In no very pleasant frame of mind did Lord Aspenly retrace2 his steps toward the old house. His lordship had, all his life, been firmly persuaded that the whole female creation had been sighing and pining for the possession of his heart and equipage. He knew that among those with whom his chief experience lay, his fortune and his coronet were considerations not to be resisted; and he as firmly believed, that even without such recommendations, few women, certainly none of any taste or discrimination, could be found with hearts so steeled against the archery of Cupid, as to resist the fascinations4 of his manner and conversation, supported and directed, as both were, by the tact5 and experience drawn6 from a practice of more years than his lordship cared to count, even to himself. He had, however, smiled, danced, and chatted, in impregnable celibacy7, through more than half a century of gaiety and frivolity—breaking, as he thought, hearts innumerable, and, at all events, disappointing very many calculations—until, at length, his lordship had arrived at that precise period of existence at which old gentlemen, not unfrequently, become all at once romantic, disinterested8, and indiscreet—nobody exactly knows why—unless it be for variety, or to spite an heir presumptive, or else that, as a preliminary to second childhood, nature has ordained9 a second boyhood too. Certain, however, it is, that Lord Aspenly was seized, on a sudden, with a matrimonial frenzy10; and, tired of the hackneyed schemers, in the centre of whose manœuvres he had stood and smiled so long in contemptuous security, he resolved that his choice should honour some simple, unsophisticated beauty, who had never plotted his matrimony.
Fired with this benevolent11 resolution, he almost instantly selected Mary Ashwoode as the happy companion of his second childhood, acquainted Sir Richard with his purpose, of course received his consent and blessing12, and forthwith opened his entrenchments with the same certainty of success with which the great Duke of Marlborough might have invested a Flanders village. The inexperience of a girl who had mixed, comparatively, so little in gay society, her consequent openness to flattery, and susceptibility of being fascinated by the elegance13 of his address, and the splendour of his fortune—all these considerations, accompanied by a clear consciousness of his own infinite condescension14 in thinking of her at all, had completely excluded from all his calculations the very possibility of her doing anything else than jump into his arms the moment he should open them to receive her. The result of the interview which had just taken place, had come upon him with the overwhelming suddenness of a thunderbolt. Rejected!—Lord Aspenly rejected!—a coronet, and a fortune, and a man whom all the male world might envy—each and all rejected!—and by whom?—a chit of a girl, who had no right to look higher than a half-pay captain with a wooden leg, or a fox-hunting boor15, with a few inaccessible16 acres of bog17 and mountain—the daughter of a spendthrift baronet, who was, as everyone knew, on the high road to ruin. Death and fury! was it to be endured?
The little lover, absorbed in such tranquilizing reflections, arrived at the house, and entered the drawing-room. It was not unoccupied; seated by a spinet, and with a sheet of music-paper in her lap, and a pencil in her hand, was the fair Emily Copland. As he entered, she raised her eyes, started a little, became gracefully18 confused, and then, with her archest smile, exclaimed,—
"What shall I say, my lord? You have detected me. I have neither defence nor palliation to offer; you have fairly caught me. Here am I engaged in perhaps the most presumptuous19 task that ever silly maiden20 undertook—I am wedding your beautiful verses to most unworthy music of my own. After all, there is nothing like a simple ballad21. Such exquisite22 lines as these inspire music of themselves. Would that Henry Purcell had had but a peep at them! To what might they not have prompted such a genius—to what, indeed?"
So sublime23 was the flight of fancy suggested by this interrogatory, that Miss Copland shook her head slowly in poetic24 rapture25, and gazed fondly for some seconds upon the carpet, apparently26 unconscious of Lord Aspenly's presence.
"She is a fine creature," half murmured he, with an emphasis upon the identity which implied a contrast not very favourable27 to Mary—"and—and very pretty—nay28, she looks almost beautiful, and so—so lively—so much vivacity29. Never was poor poet so much flattered," continued his lordship, approaching, as he spoke30, and raising his voice, but not above its most mellifluous31 pitch; "to have his verses read by such eyes, to have them chanted by such a minstrel, were honour too high for the noblest bards32 of the noblest days of poetry: for me it is a happiness almost too great; yet, if the request be not a presumptuous one, may I, in all humility33, pray that you will favour me with the music to which you have coupled my most undeserving—my most favoured lines?"
The young lady looked modest, glanced coyly at the paper which lay in her lap, looked modest once more, and then arch again, and at length, with rather a fluttered air, she threw her hands over the keys of the instrument, and to a tune3, of which we say enough when we state that it was in no way unworthy of the words, she sang, rather better than young ladies usually do, the following exquisite stanzas34 from his lordship's pen:—
"Tho' Chloe slight me when I woo,
The shepherd's heart she scorns is true,
His heart is true, his passion tender.
"But poor Philander sighs in vain,
His love so true and passion tender.
"And here Philander lays him down,
Here will expire the poor Philander;
The victim of fair Chloe's frown,
Of love so true and passion tender.
"Ah, well-a-day! the shepherd's dead;
Ay, dead and gone, the poor Philander;
And Dryads crown with flowers his head,
And Cupid mourns his love so tender."
During this performance, Lord Aspenly, who had now perfectly38 recovered his equanimity39, marked the time with head and hand, standing40 the while beside the fair performer, and every note she sang found its way through the wide portals of his vanity, directly to his heart.
"Brava! brava! bravissima!" murmured his lordship, from time to time. "Beautiful, beautiful air—most appropriate—most simple; not a note that accords not with the word it carries—beautiful, indeed! A thousand thanks! I have become quite conceited41 of lines of which heretofore I was half ashamed. I am quite elated—at once overpowered by the characteristic vanity of the poet, and more than recompensed by the reality of his proudest aspiration—that of seeing his verses appreciated by a heart of sensibility, and of hearing them sung by the lips of beauty."
"I am but too happy if I am forgiven," replied Emily Copland, slightly laughing, and with a heightened colour, while the momentary42 overflow43 of merriment was followed by a sigh, and her eyes sank pensively44 upon the ground.
This little by-play was not lost upon Lord Aspenly.
A man speaking to a woman who is playing the piano.
"Poor little thing," he inwardly remarked, "she is in a very bad way—desperate—quite desperate. What a devil of a rascal45 I am to be sure! Egad! it's almost a pity—she's a decidedly superior person; she has an elegant turn of mind—refinement—taste—egad! she is a fine creature—and so simple. She little knows I see it all; perhaps she hardly knows herself what ails46 her—poor, poor little thing!"
While these thoughts floated rapidly through his mind, he felt, along with his spite and anger towards Mary Ashwoode, a feeling of contempt, almost of disgust, engendered47 by her audacious non-appreciation of his merits—an impertinence which appeared the more monstrous48 by the contrast of Emily Copland's tenderness. She had made it plain enough, by all the artless signs which simple maidens49 know not how to hide, that his fascinations had done their fatal work upon her heart. He had seen, this for several days, but not with the overwhelming distinctness with which he now beheld50 it.
"Poor, poor little girl!" said his lordship to himself; "I am very, very sorry, but it cannot be helped; it is no fault of mine. I am really very, very, confoundedly sorry."
In saying so to himself, however, he told himself a lie; for, instead of being grieved, he was pleased beyond measure—a fact which he might have ascertained51 by a single glance at the reflection of his wreathed smiles in the ponderous52 mirror which hung forward from the pier53 between the windows, as if staring down in wondering curiosity upon the progress of the flirtation54. Not caring to disturb a train of thought which his vanity told him were but riveting55 the subtle chains which bound another victim to his conquering chariot-wheels, the Earl of Aspenly turned, with careless ease, to a table, on which lay some specimens56 of that worsted tapestry-work, in which the fair maidens of a century and a half ago were wont57 to exercise their taste and skill.
"Your work is very, very beautiful," said he, after a considerable pause, and laying down the canvas, upon whose unfinished worsted task he had been for some time gazing.
"That is my cousin's work," said Emily, not sorry to turn the conversation to a subject upon which, for many reasons, she wished to dwell; "she used to work a great deal with me before she grew romantic—before she fell in love."
"In love!—with whom?" inquired Lord Aspenly, with remarkable58 quickness.
"Don't you know, my lord?" inquired Emily Copland, in simple wonder. "May be I ought not to have told you—I am sure I ought not. Do not ask me any more. I am the giddiest girl—the most thoughtless!"
"Nay, nay," said Lord Aspenly, "you need not be afraid to trust me—I never tell tales; and now that I know the fact that she is in love, there can be no harm in telling me the less important particulars. On my honour," continued his lordship, with real earnestness, and affected59 playfulness—"upon my sacred honour! I shall not breathe one syllable60 of it to mortal—I shall be as secret as the tomb. Who is the happy person in question?"
"Well, my lord, you'll promise not to betray me," replied she. "I know very well I ought not to have said a word about it; but as I have made the blunder, I see no harm in telling you all I know; but you will be secret?"
"On my honour—on my life and soul, I swear!" exclaimed his lordship, with unaffected eagerness.
"Well, then, the happy man is a Mr. Edmond O'Connor," replied she.
"O'Connor—O'Connor—I never saw nor heard of the man before," rejoined the earl, reflectively. "Is he wealthy?"
"Ha, ha, ha—he, he, he! a Papist beggar," exclaimed his lordship, with an hysterical62 giggle63, which was intended for a careless laugh. "Has he any conversation—any manner—any attraction of that kind?"
"Oh! none in the world!—both ignorant, and I think, vulgar," replied Emily. "In short, he is very nearly a stupid boor!"
"Excellent! Ha, ha—he, he, he!—ugh! ugh!—very capital—excellent! excellent!" exclaimed his lordship, although he might have found some difficulty in explaining in what, precisely64 the peculiar65 excellence66 of the announcement consisted. "Is he—is he—a—a—handsome?"
"Decidedly not what I consider handsome!" replied she; "he is a large, coarse-looking fellow, with very broad shoulders—very large—and as they say of oxen, in very great condition—a sort of a prize man!"
"Ha, ha!—ugh! ugh!—he, he, he, he, he!—ugh, ugh, ugh!—de—lightful—quite delightful67!" exclaimed the earl, in a tone of intense chagrin68, for he was conscious that his own figure was perhaps a little too scraggy, and his legs a leetle too nearly approaching the genus spindle, and being so, there was no trait in the female character which he so inveterately69 abhorred70 and despised as their tendency to prefer those figures which exhibited a due proportion of thew and muscle. Under a cloud of rappee, his lordship made a desperate attempt to look perfectly delighted and amused, and effected a retreat to the window, where he again indulged in a titter of unutterable spite and vexation.
"And what says Sir Richard to the advances of this very desirable gentleman?" inquired he, after a little time.
"Sir Richard is, of course, violently against it," replied Emily Copland.
"So I should have supposed," returned the little nobleman, briskly. And turning again to the window, he relapsed into silence, looked out intently for some minutes, took more snuff, and finally, consulting his watch, with a few words of apology, and a gracious smile and a bow, quitted the room.
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1
spinet
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| n.小型立式钢琴 | |
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retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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4
fascinations
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| n.魅力( fascination的名词复数 )；有魅力的东西；迷恋；陶醉 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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celibacy
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| n.独身(主义) | |
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disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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9
ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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10
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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11
benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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12
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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13
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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14
condescension
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| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
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15
boor
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| n.举止粗野的人；乡下佬 | |
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16
inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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17
bog
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| n.沼泽；室...陷入泥淖 | |
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18
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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19
presumptuous
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| adj.胆大妄为的，放肆的，冒昧的，冒失的 | |
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20
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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21
ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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22
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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23
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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24
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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25
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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26
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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27
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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28
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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29
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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30
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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31
mellifluous
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| adj.（音乐等）柔美流畅的 | |
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32
bards
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| n.诗人( bard的名词复数 ) | |
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33
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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34
stanzas
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| 节，段( stanza的名词复数 ) | |
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35
philander
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| v.不真诚地恋爱，调戏 | |
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36
laments
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| n.悲恸，哀歌，挽歌( lament的名词复数 )v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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37
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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38
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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39
equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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40
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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41
conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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42
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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43
overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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45
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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46
ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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47
engendered
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| v.产生（某形势或状况），造成，引起( engender的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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49
maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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50
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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51
ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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53
pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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54
flirtation
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| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
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riveting
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| adj.动听的，令人着迷的，完全吸引某人注意力的；n.铆接（法） | |
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56
specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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57
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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58
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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60
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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61
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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62
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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63
giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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64
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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67
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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inveterately
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| adv.根深蒂固地，积习地 | |
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abhorred
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| v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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