For nearly four years did I work persistently1, striving to redeem3 my past, at the offices in Great Queen Street. At this period my position was greatly improved, my services estimated at a value that was as honorable to my employer as it was advantageous4 to me. I had grown to be fairly at peace with myself and more hopeful for the future than I had once deemed it possible that I could ever be.
Not all so, however. The phantom5 light that had danced before my youthful eyes, danced before them still, no whit6 subdued7 in brilliancy. With the change to wider and manlier8 sentiments that I was conscious of in my own development, I fostered secret hope of a similar growth in Zyp. At 22, I thought, she could hardly remain the irresponsible, bewitching changeling she had been at 17. Womanliness must have blossomed in her, and with it a sense of the right relationship of soul to body. Perhaps even the glamour9 of mystery that must surround my manner of life had operated as a growing charm with her, and had made me, in her eyes, something of the fascinating figure she always was and would be in mine.
Sometimes now, in thinking of him, I had fear of Jason, but more often not. Zyp’s parting words to me—that were ever in my ears—seemed weighted with the meaning, at least, that had I fought my battle well I should have won.
To think of it—to recall it—always gave me a strange, troubled comfort. In my best moments it returned upon me, crying—crying the assurance that no selfish suit pressed by my brother could ever prevail over the inwarder preference her heart knew for me. In my worst, it did no more than trouble me with a teasing mock at my human passion so persistent2 in its faith to a will-o’-the-wisp.
I think that all this time I never dared to put bravely to myself the thought—as much part of my being as my eyesight—that not for one true moment had I yielded my hope of Zyp to circumstances. All my diligence, all my labor10, all my ambition, were directed to this solitary11 end—that some day I might lay them at her feet as bribes12 to her favor. Therefore, till self-convinced of their finished worthiness13, I toiled14 on with dogged perseverance15, studying, observing, perfecting, denying myself much rest and pleasure till my heart should assure me that the moment was come.
And what of them at the old haunted mill? News was rare and scanty16, yet at intervals17 it came to link me with their destinies. The first year of my banishment18 my father wrote to me three times—short, rugged19 notes, void of information and negatively satisfactory only in the sense that, had anything of importance taken place, he would, I concluded, have acquainted me of it. These little letters were answered by me in epistles of ample length, wherein I touched upon my manner of life and the nature of my successes. The second year, however, the desultory21 correspondence was taken up by Jason, who wrote, as he talked, in a spirit of boisterous22 banter23, and, under cover of familiar gossip, told me less, if possible, than my father had. Dad, he said in his first, had tired of the effort and had handed the task over to him. Therefore he acquitted24 himself of it in long leaps over gaps that covered months, and it was now more than four or five since I had received any sort of communication from him.
This did not greatly trouble me. There was that between us, which, it always seemed to me, he sought to give expression to in his letters—a hint secretly conveyed that I must never forget I lived and prospered25 on sufferance only. Now my own knowledge of the methods of justice, no less than the words Dr. Crackenthorpe had once applied26 to my case, had long been sufficient to assure me that I had little or nothing to fear from the processes of the law. No less peremptory27, however, was the conviction that Jason had it in his power to socially ruin me at a word; and the longer that word was delayed—that is to say, so long as my immunity28 did not clash with his interests—the better chance I had of testing and retesting my armor of defense29. Yet, for all my care, he found out a weak place presently.
In the meantime I lived my life, such as it was, and found a certain manner of pleasure in it. Duke and I, still good friends, changed our lodgings30, toward the last quarter of the fourth year, and moved into more commodious31 ones over an iron-monger’s shop in Holborn. Here we had a sitting-room32 as well as a bedroom common to both of us, and tasted the joys of independence with a double zest33.
Since our river experience it had become a usual thing for me to join my friend and Dolly in their frequent Sunday walks together. This, at first, I deprecated; but Duke would have it so; and finally it lapsed34 into an institution. Indeed, upon many occasions I was left to escort the girl alone, Duke pleading disinclination or the counter-attraction of some book he professed35 to be absorbed in.
Was I quite so blind as I appeared to be? I can hardly say myself. That the other entertained a most affectionate regard for the girl was patent. He was always to me, however, such a quaint20 medley36 of philosophical37 resignation and human susceptibility that I truly believe I was more than half inclined to doubt the existence in him of any strong bias38 toward the attractions of the other sex.
His behavior to Dolly was generally much more that of an elder brother toward a much younger half-sister born into the next generation, than of a lover who seeks no greater favor from a woman than that she shall keep the best secrets of her womanhood for him. He petted, indulged, and playfully analyzed39 her all in one. Now, thinking of him in the stern knowledge of years, I often marvel40 over the bitter incapacity of the other sex to choose aright the fathers of its children. How could the frailest41, prettiest soul among them turn from such luminous42 depths as his to the meretricious43 foppery of emptier Parises?
But then I was greatly to blame. The winning ways of the girl, no less than Duke’s persistent deprecation of any affectation of proprietorship44 in her, are my one excuse. A poor one, even then, for how may I cry out on simple-hearted Dolly, when I failed to read the little history of sorrow that was daily before my eyes. It was after events only that interpreted to me the pride that would not let the cripple kneel, a suitor to pity.
As to my own feelings toward the pretty soul I had once so basely linked to my own with an impulsive45 kiss—they were a compound of indulgence and a tenderness that fell altogether short of love. I desired to be on brotherly terms of intimacy46 with her, indeed, but only in such manner as to preclude47 thought of any closer tie. When she was shy with me upon our first meeting after that untoward48 contact in the lock-house, I laughed her into playfulness and would have no sentimental49 glamour attaching to our bond of sympathy. Alas50! I was to learn how reckless a thing it is to seek to extinguish with laughter the fire of a woman’s heart.
One Sunday afternoon in the early autumn of that fourth year, Dolly and I were loitering together about the slopes and byways of Epping forest. There is no season more attuned51 to the pathetic sympathies of young hearts than that in which the quiet relaxing of green life from its hold on existence speaks only to grayer breasts of premature52 decay and the vulgar ceremonial of the grave. Youth, however, recognizes none of this morbid53 aspect. To it the yellowing leaf, if it speaks of desolation, speaks from that “passion of the past” the poets strove to explore. It stands but two-thirds of the way up to the hill of years, and flowering stretches are beneath it to the rear and above, before its eyes, the fathomless54 sky and the great clouds nozzling the mountain crests55 like flocks of sheep.
All that afternoon as we wandered we came across lizards56 sprawling57 stupefied—as they will in October—on buskets of gorse, too exhausted58, apparently59, to feel the prick60 of thorn or fear, and butterflies sitting on blades of grass with folded wings, motionless as those that are wired to bonnets61. The air was full of a damp refreshing62 sweetness, and the long grass about every bush and hedge side began to stir with the movement of secret things, as though preparations for mystic revel63 were toward and invitations passing. I could almost see the fairy rings forming, noiseless, on the turf, when the lonely moon should hang her lantern out by and by.
点击收听单词发音
1 persistently | |
ad.坚持地;固执地 | |
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2 persistent | |
adj.坚持不懈的,执意的;持续的 | |
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3 redeem | |
v.买回,赎回,挽回,恢复,履行(诺言等) | |
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4 advantageous | |
adj.有利的;有帮助的 | |
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5 phantom | |
n.幻影,虚位,幽灵;adj.错觉的,幻影的,幽灵的 | |
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6 whit | |
n.一点,丝毫 | |
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7 subdued | |
adj. 屈服的,柔和的,减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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8 manlier | |
manly(有男子气概的)的比较级形式 | |
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9 glamour | |
n.魔力,魅力;vt.迷住 | |
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10 labor | |
n.劳动,努力,工作,劳工;分娩;vi.劳动,努力,苦干;vt.详细分析;麻烦 | |
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11 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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12 bribes | |
n.贿赂( bribe的名词复数 );向(某人)行贿,贿赂v.贿赂( bribe的第三人称单数 );向(某人)行贿,贿赂 | |
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13 worthiness | |
价值,值得 | |
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14 toiled | |
长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 ); 艰难缓慢地移动,跋涉 | |
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15 perseverance | |
n.坚持不懈,不屈不挠 | |
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16 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
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17 intervals | |
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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18 banishment | |
n.放逐,驱逐 | |
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19 rugged | |
adj.高低不平的,粗糙的,粗壮的,强健的 | |
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20 quaint | |
adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
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21 desultory | |
adj.散漫的,无方法的 | |
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22 boisterous | |
adj.喧闹的,欢闹的 | |
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23 banter | |
n.嘲弄,戏谑;v.取笑,逗弄,开玩笑 | |
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24 acquitted | |
宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 ); 使(自己)作出某种表现 | |
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25 prospered | |
成功,兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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27 peremptory | |
adj.紧急的,专横的,断然的 | |
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28 immunity | |
n.优惠;免除;豁免,豁免权 | |
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29 defense | |
n.防御,保卫;[pl.]防务工事;辩护,答辩 | |
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30 lodgings | |
n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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31 commodious | |
adj.宽敞的;使用方便的 | |
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32 sitting-room | |
n.(BrE)客厅,起居室 | |
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33 zest | |
n.乐趣;滋味,风味;兴趣 | |
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34 lapsed | |
adj.流失的,堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 );陷入;倒退;丧失 | |
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35 professed | |
公开声称的,伪称的,已立誓信教的 | |
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36 medley | |
n.混合 | |
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37 philosophical | |
adj.哲学家的,哲学上的,达观的 | |
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38 bias | |
n.偏见,偏心,偏袒;vt.使有偏见 | |
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39 analyzed | |
v.分析( analyze的过去式和过去分词 );分解;解释;对…进行心理分析 | |
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40 marvel | |
vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异;n.令人惊异的事 | |
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41 frailest | |
脆弱的( frail的最高级 ); 易损的; 易碎的 | |
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42 luminous | |
adj.发光的,发亮的;光明的;明白易懂的;有启发的 | |
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43 meretricious | |
adj.华而不实的,俗艳的 | |
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44 proprietorship | |
n.所有(权);所有权 | |
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45 impulsive | |
adj.冲动的,刺激的;有推动力的 | |
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46 intimacy | |
n.熟悉,亲密,密切关系,亲昵的言行 | |
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47 preclude | |
vt.阻止,排除,防止;妨碍 | |
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48 untoward | |
adj.不利的,不幸的,困难重重的 | |
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49 sentimental | |
adj.多愁善感的,感伤的 | |
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50 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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51 attuned | |
v.使协调( attune的过去式和过去分词 );调音 | |
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52 premature | |
adj.比预期时间早的;不成熟的,仓促的 | |
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53 morbid | |
adj.病的;致病的;病态的;可怕的 | |
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54 fathomless | |
a.深不可测的 | |
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55 crests | |
v.到达山顶(或浪峰)( crest的第三人称单数 );到达洪峰,达到顶点 | |
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56 lizards | |
n.蜥蜴( lizard的名词复数 ) | |
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57 sprawling | |
adj.蔓生的,不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 );蔓延;杂乱无序地拓展;四肢伸展坐着(或躺着) | |
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58 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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59 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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60 prick | |
v.刺伤,刺痛,刺孔;n.刺伤,刺痛 | |
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61 bonnets | |
n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 );(烟囱等的)覆盖物;(苏格兰男子的)无边呢帽;(女子戴的)任何一种帽子 | |
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62 refreshing | |
adj.使精神振作的,使人清爽的,使人喜欢的 | |
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63 revel | |
vi.狂欢作乐,陶醉;n.作乐,狂欢 | |
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