“Your father has asked me to come to tea.”
“I know,” she answered. “Shall we walk back together?”
Bertram Railing was three-and-twenty, and Winnie had not exaggerated too grossly when she vowed2 he was as beautiful as a Greek god. He was very dark, but his skin, smoother than polished ivory, had the glowing colour of Titian’s young Adonis; and his hair, worn long and admirably curling, his fine sincere eyes, were dark too. With his broad forehead, his straight nose, his well-shaped, sensual mouth, he was indeed very handsome; and there was a squareness about his jaw3 which suggested besides much strength of character. His expression was sombre; but when, fired with enthusiasm, he spoke4 of any subject that deeply interested him, his face grew very mobile. He wore a blue serge suit, a red tie, and a low collar which showed his powerful, statuesque neck. If he could not be altogether unconscious of his good looks, he was certainly indifferent to them. His whole life was given up to a passionate5 striving for reform, and his absorbing interest in the improvement of the people allowed no room for trifling6, unworthy thoughts. The strenuous7 pursuit of the ideal gave him a fascination8 far greater than that of his wonderful face.
“Did you like my lecture?” he asked, as they walked side by side.
Winnie looked at him, her eyes filled suddenly with tears.
“Yes.”
It was all she could say, but Railing smiled with pleasure. In this one word was so much feeling that it pleased him more than all the applause he had received.
“You can’t imagine what I felt while I was listening to you,” she said at last.
“If I spoke well it was because I knew your eyes were upon me.”
They walked in silence, each occupied with tumultuous thoughts. His presence was enchanting11 to Winnie, and yet the joy of it was almost painful. A marvellous change had come upon her during the last few days, and life was altogether new. The world seemed strangely full of emotion, and the parts of the earth, in the spring sunshine, sang to one another joyful12 songs.
“You’ve done so much for me,” she murmured, happy to confess her inmost thoughts. “Until I knew you I was so selfish and stupid. But now everything is different. I want to help you in your work. I want to work too.”
For a moment, finding nothing to say, he gazed at her. His brown eyes, so strong and full of meaning, looked into hers gravely; and hers were blue and tender. But the silence grew unendurable, and flushing, the girl looked down.
“Why don’t you speak?”
She felt that his heart was beating as quickly as her own.
“Who am I that you should be afraid?” she whispered.
He gave a sigh that was half joy, half sorrow; and clenched14 his hands in the effort to master himself. But the girl’s sweet freshness rose to his nostrils15 like the scent16 of the earth in the morning after the rain, and his poor wits were all aflame.
“If I’ve done anything for you,” he said at last, “you’ve done a thousand times more for me. When first I met you I was utterly17 discouraged. The way seemed so hard. It was so difficult to make any progress. And then you filled me with hope.”
He began to speak hurriedly, and Winnie listened to his words as though they were some new evangel. He told her of his plans and of his enthusiastic ambition to get the people the power that was theirs by right. When he spoke of wages and of labour, of Co-operative Associations and of Trades unions, it sounded like music in her ears. He told her of Lassalle’s fevered life, of Marx’ ceaseless struggle, of the pitying anguish18 of Carl Marlo. He spoke so earnestly, with such a vehemence19 of phrase, that Winnie, used to the sonorous20 platitudes21 of her father, was carried out as it were into the bottomless sea of life. After the artificiality wherein she had lived, these new doctrines22, so boldly regardless of consequence, eager only for justice, were like the fresh air of heaven: her pulse beat more rapidly, and she knew that beyond her narrow sphere was a freer world. Railing spoke of the people; and the human beings whom she had classed disdainfully as the lower orders, gained flesh and blood in her imagination. He spoke of their passions and their misery23, of their strength, their vice24 and squalor. The many-headed crowd grew picturesque25 and coloured. Winnie was seized on a sudden with the desire to go into their midst; and gaining a new strength of purpose, she felt already a greater self-reliance. Then more slowly, as though her presence were almost forgotten, but with the same intense conviction, the young Socialist spoke of the Nazarene who was the friend of the poor, the outcast, and the leper. Winnie had known Him only as the mainstay of an opulent and established Church. In her mind He was strangely connected with pews of pitch-pine, a fashionable congregation in Sabbath garments, and the imposing26 presence of her father. She learned now, as though it were a new thing, that the Christ was a ragged27 labourer, one with the carpenter who worked at St. Gregory’s Vicarage, the mason carrying a hod, and the scavenger28 who swept the streets. In these simple words she found a reality that had never appeared in her father’s rhetoric29.
“And that’s why I call myself a Christian30 Socialist,” he said, “because I believe that to these two belong the future—to Christ and to the people.”
Winnie did not answer, and they walked again in silence.
“Do you despise me?” she cried at length. “Do you think I’m vain and foolish? I’m so ashamed of myself.”
“You know what I think of you,” he said.
They were approaching the Vicarage and time was very short. Winnie threw off all reserve.
“I want to help you, I want to work with you, I hate the life I lead at home. I’m not a woman, I’m only a foolish doll. Take me away from it.”
The blood rushed to his face and the flame of an ecstatic happiness lit up his eyes. He could scarcely believe that he had heard aright.
“Do you mean that?” he cried, hastily. “Oh, don’t play with me. Don’t you know that I love you? I love you with all the strength I’ve got. When I’m away from you it’s madness; I can think of nothing but you all day, all night.”
Winnie sighed.
“I’m so glad to hear you say that.”
“Do you care for me at all?” he insisted, doubting still.
“Yes, I love you with my whole soul.”
When they reached St. Gregory’s Vicarage, the Canon greeted Railing with effusion.
“My dear Mr. Railing, it’s so kind of you to come. Permit me to introduce you to my sister. Mr. Railing is the author of that admirable and much-discussed book, The Future of Socialism.”
“And what is the future of Socialism?” asked Lady Sophia, politely.
“It took me three hundred pages to answer that question,” he replied, with a smile.
“Then you must allow me to give you some tea at once.”
Winnie went up to her uncle, who had been lunching quietly with his sister, but he put out a deprecating hand.
“You’d better not kiss me after being at a temperance meeting,” he said. “I’m awfully32 afraid of catchin’ things. I always think it’s such a mercy there are no poor people at St. Gregory’s.”
“D’you think they’re all infectious?” smiled Railing.
“One can never tell, you know. I always recommend Theodore to sprinkle himself with Keating’s Powder when he’s been marrying the lower classes.”
Railing tightened33 his lips at the flippant remark, and Winnie, watching him, was ashamed of the frivolous34 atmosphere into which she had brought him. It seemed to her suddenly that these people among whom till now she had lived contentedly35, were but play-actors repeating carelessly the words they had learnt by rote36. That drawing-room, with its smart chintzes and fashionable Sheraton, was a stuffy37 prison in which she could not breathe. She knew a hundred parlours which differed from this one hardly at all: the same flowers were on the same tables, arranged in the same way, the same books lay here and there, the same periodicals. In one and all the same life was led; and it was artificial, conventional, untrue. She and her friends were performing an elaborate but trivial play, some of the scenes whereof took place in a dining-room, some in a ball-room, others in the park, and some in fashionable shops. But round this vast theatre was a great stone wall, and outside it men and women and children swarmed38 in vast numbers, and lived and loved and starved and worked and died.
Bertram turned to Canon Spratte.
“Bishop Andover?” exclaimed the Canon. “Very sad, very sad! I knew him well. Sophia is of opinion that he was the most learned of our bishops40.”
“He’ll be a great loss.”
“Oh, a great loss!” cried the Canon, with conviction. “I was terribly distressed41 when I heard of the sad event.”
“Are there any golf-links at Barchester?” asked Lord Spratte, with a glance at his brother.
“I really don’t know.” Then he gave Canon Spratte a smile. “I hear it’s being suggested that you may go there.”
Canon Spratte received the suggestion without embarrassment44.
“It would require a great deal to tear me away from St. Gregory’s,” he answered, gravely. “I’m thoroughly45 attached to the parish.”
“I don’t know what they would do without you here.”
“Of course no man is indispensable in this world; but I don’t know that I should consider myself fit to take so large and important a See as that of Barchester.”
Winnie took her uncle some tea and sat down beside him.
“Smells of public spirit, don’t he? He’s the sort of chap that has statistics scribbled47 all over his shirt-cuffs.” His jaw dropped. “And his shirt-cuffs take off.”
“Why shouldn’t they?” asked Winnie, flushing.
“My dear, there’s no reason at all. Nor have I ever been able to discover why you shouldn’t eat peas with a knife or assassinate48 your grandmother. But I notice there is a prejudice against these things.”
“I think he’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Do you, by Jove!” cried Lord Spratte. “Have you told your father?”
“No, but I mean to. You all think I’m still a child. You none of you understand that I’m a woman.”
“I notice your sex generally claims to be misunderstood when it has a mind to do something particularly foolish.”
“I wish you had heard him speak. I could hardly control myself.”
“Because he dropped his aitches?”
“Of course not. Can’t you see he’s a gentleman?”
“I’m so short-sighted,” replied Lord Spratte, dryly. “And I haven’t my opera-glasses with me.”
Winnie rose impatiently and walked over to her father.
Lord Spratte watched her with some curiosity, and he caught Railing’s glance as she came up. His lips formed themselves into a whistle. He chuckled50 as he thought of Theodore’s consternation51 if what he suspected proved true.
“I’m so sorry that a perfectly unavoidable engagement prevented me from coming to hear you speak,” the Canon said, in his politest way.
“It was splendid,” cried Winnie, enthusiastically, forgetting already her uncle’s sneer52. “I’m never going to touch alcohol again.”
Railing looked at her gratefully, and his eyes were full of passionate admiration53.
“Capital, capital!” burst out the Canon, patting his friend on the back. “You’re an orator54, Railing.”
“You should have seen the audience,” said Winnie. “While Mr. Railing spoke you could have heard a pin drop. And when he finished they broke into such a storm of applause that I thought the roof was coming down.”
“They were all very kind and very appreciative,” said Railing, modestly.
Lady Sophia, raising her eyebrows55, looked with astonishment56 at her niece, than whom generally no one could be more composed. Winnie was very apt to think enthusiasm a mark of ill-breeding, and the display of genuine feeling proof of the worst possible taste. But now she was too happy to care what her aunt thought, and seeing the look, answered it boldly.
“You should have seen the people, Aunt Sophia. They crowded round him and wouldn’t let him go. Every one wanted to shake hands with him.”
“It’s wonderful how people are carried away by real eloquence,” said the Canon, in his impressive fashion. “You must really come and hear me preach, Mr. Railing. Of course I don’t pretend to have any gifts comparable to yours, but I’m preparing a course of sermons on Christian Socialism which may conceivably interest you.”
“I should like to hear you,” answered the other, putting as usual his whole soul into the casual conversation. To Lady Sophia his strenuous way rang out of tune57 with the rest of the company, but Winnie thought him the only real man she had ever known. “The clergy58 ought to be in the forefront of every movement.”
“Yes,” said the Canon, with that glance at the ancestral portrait which so often preluded59 a flourish of oratory60. “Advance and progress have ever been my watchwords. I think I can truthfully say that my family has always been in the vanguard of any movement for the advantage of the working-classes.”
“From the days of the Montmorencys down to our father, the late Lord Chancellor61 of England,” put in Lord Spratte, gravely.
Theodore gave the head of his house a look of some vexation, but drew himself to his full height.
“As my brother amiably62 reminds me, my ancestor, Aubrey de Montmorency, was killed while fighting for the freedom of the people, in the year 1642. And his second son, from whom we are directly descended63....” Lady Sophia gave a significant cough, but the Canon went on firmly, “was beheaded by James II for resisting the tyranny of that Popish and despotic sovereign.”
None could deny that the sentence was rhythmical64. The delivery was perfect.
Presently Railing got up.
“What, must you go already?” cried the Canon. “Well, well, I daresay you’re busy. You must come and see us again, soon; I want to have a long talk with you. And don’t forget to come and hear me preach.”
When Railing took Winnie’s hand, she felt it almost impossible to command herself.
“I shall see you again to-morrow?” she whispered.
“I shan’t think of anything else till then,” he said.
His dark eyes, so passionately65 tender, burnt like fire in her heart. Railing went out.
“Intelligent fellow!” said Canon Spratte, as the door closed behind him. “I like him very much. Remarkably66 brilliant, isn’t he, Sophia?”
“My dear Theodore, how could I judge?” she answered, somewhat irritably67. “You never let him get a word in. He seemed an intelligent listener.”
“My dear Sophia, I may have faults,” laughed the Canon. “We all have faults—even you, my dear. But no one has ever accused me of usurping68 more than my fair share of the conversation. I daresay he was a little shy.”
“I daresay!” said Lady Sophia, dryly.
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收听单词发音
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1
socialist
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| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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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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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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platitudes
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| n.平常的话，老生常谈，陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 )；滥套子 | |
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doctrines
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| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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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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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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scavenger
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| n.以腐尸为食的动物，清扫工 | |
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rhetoric
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| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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yearned
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| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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rote
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| n.死记硬背，生搬硬套 | |
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stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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purport
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| n.意义，要旨，大要；v.意味著，做为...要旨，要领是... | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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48
assassinate
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| vt.暗杀，行刺，中伤 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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50
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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52
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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53
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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54
orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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preluded
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| v.为…作序，开头（prelude的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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oratory
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| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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chancellor
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| n.(英)大臣；法官；(德、奥)总理；大学校长 | |
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62
amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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64
rhythmical
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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usurping
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| 篡夺，霸占( usurp的现在分词 )； 盗用； 篡夺，篡权 | |
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