Mr. George Winterham removed his top-hat, had a good wash, and then sought the smoking room. Seen to better advantage, he was sufficiently6 good-looking, with an elegant if somewhat lanky7 frame, a cheerful countenance8, and a great brown moustache which gave him the air military. But he was no soldier, being indeed that anomalous9 creature, the titular10 barrister, who shows his profession by rarely entering the chambers11 and by an ignorance of law more profound than Necessity’s.
He found the shadiest corner of the smoking room and ordered the coolest drink he could think of. Then he smiled, for he saw advancing to him across the room another victim of the weather. This was a small, thin man, with a finely-shaped dark head and the most perfectly-fitting clothes. He had been deep in a review, but at the sight of the wearied giant in the corner he had forgotten his interest in the “Entomology of the Riviera.” He looked something of the artist or the man of letters, but in truth he had no taint12 of Bohemianism about him, being a very respectable person and a rising politician. His name was Arthur Mordaunt, but because it was the fashion at the time for a certain class of people to address each other in monosyllables, his friends invariably knew him as “John.”
He dropped into a chair and regarded his companion with half-closed eyes.
“Well, John. Dished, eh? Most infernal heat I ever endured! I can’t stand it, you know. I’ll have to go away.”
“Think,” said the other, “think that at this moment somewhere in the country there are great, cool, deep woods and lakes and waterfalls, and we might be sitting in flannels14 instead of being clothed in these garments of sin.”
“Think,” said George, “of nothing of the kind. Think of high upland glens and full brown rivers, and hillsides where there is always wind. Why do I tantalize15 myself and talk to a vexatious idiot like you?”
This young man had a deep voice, a most emphatic16 manner of speech, and a trick of cheerfully abusing his friends which they rather liked than otherwise.
“And why should I sit opposite six feet of foolishness which can give me no comfort? Whew! But I think I am getting cool at last. I have sworn to make use of my first half-hour of reasonable temperature and consequent clearness of mind to plan flight from this place.”
“May I come with you, my pretty maid? I am hideously18 sick of July in town. I know Mabel will never forgive me, but I must risk it.”
Mabel was the young man’s sister, and the friendship between the two was a perpetual joke. As a small girl she had been wont19 to con17 eagerly her brother’s cricketing achievements, for George had been a famous cricketer, and annually20 went crazy with excitement at the Eton and Harrow match. She exercised a maternal21 care over him, and he stood in wholesome22 fear of her and ordered his doings more or less at her judgment23. Now she was married, but she still supervised her tall brother, and the victim made no secret of the yoke24.
Suddenly Arthur jumped to his feet. “I say, what about Lewis Haystoun? He is home now, somewhere in Scotland. Have you heard a word about him?”
“He has never written,” groaned25 George, but he took out a pocket-book and shook therefrom certain newspaper cuttings. “The people I employ sent me these about him to-day.” And he laid them out on his knee.
The first of them was long, and consisted of a belated review of Mr. Haystoun’s book. George, who never read such things, handed it to Arthur, who glanced over the lines and returned it. The second explained in correct journalese that the Manorwater family had returned to Glenavelin for the summer and autumn, and that Mr. Lewis Haystoun was expected at Etterick shortly. The third recorded the opening of a bazaar26 in the town of Gledsmuir which Mr. Haystoun had patronised, “looking,” said the fatuous27 cutting, “very brown and distinguished28 after his experiences in the East.”—“Whew!” said George. “Poor beggar, to have such stuff written about him!”—The fourth discussed the possible retirement29 of Sir Robert Merkland, the member for Gledsmuir, and his possible successor. Mr. Haystoun’s name was mentioned, “though indeed,” said the wiseacre, “that gentleman has never shown any decided30 leanings to practical politics. We understand that the seat will be contested in the Radical31 interest by Mr. Albert Stocks, the well-known writer and lecturer.”
“You know everybody, John. Who’s the fellow?” George asked.
“Oh, a very able man indeed, one of the best speakers we have. I should like to see a fight between him and Lewie: they would not get on with each other. This Stocks is a sort of living embodiment of the irritable32 Radical conscience, a very good thing in its way, but not quite in Lewie’s style.”
The fifth cutting mentioned the presence of Mr. Haystoun at three garden-parties, and hinted the possibility of a mistress soon to be at Etterick.
George lay back in his chair gasping33. “I never thought it would come to this. I always thought Lewie the least impressionable of men. I wonder what sort of woman he has fallen in love with. But it may not be true.”
“We’ll pray that it isn’t true. But I was never quite sure of him. You know there was always an odd romantic strain in the man. The ordinary smart, pretty girl, who adorns34 the end of a dinner-table and makes an admirable mistress of a house, he would never think twice about. But for all his sanity35 Lewie has many cranks, and a woman might get him on that side.”
“Don’t talk of it. I can picture the horrid36 reality. He will marry some thin-lipped creature who will back him in all his madness, and his friends will have to bid him a reluctant farewell. Or, worse still, there are scores of gushing37, sentimental38 girls who might capture him. I wish old Wratislaw were here to ask him what he thinks, for he knows Lewie better than any of us. Is he a member here?”
“Well, that is all the good done by subscribing40 to a news-cutting agency for news of one’s friends. I feel as low as ditch water. There is that idiot who goes off to the ends of the earth for three years, and when he comes back his friends get no good of him for the confounded women.” George echoed the ancient complaint which is doubtless old as David and Jonathan.
Then these two desolated41 young men, in view of their friend’s defection, were full of sad memories, much as relations after a funeral hymn42 the acts of the deceased.
George lit a cigar and smoked it savagely43. “So that is the end of Lewis! And to think I knew the fool at school and college and couldn’t make a better job of him than this! Do you remember, John, how we used to call him ‘Vaulting Ambition,’ because he won the high jump and was a cocky beggar in general?”
“And do you remember when he got his First, and they wanted him to stand for a fellowship, but he was keen to get out of England and travel? Do you remember that last night at Heston, when he told us all he was going to do, and took a bet with Wratislaw about it?”
It is probable that this sad elegy44 would have continued for hours, had not a servant approached with letters, which he distributed, two to Arthur Mordaunt and one to Mr. Winterham. A close observer might have seen that two of the envelopes were identical. Arthur slipped one into his pocket, but tore open the other and read.
“It’s from Lewie,” he cried. “He wants me down there next week at Etterick. He says he is all alone and crazy to see old friends again.”
“Mine’s the same!” said George, after puzzling out Mr. Haystoun’s by no means legible writing. “I say, John, of course we’ll go. It’s the very chance we were wishing for.”
Then he added with a cheerful face, “I begin to think better of human nature. Here were we abusing the poor man as a defaulter, and ten minutes after he heaps coals of fire on our heads. There can’t be much truth in what that newspaper says, or he wouldn’t want his friends down to spoil sport.”
“I wonder what he’ll be like? Wratislaw saw him in town, but only for a little, and he notices nothing. He’s rather famous now, you know, and we may expect to find him very dignified45 and wise. He’ll be able to teach us most things, and we’ll have to listen with proper humility46.”
“I’ll give you fifty to one he’s nothing of the kind,” said George. “He has his faults like us all, but they don’t run in that line. No, no, Lewie will be modest enough. He may have the pride of Lucifer at heart, but he would never show it. His fault is just this infernal modesty47, which makes him shirk fighting some blatant48 ass13 or publishing his merits to the world.”
Arthur looked curiously49 at his companion. Mr. Winterham was loved of his friends as the best of good fellows, but to the staid and rising politician he was not a person for serious talk. Hence, when he found him saying very plainly what had for long been a suspicion of his own, he was willing to credit him with a new acuteness.
“You know I’ve always backed Lewie to romp50 home some day,” went on the young man. “He has got it in him to do most things, if he doesn’t jib and bolt altogether.”
“I don’t see why you should talk of your friends as if they were racehorses or prize dogs.”
“Well, there’s a lot of truth in the metaphor51. You know yourself what a mess of it he might make. Say some good woman got hold of him—some good woman, for we will put aside the horrible suggestion of the adventuress. I suppose he’d be what you call a ‘good husband.’ He would become a magistrate52 and a patron of local agricultural societies and flower shows. And eveybody would talk about him as a great success in life; but we—you and I and Tommy—who know him better, would feel that it was all a ghastly failure.”
Mr. Lewis Haystoun’s character erred53 in its simplicity54, for it was at the mercy of every friend for comment.
“I don’t dread ’em. They are all that’s good, and a great deal better than most men. But then, you know, if you get a man really first-class he’s so much better than all but the very best women that you’ve got to look after him. To ordinary beggars like myself it doesn’t matter a straw, but I won’t have Lewie throwing himself away.”
“Then is the ancient race of the Haystouns to disappear from the earth?”
“Oh, there are women fit for him, sure enough, but you won’t find them at every garden party. Why, to find the proper woman would be the making of the man, and I should never have another doubt about him. But I am afraid. He’s a deal too kindly56 and good-natured, and he’d marry a girl to-morrow merely to please her. And then some day quite casually57 he would come across the woman who was meant by Providence58 for him, and there would be the devil to pay and the ruin of one good man. I don’t mean that he’d make a fool of himself or anything of that sort, for he’s not a cad; but in the middle of his pleasant domesticity he would get a glimpse of what he might have been, and those glimpses are not forgotten.”
“Why, George, you are getting dithyrambic,” said Arthur, still smiling, but with a new vague respect in his heart.
“For you cannot harness the wind or tie—tie the bonds of the wild ass,” said George, with an air of quotation59. “At any rate, we’re going to look after him. He is a good chap and I’ve got to see him through.”
For Mr. Winterham, who was very much like other men, whose language was free, and who respected few things indeed in the world, had unfailing tenderness for two beings—his sister and his friend.
The two young men rose, yawned, and strolled out into the hall. They scanned carelessly the telegram boards. Arthur pointed60 a finger to a message typed in a corner.
“That will make a good deal of difference to Wratislaw.”
George read: “The death is announced, at his residence in Hampshire, of Earl Beauregard. His lordship had reached the age of eighty-five, and had been long in weak health. He is succeeded by his son the Right Hon. Lord Malham, the present Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs.”
“It means that if Wratislaw’s party get back with a majority after August, and if Wratislaw gets the under-secretaryship as most people expect, then, with his chief in the Lords, he will be rather an important figure in the Commons.”
“And I suppose his work will be pretty lively,” said George. He had been reading some of the other telegrams, which were, as a rule, hysterical61 messages by way of foreign capitals, telling of Russian preparations in the East.
“Oh, lively, yes. But I’ve confidence in Tommy. I wish the Fate which decides men’s politics had sent him to our side. He knows more about the thing than any one else, and he knows his own mind, which is rare enough. But it’s too hot for serious talk. I suppose my seat is safe enough in August, but I don’t relish62 the prospect63 of a three weeks’ fight. Wratislaw, lucky man, will not be opposed. I suppose he’ll come up and help Lewis to make hay of Stock’s chances. It’s a confounded shame. I shall go and talk for him.”
On the steps of the club both men halted, and looked up and down the sultry white street. The bills of the evening papers were plastered in a row on the pavement, and the glaring pink and green still further increased the dazzle. After the cool darkness within each shaded his eyes and blinked.
“This settles it,” said George. “I shall wire to Lewie to-night.”
“And I,” said the other; “and to-morrow evening we’ll be in that cool green Paradise of a glen. Think of it! Meantime I shall grill64 through another evening in the House, and pair.”
该作者的其它作品
《Greenmantle绿斗篷》
《Mr. Standfast》
《No man's land》
该作者的其它作品
《Greenmantle绿斗篷》
《Mr. Standfast》
《No man's land》
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1
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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2
tarnished
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| （通常指金属）（使）失去光泽，（使）变灰暗( tarnish的过去式和过去分词 )； 玷污，败坏 | |
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3
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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5
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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6
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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lanky
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| adj.瘦长的 | |
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8
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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anomalous
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| adj.反常的；不规则的 | |
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10
titular
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| adj.名义上的，有名无实的；n.只有名义（或头衔）的人 | |
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11
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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12
taint
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| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
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13
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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14
flannels
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| 法兰绒男裤； 法兰绒( flannel的名词复数 ) | |
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15
tantalize
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| vt.使干着急，逗弄 | |
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16
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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con
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| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
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18
hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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19
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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annually
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| adv.一年一次，每年 | |
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21
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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23
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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24
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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25
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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26
bazaar
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| n.集市，商店集中区 | |
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27
fatuous
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| adj.愚昧的；昏庸的 | |
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28
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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30
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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31
radical
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| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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32
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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33
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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34
adorns
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| 装饰，佩带( adorn的第三人称单数 ) | |
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sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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36
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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37
gushing
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| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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38
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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40
subscribing
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| v.捐助( subscribe的现在分词 )；签署，题词；订阅；同意 | |
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41
desolated
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| adj.荒凉的，荒废的 | |
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42
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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43
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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44
elegy
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| n.哀歌，挽歌 | |
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45
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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46
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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47
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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48
blatant
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| adj.厚颜无耻的；显眼的；炫耀的 | |
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49
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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50
romp
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| n.欢闹；v.嬉闹玩笑 | |
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51
metaphor
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| n.隐喻，暗喻 | |
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52
magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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53
erred
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| 犯错误，做错事( err的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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55
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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56
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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57
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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58
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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59
quotation
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| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
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60
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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61
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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62
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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63
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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64
grill
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| n.烤架，铁格子，烤肉；v.烧，烤，严加盘问 | |
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