On the one hand there was the assurance of a well-known and clever woman of the world like Lady Jennings that Rachel Davison was a charming girl, clever, high-principled, and generous to her family, amazingly industrious1 and dutiful to her people, but amazingly proud as well.
And on the other hand there was the question of Lady Jennings as to “doubles,” which made him ask himself—what he had not dared ask her—whether she had herself fancied she met Rachel Davison in a strange disguise. And there was the old lady’s statement that Rachel, while at Brighton, never answered letters, and her evident anxiety for him to go down there and see for himself what the girl was doing.
Of course there was nothing so very amazing in this fact of the disguise, if disguise it was, which he fancied he had seen Rachel wearing. If, as he had supposed possible, she went about as a workgirl to[39] collect information or knowledge for literary or artistic3 work, it might well be that she would not tell Lady Jennings all the details of what she did in the way of her professional career.
It seemed, indeed, as far as he could judge, as if this clever, independent young woman were rather a puzzle to her own friends, and as if they treated her with so much respect that they even condescended4 to allow her to keep her own secrets. But Gerard himself felt that he could not be thus content. Admiring Rachel Davison with an admiration5 which grew ever more perilous6 to his peace of mind as the mysterious circumstances connected with her made her more interesting, he felt that the one thing more important than anything else to him at that time was the solution of the mystery about her.
And within a few days he was at Brighton, with the especial object of finding out what he could about Rachel’s life while staying with her mother.
It was with a fast-beating heart and an uncomfortable feeling that he had not come in an honest capacity, but in the character of a spy, that Gerard rang the bell of the old-fashioned but substantial lodging-house on the Brighton sea-front, the address of which had been given him by Lady Jennings.
He asked the maid who opened the door whether Miss Davison was at home.
“No, sir, not Miss Davison; but Mrs. Davison is,” answered the servant at once.
[40]Gerard decided7 at once to see Mrs. Davison and to find out something at least about the mother of the girl in whom he was so much interested. He had heard two different accounts of her; the one, from Rachel, implied that she was a woman of some character, deeply suffering from the change she had suffered in circumstances, and the other, from Rose Aldington, which was quite another kind of person.
He was shown into a sitting-room8 overlooking the parade, and there he found a lady not yet past middle age, with hair scarcely touched with gray, and so like her elder daughter that it was impossible to see the one without being reminded of the other.
Mrs. Davison remembered the name, when Gerard was announced, and welcoming him with an outstretched hand, said—
“Ah, Mr. Buckland, I have heard something about you from both my daughters, and I am very glad to make your acquaintance.”
Gerard was surprised and much pleased to hear this, though he wondered in what way he had been mentioned by the girls. Mrs. Davison, who seemed a placid9, happy-looking woman, and who had laid down her novel when he came in, and begun to fondle a white Persian cat who resented the attention after the manner of his kind, invited him to take a chair near her, and asked him if he was staying in Brighton.
“Only for a day,” said he; “but I was so anxious[41] to make your acquaintance, knowing your two daughters, as I have the pleasure of doing, that I thought I would venture to call.”
“I’m very glad you did,” said Mrs. Davison. “To tell you the truth, although I’m so handsomely lodged10 here, through the cleverness and hard work of my eldest11 daughter—which I daresay you know all about, Mr. Buckland, I’m rather lonely down here. You see, although Brighton is near London, it is not quite the same thing for one’s friends to take a hansom or an omnibus to come and see one, as to take the train.”
“Of course not. I wonder you didn’t settle in London, since you are so much alone,” said Gerard.
Mrs. Davison sighed with resignation.
“It was a fancy of my daughter Rachel’s,” she explained, “that I should be happier down here by the sea. But I sometimes think, though I haven’t liked to say so, that I would rather have had a tiny flat somewhere nearer my friends in town.”
She spoke12 very gently, but it was evident that she suffered more acutely than she liked to own from her isolation13.
“But you often have your daughters with you, don’t you?” asked Gerard, feeling as he asked the question, uncomfortably like a spy.
“Not so very often,” answered the lady in a tone of mild regret. “Lilian is at school, and I don’t see her except during the holidays. And Rachel lives[42] with Lady Jennings, as perhaps you know. I couldn’t interfere14 with that arrangement, because, of course, socially it’s such a good thing for my girl to live with a woman who goes about so much as Lady Jennings does. And through Rachel’s pride and energy, she is able to earn her own living and so to keep her independence, while Lady Jennings is very grateful for her help and companionship.”
“But isn’t Miss Rachel staying with you now?” asked Gerard, in a stifled15 voice, remembering that Lady Jennings had said the girl had been with her mother for the past three weeks.
“Oh no, I haven’t seen anything of her for more than a month. She’s with Lady Jennings.”
Gerard said nothing to this; indeed he felt as if he could not have spoken to save his life. In spite of all the fears and doubts which had previously16 troubled him concerning Rachel Davison, in spite of what he had seen with his own eyes and heard with his own ears, he had never once supposed her capable of such elaborate and carefully planned deceit as that of which he now found her to be the author.
For what was this story, as it was now unfolded to him? Nothing less than a deliberate lie acted continually and consistently, not only to her mother but to Lady Jennings?
For the past three weeks each of these two ladies had supposed Rachel to be living with the other, and during that time he himself had had what he[43] now began to think was absolute ocular proof, that she had been living in London disguised as a workgirl all the while.
Of course it was true that the hypothesis that she was engaged in sensational17 journalism18 held good still. It might be that Rachel, knowing neither her mother nor Lady Jennings would approve of the way in which she would have to gain actual experience by living among people of a much lower social rank than her own, had devised this method of keeping her experiences a secret from them. But even if this were true, Gerard felt that it was too daring a step for a young woman to take without the support and advice of some older member of her own sex.
He wished that he could do one of two things: either look upon all this that he had heard and seen concerning Rachel and her adventures as the work of imagination, or fact distorted by imagination; or else that he could give up thinking about a girl who, whatever her strength of mind and her brilliancy of intellect, was undoubtedly20 not entirely21 to be trusted either in her words or in her conduct.
Mrs. Davison noticed the absence of mind with which he answered the next questions she put to him; and he, perceiving this and anxious not to betray[44] what he thought or felt, exerted himself to reply and to conceal24 the effect made upon him by her statement about her daughter.
But then she put a most disconcerting question.
“Do you know Lady Jennings?”
“Yes, slightly.”
“You have met Rachel at her house?”
“No, Miss Davison was not there when I called.”
“When was that?”
“It was about a week ago.”
“Did you see any of her drawings?”
“N-no,” answered Gerard nervously25, knowing as he did that these same drawings appeared never to have been seen by mortal eye.
“It’s most extraordinary,” prattled26 on Mrs. Davison, who was evidently, poor lady, delighted to have someone to break the monotony of the life which her daughter obliged her to lead, “that Rachel should have developed a talent for design, for there has never been any sort of artistic ability in the family, on either side. But I suppose when a girl is very clever, like my Rachel, her talent develops in any direction where it is most wanted.”
To this theory Gerard could only make a somewhat vague reply, and Mrs. Davison laughed a little and apologized for talking about nothing but her children.
“But,” went on the simple-hearted lady with feeling, “really the way in which my daughter has[45] changed everything for us by her own strong will and her own exertions27, is to me a marvel28 which shuts out everything else from my mind.”
He congratulated her, and had tea with her, and enjoyed the society of the simple old gentle-woman, with a strange undefined hope in his mind all the while that Rachel, the brilliant, the puzzling, the mysterious, would some day develop upon the same lines, if with greater breadth of view and intelligence, as this kindly29 and feminine personality.
Mrs. Davison let him go with evident regret and begged him to call on Lady Jennings and to give Rachel her love.
Gerard received this tender message with a pang30. It seemed to him to argue more mystery, and more undesirable31 secrecy32, about Rachel’s mode of life, that her mother should not dare to go up to London to see her elder daughter, but should confide33 her messages to a chance visitor.
He went back to town uneasier than ever about the girl whom, in spite of all that he had learned, he began to think that he admired more than ever.
He had discovered beyond a doubt that she was capable of elaborate deceit, that she was pursuing some calling of which her relations and friends knew nothing; and yet, while he remembered the incident of the flashing ornament, and the further incident of the unknown man, he felt that he could not give[46] her up, that he must find her out and know the truth about her.
It was a few days after his visit to Brighton, and while he was debating how soon he might venture to call again upon Lady Jennings, and whether he should find Rachel there if he did, when he saw, one afternoon in Bond Street, a victoria waiting outside a shop. Leaning back in it was a beautifully dressed woman whom he recognized, even before he got near enough to see her face, as Rachel Davison.
She was dressed in écru-colored lace over pale pink, and her sunshade matched her gown. A hat of pale pink with écru-colored outstanding feathers completed an elaborate and handsome toilet.
Gerard was suddenly convinced, as he had not been before, that it was she, and no other, whom he had met, in the shabby frock and battered35 hat, that night in the crowd. He went up to the side of the carriage and raised his hat, feeling, as he did so, as if the excitement and the suspicions he felt must be discernible in his looks.
It seemed to him that she looked startled on seeing him, and that her manner was rather more reserved and distant than there appeared to be any reason for. He was sure that she had not recognized him that night in the crowd; and the only thing he could think of to account for her coolness was that perhaps her mother had spoken or written to her about his call, and Lady Jennings about his visit to her,[47] so that the girl had begun to wonder whether he was playing the spy upon her movements.
It seemed to him as he greeted her and she bowed to him, not holding out her hand, that she looked paler than ever. Her natural complexion36 was colorless, a fact which added, in his eyes, to her exquisite37 charm and air of extreme refinement38. But now he thought it was almost ghastly; and though he told himself that this might be due either to the effect of the pink dress she wore, or to the effect of the season’s gayeties and other exertions, he asked himself whether it was not more probably the result of intense nervous strain.
The elaborate deceit of the life she led, whatever her motives39 might be, must, he thought, be exhausting and depressing even to the most splendid vitality40.
“Have you seen anything of the Aldingtons lately?” he asked, by way of something to say which should lead to no awkwardness in replying.
“Nothing whatever. I am so busy that I really haven’t time to go and see them, and I don’t know what I shall say when I do to excuse myself.”
“They will take any excuse, rather than not have the pleasure of seeing you,” suggested Gerard. “I’m sure that would be their feeling, as it would be mine.”
“Well, I shall be going away in a week or two, and I shan’t be able to get to Bayswater before then, I’m quite sure. Besides, I fancy they always go up[48] the river in the summer, and shut up the London house altogether.”
“Have you been in town all the season?” asked Gerard.
And against his will he felt that there was a look in his face, a tone in his voice, which betrayed more than he wished her to know.
She looked startled, as she had done on first meeting him.
“I’ve had to go down and see my mother, and I’ve been to Richmond to see my sister,” she answered rather shortly. “And you, have you been away yet?”
“Yes, I was at Brighton last week.”
“Brighton?” She glanced at him quickly.
“I called upon Mrs. Davison, in the hope of seeing you, Miss Rachel,” said he boldly. “I had previously called at Lady Jennings’ house—”
“So I heard,” cut in Miss Davison with a frown. “I was rather surprised to hear it.”
Gerard, determined41 to go through with the business now that he had made the plunge42, summoned all his courage, and said—
“I hope you were not angry with me for calling.”
“Why did you do it?” asked Miss Davison sharply.
Once more he gathered together all his courage, and replied more boldly than before, as he came a[49] step nearer and put his hand on the side of the victoria.
“I did it because I had been tantalized43 by one meeting with you, and I could not wait patiently till chance put me in the way of another. I therefore called, first on Lady Jennings and then at Mrs. Davison’s, in the hope of seeing you.”
Miss Davison seemed alarmed, he thought, though she laughed lightly, and affected44 to be rather amused.
“To look for such a busy, hardworked creature as I am, in any particular spot, is rather a hopeless task,” she said. “I have been so overworked lately that I have had to threaten to take a long holiday if I am not allowed a little more relaxation45.”
He hesitated and then said quickly—
“I suppose it’s asking too much to beg you to let me call at your studio and see these designs which have made so great a mark.”
She smiled.
“A great deal too much,” she said. “I never let anyone see me at my work. Indeed, having to get through it in a totally inadequate46 time, on account of social engagements I won’t and can’t give up, I couldn’t do it unless I made it a rule that I should be left uninterrupted. Even my own friends are not allowed to visit me in my professional den2. I’m an advanced woman, you see, strong-minded, and all that,” she added lightly. “The mere23 feminine[50] holder47 of a latch-key is a slave compared to me.”
But Gerard, who saw that she kept looking at the draper’s shop in front of which the victoria was standing34, as if anxious to get rid of him, was not going to take his dismissal until he had paved the way for the explanation which he was by this time determined that she should give him.
“You are waiting for someone?” he asked.
“Yes, for Lady Jennings. This is her carriage, not mine. She is buying something that ought to have been chosen and paid for in five minutes, but she has our sex’s proverbial inability to make up its mind.”
“Shall I go and look for her, and tell her you’re tired of waiting?”
“Oh no, I could scarcely permit that, since I got out of helping48 her by saying I was tired—as indeed I am—and that I should like the rest out here.”
“You do look as if you wanted rest,” said Gerard steadily49. “I am sure you work too hard. Not only at your social duties, and your designs, but—in other ways.”
Miss Davison’s pale face flushed suddenly.
“What other ways?” she asked quietly.
“You do a good deal in the way of journalism, I think,” he said.
“Do I? How do you know?”
“Do you remember the night of the fête at Lord[51] Chislehurst’s, when the king and queen were expected?”
Miss Davison did not reply in words. But she changed her attitude, and sitting upright, bowed her head as a sign to him to go on.
“There was a tremendous crowd outside, and I saw you there.”
She raised her eyebrows50 incredulously. If she was surprised and disturbed, as he believed, she concealed51 her feelings perfectly52.
“You saw me—outside—in a crowd of that sort?” she said disdainfully.
He nodded with confidence.
“Not dressed as you are now, and not looking as you do now. You were well disguised for your purpose—of journalism—in a hat and coat which would make you laugh if you were to see them on the stage, for instance. I thought the disguise very clever, but I remembered your face too well to be mistaken.”
“You were mistaken, though,” retorted Miss Davison with a forced laugh.
But he stuck to his guns.
“I think not,” he said gently. “I watched you for some time. I—I watched you till—till you gave something to—someone else—a man, and then disappeared.”
If he had had doubts before, he had none then. Miss Davison said nothing, but she sat so still, with[52] such a fixed53 look of terror and dismay upon her handsome face, that he was smitten54 to the heart, and felt himself a brute55 to have tortured her, even though the knowledge of what he had seen could not be kept to himself, and though it was the greatest kindness he could do her to confide it in the first place to her ears.
It seemed quite a long time before she spoke. Then she turned to him sharply, and said in a voice which sounded hard, metallic56, unlike her own—
“You have made a most curious, a most unaccountable mistake. You have left me quite dumb. I don’t know what to say.”
He paused, and then asked in a low voice—
“May I tell what I saw to Lady Jennings?”
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1
industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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3
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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condescended
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| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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7
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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8
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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9
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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10
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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12
spoke
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| 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 | |
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13
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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15
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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16
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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journalism
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| n.新闻工作，报业 | |
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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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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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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conceal
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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prattled
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| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的过去式和过去分词 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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27
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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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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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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31
undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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32
secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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42
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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tantalized
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| v.逗弄，引诱，折磨( tantalize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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45
relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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46
inadequate
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| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
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47
holder
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| n.持有者，占有者；(台，架等)支持物 | |
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48
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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49
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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50
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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51
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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52
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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53
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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54
smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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55
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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56
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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57
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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