Anne herself, in a dress of some gleaming material, pale primrose3 in colour, was sitting on an Empire sofa. The warm brown of its brocade made a delightful4 harmony with the colour of her dress—in fact, she looked entirely5 in keeping with her surroundings. A white-haired man, with blue eyes and wearing faultless evening clothes, was sitting on the sofa beside her; and Anne was asking herself where in the name of wonder she had seen him before. Something [Pg 132]in his manner seemed familiar, or was it, perhaps, his eyes, his keen old blue eyes under their shaggy eyebrows6? He had been introduced to her early in the evening, and somehow there had seemed at once a curious and indefinable sympathy between them, one which had sprung to life with the first conventional words they had uttered. Throughout the evening he had monopolized7 her—unquestionably monopolized her—yet entirely without appearing to do so. And over and over again Anne was asking herself when and where she had seen him before.
She glanced at him now as she slowly waved her fan—a delicate thing of mother-of-pearl and fine old cobwebby lace softly yellow with age. Anne possessed8 the trick of fan-waving in its subtlest form, a trick—or art—she had inherited from an ancestor of more than a century ago, one Dolores di Mendova, a very noted9 beauty of the Spanish court, from whom Anne had also inherited her hair, her creamy skin, and her panther-like grace.
General Carden turned and saw that she was watching him. A faint rose colour tinged10 the ivory of Anne’s face.
“I was wondering,” she said, explanatory, “where it was that I had seen you before.”
General Carden smiled, a gay old smile. “I can tell you where I have seen you, though whether you have deigned11 to notice me is quite another matter.”
“I have frequently seen you driving in the Park,” said General Carden. “You in your carriage, I in my car.”
“On the contrary, I remember perfectly15. I confess I had forgotten the fact till you mentioned it. Yet somehow it does not quite explain—” She broke off.
“Explain?” asked General Carden.
Anne laughed. “Explain the quite absurd notion that I have actually spoken to you before. Something in your manner, your speech, seems almost familiar. I fancied I must have known you—not intimately, of course, but slightly.”
“I fear,” he regretted, “that I have not had [Pg 134]that pleasure. I shall hope now to be able to make up for my previous loss. You live in town?”
“The greater part of the year,” said Anne. “I spend three or four months in the country.”
“Which, no doubt, you like,” replied General Carden courteously16. “Being young, you are able to enjoy it. I prefer London. I only leave town during August, when I go abroad. And the whole time I wish I were in England. An unprofitable method of spending a yearly month of one’s life. Once I—” He broke off. “I am too old for travelling now,” he ended.
“Isn’t that rather—nonsense?” said Anne, with a faint hint of a smile, and glancing at the upright figure beside her.
General Carden straightened his shoulders. She was candid—absolutely candid—in her remark.
“Very charming of you to suggest it, Lady Anne,” he said, and he tried unavailingly to keep the pleasure out of his voice. “Perhaps after all——”
“Yes,” smiled Anne, “after all, you don’t find it quite as disagreeable as you pretend.”
“Ah, well!” he said.
There was a pleasant little silence. Anne watched the groups of people in the room, sitting or standing17 in intimate conversation. There was an atmosphere of airy gaiety about the place, a lightness, an effervescence. Listlessness or boredom18 was entirely absent. In one of the farthest groups was her friend, Muriel Lancing, with whom she was staying. She was an elfin-like, dainty figure in a green dress, on which shone a brilliant gleam of diamonds. Muriel herself was sparkling to-night like a bit of escaped quicksilver.
Rather nearer was another woman, tall and massive. Her figure was undoubtedly19 good, but her pose gave one the faintest suspicion that she was conscious of that fact. She reminded one of a statue which had become slightly animated20 by some accident. Apparently21, too, she had never forgotten the fact of having been a statue, and wished other people not to forget it either. Her face was a faultless oval, and her hair worn in a Madonna-like style. But beyond the oval and the hair the Madonna-like impression ceased. Her face was hard, there was none of the exquisite22 warmth, the tender humanity seen in the paintings of the Virgin23 Mother.
General Carden was also looking at Mrs. Sheldon, whom, it may be remembered, he had seen on a previous occasion in the Park, a day now three or four weeks old. Anne noticed the direction of his glance.
“Do you know her?” she asked suddenly, then added as an afterthought, “She is a friend of mine.” Anne did not state that it was a friendship of only two years’ standing, and one which existed infinitely24 more on Mrs. Sheldon’s side than on her own.
“I once had the honour of knowing her fairly intimately,” replied General Carden. “We still exchange bows and civil speeches, but—well, I fancy I remind her of an episode she wishes to forget—a perfectly unimpeachable25 little episode as far as she was concerned, of course.”
Anne glanced at him sideways. There was almost a hard note in his voice, which had not escaped her. She saw his profile clean-cut against the dark panelling of the room. And then a sudden little light of illumination sprang [Pg 137]to her eyes. She had all at once discovered of whom it was he reminded her. There was in his fine old face a very distinct look of the vagabond Piper. It was one of those indefinable likenesses which nevertheless exist, at all events in the eyes of those who chance to see it. It was faint, elusive26, and to the majority it probably would not be the least apparent, but Anne now knew that it was this which had puzzled her throughout the evening.
And with the discovery came a sudden mental picture of a man standing in the moonlight with a crimson27 rose against his lips. It was a picture that had presented itself many times to her mental vision during the last few days, and as many times had been dismissed. It was apt to make her heart beat a trifle faster, to make the warm colour surge faintly to her face. Being unable—or unwilling—to account for a certain picturesque28, if too impetuous, impulse which had moved her that moonlight night, she wished to forget it. Yet it had a disturbing way of representing itself before her mind.
In banishing29 it now her thoughts turned into another trend, which was apt to absorb them quite a good deal, the thought of that writer of letters and books—Robin30 Adair. Anne was perfectly aware that this unknown writer occupied a large amount of her mind; it swung and see-sawed between him and the vagabond Piper in a way that was almost uncomfortable and altogether unaccountable. She was not accustomed to have her thoughts encroached on in this way without her will being consulted, and she could not understand it, or she told herself that she could not understand it, and that possibly came to the same thing. At all events, she was undoubtedly in a slight puzzlement of mind. It is the only word to describe her vaguely31 perplexed32 state. As now Robin Adair had swung uppermost, his book presented itself to her as a subject of conversation.
She asked General Carden if he had read it. She fancied—it was probably pure fancy—that he started slightly. He glanced, too, at Mrs. Cresswell, who was only a few paces away and quite possibly within earshot.
“Ah, yes,” he replied indifferently. “Mrs. Cresswell recommended it to me—a fairly promising33 book, I thought.” He was adhering faithfully to the expression.
“Fairly promising!” Anne’s voice held a note akin34 to indignation. “I thought it delightful; clever, cultured, quite admirably written.”
General Carden experienced a sensation which might be described as a glow of satisfaction. “Isn’t that,” he said, “rather high praise?”
“Not an atom more than the book deserves!” responded Anne warmly. “And the reviews on it—I saw two or three—were excellent.”
“Indeed!” said General Carden politely. The old hypocrite had no mind to mention that every review ever penned on it was now lying safely locked in his desk, that he knew them all nearly verbatim, that he had gloated over them, exulted35 over them though with many a little stab of pain in the region called the heart.
“Of course,” pursued Anne thoughtfully, “it isn’t merely a surface book, full of adventure, movement, and incident; and what incident there is might be termed improbable by those who don’t realize that nothing is improbable, nothing impossible. It’s in its style, its finish, its—its texture36 that the charm and beauty of it lie.”
“It has certainly some well-turned phrases,” conceded General Carden magnanimously. He liked her to talk about the book; he longed for her to continue, though for the life of him he could not give her a lead. Yet his grudging37 admiration—all a pretence38 though it was, though Anne could not know that—fired her to further defence of the writing, stimulated39 her to fresh praise.
“There are delightful phrases!” she said emphatically. “It is a modern book, yet with all the delicacy40, the refinement41, the porcelain-air of the old school. For all that the scenes are laid mainly in the open, and are, as I said, quite modern; it breathes an old-world grace, a kind of powder-and-patches charm, which makes one feel that the writer must have imbibed42 the finish, the courtesy of the old school from his cradle, as if it must have come to him as a birthright, an inheritance.”
General Carden drew himself up. His blue eyes were shining. “Your praise of the book,” he said, “is delightful. The author”—his eyes grew suddenly sad—“would, I am sure, be honoured if he knew your opinion.”
Anne flushed. Did he not know? Had she not told him? Though perhaps not in those very words.
“It does surprise me,” she, allowed, after a second’s pause, “that you are not more enthusiastic about it. I should have fancied somehow—slightly as I know you—that it would have entirely appealed to you.”
General Carden gave a little cough. “It does appeal to me,” he said. “It appeals to me greatly—so much, in fact, that I assumed a certain disparagement43 in order that I might have the pleasure of hearing you refute me.” He had forgotten Mrs. Cresswell, but the words had not escaped her, absorbed though she appeared to be in conversation, and there was the tiniest—the very tiniest—expression of triumph in her eyes.
“Oh!” said Anne, at once puzzled and debating. And then she said, “I am longing44 to read his next book.”
“He has not published another, then?” queried General Carden carelessly. Double-faced that he was, he knew perfectly well that no second book had appeared as yet. Had he not advised Mudie’s—naturally not in Mrs. Cresswell’s presence—to supply him with a copy the moment one appeared?
“No,” replied Anne. And she stopped. Had not Robin Adair himself told her that his Wanderer had escaped him, and Heaven knew whether he would ever again be caught, chained, fettered45, and imprisoned46 in the pages and between the covers of a book?
Later in the evening General Carden, taking his departure, said to Anne, “I should like to have the honour of calling on you, if you will allow me to do so.”
And Anne replied: “I should be quite delighted. I am staying now with Mrs. Lancing, and go down to the country in a few days, but I shall return to town to my own house in the autumn.”
“In the autumn, then,” said General Carden, bowing over her hand.
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1
domed
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| adj. 圆屋顶的, 半球形的, 拱曲的 动词dome的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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2
porcelains
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| n.瓷，瓷器( porcelain的名词复数 ) | |
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3
primrose
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| n.樱草，最佳部分， | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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7
monopolized
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| v.垄断( monopolize的过去式和过去分词 )；独占；专卖；专营 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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9
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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10
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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deigned
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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14
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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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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courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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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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boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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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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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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24
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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unimpeachable
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| adj.无可指责的；adv.无可怀疑地 | |
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elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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28
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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29
banishing
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的现在分词 ) | |
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30
robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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32
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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34
akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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exulted
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| 狂喜，欢跃( exult的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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grudging
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| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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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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41
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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42
imbibed
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| v.吸收( imbibe的过去式和过去分词 )；喝；吸取；吸气 | |
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43
disparagement
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| n.轻视，轻蔑 | |
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44
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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45
fettered
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| v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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