He distinctly made out Adeline's head and bust2 above him. Her white apron3 was pressed against the bannisters, as with extended arms and hands grasping the stair-rail she leaned over to see who was below.
"It is, Miss Aked," he answered. "The door was open, and so I walked in. Is anything wrong?"
"I've just sent Lottie out for the doctor. Uncle is very ill. I wish you'd see that he comes at once. It's in the Fulham Road, a little to the left—you'll notice the red lamp."
As Richard ran out, he met the doctor, a youngish man with a Scots face and grey hair, hurrying down the street, the servant-girl breathless in the rear.
"Master was took ill last night, sir," the latter said, in answer to Richard's question. "Pneumonia4, the doctor says as it is, and something else, and there's coming a nurse to-night. Master has attacks of it, sir—he can't get his breath."
He stood in the passage, uncertain what to do; the doctor had already gone upstairs.
"It must be very serious," he murmured.
"Yes, sir." Lottie began to whimper. Richard said he would call again later to make inquiries5, and presently discovered himself in Fulham Road, walking slowly towards Putney.
Mr. Aked's case was hopeless; of that Richard felt sure. The man must be getting on in years, and his frame, not constitutionally vigorous, had doubtless been fatally weakened by long-continued carelessness. What a strange creature of whims6 and enthusiasms he was! Although there could be no question as to his age, Richard never regarded him as more than a few years older than himself. He had none of the melancholy7, the circumspection8, the fixity of view, the prudent9 tendency towards compromise, the serene10 contented11 apathy12, which usually mark his time of life. He was still delicately susceptible13 to new influences, his ideals were as fluid as Richard's own. Life had taught him scarcely anything, and least of all sagacity and a dignified14 carriage. He was the typical bachelor, whose deeper feelings have never been stirred. Did regrets for a possibly happier past, shadows of dead faces, the memory of kisses, ever ruffle15 his equanimity16? Richard thought not. He must always have lived in the present. But he was an artist: though somehow the man had descended17 in his estimation, Richard clung to that. He possessed18 imagination and he possessed intellect, and he could fuse them together. Yet he had been a failure. Viewed in certain lights, Richard admitted he was a pitiful figure. What was his true history? Richard felt instinctively19 that none could answer that question, even in outline, except Mr. Aked, and suddenly he discerned that the man's nature, apparently20 frank to immodesty, had its own reserves, the existence of which few ever suspected. And when the worst was said, Mr. Aked possessed originality21; in an incongruous way he still retained the naïve graces of youthfulness; he was inspiring, and had exerted influences for which Richard could not but be grateful.
"The Psychology22 of the Suburbs" had receded23 swiftly into the background, a beautiful, impossible idea! Richard knew now that it could never have been carried out. A little progress would have been made, and then, as difficulties increased, both he and Mr. Aked would have tacitly abandoned their enterprise. They were very much alike, he thought, and the fancied similarity pleased him. Perhaps at some future time he might himself carry the undertaking24 to completion, in which case he would dedicate his book to the memory of Mr. Aked. He did not regret that the dream of the last few days was ended. It had been very enjoyable, but the awakening25, since according to his present wisdom it must have occurred sooner or later, was less unpleasant now than it could have been at any more advanced stage. Moreover, it was pleasant to dream of the dream.
Mr. Aked was dying: he knew it from Adeline's tone. Poor Adeline! To whom would she turn? She had implied that the only relatives for whom she cared, these being on her mother's side, were in America. From whom would she seek assistance? Who would conduct the formalities of the funeral, and the testamentary business, such as it was? His loathing26 for funerals seemed to have vanished, and he was not without hope that Adeline, though their acquaintance was of the shortest, might engage his help for her helplessness. And after the funeral, what would she do? Since she would probably have enough to live upon, she might elect to remain where she was. In which case he would visit her now and then of an evening. Her imminent27 loneliness gave her a pathetic charm, and he made haste to draw a picture of himself and her on either side the fireplace talking familiarly while she knitted or sewed.
Yes, he was actually a grown man, and entitled to his romances. He might eventually fall in love with her, having discovered in her character rare qualities now unsuspected. It was improbable, but not impossible, and he had, in fact, already glanced at the contingency28 several times before. Oh for a passion, a glorious infatuation, even if it ended in disaster and ruin! The difficulty was that Adeline fell short of the ideal lover. That virginal abstraction was to have been an artist of some sort, absolutely irreligious, broad in social views, the essence of refinement29, with a striking but not necessarily beautiful face, soft-spoken, and isolated—untrammelled by friends. Adeline was no artist; he feared she might be a regular attendant at chapel30 and painfully orthodox as to the sexual relations. Was she refined? Had she a striking face? He said Yes, twice. Her voice was low and full of pretty modulations. Soon, perhaps, she would be alone in the world. If only she had been an artist.... That deficiency, he was afraid, would prove fatal to any serious attachment31. Still, it would be good to visit her.
He was crossing Putney Bridge. Night had fallen, and the full brilliant moon showed a narrow stream crawling between two broad flats of mud. Just below the bridge a barge32 lay at anchor; the silhouette33 of a man moved leisurely34 about on it, and then a boat detached itself from the stem of the barge and dropped down river into darkness. On the bridge busses and waggons35 rattled36 noisily. Young men with straw hats and girls in white blouses and black skirts passed to and fro in pairs, some chattering38, some silent. The sight of these couples gave Richard an idea for the abandoned "Psychology of the Suburbs." What if Mr. Aked recovered? He remembered his sister telling him that their grandfather had survived after having been three times surrendered to death by the doctors. "The Psychology of the Suburbs" began to attract him. It might come to completion, if Mr. Aked lived, and then.... But what about those evenings with the lonely Adeline? The two vistas39 of the future clashed with and obscured each other, and he was overcome by vague foreboding. He saw Mr. Aked struggling for breath in the mean suburban40 bedroom, and Adeline powerless at his side. The pathos41 of her position became intolerable.
When he got back to Carteret Street, it was she who came to the door.
"How is he?"
"About the same. The nurse has come. She told me to go to bed at once, but I don't feel as if I wanted to sleep. You will sit down a little?"
She took the rocking-chair, and leaning back with a gesture of lassitude rocked gently; her white face, with the red eyes and drooping42 eyelids43, gave sign of excessive fatigue44, and on her lips there was a gloomy pout45. After she had described Mr. Aked's condition in some detail and told what the doctor had said, they sat silent for a while in that tense atmosphere which seems to stifle46 vitality47 in a house of dangerous sickness. Overhead the nurse moved about, making the window rattle37 softly now and then.
"You have known uncle a long time, haven't you?"
"Not at all," Richard answered. "It's a very funny thing, but though I seem to know him quite well, I've not met him half a dozen times in my life. I saw him first about a year ago, and then I met him again the other day at the British Museum, and after we'd had dinner together we were just like old friends."
"I certainly thought from what he said that you were old friends. Uncle has so few friends. Except one or two neighbours I do believe you are the first person that has ever called at this house since I came to live here."
"At any rate, we have soon got to know each other," said Richard, smiling. "It isn't a week since you asked me if my name was Larch." She returned the smile, though rather mechanically.
"Perhaps my mistake about your being an old friend of Uncle Aked's explains that," she said.
"Well, we won't bother about explaining it; there it is, and if I can help you in any way just now, you must tell me."
"Thank you, I will." She said it with perfect simplicity48. Richard was conscious of a scarcely perceptible thrill.
"You must have had an awful time last night, all alone," he said.
"Yes, but I was too annoyed to feel upset."
"Annoyed?"
"Because uncle has brought it all on himself by carelessness. I do think it's a shame!" She stopped rocking, and sat up, her face full of serious protest.
"He's not the sort of man to take care of himself. He never thought—"
"That's just it. He should have thought, at his age. If he dies, he will practically have killed himself, yes, killed himself. There's no excuse, going out as he did, in spite of all I said. Fancy him coming downstairs last Sunday in the state he was, and then going out on Monday, though it was warm!"
"Well, we'll hope he will get better, and it may be a lesson to him."
"Hark! What was that?" She sprang to her feet apprehensively49 and listened, her breast pulsing beneath the tight black bodice and her startled inquiring eyes fixed50 on Richard's. A very faint tinkle51 came from the rear of the house.
"Perhaps the front-door bell," he suggested.
"Of course. How silly of me! I fancied.... Who can it be at this time?" She went softly into the passage. Richard heard the door open, and then a woman's voice, which somehow seemed familiar,—
"How is Mr. Aked to-night? Your servant told our servant that he was ill, and I felt anxious."
"Oh!" Adeline exclaimed, discomposed for a moment, as it seemed to Richard; then she went on coldly, "Uncle is about the same, thank you," and almost immediately closed the door.
"A person to inquire about uncle," she said to Richard, with a peculiar52 intonation53, on re-entering the room. Then, just as he was saying that he must go, there was a knock on the ceiling and she flew away again. Richard waited in the passage till she came downstairs.
"It's nothing. I thought he was dying! Oh!" and she began to cry freely and openly, without attempting to wipe her eyes.
Richard gazed hard at the apron string loosely encircling her waist; from that white line her trembling bust rose like a bud from its calyx, and below it the black dress flowed over her broad hips54 in gathered folds; he had never seen a figure so exquisite55, and the beauty of it took a keener poignancy56 from their solitude57 in the still, anxious night—the nurse and the sick man were in another sphere.
"Hadn't you better go to bed?" he said. "You must be tired out and over-excited." How awkward and conventional the words sounded!
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1
larch
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| n.落叶松 | |
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bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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pneumonia
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| n.肺炎 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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circumspection
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| n.细心，慎重 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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ruffle
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| v.弄皱，弄乱；激怒，扰乱；n.褶裥饰边 | |
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equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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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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undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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contingency
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| n.意外事件，可能性 | |
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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barge
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| n.平底载货船，驳船 | |
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silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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waggons
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| 四轮的运货马车( waggon的名词复数 )； 铁路货车； 小手推车 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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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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vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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pout
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| v.撅嘴；绷脸；n.撅嘴；生气，不高兴 | |
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46
stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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apprehensively
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| adv.担心地 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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51
tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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52
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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53
intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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54
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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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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poignancy
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| n.辛酸事，尖锐 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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