Over such periods of sorrow and bereavement3 it is well to pass gently, since they must come to all, and have so come through all the ages past, to every human being who has lived to maturity4; and yet, at the same time, there is none can speak truly for another than himself of what the suffering has been or how it has been borne. None but the one who bears it can know what hours of anguish5 the endurance cost and how 'twas reached.
My lord Duke looked pale in his mourning garments, and for many months his countenance6 seemed sharper cut, his eyes looking deeper set and larger, having faint shadows round them, but even Lord Dunstanwolde knew but few of his inmost thoughts, and to others he never spoke7 of his bereavement.
The taking possession of a great estate, and the first assuming of the responsibilities attached to it, are no small events, and bring upon the man left sole heir numberless new duties, therefore the new Duke had many occupations to attend to—much counselling with his legal advisers8, many interviews with stewards9, bailiffs, and holders10 of his lands, visits to one estate after another, and converse11 with the reverend gentlemen who were the spiritual directors of his people. Such duties gave him less time for brooding than he would have had upon his hands had he been a man more thoughtless of what his responsibilities implied, and, consequently, more willing to permit them to devolve upon those in his employ.
"A man should himself know all things pertaining13 to his belongings," the new Duke said to Lord Dunstanwolde, "and all those who serve him should be aware that he knows, and that he will no more allow his dependents to cheat or slight him than he himself will stoop to carelessness or dishonesty in his dealings with themselves. To govern well, a man must be ruler as well as friend."
And this he was to every man in his five villages, and those who had worshipped him as their master's heir loved and revered14 him as their master.
The great Marlborough wrote a friendly letter expressing his sympathy for him in the calamity15 by which he had been overtaken, and also his regret at the loss of his services and companionship, he having at once resigned his commission in the army on the occurrence of his bereavement, not only feeling desirous of remaining in England, but finding it necessary to do so.
He spent part of the year upon his various estates in the country, but quarrels of Whigs and Tories, changes in the Cabinet, and the bitter feeling against the march into Germany and the struggles which promised to result, gave him work to do in London and opportunities for the development of those abilities his Grace of Marlborough had marked in him. The air on all sides was heavy with storm—at Court the enemies of Duchess Sarah (and they were many, whether they confessed themselves or not) were prognosticating her fall from her high post of ruler of the Queen of England, and her lord from his pinnacle16 of fame; there were high Tories and Jacobites who did not fear to speak of the scaffold as the last stage likely to be reached by the greatest military commander the country had ever known in case his march into Germany ended in disaster. There were indeed questions so momentous17 to be pondered over that for long months my lord Duke had but little time for reflection upon those incidents which had disturbed him by appearing to result from the workings of persistent18 Fate.
But in a locked cabinet in his private closet there lay a picture which sometimes, as it were, despite himself, he took from its hiding-place to look upon; and when he found himself gazing at the wondrous19 face of storm, with its great stag's eyes, he knew that the mere20 sight waked in him the old tumult21 and that it did not lose its first strange, unexplained power. And once sitting studying the picture, his thought uttered itself aloud, his voice curiously22 breaking upon the stillness of the room.
"It is," he said, "as if that first hour a deep chord of music had been struck—a stormy minor23 chord—and each time I hear of her or see her the same chord is struck loud again, and never varies by a note. I swear there is a question in her eyes—and I—I could answer it. Yet, for my soul's sake, I must keep away."
He knew honour itself demanded this of him, for the stories which came to his ears were each wilder and more fantastic than the other, and sometimes spoke strange evil of her—of her violent temper, of her wicked tongue, of her outraging24 of all customs and decencies, but, almost incredible as it seemed, none had yet proved that her high spirit and proud heart had been subjugated25 and she made victim by a conqueror26. 'Twas this which was talked of at the clubs and coffee-houses, where her name was known by those frequenting them.
"She would be like a hare let loose to be hounded to her death by every pack in the county," my Lord Twemlow had said the night he talked of her at Dunstan's Wolde, and every man agreed with him and waited for the outburst of a scandal, and made bets as to when it would break forth27. There were those among the successful heart-breakers whose vanity was piqued28 by the existence of so invincible29 and fantastical a female creature, and though my lord Duke did not hear of it, their worlds being far apart, the male beauty and rake, Sir John Oxon, was among them, his fretted30 pride being so well known among his fellow-beaux that 'twas their habit to make a joke of it and taunt31 him with their witticisms32.
"She is too big a devil," they said, "to care a fig33 for any man. She would laugh in the face of the mightiest34 lady-killer in London, and flout35 him as if he were a mercer's apprentice36 or a plough-boy. He does not live who could trap her."
With most of them, the noble sport of chasing women was their most exalted37 pastime. They were like hunters on the chase of birds, the man who brought down the rarest creature of the wildest spirit and the brightest plumage was the man who was a hero for a day at least.
The winter my lord Duke of Marlborough spent at Hanover, Berlin, Vienna, and the Hague, engaged in negotiations38 and preparations for his campaign, and at Vienna his Grace of Osmonde joined him that they might talk face to face, even the great warrior's composure being shaken by the disappointment of the year. But a fortnight before his leaving England there came to Osmonde's ear rumours39 of a story from Gloucestershire—'twas of a nature more fantastic than any other, and far more unexpected. The story was imperfectly told and without detail, and detail no man or woman seemed able to acquire, and baffled curiosity ran wild, no story having so whetted40 it as this last.
"But we shall hear later," said one, "for 'tis said Jack41 Oxon was there, being on a visit to his kinsman42, Lord Eldershawe, who has been the young lady's playmate from her childhood. Jack will come back primed and will strut43 about for a week and boast of his fortunes whether he can prove them or not."
But this Osmonde did not hear, having already left town for a few days at Camylott, where my Lord Dunstanwolde accompanied him, and at the week's end they went together to Warwickshire, and as on the occasion of Osmonde's other visit, the first evening they were at the Wolde came my Lord Twemlow, more excited than ever before, and he knew and told the whole story.
"Things have gone from bad to worse," he said, "and at last I sent my Chaplain as I had planned, and the man came back frightened out of his wits, having reached the hall-door in a panic and there found himself confronted by what he took to be a fine lad in hunting-dress making his dog practise jumping tricks. And 'twas no lad, of course, but my fine mistress in her boy's clothes, and she takes him to her father and makes a saucy44 jest of the whole matter, tossing off a tankard of ale as she sits on the table laughing at him and keeping Sir Jeoffry from breaking his head in a rage. And in the end she sends an impudent45 message to me—but says I am right, the shrewd young jade46, and that she will see that no disgrace befalls me. But for all that, the Chaplain came home in a cold sweat, poor fool, and knows not what to say when he speaks of her."
"And then?" said my Lord Dunstanwolde, somewhat anxiously, "is it true—that which we heard rumoured47 in town——"
Lord Twemlow shook his head ruefully. "Heaven knows how it will end," he said, "or if it is but a new impudent prank—or what she will do next—but the whole country is agog48 with the story. She bade her father invite his rapscallion crew to her birthnight supper, and says 'tis that they may see her in breeches for the last time, for she will wear them no more, but begin to live a sober, godly, and virtuous49 life and keep a Chaplain of her own. And on the twenty-fourth night of November, she turning fifteen, they gather prepared for sport, and find her attired50 like a young prince, in pink satin coat and lace ruffles51 and diamond buckles52 and powder; more impudent and handsome than since she was born. And when the drinking sets in heavily, upon her chair she springs and stands laughing at the company of them.
"'Look your last on my fine shape,' she cries, 'for after to-night you'll see no more of it. From this I am a fine lady,' and sings a song and drinks a toast and breaks her glass on the floor and runs away."
At a certain period of my Lord Twemlow's first story, the night he told it, both his Lordship of Dunstanwolde and the then Marquess of Roxholm had made unconscious movements as they heard—this had happened when had been described the falling of the mantle53 of black hair and the little oaths with which Mistress Clorinda had sat on her hunter binding54 it up—and at this point—at this other picture of the audacious beauty and her broken glass each man almost started again—my Lord Dunstanwolde indeed suddenly rising and taking a step across the hearth55.
"What a story," he said. "On my soul!"
"And 'tis not the end!" cried Lord Twemlow. "An hour she leaves them talking of her, wondering what she plans to do, and then the door is flung wide open and there she stands—splendid in crimson56 and silver and jewels, with a diadem57 on her head, and servants holding lights flaming above her."
My Lord Dunstanwolde turned about and looked at him as if the movement was involuntary, and Lord Twemlow ended with a blow upon the table, his elderly face aflame with appreciation58 of the dramatic thing he told.
"And makes them a great Court courtesy," he cried, his voice growing almost shrill59, "and calls on them all to fall upon their knees, by God! 'for so,' she says, 'from this night all men shall kneel—all men on whom I deign60 to cast my eyes.'"
His Grace the Duke of Osmonde had listened silently, and throughout with an impenetrable face, but at this moment he put up his hand and slightly swept his brow with his fingers, as if he felt it damp.
"And now what does it mean?" my Lord Twemlow asked them, with an anxious face. "And how will it end? A fortnight later she appeared at church dressed like a lady of the Court, and attended by her sisters and their governess, as if she had never appeared unattended in her life, and prayed, good Lord, with such a majestic61 seriousness, and listened to the sermon with such a face as made the parson forget his text and fumble62 about for his notes in dire12 confusion. 'Twas thought she might be going to play some trick to cause him to break down in the midst of his discourse63. But she did not, and sailed out of church as if she had never missed a sermon since she was born."
"Perhaps," said my Lord Dunstanwolde, "perhaps her mind has changed and 'tis true she intends to live more gravely."
"Nay," answered Lord Twemlow, with a troubled countenance. "No such good fortune. She doth not intend to keep it up—and how could she if she would? A girl who hath lived as she hath, seeing no decent company and with not a woman about her—though for that matter they say she has the eye of a hawk64 and the wit of a dozen women, and the will to do aught she chooses. But surely she could not keep it up!"
"Another woman could not," said Osmonde. "A woman who had not a clear, strong brain and a wondrous determination—a woman who was weak or a fool, or even as other women, could not. But surely—for all her youth—there is no other woman like her."
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1
tolled
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| 鸣钟（toll的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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2
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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3
bereavement
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| n.亲人丧亡，丧失亲人，丧亲之痛 | |
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4
maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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5
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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6
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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7
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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8
advisers
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| 顾问，劝告者( adviser的名词复数 )； （指导大学新生学科问题等的）指导教授 | |
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9
stewards
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| （轮船、飞机等的）乘务员( steward的名词复数 )； （俱乐部、旅馆、工会等的）管理员； （大型活动的）组织者； （私人家中的）管家 | |
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10
holders
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| 支持物( holder的名词复数 )； 持有者； （支票等）持有人； 支托（或握持）…之物 | |
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11
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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12
dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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13
pertaining
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| 与…有关系的，附属…的，为…固有的(to) | |
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14
revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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16
pinnacle
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| n.尖塔，尖顶，山峰；(喻)顶峰 | |
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17
momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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18
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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19
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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20
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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21
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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22
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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23
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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24
outraging
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| 引起…的义愤，激怒( outrage的现在分词 ) | |
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25
subjugated
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| v.征服，降伏( subjugate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26
conqueror
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| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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28
piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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29
invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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30
fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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taunt
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| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
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32
witticisms
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| n.妙语，俏皮话( witticism的名词复数 ) | |
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33
fig
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| n.无花果(树) | |
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34
mightiest
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| adj.趾高气扬( mighty的最高级 )；巨大的；强有力的；浩瀚的 | |
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35
flout
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| v./n.嘲弄，愚弄，轻视 | |
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36
apprentice
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| n.学徒，徒弟 | |
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37
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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38
negotiations
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| 协商( negotiation的名词复数 )； 谈判； 完成（难事）； 通过 | |
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39
rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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40
whetted
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| v.（在石头上）磨（刀、斧等）( whet的过去式和过去分词 )；引起，刺激（食欲、欲望、兴趣等） | |
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41
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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42
kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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43
strut
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| v.肿胀，鼓起；大摇大摆地走；炫耀；支撑；撑开；n.高视阔步；支柱，撑杆 | |
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44
saucy
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| adj.无礼的；俊俏的；活泼的 | |
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45
impudent
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| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
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46
jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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47
rumoured
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| adj.谣传的；传说的；风 | |
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48
agog
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| adj.兴奋的，有强烈兴趣的； adv.渴望地 | |
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49
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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50
attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
ruffles
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| 褶裥花边( ruffle的名词复数 ) | |
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52
buckles
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| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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53
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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54
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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55
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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56
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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57
diadem
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| n.王冠，冕 | |
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58
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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59
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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60
deign
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| v. 屈尊, 惠允 ( 做某事) | |
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61
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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62
fumble
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| vi.笨拙地用手摸、弄、接等，摸索 | |
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63
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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64
hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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