"The laugh in his blue eye was damnable," Roxholm murmured. "'Twas as if there was no help for her or any other poor creature whom he chose to pursue. The base unfairness of it! He is equipped with the whole armament—of lures7, of lies, of knowledge, and devilish skill. There are women, 'tis true, who are his equals; but those who are not—those who are ignorant and whose hearts he wins, as 'twould be easy for him to win any woman's who believed his wooing face and voice—Nay8, 'twould be as dastardly as if an impregnable fortress9 should open all its batteries upon a little child who played before it. And he stands laughing among his mocking crew—triumphing, boasting—in cold blood—of what he plans to do months to come. Fate grant he may not come near me often. Some day I should break his devil's neck."
He found himself striding about the room. He was burning with rage against the unfairness of it all, as he had burned when, a mere10 child, he pondered on the story of Wildairs. To-day he was a man, yet his passion of rebellion was curiously11 similar in its nature to his young fury. Now, as then, there was naught12 to be done to help what seemed like Fate. In a world made up of men all more or less hunters of the weak, ready to accept the theory that all things defenceless and lovely are fair game for the stronger, a man whose view was fairer was an abnormality.
"I do not belong to my time," he said, flinging himself into his chair again and speaking grimly. "I am too early—or too late—for it, and must be content to seem a fool."
"There is a Fate," he said a little later, having sat a space gazing at the floor and deep in thought—"there is a Fate which seems to link me to the fortunes of these people. My first knowledge of their wretchedness was a thing which sank deep. There are things a human being perhaps remembers his whole life through—and strangely enough they are often small incidents. I do not think there will ever pass from me my memory of the way the rain swept over the park lands and bare trees the day I stood with my Lord Dunstanwolde at the Long Gallery window, and he told me of the new-born child dragged shrieking14 from beneath its dead mother's body."
Some days later he went to Camylott to pass a few weeks in the country with his parents, who were about to set forth15 upon a journey to Italy, where they were to visit in state a palace of a Roman noble who had been a friend of his Grace's youth, they having met and become companions when the Duke first visited Rome in making the grand tour. 'Twas a visit long promised to the Roman gentleman who had more than once been a guest of their household in England; and but for affairs of his Grace of Marlborough, which Roxholm had bound himself to keep eye on, he also would have been of the party. As matters stood, honour held him on English soil, for which reason he went to Camylott to spend the last weeks with those he loved, amid the country loveliness.
When my lord Marquess journeyed to the country he took no great cavalcade16 with him, but only a couple of servants to attend him, while Mr. Fox rode at his side. The English June weather was heavenly fair, and the country a bower17 of green, the sun shining with soft warmth and the birds singing in the hedgerows and upon the leafy boughs18. To ride a fine horse over country roads, by wood and moor19 and sea, is a pleasant thing when a man is young and hale and full of joy in Nature's loveliness, and above all is riding to a home which seems more beautiful to him than any place on earth. One who has lived twenty-eight years, having no desire unfulfilled, and taking his part of every pleasure that wealth, high birth, and a splendid body can give him, may well ride gaily20 over a good white road and have leisure to throw back his head to hearken to a skylark soaring in the high blue heavens above him, to smile at a sitting bird's bright eyes peeping timidly at him from under the thick leafage of a hazel hedge, or at the sight of a family of rabbits scurrying21 over the cropped woodland grass at the sound of his horse's feet, their short white tails marking their leaps as they dart22 from one fern shelter to the other; and to slacken his horse's pace as he rides past village greens, marking how the little children tumble and are merry there.
So my lord Marquess rode and Mr. Fox with him, for two days at least. In the dewy morning they set forth and travelled between green hedgerows and through pretty tiny villages, talking pleasantly, as old friends will talk, for to the day of his old preceptor's peaceful dying years later at Camylott, the Marquess (who was then a Duke) loved and treated him as a companion and friend, not as a poor underling Chaplain who must rise from table as if dismissed by the course of sweetmeats when it appeared. For refreshments23 they drew rein24 at noon before some roadside inn whose eager host spread before them his very best, and himself waited upon them in awful joy. When the sun set, one manservant rode on before to prepare for their entertainment for the night, and when they cantered up to the hostelry, they found the whole establishment waiting to receive and do them honour, landlord and landlady25 bowing and curtseying on the threshold, maidservants peeping from behind doors and through upper windows, and loiterers from the village hanging about ready to pull forelocks or bob curtseys, as their sex demanded.
"'Tis my lord Marquess of Roxholm, the great Duke of Osmonde's heir," they would hear it whispered. "He has come back from the wars covered with wounds and now rides to pay his respects to their Graces, his parents, at Camylott Tower."
'Twas a pleasant journey; Roxholm always remembered and often spoke27 of it in after years, for his thought was that in setting out upon it he had begun to journey towards that which Fate, it seemed, had ordained28 that he should reach—though through dark nights and stormy days—at last.
'Twas on the morning of the fourth day there befel them a strange adventure, and one which had near ended in dark tragedy for one human being at least.
The horse his lordship rode was a beautiful fiery29 creature, and sometimes from sheer pleasure in his spirit, his master would spur him to a wild gallop30 in which he went like the wind's self, showing a joy in the excitement of it which was beauteous to behold31. When this fourth morning they had been but about an hour upon the road, Roxholm gave to the creature's glossy32 neck the touch which was the signal 'twas his delight to answer.
"Watch him shoot forward like an arrow from a bow," my lord said to Mr. Fox, and the next instant was yards away.
He flew like the wind, his hoofs33 scarce seeming to touch the earth as he sped forward, my lord sitting like a Centaur34, his face aglow35 with pleasure, even Mr. Fox's soberer animal taking fire somewhat and putting himself at a gallop, his rider's elderly blood quickening with his.
One side of the road they were upon was higher than the other and covered with a wood, and as Mr. Fox followed at some distance he beheld37 a parlous38 sight. At a turn in the way, down the bank, there rushed a woman, a frantic39 figure, hair flying, garments disordered, and with a shriek13 flung herself full length upon the earth before my lord Marquess's horse, as if with the intent that the iron hoofs should dash out her brains as they struck ground again. Mr. Fox broke forth into a cry of horror, but even as it left his lips he beheld a wondrous40 thing, indeed, though 'twas one which brought his heart into his throat. The excited beast's fore2 parts were jerked upward so high that he seemed to rear till he stood almost straight upon his hind26 legs, his fore feet beating the air; then, by some marvel41 of strength and skill, his body was wheeled round and his hoofs struck earth at safe distance from the prostrate42 woman's head.
My lord sprang from his back and stood a moment soothing43 his trembling, the animal snorting and panting, the foam44 flying from his nostrils45 in his terror at a thing which his friend and master had never done to him before. The two loved each other, and in Roxholm's heart there was a sort of rage that he should have been forced to inflict46 upon him so harsh a shock.
The woman dragged herself half up from the white dust on which she had lain. She was shuddering47 convulsively, her long hair was hanging about her, her eyes wild and anguished48, and her lips shivering more than trembling.
"Oh, God! Oh, God!" she wailed50, and then let herself drop again and writhed51, clutching at the white dust with her hands.
"Are you mad?" said Roxholm, sternly, "or only in some hysteric fury? Would you have your brains dashed out?"
She flung out her arms, tearing at the earth still and grinding her teeth.
"Yes—dashed out!" she cried; "all likeness53 beaten from my face that none might know it again. For that I threw myself before you."
The Marquess gave his horse to the servant, who had ridden to him, and made a sign both to him and Mr. Fox that they ride a little forward.
He bent54 over the girl (for she was more girl than woman, being scarce eighteen) and put his hand on her shoulder.
"Get up, Mistress," he said. "Rise and strive to calm yourself."
Suddenly his voice had taken a tone which had that in its depths no creature in pain would not understand and answer to. His keen eye had seen a thing which wrung55 his heart, it seeming to tell so plainly all the cruel story.
"Come, poor creature," he said, "let me help you to your feet."
He put his strong arm about her body, and lifted her as if she had been a child, and finding she was so trembling that she had not strength to support herself, he even carried her to the grass and laid her down upon it. She had a lovely gipsy face which should have been brilliant with beauty, but was wild and wan56 and dragged with horrid57 woe58. Her great roe's eyes stared at him through big, welling tears of agony.
"You look like some young lord!" she cried. "You have a beautiful face and a sweet voice. Any woman would believe you if you swore a thing! What are women to do! Are you a villain59, too—are you a villain, too?"
"No," answered he, looking at her straight. "No, I am not."
"All men are!" she broke forth, wildly. "They lie to us—they trick us—they swear to us—and kneel and pray—and then"—tossing up her arms with a cry that was a shriek—"they make us kneel—and laugh—laugh—and laugh at us!"
She threw herself upon the grass and rolled about, plucking at her flesh as if she had indeed gone mad.
"But for you," she sobbed60, "it would be over now, and your horse's hoofs had stamped me out. And now 'tis to do again—for I will do it yet."
"Nay, you will not, Mistress," he said, in a still voice, "for your child's sake."
He thought, indeed, she would go mad then: she so writhed and beat herself, that he blamed himself for his words, and knelt by her, restraining her hands.
"'Tis for its sake I would kill myself, and have my face beaten into the bloody61 dust. I would kill it—kill it—kill it—more than I would kill myself!"
"Nay, you would not, poor soul," he said, "if you were not distraught."
"But I am distraught," she wailed; "and there is naught but death for both of us."
'Twas a strange situation for a young man to find himself in, watching by the roadside the hysteric frenzy62 of a maddened girl; but as he had been unconscious on the day he stood, an unclad man, giving the aid that would save a life, so he thought now of naught but the agony he saw in this poor creature's awful eyes and heard in her strangled cries. It mattered naught to him that any passing would have thought themselves gazing upon a scene in a strange story.
There was a little clear stream near, and he went and brought her water, making her drink it and bathe the dust-stains from her face and hands, and the gentle authority with which he made her do these simple things seemed somehow to somewhat calm her madness. She looked up at him staring, and with long, sobbing63 breaths.
"Who—are you?" she asked, helplessly.
"I am the Marquess of Roxholm," he answered, "and I ride to my father's house at Camylott; but I cannot leave you until I know you are safe."
"Safe!" she said. "I safe!" and she clasped her hands about her knees as she sat, wringing64 her fingers together. "You do not ask me who I am," she added.
"I need not know your name to do you service," he answered. "But I must ask you where you would go—to rest."
"To Death—from which you have plucked me!" was her reply, and she dropped her head against her held-up knees and broke forth sobbing again. "I tell you there is naught else. If your horse had beat my face into the dust, none would have known where I lay at last. Five days have I walked and my very clothes I changed with a gipsy woman. None would have known." Suddenly she looked up with shame and terror in her eyes, the blood flaming in her face. She involuntarily clutched at his sleeve as if in her horror she must confide5 even to this stranger. "They had begun to look at me—and whisper," she said. "And one day a girl who hated me laughed outright65 as I passed—though I strove to bear myself so straightly—and I heard her mock me. 'Pride cometh first,' she said, 'and then the fall. She hath fallen far.'"
She looked so young and piteous that Roxholm felt a mist pass before his eyes.
"Poor child!" he said; "poor child!"
"I was proud," she cried. "It was my sin. They taunted66 me that he was a gentleman and meant me ill, and it angered me—poor fool—and I held my head higher. He told me he had writ52 for his Chaplain to come and wed36 us in secret. He called me 'my lady' and told me what his pride in me would be when we went to the town." She put her hands up to her working throat as if somewhat strangled her, and the awful look came back into her widened eyes. "In but a little while he went away," she gasped—"and when he came back, and I went to meet him in the dark and fell weeping upon his breast, he pushed me back and looked at me, and curled his lip laughing, and turned away! Oh, John!—John Oxon!" she cried out, "God laughs at women—why shouldst not thou?" and her paroxysm began again.
At high noon a wagoner whose cart was loaded with hay drove into the rick yard of a decent farm-house some hours' journey from the turn in the road where my lord Marquess had been so strangely checked in his gallop. An elderly gentleman in Chaplain's garb68 and bands rode by the rough conveyance69, and on a bed made in the hay a woman lay and groaned70 in mortal anguish49.
The good woman of the house this reverend gentleman saw alone and had discourse71 with, paying her certain moneys for the trouble she would be put to by the charge he commanded to her, himself accompanying her when she went out to the wagon67 to care for its wretched burden.
Throughout the night she watched by her patient's bedside, but as day dawned she left it for a moment to call the Chaplain to come quickly, he having remained in the house that he might be at hand if need should be, in accordance with his patron's wishes.
"'Tis over, and she is dying," said the good woman. "I fear she hath not her wits, poor soul. All night she hath cried one name, and lies and moans it still."
Mr. Fox followed her into a little cleanly, raftered chamber. He knelt by the bedside and spoke gently to the girl who lay upon the white pillows, her deathly face more white than the clean, coarse linen72. 'Twas true she did not see him, but lay staring at the wall's bareness, her lips moving as she muttered the name she had shrieked73 and wailed at intervals74 throughout the hours. "John—Oh, John Oxon!" he could barely hear, "God laughs at us—why should not such as thou?"
And when the sun rose she lay stiff and dead, with a dead child in her rigid75 arm; and Mr. Fox rode slowly back with a grave countenance76, to join his lord and patron at the village inn, and tell him all was over.
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1
sate
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| v.使充分满足 | |
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fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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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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lures
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| 吸引力，魅力（lure的复数形式） | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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cavalcade
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| n.车队等的行列 | |
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bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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scurrying
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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refreshments
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| n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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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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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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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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centaur
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| n.人首马身的怪物 | |
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aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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wed
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| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
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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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parlous
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| adj.危险的，不确定的，难对付的 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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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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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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64
wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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66
taunted
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| 嘲讽( taunt的过去式和过去分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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67
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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68
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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69
conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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70
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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71
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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72
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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73
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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74
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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75
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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