If he had wondered at her when she had been my Lady Dunstanwolde, as her Grace of Osmonde he regarded her with heavy awe2. Never had she been able to lead him to visit her at her house in town or at any other which was her home. “’Tis all too grand for me, your Grace,” he would say; “I am a country yokel3, and have hunted and drank, and lived too hard to look well among town gentlemen. I must be drunk at dinner, and when I am in liquor I am no ornament4 to a duchess’s drawing-room. But what a woman you have grown,” he would say, staring at her and shaking his head. “Each time I clap eyes on you ’tis to marvel5 at you, remembering what a baggage you were, and how you kept from slipping by the way. There was Jack6 Oxon, now,” he added one day—“after you married Dunstanwolde, I heard a pretty tale of Jack—that he had made a wager7 among his friends in town—he was a braggart8 devil, Jack—that he would have you, though you were so scornful; and knowing him to be a liar9, his fellows said that unless he could bring back a raven10 lock six feet long to show them, he had lost his bet, for they would believe no other proof. And finely they scoffed11 at him when he came back saying that he had had one, but had hid it away for safety when he was drunk, and could not find it again. They so flouted12 and jeered13 at him that swords were drawn14, and blood as well. But though he was a beauty and a crafty15 rake-hell fellow, you were too sharp for him. Had you not had so shrewd a wit and strong a will, you would not have been the greatest duchess in England, Clo, as well as the finest woman.”
As time went by, and the years spent in drink and debauchery began to tell even on the big, strong body which should have served any other man bravely long past his threescore and ten, Sir Jeoffry drank harder and lived more wildly, sometimes being driven desperate by dulness, his coarse pleasures having lost their potency17.
“Liquor is not as strong as it once was,” he used to grumble18, “and there are fewer things to stir a man to frolic. Lord, what roaring days and nights a man could have thirty years ago.”
So in his efforts to emulate19 such nights and days, he plunged20 deeper and deeper into new orgies; and one night, after a heavy day’s hunting, sitting at the head of his table with his old companions, he suddenly leaned forward, staring with starting eyes at an empty chair in a dark corner. His face grew purple, and he gasped21 and gurgled.
“What is’t, Jeoff?” old Eldershawe cried, touching23 his shoulder with a shaking hand. “What’s the man staring at, as if he had gone mad?”
“Jack,” cried Sir Jeoffry, his eyes still farther starting from their sockets24. “Jack! what say you? I cannot hear.”
The next instant he sprang up, shrieking26, and thrusting with his hands as if warding27 something off.
“Keep back!” he yelled. “There is green mould on thee. Where hast thou been to grow mouldy? Keep back! Where hast thou been?”
His friends at table started up, staring at him and losing colour; he shrieked28 so loud and strangely, he clutched his hair with his hands, and fell into his chair, raving29, clutching, and staring, or dashing his head down upon the table to hide his face, and then raising it as if he could not resist being drawn in his affright to gaze again. There was no soothing30 him. He shouted, and struggled with those who would have held him. ’Twas Jack Oxon who was there, he swore—Jack, who kept stealing slowly nearer to him, his face and his fine clothes damp and green, he beat at the air with mad hands, and at last fell upon the floor, and rolled, foaming31 at the mouth.
They contrived32, after great strugglings, to bear him to his chamber33, but it took the united strength of all who would stay near him to keep him from making an end of himself. By the dawn of day his boon34 companions stood by him with their garments torn to tatters, their faces drenched35 with sweat, and their own eyes almost starting from their sockets; the doctor who had been sent for, coming in no hurry, but scowled36 and shook his head when he beheld37 him.
“He is a dead man,” he said, “and the wonder is that this has not come before. He is sodden38 with drink and rotten with ill-living, besides being past all the strength of youth. He dies of the life he has lived.”
’Twas little to be expected that his boon companions could desert their homes and pleasures and tend his horrors longer than a night. Such a sight as he presented did not inspire them to cheerful spirits.
“Lord,” said Sir Chris Crowell, “to see him clutch his flesh and shriek25 and mouth, is enough to make a man live sober for his remaining days,” and he shook his big shoulders with a shudder40.
“There is but one on earth who will do aught for him,” said Eldershawe. “’Tis handsome Clo, who is a duchess; but she will come and tend him, I could swear. Even when she was a lawless devil of a child she had a way of standing42 by her friends and fearing naught43.”
So after taking counsel together they sent for her, and in as many hours as it took to drive from London, her coach stood before the door. By this time all the household was panic-stricken and in hopeless disorder44, the women-servants scattered45 and shuddering46 in far corners of the house; such men as could get out of the way having found work to do afield or in the kennels47, for none had nerve to stay where they could hear the madman’s shrieks48 and howls.
Her Grace, entering the house, went with her woman straight to her chamber, and shortly emerged therefrom, stripped of her rich apparel, and clad in a gown of strong blue linen49, her hair wound close, her white hands bare of any ornament, save the band of gold which was her wedding-ring. A serving-woman might have been clad so; but the plainness of her garb50 but made her height, and strength, so reveal themselves, that the mere51 sight of her woke somewhat that was like to awe in the eyes of the servants who beheld her as she passed.
She needed not to be led, but straightway followed the awful sounds, until she reached the chamber behind whose door they were shut. Upon the huge disordered bed, Sir Jeoffry writhed52, and tried to tear himself, his great sinewy53 and hairy body almost stark54. Two of the stable men were striving to hold him.
The duchess went to his bedside and stood there, laying her strong white hand upon his shuddering shoulder.
“Father,” she said, in a voice so clear, and with such a ring of steady command, as, the men said later, might have reached a dead man’s ear. “Father, ’tis Clo!”
Sir Jeoffry writhed his head round and glared at her, with starting eyes and foaming mouth.
“Who says ’tis Clo?” he shouted. “’Tis a lie! She was ever a bigger devil than any other, though she was but a handsome wench. Jack himself could not manage her. She beat him, and would beat him now. ’Tis a lie!”
All through that day and night the power of her Grace’s white arm was the thing which saved him from dashing out his brains. The two men could not have held him, and at his greatest frenzy55 they observed that now and then his bloodshot eye would glance aside at the beauteous face above him. The sound of the word “Clo” had struck upon his brain and wakened an echo.
She sent away the men to rest, calling for others in their places; but leave the bedside herself she would not. ’Twas a strange thing to see her strength and bravery, which could not be beaten down. When the doctor came again he found her there, and changed his surly and reluctant manner in the presence of a duchess, and one who in her close linen gown wore such a mien56.
“You should not have left him,” she said to him unbendingly, “even though I myself can see there is little help that can be given. Thought you his Grace and I would brook57 that he should die alone if we could not have reached him?”
Those words “his Grace and I” put a new face upon the matter, and all was done that lay within the man’s skill; but most was he disturbed concerning the lady, who would not be sent to rest, and whose noble consort58 would be justly angered if she were allowed to injure her superb health.
“His Grace knew what I came to do and how I should do it,” the duchess said, unbending still. “But for affairs of State which held him, he would have been here at my side.”
She held her place throughout the second night, and that was worse than the first—the paroxysms growing more and more awful; for Jack was within a yard, and stretched out a green and mouldy hand, the finger-bones showing through the flesh, the while he smiled awfully59.
At last one pealing60 scream rang out after another, until after making his shuddering body into an arc resting on heels and head, the madman fell exhausted61, his flesh all quaking before the eye. Then the duchess waved the men who helped, away. She sat upon the bed’s edge close—close to her father’s body, putting her two firm hands on either of his shoulders, holding him so, and bent62 down, looking into his wild face, as if she fixed63 upon his very soul all the power of her wondrous64 will.
“Father,” she said, “look at my face. Thou canst if thou wilt65. Look at my face. Then wilt thou see ’tis Clo—and she will stand by thee.”
She kept her gaze upon his very pupils; and though ’twas at first as if his eyes strove to break away from her look, their effort was controlled by her steadfastness66, and they wandered back at last, and her great orbs67 held them. He heaved a long breath, half a big, broken sob39, and lay still, staring up at her.
“Ay,” he said, “’tis Clo! ’tis Clo!”
The sweat began to roll from his forehead, and the tears down his cheeks. He broke forth68, wailing69 like a child.
“Clo—Clo,” he said, “I am in hell.”
She put her hand on his breast, keeping will and eyes set on him.
“Nay,” she answered; “thou art on earth, and in thine own bed, and I am here, and will not leave thee.”
She made another sign to the men who stood and stared aghast in wonder at her, but feeling in the very air about her the spell to which the madness had given way.
“’Twas not mere human woman who sat there,” they said afterwards in the stables among their fellows. “’Twas somewhat more. Had such a will been in an evil thing a man’s hair would have risen on his skull70 at the seeing of it.”
“Go now,” she said to them, “and send women to set the place in order.”
She had seen delirium71 and death enough in the doings of her deeds of mercy, to know that his strength had gone and death was coming. His bed and room were made orderly, and at last he lay in clean linen, with all made straight. Soon his eyes seemed to sink into his head and stare from hollows, and his skin grew grey, but ever he stared only at his daughter’s face.
“Clo,” he said at last, “stay by me! Clo, go not away!”
“I shall not go,” she answered.
She drew a seat close to his bed and took his hand. It lay knotted and gnarled and swollen-veined upon her smooth palm, and with her other hand she stroked it. His breath came weak and quick, and fear grew in his eyes.
“What is it, Clo?” he said. “What is’t?”
“’Tis weakness,” replied she, soothing him. “Soon you will sleep.”
“Ay,” he said, with a breath like a sob. “’Tis over.”
“What day o’ the year is it?” he asked.
“The tenth of August,” was her answer.
“Sixty-nine years from this day was I born,” he said, “and now ’tis done.”
“Nay,” said she—“nay—God grant—”
“Ay,” he said, “done. Would there were nine and sixty more. What a man I was at twenty. I want not to die, Clo. I want to live—to live—live, and be young,” gulping73, “with strong muscle and moist flesh. Sixty-nine years—and they are gone!”
He clung to her hand, and stared at her with awful eyes. Through all his life he had been but a great, strong, human carcass; and he was now but the same carcass worn out, and at death’s door. Of not one human thing but of himself had he ever thought, not one creature but himself had he ever loved—and now he lay at the end, harking back only to the wicked years gone by.
“None can bring them back,” he shuddered74. “Not even thou, Clo, who art so strong. None—none! Canst pray, Clo?” with the gasp22 of a craven.
“Not as chaplains do,” she answered. “I believe not in a God who clamours but for praise.”
“What dost believe in, then?”
“In One who will do justice, and demands that it shall be done to each thing He has made, by each who bears His image—ay, and mercy too—but justice always, for justice is mercy’s highest self.”
Who knows the mysteries of the human soul—who knows the workings of the human brain? The God who is just alone. In this man’s mind, which was so near a simple beast’s in all its movings, some remote, unborn consciousness was surely reached and vaguely75 set astir by the clear words thus spoken.
“Clo, Clo!” he cried, “Clo, Clo!” in terror, clutching her the closer, “what dost thou mean? In all my nine and sixty years—” and rolled his head in agony.
In all his nine and sixty years he had shown justice to no man, mercy to no woman, since he had thought of none but Jeoffry Wildairs; and this truth somehow dimly reached his long-dulled brain and wakened there.
“Down on thy knees, Clo!” he gasped—“down on thy knees!”
It was so horrible, the look struggling in his dying face, that she went down upon her knees that moment, and so knelt, folding his shaking hands within her own against her breast.
“Thou who didst make him as he was born into Thy world,” she said, “deal with that to which Thou didst give life—and death. Show him in this hour, which Thou mad’st also, that Thou art not Man who would have vengeance76, but that justice which is God.”
“Then—then,” he gasped—“then will He damn me!”
“He will weigh thee,” she said; “and that which His own hand created will He separate from that which was thine own wilful77 wrong—and this, sure, He will teach thee how to expiate78.”
“Clo,” he cried again—“thy mother—she was but a girl, and died alone—I did no justice to her!—Daphne! Daphne!” And he shook beneath the bed-clothes, shuddering to his feet, his face growing more grey and pinched.
“She loved thee once,” Clorinda said. “She was a gentle soul, and would not forget. She will show thee mercy.”
“Birth she went through,” he muttered, “and death—alone. Birth and death! Daphne, my girl—” And his voice trailed off to nothingness, and he lay staring at space, and panting.
The duchess sat by him and held his hand. She moved not, though at last he seemed to fall asleep. Two hours later he began to stir. He turned his head slowly upon his pillows until his gaze rested upon her, as she sat fronting him. ’Twas as though he had awakened79 to look at her.
“Clo!” he cried, and though his voice was but a whisper, there was both wonder and wild question in it—“Clo!”
But she moved not, her great eyes meeting his with steady gaze; and even as they so looked at each other his body stretched itself, his lids fell—and he was a dead man.
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收听单词发音
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1
prophesied
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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yokel
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| n.乡下人；农夫 | |
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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6
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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7
wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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8
braggart
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| n.吹牛者；adj.吹牛的，自夸的 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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11
scoffed
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| 嘲笑，嘲弄( scoff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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flouted
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| v.藐视，轻视( flout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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15
crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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16
blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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17
potency
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| n. 效力，潜能 | |
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18
grumble
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| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
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19
emulate
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| v.努力赶上或超越，与…竞争；效仿 | |
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20
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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21
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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22
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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23
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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24
sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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25
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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26
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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27
warding
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| 监护，守护（ward的现在分词形式） | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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30
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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31
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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36
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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38
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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39
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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40
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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41
writhes
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的第三人称单数 ) | |
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42
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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43
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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44
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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45
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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46
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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47
kennels
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| n.主人外出时的小动物寄养处，养狗场；狗窝( kennel的名词复数 )；养狗场 | |
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48
shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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49
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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50
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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51
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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52
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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54
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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55
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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56
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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57
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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58
consort
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| v.相伴；结交 | |
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59
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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60
pealing
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| v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的现在分词 ) | |
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61
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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62
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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63
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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64
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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65
wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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66
steadfastness
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| n.坚定，稳当 | |
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67
orbs
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| abbr.off-reservation boarding school 在校寄宿学校n.球，天体，圆形物( orb的名词复数 ) | |
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68
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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69
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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70
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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71
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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72
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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73
gulping
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的现在分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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74
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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75
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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76
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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77
wilful
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| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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78
expiate
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| v.抵补，赎罪 | |
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79
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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