The studio was quite dark. Other studios showed lights, but not Agg's. From one studio came the sound of a mandolin—he thought it was a mandolin—and the sound seemed pathetic, tragic10, to his ears. Agg was perhaps in bed; he might safely arouse her; she would not object. But no! He would not do that. Pride again! It would be too humiliating for him, the affianced, to have to ask Agg: "I say, do you know anything about Marguerite?" The affianced ought to be the leading authority as to the doings of Marguerite. He turned away, walked a little, and perceived the cabman swinging himself cautiously down from his perch11 in order to enter a public-house. He turned back. Marguerite too might be in bed at the studio. Or the girls might be sitting in the dark, talking—a habit of theirs.... Fanciful suppositions! At any rate he would not knock at the door of the studio, would not even enter the alley12 again. What carried him into the Fulham Road and westwards as far as the Workhouse tower and the corner of Alexandra Grove? Feet! But surely the feet of another person, over which he had no control! He went in the lamplit dimness of Alexandra Grove like a thief; he crept into it. The silver had not yet died out of the sky; he could see it across the spaces between the dark houses; it was sad in exactly the same way as the sound of the mandolin had been sad.
What did he mean to do in the Grove? Nothing! He was just walking in it by chance. He could indeed do nothing. For if he rang at No. 8 old Haim would again confront him in the portico13. He passed by No. 8 on the opposite side of the road. No light showed, except a very dim glow through the blind of the basement window to the left of the front door. Those feet beneath him strolled across the road. The basement window was wide open. The blind being narrower than the window-frame, he could see, through the railings, into the room within. He saw Marguerite. She was sitting, in an uncomfortable posture14, in the rather high-seated arm-chair in which formerly15, when the room was her studio, she used to sit at her work. Her head had dropped, on one shoulder. She was asleep. On the table a candle burned. His heart behaved strangely. He flushed. All his flesh tingled16. The gate creaked horribly as he tiptoed into the patch of garden. He leaned over the little chasm17 between the level of the garden and the window, and supported himself with a hand on the lower sash. He pushed the blind sideways with the other hand.
"Marguerite!" in a whisper. Then louder: "Marguerite!"
She did not stir. She was in a deep sleep. Her hands hung limp. Her face was very pale and very fatigued18. She liberated20 the same sadness as the sound of the mandolin and the gleam of silver in the June sky, but it was far more poignant21. At the spectacle of those weary and unconscious features and of the soft, bodily form, George's resentment was annihilated22. He wondered at his resentment. He was aware of nothing in himself but warm, protective love. Tenderness surged out from the impenetrable secrecy23 of his heart, filled him, overflowed24, and floated in waves towards the sleeper25. In the intense sadness, and in the uncertainty26 of events, he was happy.
An older man might have paused, but without hesitancy George put his foot on the window-sill, pushed down the window farther, and clambered into the room in which he had first seen Marguerite. His hat, pressing backward the blind, fell off and bounced its hard felt on the floor, which at the edges was uncarpeted. The noise of the hat and the general stir of George's infraction27 disturbed Marguerite, who awoke and looked up. The melancholy28 which she was exhaling29 suddenly vanished. Her steady composure in the alarm delighted George.
"Couldn't wake you," he murmured lightly. It was part of his Five Towns upbringing to conceal30 excitement. "Saw you through the window."
"Oh! George! Was I asleep?"
Pleasure shone on her face. He deposited his stick and sprang to her. He sat on the arm of the chair. He bent31 her head back and examined her face. He sat on her knee and held her. She did not kiss; she was kissed; he liked that. Her fatigue19 was adorable.
"I came here for something, and I just sat down for a second because I was so tired, and I must have gone right off.... No! No!"
The admonishing32 negative was to stop him from getting up off her knee. She was exhausted33, yet she had vast resources of strength to bear him on her knee. She was wearing her oldest frock. It was shabby. But it exquisitely34 suited her then. It was the frock of her capability35, of her great labours, of her vigil, of her fatigue. It covered, but did not hide, her beautiful contours. He thought she was marvellously beautiful—and very young, far younger than himself. As for him, he was the dandy, in striking contrast to her. His dandyism as he sat on her knee pleased both of them. He looked older than his years, his shoulders had broadened, his dark moustache thickened. In his own view he was utterly36 adult, as she was in hers. But their young faces so close together, so confident, were touchingly37 immature38. As he observed her grave satisfaction at his presence, the comfort which he gave her, he felt sure of her, and the memory of his just resentment came to him, and he was tenderly reproachful.
"I expected to hear from you," he said. The male in him relished39 the delicate accusation40 of his tone.
"She's dead!"
"Dead?"
"She died this afternoon. The layer-out left about half an hour ago."
Death parted them. He rose from her knee, and Marguerite did not try to prevent him. He was profoundly shocked. With desolating42 vividness he recalled the Sunday afternoon when he had carried upstairs the plump, living woman now dead. He had always liked Mrs. Lob—it was as Mrs. Lob that he thought of her. He had seen not much of her. Only on that Sunday afternoon had he and she reached a sort of intimacy—unspoken but real. He had liked her. He had even admired her. She was no ordinary being. And he had sympathized with her for Marguerite's quite explicable defection. He had often wished that those two, the charwoman and his beloved, could somehow have been brought together. The menaces of death had brought them together. Mrs. Lob was laid out in the bedroom which he had once entered. Mrs. Lob had been dying while he dined richly with Miss Wheeler and Laurencine, and while he talked cynically43 with Everard Lucas. And while he had been resenting Marguerite's neglect Marguerite was watching by the dying bed. Oh! The despicable superficialities of restaurants and clubs! He was ashamed. The mere44 receding45 shadow of death shamed him.
"The baby's dead too, of course," Marguerite added. "She ought never to have had a baby. It seems she had had two miscarriages46."
There were tears in Marguerite's eyes and in her voice. Nevertheless her tone was rather matter-of-fact as she related these recondite47 and sinister48 things. George thought that women were very strange. Imagine Marguerite quietly talking to him in this strain! Then the sense of the formidable secrets that lie hidden in the history of families, and the sense of the continuity of individual destinies, overwhelmed him. There was silence.
"And your exam. begins to-morrow," whispered the astonishing Marguerite.
" Where's the old gentleman?"
"He's sitting in the parlour in the dark."
It was a terrible house: they two intimidated49 and mournful in the basement; the widower50 solitary51 on the ground floor; the dead bodies, the wastage and futility52 of conception and long bearing, up in the bedroom. And in all the house the light of one candle! George suddenly noticed, then, that Marguerite was not wearing the thin, delicate ring which he had long ago given her. Had she removed it because of her manual duties? He wanted to ask the question, but, even unspoken, it seemed too trivial for the hour....
There was a shuffling53 sound beyond the door, and a groping on the outer face of the door. Marguerite jumped up. Mr. Haim stumbled into the room. He had incredibly aged54; he looked incredibly feeble. But as he pointed55 a finger at George he was in a fury of anger, and his anger was senile, ridiculous, awful.
"I thought I heard voices," he said, half squeaking56. "How did you get in? You didn't come in by the door. Out of my house! My wife lying dead upstairs, and you choose this night to break in!" He was implacable against George, absolutely; and George recoiled57.
The opening of the door had created a draught58 in which the candle-flame trembled, and the shadow of the old man trembled on the door.
"You'd better go. I'll write. I'll write," Marguerite murmured to George very calmly, very gently, very persuasively59. She stood between the two men. Her manner was perfect. It eternally impressed itself on George. "Father, come and sit down."
The old man obeyed her. So did George. He snatched his hat and stick. By the familiar stone steps of the basement, and along the familiar hall, he felt his way to the door, turned the familiar knob, and departed.
点击收听单词发音
1 grove | |
n.林子,小树林,园林 | |
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2 miserably | |
adv.痛苦地;悲惨地;糟糕地;极度地 | |
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3 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
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4 faltered | |
(嗓音)颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 ); 支吾其词; 蹒跚; 摇晃 | |
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5 firmament | |
n.苍穹;最高层 | |
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6 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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7 astounding | |
adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊,使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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8 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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9 enigma | |
n.谜,谜一样的人或事 | |
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10 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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11 perch | |
n.栖木,高位,杆;v.栖息,就位,位于 | |
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12 alley | |
n.小巷,胡同;小径,小路 | |
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13 portico | |
n.柱廊,门廊 | |
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14 posture | |
n.姿势,姿态,心态,态度;v.作出某种姿势 | |
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15 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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16 tingled | |
v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17 chasm | |
n.深坑,断层,裂口,大分岐,利害冲突 | |
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18 fatigued | |
adj. 疲乏的 | |
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19 fatigue | |
n.疲劳,劳累 | |
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20 liberated | |
a.无拘束的,放纵的 | |
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21 poignant | |
adj.令人痛苦的,辛酸的,惨痛的 | |
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22 annihilated | |
v.(彻底)消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 );使无效;废止;彻底击溃 | |
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23 secrecy | |
n.秘密,保密,隐蔽 | |
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24 overflowed | |
溢出的 | |
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25 sleeper | |
n.睡眠者,卧车,卧铺 | |
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26 uncertainty | |
n.易变,靠不住,不确知,不确定的事物 | |
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27 infraction | |
n.违反;违法 | |
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28 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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29 exhaling | |
v.呼出,发散出( exhale的现在分词 );吐出(肺中的空气、烟等),呼气 | |
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30 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
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31 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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32 admonishing | |
v.劝告( admonish的现在分词 );训诫;(温和地)责备;轻责 | |
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33 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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34 exquisitely | |
adv.精致地;强烈地;剧烈地;异常地 | |
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35 capability | |
n.能力;才能;(pl)可发展的能力或特性等 | |
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36 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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37 touchingly | |
adv.令人同情地,感人地,动人地 | |
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38 immature | |
adj.未成熟的,发育未全的,未充分发展的 | |
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39 relished | |
v.欣赏( relish的过去式和过去分词 );从…获得乐趣;渴望 | |
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40 accusation | |
n.控告,指责,谴责 | |
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41 intake | |
n.吸入,纳入;进气口,入口 | |
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42 desolating | |
毁坏( desolate的现在分词 ); 极大地破坏; 使沮丧; 使痛苦 | |
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43 cynically | |
adv.爱嘲笑地,冷笑地 | |
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44 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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45 receding | |
v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 );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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46 miscarriages | |
流产( miscarriage的名词复数 ) | |
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47 recondite | |
adj.深奥的,难解的 | |
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48 sinister | |
adj.不吉利的,凶恶的,左边的 | |
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49 intimidated | |
v.恐吓;威胁adj.害怕的;受到威胁的 | |
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50 widower | |
n.鳏夫 | |
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51 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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52 futility | |
n.无用 | |
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53 shuffling | |
adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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54 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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55 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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56 squeaking | |
v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 );吱吱叫;告密;充当告密者 | |
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57 recoiled | |
v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 );退缩;报应;返回 | |
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58 draught | |
n.拉,牵引,拖;一网(饮,吸,阵);顿服药量,通风;v.起草,设计 | |
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59 persuasively | |
adv.口才好地;令人信服地 | |
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