Sophia sat waiting on the sofa in the parlour. It appeared to her that, though little more than a month had elapsed since her arrival in Bursley, she had already acquired a new set of interests and anxieties. Paris and her life there had receded1 in the strangest way. Sometimes for hours she would absolutely forget Paris. Thoughts of Paris were disconcerting; for either Paris or Bursley must surely be unreal! As she sat waiting on the sofa Paris kept coming into her mind. Certainly it was astonishing that she should be just as preoccupied2 with her schemes for the welfare of Constance as she had ever been preoccupied with schemes for the improvement of the Pension Frensham. She said to herself: "My life has been so queer--and yet every part of it separately seemed ordinary enough--how will it end?"
Then there were footfalls on the steps outside, and a key was put into the door, which she at once opened.
"Oh!" exclaimed Cyril, startled, and also somewhat out of countenance3. "You're still up! Thanks." He came in, smoking the end of a cigar. "Fancy having to cart that about!" he murmured, holding up the great old-fashioned key before inserting it in the lock on the inside.
"I stayed up," said Sophia, "because I wanted to talk to you about your mother, and it's so difficult to get a chance."
Cyril smiled, not without self-consciousness, and dropped into his mother's rocking-chair, which he had twisted round with his feet to face the sofa.
"Yes," he said. "I was wondering what was the real meaning of your telegram. What was it?" He blew out a lot of smoke and waited for her reply.
"I thought you ought to come down," said Sophia, cheerfully but firmly. "It was a fearful disappointment to your mother that you didn't come yesterday. And when she's expecting a letter from you and it doesn't come, it makes her ill."
"Oh, well!" he said. "I'm glad it's no worse. I thought from your telegram there was something seriously wrong. And then when you told me not to mention it--when I came in ...!"
She saw that he failed to realize the situation, and she lifted her head challengingly.
"You neglect your mother, young man," she said.
"Oh, come now, auntie!" he answered quite gently. "You mustn't talk like that. I write to her every week. I've never missed a week. I come down as often as----"
"You miss the Sunday sometimes," Sophia interrupted him.
"Perhaps," he said doubtfully. "But what---"
"Don't you understand that she simply lives for your letters? And if one doesn't come, she's very upset indeed--can't eat! And it brings on her sciatica, and I don't know what!"
He was taken aback by her boldness, her directness.
"But how silly of her! A fellow can't always----"
"It may be silly. But there it is. You can't alter her. And, after all, what would it cost you to be more attentive4, even to write to her twice a week? You aren't going to tell me you're so busy as all that! I know a great deal more about young men than your mother does." She smiled like an aunt.
He answered her smile sheepishly.
"If you'll only put yourself in your mother's place ...!"
"I expect you're quite right," he said at length. "And I'm much obliged to you for telling me. How was I to know?" He threw the end of the cigar, with a large sweeping5 gesture, into the fire.
"Well, anyhow, you know now!" she said curtly6; and she thought: "You OUGHT to have known. It was your business to know." But she was pleased with the way in which he had accepted her criticism, and the gesture with which he threw away the cigar-end struck her as very distinguished7.
"That's all right!" he said dreamily, as if to say: "That's done with." And he rose.
Sophia, however, did not stir.
"Your mother's health is not what it ought to be," she went on, and gave him a full account of her conversation with the doctor.
"Really!" Cyril murmured, leaning on the mantel-piece with his elbow and looking down at her. "Stirling said that, did he? I should have thought she would have been better where she is, in the Square."
"Why better in the Square?"
"Oh, I don't know!"
"Neither do I!"
"She's always been here."
"Yes." said Sophia, "she's been here a great deal too long."
"What do YOU suggest?" Cyril asked, with impatience8 in his voice against this new anxiety that was being thrust upon him.
"Well," said Sophia, "what should you say to her coming to London and living with you?"
Cyril started back. Sophia could see that he was genuinely shocked. "I don't think that would do at all," he said.
"Why?"
"Oh! I don't think it would. London wouldn't suit her. She's not that sort of woman. I really thought she was quite all right down here. She wouldn't like London." He shook his head, looking up at the gas; his eyes had a dangerous glare.
"But supposing she said she did?"
"Look here," Cyril began in a new and brighter tone. "Why don't you and she keep house together somewhere? That would be the very- --"
He turned his head sharply. There was a noise on the staircase, and the staircase door opened with its eternal creak.
"Yes," said Sophia. "The Champs Elysees begins at the Place de la Concorde, and ends----. Is that you, Constance?"
The figure of Constance filled the doorway9. Her face was troubled. She had heard Cyril in the street, and had come down to see why he remained so long in the parlour. She was astounded10 to find Sophia with him. There they were, as intimate as cronies, chattering11 about Paris! Undoubtedly12 she was jealous! Never did Cyril talk like that to her!
"I thought you were in bed and asleep, Sophia," she said weakly. "It's nearly one o'clock."
"No," said Sophia. "I didn't seem to feel like going to bed; and then Cyril happened to come in."
But neither she nor Cyril could look innocent. And Constance glanced from one to the other apprehensively13.
The next morning Cyril received a letter which, he said--with no further explanation--forced him to leave at once. He intimated that there had been danger in his coming just then, and that matters had turned out as he had feared.
"You think over what I said," he whispered to Sophia when they were alone for an instant, "and let me know."
收听单词发音 |
1
receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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2
preoccupied
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| 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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3
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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4
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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5
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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7
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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8
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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9
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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10
astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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11
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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12
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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13
apprehensively
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| adv.担心地 | |
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