There had been Farringtons of Farrington from time immemorial. The transmission[167] of the title and estates had long been direct from father to son; only at rare intervals4, as in the case of the present baronet, Sir Rupert, did distant relatives succeed. But now at last the race was nearly run. There were no males left, not even a far-off cousin twenty times removed, and after Sir Rupert’s death the title would be extinct. There was an heir for the property certainly, but only through the female branch. Letitia Diggle would come into everything of course, and after her, her children; but although her eldest5 boy, under Sir Rupert’s will, would probably assume the Farrington name and arms, the baronetcy could not be his, and in consequence Mrs. Diggle was very much aggrieved6.
The Cavendish-Diggles had by this time taken up their residence at the Hall. They came, in the first instance, by invitation,[168] but remained afterwards as a matter of course. The old people liked to hear the patter of their grandchildren’s feet and their merry shrill7 trebles as they played about the place. This had to some extent dispelled8 the fixed9 gloom which had settled on Lady Farrington after her son’s death. Even black Sir Rupert was softened10, and seemed to take a pleasure in their prattle11 and merry ways. But then Letitia had always been an especial favourite of his. Her cast of character was in harmony with his. She reproduced many of his own peculiar12 traits; she was as unforgiving, as determined13, and as hard. She showed pretty plainly what she would be if she lived to inherit the estates, and already exercised a kind of second-hand14 authority, such as heirs-apparent often usurp15 when allowed. She knew the estate by heart,[169] every inch, every tenant16. She had her own views as to the rentals17 and the outgoings. She kept a sharp look-out on the bailiff, and gave him to understand that she was up to every move. Sir Rupert, to a great extent, let her have her own way. It pleased him to think that the property would fall into good hands, and Letitia’s ideas were so much in accord with his own that they seldom fell out or disagreed.
It was amusing to see how the great Diggle comported18 himself at Farrington Hall. He was a curious example of how low the once mighty19 may fall. From having been a tremendous personage he had sunk to the position of a mere20 hanger-on. He was not even prince consort21 to a reigning22 queen. His wife looked upon him as an appendage23, a person useful in his way, but not entitled to have any voice in[170] the management of affairs, or, indeed, any opinions of his own. He might have resented this, and refused the rather ignominious24 r?le, but for two reasons. The first was that his health was very indifferent, and he had no spirit to battle for his rights; the second, that Mrs. Diggle had made certain discoveries as to his family and antecedents which left him very much in her power. The fact was that Cavendish really belonged to the great tea firm trading and largely advertising25 under the name of Diggle; and what was more, the firm was in a very bad way. To have married a Diggle at all was in itself a condescension26, but to have become the wife of a pauper27 Diggle was something like a ‘sell.’ There had been settlements, of course, but not to a large amount, as Diggle declared he had but little ready cash, although his prospects[171] were excellent. Moreover, his hopes, undoubtedly29 well-grounded at the time, of professional advancement30, which had been not the least potent31 inducement to the match, were now fading into nothingness, and there seemed every reason to fear that, owing to his wretched health, Colonel Diggle would continue a half-pay officer for the rest of his life. A parvenu32 who is poor and without any chances of obtaining social distinction has no raison d’être at all, and Diggle was fast degenerating33 into a mere cipher34, a poor creature who had no other claims to respect but that of being father to the Diggle-Farrington who would some day be the master of Farrington Hall.
They were at breakfast at Farrington Hall one morning, when the post-bag arrived, and, as usual, was opened at the table. The letters were served out like[172] alms, grudgingly35 given, by Sir Rupert to each, but he still kept the lion’s share to himself. All were soon deep in their correspondence. Lady Farrington’s were gossipy letters, filling several sheets; Letitia’s the same, with a large sprinkling of tradesmen’s circulars and bills. The colonel heard only from old soldier friends, short but often pithy36 notes, having mostly the same refrain—the writer’s grievances37 or his forcibly expressed conviction that the service was going to the dogs. These last were the soonest read, and Diggle was therefore the only one free to notice what passed among the others at table.
It was quite clear that Sir Rupert was very much put out by his morning’s news. Although little given to betray what was passing in his mind, his demeanour after he had opened and read the first few lines[173] of one of his letters, was that of a man in whom indignation, excitement, and ill-concealed rage combined to considerably38 disturb. His black eyebrows39 contracted, his hard mouth was drawn40 down at the corners; he looked up and around with fierce bloodshot eyes, and as quickly looked down again when he saw that he was observed by Diggle. After that he ‘took a pull on himself,’ so to speak, and folding up the evidently offensive missive, put it with the others, then lapsed41 into moody42, preoccupied43 silence until the breakfast was over.
‘I should like to speak to you, Letitia, in the justice room, as soon as you conveniently can come.’
He often consulted her, and there was nothing strange, therefore, in this request, except in the abrupt44 and peremptory45 tone in which it was made.
[174]
The justice room, in which Sir Rupert gave audience to constables46 and administered the law when urgently required, was also his library, study, and place of business. It was a cheerless, formal, barely-furnished room, which took, as rooms usually do, the colour and temper of its occupant, and was, like him, cold and uncompromising.
Sir Rupert seated himself at his official table, in his high magisterial47 chair, and sorting his letters carefully, selected that which had so evidently disturbed him, read and re-read it several times.
Then Letitia joined him—
‘Yes, father?’
‘Sit down please. What I have to say will take some time.’ He paused—
‘A letter has reached me this morning from Lady Farrington’s—the dowager’s—lawyer.[175] It may be all a hoax48; let us hope that it is; but I confess I am greatly disturbed by what it says.’
Letitia looked at him, keenly interrogative, but said nothing.
‘You remember, no doubt, the circumstances of the old dowager’s craze? It was no secret in the family. She pretended that a grandchild of hers was in existence, who was the rightful heir to the title and estates; all that you knew, of course?’
‘I had heard the absurd story. Idiotic49 old woman! I cannot understand why you ever let her out,’ said Letitia, as though her father had full powers to commit to durance indefinite every individual likely to injure the Farrington family or whose brain was touched, the two being synonymous terms.
‘I did not wish to let her out, I assure[176] you. It was done in spite of me, and by the person who is, I believe, at the bottom of the newest attempt to defraud50 us of our rights.’
‘Are they threatened?—by whom?’ Letitia was like a lioness who, with her whelps, was about to be robbed of her prey51.
‘The old lady, you must know, did not fabricate her story without something to go upon. There was some semblance52 of probability. She produced the rightful heir—not quite at the right time, perhaps, but there he was.’
‘Did you meet him?’
‘I did; so did you; you knew him, well.’
‘I, father? Preposterous53; where, pray, did we meet?’
‘He served as a private in the Duke’s[177] Own. His name—the name he went by, at least—was Larkins.’
‘Larkins! the sergeant54? Poor Ernest’s champion? Never!’
‘This Mr. Larkins whom I received here at your mother’s express desire, whom I treated with the utmost consideration, proved a snake in the grass. He first thwarted55 me with regard to old Lady Farrington’s release from confinement56; then, with her, concocted57 a scheme of which I have only to-day learnt the real intent. This letter from the lawyers is nothing more or less than a notice to quit—a regular notice of ejectment, in favour of Herbert Farrington, son of Herbert of the same name, and grandson of the last baronet.’
‘It’s a swindle, of course, from beginning to end; a trumped-up story. You won’t[178] submit, father, I trust, to such a barefaced58 imposition?’
Letitia was in arms at once; for the threatened action struck at her more, perhaps, than any one else.
‘I shall defend myself and you, you may depend upon it. I shall not submit tamely to any attempt at extortion. It is really life and death to me.’
‘Is it not the same to me, and to my children—to my Rupert, who some day will be your heir? Are we to be robbed with impunity59? Certainly not.’
‘They have not told me much of their case, of course; a mere outline, nothing more. But it is evidently a strong one. They have discovered, so they say, old Herbert Farrington’s marriage—if it’s a bona fide discovery we are bound to accept it, after due verification, at least.’
[179]
‘What do they pretend?’
‘That the real Herbert Farrington, when serving in the 12th Lancers as Corporal Smith, married Ann Orde, and had issue.’
‘This Larkins? Sergeant Larkins of the Duke’s Own? I’ll never believe it; not if I live to a hundred. But, father, what do you mean to do? You will resist, surely; for my sake—for that of my children, you will not give in?’
‘If we could effect a compromise—’
‘Never!’ cried Letitia. ‘Never, with my consent. I protest against any compromise at all.’
‘It might be wise.’
Was it possible that Sir Rupert had reasons for dreading60 a law-suit? No one knew more about the case than himself. Was he in possession of any information—damaging[180] facts—which he had so far kept secret, but which would be certain to come out on a trial?
‘But a long law-suit! It would eat up the whole estate. No doubt this pretender, this Mr. Larkins, would gladly come to terms. A few thousands paid on the nail would silence him for good.’
‘Don’t, father; don’t dream of making such concessions,’ Letitia almost shrieked61. The idea of parting thus coolly with thousands out of the future heritage of her children! ‘No, no; better to fight it out, to resist to the bitter end.’
‘I think I must consult your mother and Conrad.’
‘What have they to say to it? I am the person principally concerned—I and mine—we shall be the greatest sufferers.’
‘Letitia,’ said her father very gravely[181] to her, ‘it was not only to speak to you concerning this letter that I asked you to come here; it was to break some worse news.’
‘Affecting us?’
‘Us all, but more particularly you.’
‘Go on; quick, father.’
‘Till very lately I had thought that after me there would be an end of the Farringtons. You would be sole heiress to the estates, to which your children would succeed, but the title would become extinct, and the name, unless specially62 assumed. Within the last month or two I have discovered that I have a lawful63 male heir, who must inevitably64 come between you in the entail65. Ernest, poor Ernest, left a son.’
‘By that person, that woman? Father, how dare you mention her name in my presence?[182] What claims can such a creature as her offspring have upon you?’
‘Poor Ernest married her, Letitia. There is not a shadow of a doubt of it. The whole of the proofs are in my possession. The child I have not seen, and will not see. But your mother has; indeed, the whole thing has come out through her.’
‘Ernest was always her favourite,’ said Letitia bitterly. It was being borne into her gradually how much she was about to lose. ‘But I shall not surrender my rights except upon compulsion, father. We have lawyers too, you must remember; and where a large property is at stake, people must look out for themselves.’
‘I wish, for your sake, the case was not so clear.’
‘I am not at all satisfied as yet, father. There will be two law-suits, perhaps; and I[183] shall not accept any compromise, you may depend.’
There was now a prospect28 of much discord66 in the family at Farrington Hall.
点击收听单词发音
1 specimen | |
n.样本,标本 | |
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2 eminence | |
n.卓越,显赫;高地,高处;名家 | |
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3 velvety | |
adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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4 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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5 eldest | |
adj.最年长的,最年老的 | |
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6 aggrieved | |
adj.愤愤不平的,受委屈的;悲痛的;(在合法权利方面)受侵害的v.令委屈,令苦恼,侵害( aggrieve的过去式);令委屈,令苦恼,侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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7 shrill | |
adj.尖声的;刺耳的;v尖叫 | |
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8 dispelled | |
v.驱散,赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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9 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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10 softened | |
(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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11 prattle | |
n.闲谈;v.(小孩般)天真无邪地说话;发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
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12 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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13 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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14 second-hand | |
adj.用过的,旧的,二手的 | |
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15 usurp | |
vt.篡夺,霸占;vi.篡位 | |
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16 tenant | |
n.承租人;房客;佃户;v.租借,租用 | |
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17 rentals | |
n.租费,租金额( rental的名词复数 ) | |
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18 comported | |
v.表现( comport的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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20 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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21 consort | |
v.相伴;结交 | |
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22 reigning | |
adj.统治的,起支配作用的 | |
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23 appendage | |
n.附加物 | |
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24 ignominious | |
adj.可鄙的,不光彩的,耻辱的 | |
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25 advertising | |
n.广告业;广告活动 a.广告的;广告业务的 | |
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26 condescension | |
n.自以为高人一等,贬低(别人) | |
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27 pauper | |
n.贫民,被救济者,穷人 | |
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28 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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29 undoubtedly | |
adv.确实地,无疑地 | |
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30 advancement | |
n.前进,促进,提升 | |
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31 potent | |
adj.强有力的,有权势的;有效力的 | |
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32 parvenu | |
n.暴发户,新贵 | |
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33 degenerating | |
衰退,堕落,退化( degenerate的现在分词 ) | |
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34 cipher | |
n.零;无影响力的人;密码 | |
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35 grudgingly | |
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36 pithy | |
adj.(讲话或文章)简练的 | |
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37 grievances | |
n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 );苦衷;不满;牢骚 | |
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38 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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39 eyebrows | |
眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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40 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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41 lapsed | |
adj.流失的,堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 );陷入;倒退;丧失 | |
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42 moody | |
adj.心情不稳的,易怒的,喜怒无常的 | |
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43 preoccupied | |
adj.全神贯注的,入神的;被抢先占有的;心事重重的v.占据(某人)思想,使对…全神贯注,使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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44 abrupt | |
adj.突然的,意外的;唐突的,鲁莽的 | |
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45 peremptory | |
adj.紧急的,专横的,断然的 | |
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46 constables | |
n.警察( constable的名词复数 ) | |
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47 magisterial | |
adj.威风的,有权威的;adv.威严地 | |
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48 hoax | |
v.欺骗,哄骗,愚弄;n.愚弄人,恶作剧 | |
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49 idiotic | |
adj.白痴的 | |
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50 defraud | |
vt.欺骗,欺诈 | |
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51 prey | |
n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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52 semblance | |
n.外貌,外表 | |
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53 preposterous | |
adj.荒谬的,可笑的 | |
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54 sergeant | |
n.警官,中士 | |
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55 thwarted | |
阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 ); 使受挫折; 挫败; 横过 | |
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56 confinement | |
n.幽禁,拘留,监禁;分娩;限制,局限 | |
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57 concocted | |
v.将(尤指通常不相配合的)成分混合成某物( concoct的过去式和过去分词 );调制;编造;捏造 | |
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58 barefaced | |
adj.厚颜无耻的,公然的 | |
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59 impunity | |
n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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60 dreading | |
v.害怕,恐惧,担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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61 shrieked | |
v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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62 specially | |
adv.特定地;特殊地;明确地 | |
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63 lawful | |
adj.法律许可的,守法的,合法的 | |
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64 inevitably | |
adv.不可避免地;必然发生地 | |
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65 entail | |
vt.使承担,使成为必要,需要 | |
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66 discord | |
n.不和,意见不合,争论,(音乐)不和谐 | |
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