Whether too slight or too vague the ties that bind1 people casuallymeeting in a hotel at midnight, they possess one advantage at leastover the bonds which unite the elderly, who have lived togetheronce and so must live for ever. Slight they may be, but vividand genuine, merely because the power to break them is withinthe grasp of each, and there is no reason for continuance excepta true desire that continue they shall. When two people have beenmarried for years they seem to become unconscious of each other'sbodily presence so that they move as if alone, speak aloud thingswhich they do not expect to be answered, and in general seemto experience all the comfort of solitude3 without its loneliness.
The joint4 lives of Ridley and Helen had arrived at this stageof community, and it was often necessary for one or the other torecall with an effort whether a thing had been said or only thought,shared or dreamt in private. At four o'clock in the afternoon twoor three days later Mrs. Ambrose was standing5 brushing her hair,while her husband was in the dressing-room which opened out of her room,and occasionally, through the cascade6 of water--he was washinghis face--she caught exclamations7, "So it goes on year after year;I wish, I wish, I wish I could make an end of it," to which shepaid no attention.
"It's white? Or only brown?" Thus she herself murmured,examining a hair which gleamed suspiciously among the brown.
She pulled it out and laid it on the dressing-table. She wascriticising her own appearance, or rather approving of it,standing a little way back from the glass and looking at her ownface with superb pride and melancholy8, when her husband appearedin the doorway9 in his shirt sleeves, his face half obscured by a towel.
"You often tell me I don't notice things," he remarked.
"Tell me if this is a white hair, then?" she replied. She laidthe hair on his hand.
"There's not a white hair on your head," he exclaimed.
"Ah, Ridley, I begin to doubt," she sighed; and bowed her headunder his eyes so that he might judge, but the inspection10 producedonly a kiss where the line of parting ran, and husband and wifethen proceeded to move about the room, casually2 murmuring.
"What was that you were saying?" Helen remarked, after an intervalof conversation which no third person could have understood.
"Rachel--you ought to keep an eye upon Rachel," he observed significantly,and Helen, though she went on brushing her hair, looked at him.
His observations were apt to be true.
"Young gentlemen don't interest themselves in young women's educationwithout a motive," he remarked.
"Oh, Hirst," said Helen.
"Hirst and Hewet, they're all the same to me--all covered with spots,"he replied. "He advises her to read Gibbon. Did you know that?"Helen did not know that, but she would not allow herself inferiorto her husband in powers of observation. She merely said:
"Nothing would surprise me. Even that dreadful flying man we metat the dance--even Mr. Dalloway--even--""I advise you to be circumspect," said Ridley. "There's Willoughby,remember--Willoughby"; he pointed12 at a letter.
Helen looked with a sigh at an envelope which lay upon her dressing-table.
Yes, there lay Willoughby, curt13, inexpressive, perpetually jocular,robbing a whole continent of mystery, enquiring14 after his daughter'smanners and morals--hoping she wasn't a bore, and bidding thempack her off to him on board the very next ship if she were--and then grateful and affectionate with suppressed emotion,and then half a page about his own triumphs over wretched littlenatives who went on strike and refused to load his ships, until heroared English oaths at them, "popping my head out of the windowjust as I was, in my shirt sleeves. The beggars had the sense to scatter15.""If Theresa married Willoughby," she remarked, turning the pagewith a hairpin16, "one doesn't see what's to prevent Rachel--"But Ridley was now off on grievances17 of his own connected withthe washing of his shirts, which somehow led to the frequent visitsof Hughling Elliot, who was a bore, a pedant18, a dry stick of a man,and yet Ridley couldn't simply point at the door and tell him to go.
The truth of it was, they saw too many people. And so on and so on,more conjugal19 talk pattering softly and unintelligibly20, until theywere both ready to go down to tea.
The first thing that caught Helen's eye as she came downstairswas a carriage at the door, filled with skirts and feathers noddingon the tops of hats. She had only time to gain the drawing-roombefore two names were oddly mispronounced by the Spanish maid,and Mrs. Thornbury came in slightly in advance of Mrs. Wilfrid Flushing.
"Mrs. Wilfrid Flushing," said Mrs. Thornbury, with a wave of her hand.
"A friend of our common friend Mrs. Raymond Parry."Mrs. Flushing shook hands energetically. She was a woman offorty perhaps, very well set up and erect21, splendidly robust,though not as tall as the upright carriage of her body made her appear.
She looked Helen straight in the face and said, "You have a charmin' house."She had a strongly marked face, her eyes looked straight at you,and though naturally she was imperious in her manner she was nervousat the same time. Mrs. Thornbury acted as interpreter, making thingssmooth all round by a series of charming commonplace remarks.
"I've taken it upon myself, Mr. Ambrose," she said, "to promisethat you will be so kind as to give Mrs. Flushing the benefitof your experience. I'm sure no one here knows the country aswell as you do. No one takes such wonderful long walks. No one,I'm sure, has your encyclopaedic knowledge upon every subject.
Mr. Wilfrid Flushing is a collector. He has discovered really beautifulthings already. I had no notion that the peasants were so artistic--though of course in the past--""Not old things--new things," interrupted Mrs. Flushing curtly22.
"That is, if he takes my advice."The Ambroses had not lived for many years in London without knowingsomething of a good many people, by name at least, and Helen rememberedhearing of the Flushings. Mr. Flushing was a man who kept an oldfurniture shop; he had always said he would not marry because mostwomen have red cheeks, and would not take a house because most houseshave narrow staircases, and would not eat meat because most animalsbleed when they are killed; and then he had married an eccentricaristocratic lady, who certainly was not pale, who looked as if sheate meat, who had forced him to do all the things he most disliked--and this then was the lady. Helen looked at her with interest.
They had moved out into the garden, where the tea was laid undera tree, and Mrs. Flushing was helping23 herself to cherry jam.
She had a peculiar24 jerking movement of the body when she spoke25,which caused the canary-coloured plume26 on her hat to jerk too.
Her small but finely-cut and vigorous features, together with the deepred of lips and cheeks, pointed to many generations of well-trainedand well-nourished ancestors behind her.
"Nothin' that's more than twenty years old interests me,"she continued. "Mouldy old pictures, dirty old books, they stick'em in museums when they're only fit for burnin'.""I quite agree," Helen laughed. "But my husband spends his lifein digging up manuscripts which nobody wants." She was amusedby Ridley's expression of startled disapproval28.
"There's a clever man in London called John who paints everso much better than the old masters," Mrs. Flushing continued.
"His pictures excite me--nothin' that's old excites me.""But even his pictures will become old," Mrs. Thornbury intervened.
"Then I'll have 'em burnt, or I'll put it in my will," said Mrs. Flushing.
"And Mrs. Flushing lived in one of the most beautiful old housesin England--Chillingley," Mrs. Thornbury explained to the restof them.
"If I'd my way I'd burn that to-morrow," Mrs. Flushing laughed.
She had a laugh like the cry of a jay, at once startling and joyless.
"What does any sane29 person want with those great big houses?"she demanded. "If you go downstairs after dark you're coveredwith black beetles30, and the electric lights always goin' out.
What would you do if spiders came out of the tap when you turnedon the hot water?" she demanded, fixing her eye on Helen.
Mrs. Ambrose shrugged31 her shoulders with a smile.
"This is what I like," said Mrs. Flushing. She jerked her head atthe Villa32. "A little house in a garden. I had one once in Ireland.
One could lie in bed in the mornin' and pick roses outside the windowwith one's toes.""And the gardeners, weren't they surprised?" Mrs. Thornbury enquired33.
"There were no gardeners," Mrs. Flushing chuckled34. "Nobody but meand an old woman without any teeth. You know the poor in Irelandlose their teeth after they're twenty. But you wouldn't expecta politician to understand that--Arthur Balfour wouldn't understand that."Ridley sighed that he never expected any one to understand anything,least of all politicians.
"However," he concluded, "there's one advantage I find in extremeold age--nothing matters a hang except one's food and one's digestion35.
All I ask is to be left alone to moulder36 away in solitude. It's obviousthat the world's going as fast as it can to--the Nethermost37 Pit,and all I can do is to sit still and consume as much of my ownsmoke as possible." He groaned38, and with a melancholy glance laidthe jam on his bread, for he felt the atmosphere of this abruptlady distinctly unsympathetic.
"I always contradict my husband when he says that," said Mrs. Thornburysweetly. "You men! Where would you be if it weren't for the women!""Read the _Symposium_," said Ridley grimly.
"_Symposium_?" cried Mrs. Flushing. "That's Latin or Greek?
Tell me, is there a good translation?""No," said Ridley. "You will have to learn Greek."Mrs. Flushing cried, "Ah, ah, ah! I'd rather break stones in the road.
I always envy the men who break stones and sit on those nice littleheaps all day wearin' spectacles. I'd infinitely39 rather breakstones than clean out poultry40 runs, or feed the cows, or--"Here Rachel came up from the lower garden with a book in her hand.
"What's that book?" said Ridley, when she had shaken hands.
"It's Gibbon," said Rachel as she sat down.
"_The_ _Decline_ _and_ _Fall_ _of_ _the_ _Roman_ _Empire_?"said Mrs. Thornbury. "A very wonderful book, I know. My dearfather was always quoting it at us, with the result that we resolvednever to read a line.""Gibbon the historian?" enquired Mrs. Flushing. "I connect himwith some of the happiest hours of my life. We used to lie in bedand read Gibbon--about the massacres41 of the Christians42, I remember--when we were supposed to be asleep. It's no joke, I can tell you,readin' a great big book, in double columns, by a night-light,and the light that comes through a chink in the door. Then therewere the moths44--tiger moths, yellow moths, and horrid45 cockchafers.
Louisa, my sister, would have the window open. I wanted it shut.
We fought every night of our lives over that window. Have you everseen a moth43 dyin' in a night-light?" she enquired.
Again there was an interruption. Hewet and Hirst appearedat the drawing-room window and came up to the tea-table.
Rachel's heart beat hard. She was conscious of an extraordinaryintensity in everything, as though their presence stripped some coveroff the surface of things; but the greetings were remarkably46 commonplace.
"Excuse me," said Hirst, rising from his chair directly hehad sat down. He went into the drawing-room, and returnedwith a cushion which he placed carefully upon his seat.
"Rheumatism47," he remarked, as he sat down for the second time.
"The result of the dance?" Helen enquired.
"Whenever I get at all run down I tend to be rheumatic," Hirst stated.
He bent48 his wrist back sharply. "I hear little pieces of chalkgrinding together!"Rachel looked at him. She was amused, and yet she was respectful;if such a thing could be, the upper part of her face seemed to laugh,and the lower part to check its laughter.
Hewet picked up the book that lay on the ground.
"You like this?" he asked in an undertone.
"No, I don't like it," she replied. She had indeed been tryingall the afternoon to read it, and for some reason the glory whichshe had perceived at first had faded, and, read as she would,she could not grasp the meaning with her mind.
"It goes round, round, round, like a roll of oil-cloth," she hazarded.
Evidently she meant Hewet alone to hear her words, but Hirst demanded,"What d'you mean?"She was instantly ashamed of her figure of speech, for she couldnot explain it in words of sober criticism.
"Surely it's the most perfect style, so far as style goes, that's everbeen invented," he continued. "Every sentence is practically perfect,and the wit--""Ugly in body, repulsive49 in mind," she thought, instead of thinkingabout Gibbon's style. "Yes, but strong, searching, unyielding in mind."She looked at his big head, a disproportionate part of which wasoccupied by the forehead, and at the direct, severe eyes.
"I give you up in despair," he said. He meant it lightly, but shetook it seriously, and believed that her value as a human being waslessened because she did not happen to admire the style of Gibbon.
The others were talking now in a group about the native villageswhich Mrs. Flushing ought to visit.
"I despair too," she said impetuously. "How are you going to judgepeople merely by their minds?""You agree with my spinster Aunt, I expect," said St. John in hisjaunty manner, which was always irritating because it made the personhe talked to appear unduly50 clumsy and in earnest. "'Be good,sweet maid'--I thought Mr. Kingsley and my Aunt were now obsolete51.""One can be very nice without having read a book," she asserted.
Very silly and simple her words sounded, and laid her opento derision.
"Did I ever deny it?" Hirst enquired, raising his eyebrows52.
Most unexpectedly Mrs. Thornbury here intervened, either because itwas her mission to keep things smooth or because she had longwished to speak to Mr. Hirst, feeling as she did that young menwere her sons.
"I have lived all my life with people like your Aunt, Mr. Hirst,"she said, leaning forward in her chair. Her brown squirrel-likeeyes became even brighter than usual. "They have never heardof Gibbon. They only care for their pheasants and their peasants.
They are great big men who look so fine on horseback, as peoplemust have done, I think, in the days of the great wars. Say whatyou like against them--they are animal, they are unintellectual;they don't read themselves, and they don't want others to read,but they are some of the finest and the kindest human beings onthe face of the earth! You would be surprised at some of the storiesI could tell. You have never guessed, perhaps, at all the romancesthat go on in the heart of the country. There are the people, I feel,among whom Shakespeare will be born if he is ever born again.
In those old houses, up among the Downs--""My Aunt," Hirst interrupted, "spends her life in East Lambethamong the degraded poor. I only quoted my Aunt because she isinclined to persecute53 people she calls 'intellectual,' which iswhat I suspect Miss Vinrace of doing. It's all the fashion now.
If you're clever it's always taken for granted that you're completelywithout sympathy, understanding, affection--all the things thatreally matter. Oh, you Christians! You're the most conceited,patronising, hypocritical set of old humbugs54 in the kingdom! Of course,"he continued, "I'm the first to allow your country gentlemen great merits.
For one thing, they're probably quite frank about their passions,which we are not. My father, who is a clergyman in Norfolk,says that there is hardly a squire55 in the country who does not--""But about Gibbon?" Hewet interrupted. The look of nervous tensionwhich had come over every face was relaxed by the interruption.
"You find him monotonous56, I suppose. But you know--" He openedthe book, and began searching for passages to read aloud, and ina little time he found a good one which he considered suitable.
But there was nothing in the world that bored Ridley more than beingread aloud to, and he was besides scrupulously57 fastidious as tothe dress and behaviour of ladies. In the space of fifteen minuteshe had decided58 against Mrs. Flushing on the ground that her orangeplume did not suit her complexion59, that she spoke too loud, that shecrossed her legs, and finally, when he saw her accept a cigarettethat Hewet offered her, he jumped up, exclaiming something about"bar parlours," and left them. Mrs. Flushing was evidently relievedby his departure. She puffed60 her cigarette, stuck her legs out,and examined Helen closely as to the character and reputationof their common friend Mrs. Raymond Parry. By a series of littlestrategems she drove her to define Mrs. Parry as somewhat elderly,by no means beautiful, very much made up--an insolent62 old harridan,in short, whose parties were amusing because one met odd people;but Helen herself always pitied poor Mr. Parry, who was understoodto be shut up downstairs with cases full of gems61, while hiswife enjoyed herself in the drawing-room. "Not that I believewhat people say against her--although she hints, of course--"Upon which Mrs. Flushing cried out with delight:
"She's my first cousin! Go on--go on!"When Mrs. Flushing rose to go she was obviously delighted withher new acquaintances. She made three or four different plansfor meeting or going on an expedition, or showing Helen the thingsthey had bought, on her way to the carriage. She included themall in a vague but magnificent invitation.
As Helen returned to the garden again, Ridley's words of warningcame into her head, and she hesitated a moment and looked at Rachelsitting between Hirst and Hewet. But she could draw no conclusions,for Hewet was still reading Gibbon aloud, and Rachel, for allthe expression she had, might have been a shell, and his wordswater rubbing against her ears, as water rubs a shell on the edgeof a rock.
Hewet's voice was very pleasant. When he reached the endof the period Hewet stopped, and no one volunteered any criticism.
"I do adore the aristocracy!" Hirst exclaimed after a moment's pause.
"They're so amazingly unscrupulous. None of us would dare to behaveas that woman behaves.""What I like about them," said Helen as she sat down, "is that they'reso well put together. Naked, Mrs. Flushing would be superb.
Dressed as she dresses, it's absurd, of course.""Yes," said Hirst. A shade of depression crossed his face.
"I've never weighed more than ten stone in my life," he said,"which is ridiculous, considering my height, and I've actuallygone down in weight since we came here. I daresay that accountsfor the rheumatism." Again he jerked his wrist back sharply,so that Helen might hear the grinding of the chalk stones.
She could not help smiling.
"It's no laughing matter for me, I assure you," he protested.
"My mother's a chronic63 invalid64, and I'm always expecting to betold that I've got heart disease myself. Rheumatism always goesto the heart in the end.""For goodness' sake, Hirst," Hewet protested; "one might thinkyou were an old cripple of eighty. If it comes to that, I hadan aunt who died of cancer myself, but I put a bold face on it--"He rose and began tilting65 his chair backwards66 and forwardson its hind27 legs. "Is any one here inclined for a walk?"he said. "There's a magnificent walk, up behind the house.
You come out on to a cliff and look right down into the sea.
The rocks are all red; you can see them through the water.
The other day I saw a sight that fairly took my breath away--about twenty jelly-fish, semi-transparent, pink, with long streamers,floating on the top of the waves.""Sure they weren't mermaids67?" said Hirst. "It's much too hotto climb uphill." He looked at Helen, who showed no signs of moving.
"Yes, it's too hot," Helen decided.
There was a short silence.
"I'd like to come," said Rachel.
"But she might have said that anyhow," Helen thought to herselfas Hewet and Rachel went away together, and Helen was left alonewith St. John, to St. John's obvious satisfaction.
He may have been satisfied, but his usual difficulty in decidingthat one subject was more deserving of notice than another preventedhim from speaking for some time. He sat staring intently at the headof a dead match, while Helen considered--so it seemed from the expressionof her eyes--something not closely connected with the present moment.
At last St. John exclaimed, "Damn! Damn everything! Damn everybody!"he added. "At Cambridge there are people to talk to.""At Cambridge there are people to talk to," Helen echoed him,rhythmically and absent-mindedly. Then she woke up. "By the way,have you settled what you're going to do--is it to be Cambridge orthe Bar?"He pursed his lips, but made no immediate68 answer, for Helen wasstill slightly inattentive. She had been thinking about Racheland which of the two young men she was likely to fall in love with,and now sitting opposite to Hirst she thought, "He's ugly.
It's a pity they're so ugly."She did not include Hewet in this criticism; she was thinkingof the clever, honest, interesting young men she knew, of whomHirst was a good example, and wondering whether it was necessarythat thought and scholarship should thus maltreat their bodies,and should thus elevate their minds to a very high tower from whichthe human race appeared to them like rats and mice squirming on the flat.
"And the future?" she reflected, vaguely69 envisaging70 a race of menbecoming more and more like Hirst, and a race of women becomingmore and more like Rachel. "Oh no," she concluded, glancing at him,"one wouldn't marry you. Well, then, the future of the raceis in the hands of Susan and Arthur; no--that's dreadful.
Of farm labourers; no--not of the English at all, but of Russiansand Chinese." This train of thought did not satisfy her, and wasinterrupted by St. John, who began again:
"I wish you knew Bennett. He's the greatest man in the world.""Bennett?" she enquired. Becoming more at ease, St. John droppedthe concentrated abruptness71 of his manner, and explained that Bennettwas a man who lived in an old windmill six miles out of Cambridge.
He lived the perfect life, according to St. John, very lonely,very simple, caring only for the truth of things, always ready to talk,and extraordinarily72 modest, though his mind was of the greatest.
"Don't you think," said St. John, when he had done describing him,"that kind of thing makes this kind of thing rather flimsy? Did younotice at tea how poor old Hewet had to change the conversation?
How they were all ready to pounce73 upon me because they thought Iwas going to say something improper74? It wasn't anything, really.
If Bennett had been there he'd have said exactly what he meant to say,or he'd have got up and gone. But there's something rather bad forthe character in that--I mean if one hasn't got Bennett's character.
It's inclined to make one bitter. Should you say that I was bitter?"Helen did not answer, and he continued:
"Of course I am, disgustingly bitter, and it's a beastly thing to be.
But the worst of me is that I'm so envious75. I envy every one.
I can't endure people who do things better than I do--perfectly absurdthings too--waiters balancing piles of plates--even Arthur,because Susan's in love with him. I want people to like me,and they don't. It's partly my appearance, I expect," he continued,"though it's an absolute lie to say I've Jewish blood in me--as a matter of fact we've been in Norfolk, Hirst of Hirstbourne Hall,for three centuries at least. It must be awfully76 soothing77 to be like you--every one liking78 one at once.""I assure you they don't," Helen laughed.
"They do," said Hirst with conviction. "In the first place,you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen; in the second,you have an exceptionally nice nature."If Hirst had looked at her instead of looking intently at his teacuphe would have seen Helen blush, partly with pleasure, partly withan impulse of affection towards the young man who had seemed,and would seem again, so ugly and so limited. She pitied him,for she suspected that he suffered, and she was interested in him,for many of the things he said seemed to her true; she admiredthe morality of youth, and yet she felt imprisoned79. As if herinstinct were to escape to something brightly coloured and impersonal,which she could hold in her hands, she went into the house and returnedwith her embroidery80. But he was not interested in her embroidery;he did not even look at it.
"About Miss Vinrace," he began,--"oh, look here, do let's be St. Johnand Helen, and Rachel and Terence--what's she like? Does she reason,does she feel, or is she merely a kind of footstool?""Oh no," said Helen, with great decision. From her observationsat tea she was inclined to doubt whether Hirst was the person toeducate Rachel. She had gradually come to be interested in her niece,and fond of her; she disliked some things about her very much,she was amused by others; but she felt her, on the whole, a liveif unformed human being, experimental, and not always fortunatein her experiments, but with powers of some kind, and a capacityfor feeling. Somewhere in the depths of her, too, she was boundto Rachel by the indestructible if inexplicable81 ties of sex.
"She seems vague, but she's a will of her own," she said, as if inthe interval11 she had run through her qualities.
The embroidery, which was a matter for thought, the design beingdifficult and the colours wanting consideration, brought lapsesinto the dialogue when she seemed to be engrossed82 in her skeinsof silk, or, with head a little drawn83 back and eyes narrowed,considered the effect of the whole. Thus she merely said, "Um-m-m" toSt. John's next remark, "I shall ask her to go for a walk with me."Perhaps he resented this division of attention. He sat silentwatching Helen closely.
"You're absolutely happy," he proclaimed at last.
"Yes?" Helen enquired, sticking in her needle.
"Marriage, I suppose," said St. John.
"Yes," said Helen, gently drawing her needle out.
"Children?" St. John enquired.
"Yes," said Helen, sticking her needle in again. "I don't know whyI'm happy," she suddenly laughed, looking him full in the face.
There was a considerable pause.
"There's an abyss between us," said St. John. His voice soundedas if it issued from the depths of a cavern84 in the rocks.
"You're infinitely simpler than I am. Women always are, of course.
That's the difficulty. One never knows how a woman gets there.
Supposing all the time you're thinking, 'Oh, what a morbidyoung man!'"Helen sat and looked at him with her needle in her hand.
From her position she saw his head in front of the dark pyramidof a magnolia-tree. With one foot raised on the rung of a chair,and her elbow out in the attitude for sewing, her own figure possessedthe sublimity86 of a woman's of the early world, spinning the threadof fate--the sublimity possessed85 by many women of the presentday who fall into the attitude required by scrubbing or sewing.
St. John looked at her.
"I suppose you've never paid any a compliment in the courseof your life," he said irrelevantly87.
"I spoil Ridley rather," Helen considered.
"I'm going to ask you point blank--do you like me?"After a certain pause, she replied, "Yes, certainly.""Thank God!" he exclaimed. "That's one mercy. You see," he continuedwith emotion, "I'd rather you liked me than any one I've ever met.""What about the five philosophers?" said Helen, with a laugh,stitching firmly and swiftly at her canvas. "I wish you'ddescribe them."Hirst had no particular wish to describe them, but when he beganto consider them he found himself soothed88 and strengthened. Far awayto the other side of the world as they were, in smoky rooms, and greymedieval courts, they appeared remarkable89 figures, free-spoken menwith whom one could be at ease; incomparably more subtle in emotionthan the people here. They gave him, certainly, what no womancould give him, not Helen even. Warming at the thought of them,he went on to lay his case before Mrs. Ambrose. Should he stayon at Cambridge or should he go to the Bar? One day he thoughtone thing, another day another. Helen listened attentively90.
At last, without any preface, she pronounced her decision.
"Leave Cambridge and go to the Bar," she said. He pressed herfor her reasons.
"I think you'd enjoy London more," she said. It did not seema very subtle reason, but she appeared to think it sufficient.
She looked at him against the background of flowering magnolia.
There was something curious in the sight. Perhaps it was that the heavywax-like flowers were so smooth and inarticulate, and his face--he had thrown his hat away, his hair was rumpled91, he held hiseye-glasses in his hand, so that a red mark appeared on either sideof his nose--was so worried and garrulous92. It was a beautiful bush,spreading very widely, and all the time she had sat there talking shehad been noticing the patches of shade and the shape of the leaves,and the way the great white flowers sat in the midst of the green.
She had noticed it half-consciously, nevertheless the pattern hadbecome part of their talk. She laid down her sewing, and began to walkup and down the garden, and Hirst rose too and paced by her side.
He was rather disturbed, uncomfortable, and full of thought.
Neither of them spoke.
The sun was beginning to go down, and a change had come over the mountains,as if they were robbed of their earthly substance, and composed merelyof intense blue mist. Long thin clouds of flamingo93 red, with edgeslike the edges of curled ostrich94 feathers, lay up and down the skyat different altitudes. The roofs of the town seemed to have sunklower than usual; the cypresses95 appeared very black between the roofs,and the roofs themselves were brown and white. As usual in the evening,single cries and single bells became audible rising from beneath.
St. John stopped suddenly.
"Well, you must take the responsibility," he said. "I've made upmy mind; I shall go to the Bar."His words were very serious, almost emotional; they recalled Helenafter a second's hesitation96.
"I'm sure you're right," she said warmly, and shook the hand heheld out. "You'll be a great man, I'm certain."Then, as if to make him look at the scene, she swept her hand roundthe immense circumference97 of the view. From the sea, over the roofsof the town, across the crests98 of the mountains, over the riverand the plain, and again across the crests of the mountains itswept until it reached the villa, the garden, the magnolia-tree,and the figures of Hirst and herself standing together, when itdropped to her side.
收听单词发音 |
1
bind
|
|
| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
casually
|
|
| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
joint
|
|
| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
cascade
|
|
| n.小瀑布，喷流；层叠；vi.成瀑布落下 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
exclamations
|
|
| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
inspection
|
|
| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
interval
|
|
| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
curt
|
|
| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
enquiring
|
|
| a.爱打听的，显得好奇的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
scatter
|
|
| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
hairpin
|
|
| n.簪,束发夹，夹发针 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
grievances
|
|
| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
pedant
|
|
| n.迂儒；卖弄学问的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
conjugal
|
|
| adj.婚姻的，婚姻性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
unintelligibly
|
|
| 难以理解地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
curtly
|
|
| adv.简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
helping
|
|
| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
plume
|
|
| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
hind
|
|
| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
disapproval
|
|
| n.反对，不赞成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
sane
|
|
| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
beetles
|
|
| n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
villa
|
|
| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
enquired
|
|
| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
chuckled
|
|
| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
digestion
|
|
| n.消化，吸收 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
moulder
|
|
| v.腐朽，崩碎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
nethermost
|
|
| adj.最下面的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
groaned
|
|
| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
poultry
|
|
| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
massacres
|
|
| 大屠杀( massacre的名词复数 )； 惨败 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
Christians
|
|
| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
moth
|
|
| n.蛾，蛀虫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
moths
|
|
| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
remarkably
|
|
| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
rheumatism
|
|
| n.风湿病 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
repulsive
|
|
| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
unduly
|
|
| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
obsolete
|
|
| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
eyebrows
|
|
| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
persecute
|
|
| vt.迫害，虐待；纠缠，骚扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
humbugs
|
|
| 欺骗( humbug的名词复数 )； 虚伪； 骗子； 薄荷硬糖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
55
squire
|
|
| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
monotonous
|
|
| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
scrupulously
|
|
| adv.一丝不苟地；小心翼翼地，多顾虑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
complexion
|
|
| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
puffed
|
|
| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
gems
|
|
| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
insolent
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
chronic
|
|
| adj.(疾病)长期未愈的，慢性的；极坏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
invalid
|
|
| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
tilting
|
|
| 倾斜，倾卸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
backwards
|
|
| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
mermaids
|
|
| n.（传说中的）美人鱼( mermaid的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
vaguely
|
|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
envisaging
|
|
| 想像，设想( envisage的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
71
abruptness
|
|
| n. 突然，唐突 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
extraordinarily
|
|
| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
pounce
|
|
| n.猛扑；v.猛扑，突然袭击，欣然同意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
improper
|
|
| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
envious
|
|
| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
awfully
|
|
| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
imprisoned
|
|
| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
embroidery
|
|
| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
inexplicable
|
|
| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
engrossed
|
|
| adj.全神贯注的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
cavern
|
|
| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
sublimity
|
|
| 崇高，庄严，气质高尚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
irrelevantly
|
|
| adv.不恰当地，不合适地；不相关地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
soothed
|
|
| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
attentively
|
|
| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
rumpled
|
|
| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
garrulous
|
|
| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
flamingo
|
|
| n.红鹳，火烈鸟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
ostrich
|
|
| n.鸵鸟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
cypresses
|
|
| n.柏属植物，柏树( cypress的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
circumference
|
|
| n.圆周，周长，圆周线 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
crests
|
|
| v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的第三人称单数 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |