 the air, as with the very soul of restful melody. As she sang, the child moved slowly toward her, drawn as irresistibly69 as the magnet to the loadstone, till she stood close to her side, encircled by her arm, and gazing at her with round, wondering eyes. As the song ceased, she slid her hand half-curiously, half-timidly over her shoulder.
"Have you wings?" she asked, earnestly. "Did you fly down?"
Before the visitor could reply, except by a swift expression of something like pain that flitted across her face, Astra appeared in the doorway70.
"Mother wishes to see you, and thank you," she said. "Will you step this way?"
The lady rose, and moved quietly into the inner room. At sight of her face, Mrs. Lyte gave a violent start; the thanks she was about to speak died on her lips; she could only cry out in amazement;—"Who are you?"
The stranger knelt by the bedside, and took both Mrs. Lyte's hands in her soft, cool grasp. "I am the daughter of your runaway71 sister, Aunt Katie," she answered, "and my name is Godiva Thane."
"But she died, and she left no child," said Mrs. Lyte, incredulously.
"She died in giving me birth," returned Diva, with convincing positiveness. "I have long suspected that my father did not let you know, he never forgot the opposition72 to his marriage; besides, he was jealous of his only child's affections. You must needs forgive him,—for he is dead."
Several questions followed, on Mrs. Lyte's part; to which Diva gave long, detailed73 answers, skilfully contrived74 to satisfy her aunt's curiosity, tranquillize her emotions, and bring her, in a brief space, to a tolerably peaceful and composed state of mind.
"Can I do anything for you before I go?" she then asked.
"Nothing, dear, unless you will sing to me—a hymn75; there are tones in your voice which are more soothing than any anodyne76."
Diva put her hand to her brow, and sent her thoughts back—a long, long way, it seemed to her—to a period in her childhood, when she had been under the care of a certain faithful nurse, afterwards discharged by her father for putting foolish, superstitious77 notions—as he averred—into her head. There she found two or three hymns78; keeping tenacious79 hold of her memory, in virtue of their early grafting80 therein; which she sang in such soft, even tones, that Mrs. Lyte was first calmed, and then irresistibly lulled81 to sleep.
The two cousins stole out of the room together. In the studio, Diva put her arms around Astra and kissed her tenderly.
"Having found you, my little cousin, my art sister," said she, smiling, "I shall never let you go!"
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收听单词发音
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1
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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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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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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languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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augury
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| n.预言，征兆，占卦 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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volition
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| n.意志；决意 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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posthumous
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| adj.遗腹的；父亡后出生的；死后的，身后的 | |
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isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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courageously
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| ad.勇敢地，无畏地 | |
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plying
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的现在分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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aprons
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| 围裙( apron的名词复数 )； 停机坪，台口（舞台幕前的部份） | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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excellences
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| n.卓越( excellence的名词复数 )；（只用于所修饰的名词后）杰出的；卓越的；出类拔萃的 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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discriminately
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| 歧视； 区别； 辨出 | |
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cherub
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| n.小天使，胖娃娃 | |
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drearily
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| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
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compassionate
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| adj.有同情心的，表示同情的 | |
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musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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49
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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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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portrayal
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| n.饰演；描画 | |
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52
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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longings
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| 渴望，盼望( longing的名词复数 ) | |
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auditor
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| n.审计员，旁听着 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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laboring
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| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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60
wafts
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| n.空中飘来的气味，一阵气味( waft的名词复数 )；摇转风扇v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的第三人称单数 ) | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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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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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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impulsiveness
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| n.冲动 | |
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pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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71
runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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75
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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76
anodyne
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| n.解除痛苦的东西，止痛剂 | |
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77
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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78
hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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79
tenacious
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| adj.顽强的，固执的，记忆力强的，粘的 | |
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80
grafting
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| 嫁接法，移植法 | |
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81
lulled
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| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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