That a previously1 scarcely suspected daughter of Mrs. Gareth-Lawless had become a member of the household of the Dowager Duchess of Darte stirred but a passing wave of interest in a circle which was not that of Mrs. Gareth-Lawless herself and which upon the whole but casually2 acknowledged its curious existence as a modern abnormality. Also the attitude of the Duchess herself was composedly free from any admission of necessity for comment.
“I have no pretty young relative who can be spared to come and live with me. I am fond of things pretty and young and I am greatly pleased with what a kind chance put in my way,” she said. In her discussion of the situation with Coombe she measured it with her customary fine acumen3.
“Forty years ago it could not have been done. The girl would have been made uncomfortable and outside things could not have been prevented from dragging themselves in. Filial piety4 in the mass would have demanded that the mother should be accounted for. Now a genial5 knowledge of a variety in mothers leaves Mrs. Gareth-Lawless to play about with her own probably quite amusing set. Once poor Robin6 would have been held responsible for her and so should I. My position would have seemed to defy serious moral issues. But we have reached a sane7 habit of detaching people from their relations. A nice condition we should be in if we had not.”
“You, of course, know that Henry died suddenly in some sort of fit at Ostend.” Coombe said it as if in a form of reply. She had naturally become aware of it when the rest of the world did, but had not seen him since the event.
“One did not suppose his constitution would have lasted so long,” she answered. “You are more fortunate in young Donal Muir. Have you seen him and his mother?”
“I made a special journey to Braemarnie and had a curious interview with Mrs. Muir. When I say ‘curious’ I don’t mean to imply that it was not entirely8 dignified9. It was curious only because I realize that secretly she regards with horror and dread10 the fact that her boy is the prospective11 Head of the House of Coombe. She does not make a jest of it as I have had the temerity13 to do. It’s a cheap defense14, this trick of making an eternal jest of things, but it is a defense and one has formed the habit.”
“She has never done it—Helen Muir,” his friend said. “On the whole I believe she at times knows that she has been too grave. She was a beautiful creature passionately15 in love with her husband. When such a husband is taken away from such a woman and his child is left it often happens that the flood of her love is turned into one current and that it is almost overwhelming. She is too sane to have coddled the boy and made him effeminate—what has she done instead?”
“He is a splendid young Highlander16. He would be too good-looking if he were not as strong and active as a young stag. All she has done is to so fill him with the power and sense of her charm that he has not seen enough of the world or learned to care for it. She is the one woman on earth for him and life with her at Braemarnie is all he asks for.”
“Your difficulty will be that she will not be willing to trust him to your instructions.”
“I have not as much personal vanity as I may seem to have,” Coombe said. “I put all egotism modestly aside when I talked to her and tried to explain that I would endeavour to see that he came to no harm in my society. My heir presumptive and I must see something of each other and he must become intimate with the prospect12 of his responsibilities. More will be demanded of the next Marquis of Coombe than has been demanded of me. And it will be demanded not merely hoped for or expected. And it will be the overwhelming forces of Fate which will demand it—not mere17 tenants18 or constituents19 or the general public.”
“Have you any views as to what will be demanded?” was her interested question.
“None. Neither has anyone else who shares my opinion. No one will have any until the readjustment comes. But before the readjustment there will be the pouring forth20 of blood—the blood of magnificent lads like Donal Muir—perhaps his own blood,—my God!”
“And there may be left no head of the house of Coombe,” from the Duchess.
“There will be many a house left without its head—houses great and small. And if the peril21 of it were more generally foreseen at this date it would be less perilous22 than it is.”
“Lads like that!” said the old Duchess bitterly. “Lads in their strength and joy and bloom! It is hideous23.”
“In all their young virility24 and promise for a next generation—the strong young fathers of forever unborn millions! It’s damnable! And it will be so not only in England, but all over a blood drenched25 world.”
It was in this way they talked to each other of the black tragedy for which they believed the world’s stage already being set in secret, and though there were here and there others who felt the ominous26 inevitability27 of the raising of the curtain, the rest of the world looked on in careless indifference28 to the significance of the open training of its actors and even the resounding29 hammerings of its stage carpenters and builders. In these days the two discussed the matter more frequently and even in the tone of those who waited for the approach of a thing drawing nearer every day.
Each time the Head of the House of Coombe made one of his so-called “week end” visits to the parts an Englishman can reach only by crossing the Channel, he returned with new knowledge of the special direction in which the wind veered30 in the blowing of those straws he had so long observed with absorbed interest.
“Above all the common sounds of daily human life one hears in that one land the rattle31 and clash of arms and the unending thudding tread of marching feet,” he said after one such visit. “Two generations of men creatures bred and born and trained to live as parts of a huge death dealing32 machine have resulted in a monstrous33 construction. Each man is a part of it and each part’s greatest ambition is to respond to the shouted word of command as a mechanical puppet responds to the touch of a spring. To each unit of the millions, love of his own country means only hatred34 of all others and the belief that no other should be allowed existence. The sacred creed35 of each is that the immensity of Germany is such that there can be no room on the earth for another than itself. Blood and iron will clear the world of the inferior peoples. To the masses that is their God’s will. Their God is an understudy of their Kaiser.”
“You are not saying that as part of the trick of making a jest of things?”
“I wish to God I were. The poor huge inhuman36 thing he has built does not know that when he was a boy he did not play at war and battles as other boys do, but as a creature obsessed37. He has played at soldiers with his people as his toys throughout all his morbid38 life—and he has hungered and thirsted as he has done it.”
A Bible lay upon the table and the Duchess drew it towards her.
“There is a verse here—” she said “—I will find it.” She turned the pages and found it. “Listen! ‘Know this and lay it to thy heart this day. Jehovah is God in heaven above and on the earth beneath. There is none else.’ That is a power which does not confine itself to Germany or to England or France or to the Map of Europe. It is the Law of the Universe—and even Wilhelm the Second cannot bend it to his almighty39 will. ‘There is none else.’”
“‘There is none else’,” repeated Coombe slowly. “If there existed a human being with the power to drive that home as a truth into his delirious40 brain, I believe he would die raving41 mad. To him there is no First Cause which was not ‘made in Germany.’ And it is one of his most valuable theatrical42 assets. It is part of his paraphernalia—like the jangling of his sword and the glitter of his orders. He shakes it before his people to arrest the attention of the simple and honest ones as one jingles43 a rattle before a child. There are those among them who are not so readily attracted by terms of blood and iron.”
“But they will be called upon to shed blood and to pour forth their own. There will be young things like Donal Muir—lads with ruddy cheeks and with white bodies to be torn to fragments.” She shuddered44 as she said it. “I am afraid!” she said. “I am afraid!”
“So am I,” Coombe answered. “Of what is coming. What a fool I have been!”
“Each man’s folly46 is his own shame.” He drew himself stiffly upright as a man might who stood before a firing squad47. “I had a life to live or to throw away. Because I was hideously48 wounded at the outset I threw it aside as done for. I said ‘there is neither God nor devil, vice49 nor virtue50, love nor hate. I will do and leave undone51 what I choose.’ I had power and brain and money. A man who could see clearly and who had words to choose from might have stood firmly in the place to which he was born and have spoken in a voice which might have been listened to. He might have fought against folly and blindness and lassitude. I deliberately52 chose privately53 to sneer54 at the thought of lifting a hand to serve any thing but the cold fool who was myself. Life passes quickly. It does not turn back.” He ended with a short harsh laugh. “This is Fear,” he said. “Fear clears a man’s mind of rubbish and non-essentials. It is because I am AFRAID that I accuse myself. And it is not for myself or you but for the whole world which before the end comes will seem to fall into fragments.”
“You have been seeing ominous signs?” the Duchess said leaning forward and speaking low.
“There have been affectionate visits to Vienna. There is a certain thing in the air—in the arrogance55 of the bearing of men clanking their sabres as they stride through the streets. There is an exultant56 eagerness in their eyes. Things are said which hold scarcely concealed57 braggart58 threats. They have always been given to that sort of thing—but now it strikes one as a thing unleashed—or barely leashed at all. The background of the sound of clashing arms and the thudding of marching feet is more unendingly present. One cannot get away from it. The great munition59 factories are working night and day. In the streets, in private houses, in the shops, one hears and recognizes signs. They are signs which might not be clear to one who has not spent years in looking on with interested eyes. But I have watched too long to see only the surface of things. The nation is waiting for something—waiting.”
“Any pretext will do—or none—except that Germany must have what she wants and that she is strong enough to take it—after forty years of building her machine.”
“And we others have built none. We almost deserve whatever comes to us.” The old woman’s face was darkly grave.
“In three villages where I chance to be lord of the manor61 I have, by means of my own, set lads drilling and training. It is supposed to be a form of amusement and an eccentric whim62 of mine and it is a change from eternal cricket. I have given prizes and made an occasional speech on the ground that English brawn63 is so enviable a possession that it ought to develop itself to the utmost. When I once went to the length of adding that each Englishman should be muscle fit and ready in case of England’s sudden need, I saw the lads grin cheerfully at the thought of England in any such un-English plight64. Their innocent swaggering belief that the country is always ready for everything moved my heart of stone. And it is men like myself who are to blame—not merely men of my class, but men of my kind. Those who have chosen to detach themselves from everything but the living of life as it best pleased their tastes or served their personal ambitions.”
“Are we going to be taught that man cannot argue without including his fellow man? Are we going to be forced to learn it?” she said.
“Yes—forced. Nothing but force could reach us. The race is an undeveloped thing. A few centuries later it will have evolved another sense. This century may see the first huge step—because the power of a cataclysm65 sweeps it forward.”
He turned his glance towards the opening door. Robin came in with some letters in her hand. He was vaguely66 aware that she wore an aspect he was unfamiliar67 with. The girl of Mrs. Gareth-Lawless had in the past, as it went without saying, expressed the final note of priceless simplicity68 and mode. The more finely simple she looked, the more priceless. The unfamiliarity69 in her outward seeming lay in the fact that her quiet dun tweed dress with its lines of white at neck and wrists was not priceless though it was well made. It, in fact, unobtrusively suggested that it was meant for service rather than for adornment70. Her hair was dressed closely and her movements were very quiet. Coombe realized that her greeting of him was delicately respectful.
“I have finished the letters,” she said to the Duchess. “I hope they are what you want. Sometimes I am afraid——”
“Don’t be afraid,” said the Duchess kindly71. “You write very correct and graceful72 little letters. They are always what I want. Have you been out today?”
“Not yet.” Robin hesitated a little. “Have I your permission to ask Mrs. James if it will be convenient to her to let Dowie go with me for an hour?”
“Yes,” as kindly as before. “For two hours if you like. I shall not drive this afternoon.”
“Thank you,” said Robin and went out of the room as quietly as she had entered it.
When the door closed the Duchess was smiling at Lord Coombe.
“I understand her,” she said. “She is sustained and comforted by her pretty air of servitude. She might use Dowie as her personal maid and do next to nothing, but she waits upon herself and punctiliously73 asks my permission to approach Mrs. James the housekeeper74 with any request for a favour. Her one desire is to be sure that she is earning her living as other young women do when they are paid for their work. I should really like to pet and indulge her, but it would only make her unhappy. I invent tasks for her which are quite unnecessary. For years the little shut-up soul has been yearning75 and praying for this opportunity to stand honestly on her own feet and she can scarcely persuade herself that it has been given to her. It must not be spoiled for her. I send her on errands my maid could perform. I have given her a little room with a serious business air. It is full of files and papers and she sits in it and copies things for me and even looks over accounts. She is clever at looking up references. I have let her sit up quite late once or twice searching for detail and dates for my use. It made her bloom with joy.”
“You are quite the most delightful76 woman in the world,” said Coombe. “Quite.”
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1
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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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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acumen
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| n.敏锐，聪明 | |
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piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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temerity
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| n.鲁莽，冒失 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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highlander
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| n.高地的人，苏格兰高地地区的人 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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constituents
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| n.选民( constituent的名词复数 )；成分；构成部分；要素 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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virility
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| n.雄劲，丈夫气 | |
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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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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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inevitability
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| n.必然性 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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veered
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| v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的过去式和过去分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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obsessed
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| adj.心神不宁的,鬼迷心窍的,沉迷的 | |
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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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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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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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jingles
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| 叮当声( jingle的名词复数 )； 节拍十分规则的简单诗歌 | |
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44
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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awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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48
hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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50
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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51
undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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52
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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54
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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55
arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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56
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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braggart
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| n.吹牛者；adj.吹牛的，自夸的 | |
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munition
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| n.军火；军需品；v.给某部门提供军火 | |
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pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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brawn
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| n.体力 | |
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plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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65
cataclysm
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| n.洪水，剧变，大灾难 | |
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66
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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68
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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unfamiliarity
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adornment
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| n.装饰；装饰品 | |
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71
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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72
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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punctiliously
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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75
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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76
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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