Lady Harman was indeed only by the force of circumstances and intermittently11 a pure philanthropist, and it is with the intercalary passages of less exalted12 humanity that we are here chiefly concerned. At times no doubt she did really come near to filling and fitting and becoming identical with that figure of the pure philanthropist which was her world-ward face, but for the most part that earnest and dignified13 figure concealed14 more or less extensive spaces of nothingness, while the errant soul of the woman within strayed into less exalted ways of thinking.
There were times when she was almost sure of herself—Mrs. Hubert Plessington could scarcely have been surer of herself, and times when the whole magnificent project of constructing a new urban social life out of those difficult hostels15, a collective urban life that should be liberal and free, broke into grimacing16 pieces and was the most foolish of experiments. Her struggles with Mrs. Pembrose thereupon assumed a quality of mere17 bickering18 and she could even doubt whether Mrs. Pembrose wasn't justified19 in her attitude and wiser by her very want of generosity20. She felt then something childish in the whole undertaking21 that otherwise escaped her, she was convicted of an absurd self-importance, she discovered herself an ignorant woman availing herself of her husband's power and wealth to attempt presumptuous22 experiments. In these moods of disillusionment, her mind went adrift and was driven to and fro from discontent to discontent; she would find herself taking soundings and seeking an anchorage upon the strangest, most unfamiliar23 shoals. And in her relations and conflicts with her husband there was a smouldering shame for her submissions24 to him that needed only a phase of fatigue25 to become acute. So long as she believed in her hostels and her mission that might be endured, but forced back upon her more personal life its hideousness26 stood unclothed. Mr. Brumley could sometimes reassure27 her by a rhetorical effort upon the score of her hostels, but most of her more intimate and inner life was not, for very plain reasons, to be shown to him. He was full of the intention of generous self-denials, but she had long since come to measure the limits of his self-denial....
Mr. Brumley was a friend in whom smouldered a love, capable she knew quite clearly of tormented28 and tormenting29 jealousies30. It would be difficult to tell, and she certainly could never have told how far she knew of this by instinct, how far it came out of rapid intuitions from things seen and heard. But she understood that she dared not let a single breath of encouragement, a hint of physical confidence, reach that banked-up glow. A sentinel discretion31 in her brain was always on the watch for that danger, and that restraint, that added deliberate inexpressiveness, kept them most apart, when most her spirit cried out for companionship.
The common quality of all these moods of lassitude was a desolating33 loneliness. She had at times a need that almost overwhelmed her to be intimate, to be comforted and taken up out of the bleak34 harsh disappointments and stresses of her customary life. At times after Sir Isaac had either been too unloving or too loving, or when the girls or the matrons had achieved some new tangle35 of mutual36 unreasonableness37, or when her faith failed, she would lie in the darkness of her own room with her soul crying out for—how can one put it?—the touch of other soul-stuff. And perhaps it was the constant drift of Mr. Brumley's talk, the little suggestions that fell drop by drop into her mind from his, that disposed her to believe that this aching sense of solitude38 in the void was to be assuaged39 by love, by some marvel40 of close exaltation that one might reach through a lover. She had told Mr. Brumley long ago that she would never let herself think of love, she still maintained to him that attitude of resolute41 aloofness42, but almost without noting what she did, she was tampering43 now in her solitude with the seals of that locked chamber44. She became secretly curious about love. Perhaps there was something in it of which she knew nothing. She found herself drawn46 towards poetry, found a new attraction in romance; more and more did she dally47 with the idea that there was some unknown beauty in the world, something to which her eyes might presently open, something deeper and sweeter than any thing she had ever known, close at hand, something to put all the world into proportion for her.
In a little while she no longer merely tampered48 with these seals, for quite silently the door had opened and she was craning in. This love it seemed to her might after all be so strange a thing that it goes unsuspected and yet fills the whole world of a human soul. An odd grotesque49 passage in a novel by Wilkins gave her that idea. He compared love to electricity, of all things in the world; that throbbing50 life amidst the atoms that we now draw upon for light, warmth, connexion, the satisfaction of a thousand wants and the cure of a thousand ills. There it is and always has been in the life of man, and yet until a century ago it worked unsuspected, was known only for a disregarded oddity of amber45, a crackling in frost-dry hair and thunder....
And then she remembered how Mr. Brumley had once broken into a panegyric51 of love. "It makes life a different thing. It is like the home-coming of something lost. All this dispersed52 perplexing world centres. Think what true love means; to live always in the mind of another and to have that other living always in your mind.... Only there can be no restraints, no reserves, no admission of prior rights. One must feel safe of one's welcome and freedoms...."
She hid these musings from every human being, she was so shy with them, she hid them almost from herself. Rarely did they have their way with her and when they did, presently she would accuse herself of slackness and dismiss them and urge herself to fresh practicalities in her work. But her work was not always at hand, Sir Isaac's frequent relapses took her abroad to places where she found herself in the midst of beautiful scenery with little to do and little to distract her from these questionings. Then such thoughts would inundate54 her.
This feeling of the unsatisfactoriness of life, of incompleteness and solitariness55, was not of that fixed56 sort that definitely indicates its demand. Under its oppression she tried the idea of love, but she also tried certain other ideas. Very often this vague appeal had the quality of a person, sometimes a person shrouded57 in night, a soundless whisper, the unseen lover who came to Psyche58 in the darkness. And sometimes that person became more distinct, less mystic and more companionable. Perhaps because imaginations have a way of following the line of least resistance, it took upon itself something of the form, something of the voice and bearing of Mr. Brumley. She recoiled59 from her own thoughts when she discovered herself wondering what manner of lover Mr. Brumley might make—if suddenly she lowered her defences, freed his suffocating60 pleading, took him to herself.
In my anxiety to draw Mr. Brumley as he was, I have perhaps a little neglected to show him as Lady Harman saw him. We have employed the inconsiderate verisimilitude of a novelist repudiating61 romance in his portrayal62; towards her he kept a better face. He was at least a very honest lover and there was little disingenuousness63 in the flow of fine mental attitudes that met her; the thought and presence of her made him fine; as soon could he have turned his shady side towards the sun. And she was very ready and eager to credit him with generous qualities. We of his club and circle, a little assisted perhaps by Max Beerbohm's diabolical64 index finger, may have found and been not unwilling65 to find his face chiefly expressive32 of a kind of empty alertness; but when it was turned to her its quite pleasantly modelled features glowed and it was transfigured. So far as she was concerned, with Sir Isaac as foil, he was real enough and good enough for her. And by the virtue66 of that unlovely contrast even a certain ineffectiveness—became infinite delicacy67....
The thought of Mr. Brumley in that relation and to that extent of clearness came but rarely into her consciousness, and when it did it was almost immediately dismissed again. It was the most fugitive68 of proffered69 consolations71. And it is to be remarked that it made its most successful apparitions72 when Mr. Brumley was far away, and by some weeks or months of separation a little blurred73 and forgotten....
And sometimes this unrest of her spirit, this unhappiness turned her in quite another direction as it seemed and she had thoughts of religion. With a deepened shame she would go seeking into that other, that greater indelicacy, from which her upbringing had divorced her mind. She would even secretly pray. Greatly daring she fled on several occasions from her visitation of the hostels or slipped out of her home, and evading74 Mr. Brumley, went once to the Brompton Oratory75, once or twice to the Westminster Cathedral and then having discovered Saint Paul's, to Saint Paul's in search of this nameless need. It was a need that no plain and ugly little place of worship would satisfy. It was a need that demanded choir76 and organ. She went to Saint Paul's haphazard77 when her mood and opportunity chanced together and there in the afternoons she found a wonder of great music and chanting voices, and she would kneel looking up into those divine shadows and perfect archings and feel for a time assuaged, wonderfully assuaged. Sometimes, there, she seemed to be upon the very verge78 of grasping that hidden reality which makes all things plain. Sometimes it seemed to her that this very indulgence was the hidden reality.
She could never be sure in her mind whether these secret worshippings helped or hampered79 her in her daily living. They helped her to a certain disregard of annoyances80 and indignities81 and so far they were good, but they also helped towards a more general indifference82. She might have told these last experiences to Mr. Brumley if she had not felt them to be indescribable. They could not be half told. They had to be told completely or they were altogether untellable. So she had them hid, and at once accepted and distrusted the consolation70 they brought her, and went on with the duties and philanthropies that she had chosen as her task in the world.
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1 knack | |
n.诀窍,做事情的灵巧的,便利的方法 | |
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2 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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3 justify | |
vt.证明…正当(或有理),为…辩护 | |
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4 courageous | |
adj.勇敢的,有胆量的 | |
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5 interpretations | |
n.解释( interpretation的名词复数 );表演;演绎;理解 | |
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6 tact | |
n.机敏,圆滑,得体 | |
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7 entrusted | |
v.委托,托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8 benevolent | |
adj.仁慈的,乐善好施的 | |
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9 illustrated | |
adj. 有插图的,列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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10 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
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11 intermittently | |
adv.间歇地;断断续续 | |
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12 exalted | |
adj.(地位等)高的,崇高的;尊贵的,高尚的 | |
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13 dignified | |
a.可敬的,高贵的 | |
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14 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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15 hostels | |
n.旅舍,招待所( hostel的名词复数 );青年宿舍 | |
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16 grimacing | |
v.扮鬼相,做鬼脸( grimace的现在分词 ) | |
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17 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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18 bickering | |
v.争吵( bicker的现在分词 );口角;(水等)作潺潺声;闪烁 | |
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19 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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20 generosity | |
n.大度,慷慨,慷慨的行为 | |
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21 undertaking | |
n.保证,许诺,事业 | |
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22 presumptuous | |
adj.胆大妄为的,放肆的,冒昧的,冒失的 | |
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23 unfamiliar | |
adj.陌生的,不熟悉的 | |
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24 submissions | |
n.提交( submission的名词复数 );屈从;归顺;向法官或陪审团提出的意见或论据 | |
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25 fatigue | |
n.疲劳,劳累 | |
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26 hideousness | |
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27 reassure | |
v.使放心,使消除疑虑 | |
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28 tormented | |
饱受折磨的 | |
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29 tormenting | |
使痛苦的,使苦恼的 | |
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30 jealousies | |
n.妒忌( jealousy的名词复数 );妒羡 | |
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31 discretion | |
n.谨慎;随意处理 | |
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32 expressive | |
adj.表现的,表达…的,富于表情的 | |
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33 desolating | |
毁坏( desolate的现在分词 ); 极大地破坏; 使沮丧; 使痛苦 | |
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34 bleak | |
adj.(天气)阴冷的;凄凉的;暗淡的 | |
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35 tangle | |
n.纠缠;缠结;混乱;v.(使)缠绕;变乱 | |
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36 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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37 unreasonableness | |
无理性; 横逆 | |
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38 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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39 assuaged | |
v.减轻( assuage的过去式和过去分词 );缓和;平息;使安静 | |
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40 marvel | |
vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异;n.令人惊异的事 | |
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41 resolute | |
adj.坚决的,果敢的 | |
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42 aloofness | |
超然态度 | |
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43 tampering | |
v.窜改( tamper的现在分词 );篡改;(用不正当手段)影响;瞎摆弄 | |
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44 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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45 amber | |
n.琥珀;琥珀色;adj.琥珀制的 | |
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46 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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47 dally | |
v.荒废(时日),调情 | |
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48 tampered | |
v.窜改( tamper的过去式 );篡改;(用不正当手段)影响;瞎摆弄 | |
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49 grotesque | |
adj.怪诞的,丑陋的;n.怪诞的图案,怪人(物) | |
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50 throbbing | |
a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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51 panegyric | |
n.颂词,颂扬 | |
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52 dispersed | |
adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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53 breach | |
n.违反,不履行;破裂;vt.冲破,攻破 | |
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54 inundate | |
vt.淹没,泛滥,压倒 | |
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55 solitariness | |
n.隐居;单独 | |
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56 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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57 shrouded | |
v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 );保密 | |
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58 psyche | |
n.精神;灵魂 | |
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59 recoiled | |
v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 );退缩;报应;返回 | |
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60 suffocating | |
a.使人窒息的 | |
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61 repudiating | |
v.(正式地)否认( repudiate的现在分词 );拒绝接受;拒绝与…往来;拒不履行(法律义务) | |
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62 portrayal | |
n.饰演;描画 | |
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63 disingenuousness | |
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64 diabolical | |
adj.恶魔似的,凶暴的 | |
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65 unwilling | |
adj.不情愿的 | |
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66 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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67 delicacy | |
n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
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68 fugitive | |
adj.逃亡的,易逝的;n.逃犯,逃亡者 | |
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69 proffered | |
v.提供,贡献,提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
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71 consolations | |
n.安慰,慰问( consolation的名词复数 );起安慰作用的人(或事物) | |
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72 apparitions | |
n.特异景象( apparition的名词复数 );幽灵;鬼;(特异景象等的)出现 | |
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73 blurred | |
v.(使)变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 );(使)难以区分;模模糊糊;迷离 | |
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74 evading | |
逃避( evade的现在分词 ); 避开; 回避; 想不出 | |
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75 oratory | |
n.演讲术;词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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76 choir | |
n.唱诗班,唱诗班的席位,合唱团,舞蹈团;v.合唱 | |
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77 haphazard | |
adj.无计划的,随意的,杂乱无章的 | |
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78 verge | |
n.边,边缘;v.接近,濒临 | |
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79 hampered | |
妨碍,束缚,限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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80 annoyances | |
n.恼怒( annoyance的名词复数 );烦恼;打扰;使人烦恼的事 | |
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81 indignities | |
n.侮辱,轻蔑( indignity的名词复数 ) | |
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82 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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