ELIOT'S large library, to which Crane and his party were led on their arrival, looked as only a room can look which has been occupied for several hours by a number of idle men. All the sofa cushions were on the floor, all the newspapers were on the sofas, cigarette ashes were everywhere, and the air was heavy with a combination of wood and tobacco smoke, everybody's hair was ruffled1, as if they had all been sitting on the back of their heads, and Eliot, himself, now standing2 commandingly on the hearth-rug, was saying:
"Yes, and he did not have a sound leg when he bought him, and that must have been in 1909, for I remember it was the last year I went to Melton—" He broke off reluctantly to greet his guests.
Lefferts, who looked peculiarly neat and fresh among his companions, approached Burton, who was beside Mrs. Falkener.
"They have been talking for three hours," he observed, "about a splint on the nigh foreleg of a gray horse that doesn't belong to any of them. Sit down, Mrs. Falkener, and let us have a little rational conversation. Doesn't that idea attract you?"
"Not particularly, since you ask me," replied Mrs. Falkener, not deigning3 even to look at the poet, but sweeping4 her head about slowly as if scanning vast horizons.
"The rational doesn't attract you," Lefferts went on cheerfully. "Well, then we must try something else. How about the fantastic-sardonical, or the comic-fantastical, or even better, the—"
Lefferts turned to Crane, with his unruffled smile.
"She doesn't like me," he said.
"Cora," he added, very slightly raising his voice so as to attract the attention of Miss Falkener, who immediately approached them, "Cora, why is it your mother hates me so much?"
"She certainly does," returned Cora frankly7. "You know, Leonard, you are really rather stupid with her. You always begin by saying things she doesn't understand, and of course no one likes that."
Lefferts sighed.
"You see, she stimulates8 me so tremendously. One gets used to just merely boring or depressing one's friends, but to be actively10 hated is exciting. People who have lived through blood feuds11 and tong wars tell you that there is no excitement comparable to it. I feel a little like the leader of a tong whenever I meet Mrs. Falkener. Cora, would you belong to my tong, or would you feel loyalty12 demanded your remaining in your mother's?"
They went in to luncheon13 before Cora was obliged to answer, and here Lefferts contrived14 to sit next to her by the comparatively simple expedient15 of making the man who had already seated himself at her side get up and yield him the place.
Crane, sitting between his host and another man, enjoyed a period of quiet. Without his exactly arranging it, a definite plan for the afternoon was growing up in his mind—a plan which, it must be confessed, had been first suggested by Tucker's idea of staying at home, a plan based on a vision of Jane-Ellen and Willoughby holding the kitchen in solitary16 state.
Crane knew that luncheons17 at Eliot's were long ceremonies. Food was served and eaten slowly, you sat a long time over coffee and cigars, and at the smallest encouragement, Eliot would bring out his grandfather's Madeira. And after that you were unusually lucky if you escaped a visit to the stables, and that meant the whole afternoon.
So he awaited a good opportunity after lunch was over, when Tucker, under pretense18 of reading a newspaper, had sunk into a comfortable doze19, and Mrs. Falkener, while carrying on a fairly connected conversation with Eliot, was really concentrated on preventing Lefferts from taking Cora into another room. This was Crane's chance. He slipped into the hall, found his coat and hat, unearthed20 his chauffeur21 and motor, and drove quickly home, sending back the car at once to wait for the others.
He did not, as his impulse was, go in the kitchen way. He did not want to do anything that might annoy Jane-Ellen. At the same time, he rebelled at the notion of having always to offer an excuse for seeing her, as if he were so superior a being that he had to explain how he could stoop to the level of her society. He wanted to say frankly that he had come home because he wanted more than anything in the world to see her again.
The first thing he noticed as he went up the steps of the piazza22 was Willoughby sleeping in the warm afternoon sun. Then he was aware of the sound of a victrola playing dance music. The hall-door stood wide open; he looked in. Smithfield and Jane-Ellen were dancing.
Though no dancer himself, Crane had never been aware of any prejudice on the subject; indeed, he had sometimes thought that those who protested were more dangerously suggestive than the dances themselves. But now he felt a wave of protest sweep over him; the closeness, the identity of intention, seemed to him an intolerable form of intimacy23.
The two were quite unconscious of his presence, and he stood there for several minutes, stood there, indeed, until Jane-Ellen's hair fell down and she had to stop to rearrange it. She looked very pretty as she stood panting and putting it up again, but she exerted no attraction upon Crane. Disgust, he thought, was all he now felt. One did not, after all, as he told himself, enter into competition with one's own butler.
He went quietly away, ordered a horse and went for a long ride. A man not very easily moved emotionally, he had never experienced the sensation of jealousy24, and he now supposed himself to have reached as calm a judgment25 as any in his life. Everything he had ever heard to Jane-Ellen's discredit26, every intimation of Tucker's, every sneer27 of Mrs. Falkener's, came back to him now. He would like to have sent for her and in the most scathing28 terms told her what he thought of her—an interview which he imagined as very different from his former reproof29. But he decided30 it would be simpler and more dignified31 never to notice her in any way again. On this decision he at last turned his horse's head homeward.
Smithfield let him in, as calm and imperturbable32 as ever.
"Your afternoon been satisfactory, Smithfield?" inquired his employer.
Smithfield stared.
"I beg pardon, sir?"
"Have you succeeded in finding a boy to replace Brindlebury?"
The butler's face cleared.
"Oh, yes, I believe I have—not a boy, exactly, quite an elderly man, but one who promises to do, sir."
"Good." Crane turned away, but the man followed him.
"Miss Falkener asked me to tell you when you came in, sir, that she would be glad of a word with you. She's in your office."
Crane stood absolutely still for a second or two, and as he stood, his jaw33 slowly set, as he took a resolution. Then he opened the door of his office and went in.
Two personalities34 sometimes advance to a meeting with intentions as opposite as those of two trains on a single track. Crane and Cora were both too much absorbed in their own aims to observe the signals of the other.
"Oh, Burton," cried the girl, "why did you leave Mr. Eliot's like that? It has worried me so much. Did anything happen to annoy you? What was it?"
"I sent the car right back for you."
"It wasn't the car I wanted."
Crane began at once to feel guilty, the form of egotism hardest to eradicate36 from the human heart.
"I'm sorry if I seemed rude, my dear Cora. I thought you were settled and content with Lefferts. I did not suppose any one would notice—"
"Your absence? Oh, Burt!"
He became aware of a suppressed excitement, an imminent37 outburst of some sort. A sudden terror swept over him, terror of the future, of the deed he was about to do, terror even of this strange and utterly38 unknown woman whom he was about to make a part of his daily life, as long as days existed. For a second he had an illusion that he had never seen, never spoken to her before, and as he struggled against this queer abnormality, he heard that in set, clear and not ill-chosen terms he was asking her to marry him.
She clasped her hands together.
"Oh, it's just what I was trying to prevent."
"To prevent?"
"Burt, I've treated you so badly."
He looked at her without expression.
"Well, let's get the facts before we decide on that."
The facts, Cora intimated, were terrible. She was already engaged.
"To Lefferts?"
She nodded tragically39.
Crane felt a strong inclination40 to laugh. The world took on a new aspect. Reality returned with a rush, and with it a strong, friendly affection for Cora. He hardly heard her long and passionate41 self-justification. She knew, she said, that she had given him every encouragement. Well, the truth was she had simply made up her mind to marry him; nothing would have pleased her mother more, but she did not intend to shelter herself behind obedience42 to her mother; she had intended to do it for her own ends.
"That was what I tried to tell you last evening in the garden, Burt. I deliberately43 schemed to marry you, but you mustn't think I did not like and admire you, in a way—"
"There's only one way, Cora."
This sent her off again into the depths of self-abasement. She had no excuse to offer, she kept protesting, and offered a dozen; the most potent44 being her uncertainty45 of Crane's own feelings for her.
"In the sense you mean, I was not in love with you, Cora."
"And yet, you want to marry me?"
"In your own words, I liked and admired you, but I was not in love. The humiliating truth is, my dear girl, that I was so fatuous47 as to believe that you were fond of me."
"Aren't people queer! Here I have been worrying myself sick over my treatment of you, and now that I find you are not made unhappy by it, do you know what I feel? Disappointed, disappointed somehow, that you don't love me!"
Crane laughed.
"I also," he said, "have been slightly oppressed by the responsibility of your fancied affection, and I, too, am conscious of a certain flatness in facing the truth."
Cora hardly listened.
"It seems so queer you don't love me," she murmured. "Why don't you love me, Burt?"
At this they both laughed, and went on presently to the more detailed49 consideration of Cora's affairs. She and Lefferts had met the winter before; she had not liked him at first, prejudiced perhaps by the fact that he was a poet, and that he pretended to dislike all the things she cared for, but she had found, almost at once, that he understood more about the things he hated than most men did about their favorite topics.
"He's really wonderful, Burt," she said. "He understands everything, every one. Do you know, he told me yesterday that I needn't worry about you—that you weren't in love with me. Only I did not believe him. He said: 'What confuses you, my dear, is that Crane is undoubtedly50 in love, one sees that clearly enough, but not with you.'"
"He did not just hit it there, though," answered Crane, in a rather feeble tone. Cora, however, was in a condition of mind in which it was not difficult to distract her, and she continued without paying any further attention to the example of Lefferts' extraordinary insight. She went on to say that she had had no idea that she was in love, until one day when she found herself speaking of it as if it had always been. Crane asked about Lefferts' worldly prospects51, which turned out to be extremely dark. Had he a profession? Yes, such a strange one for a poet—he was an expert statistician, but, Cora sighed, there did not seem to be a very large demand for his abilities.
Among the many minor52 responsibilities inherited from his father, Crane remembered a statistical53 publication. He immediately offered its editorship to Lefferts. Cora's answer was to fling her arms about his neck.
"Oh, Burt," she said, "you really are an angel!"
It was Crane's idea of what would have happened if Mrs. Falkener had entered at this moment, which she did not, that made him ask how matters stood in regard to her.
"She doesn't know," answered Cora, "and I don't think she even suspects, and I'm such a coward I can't make up my mind to tell her. Every time I see Leonard he asks me if I have, and now he is threatening to do it himself, and that you know, Burt, would be fatal."
"Cora," said Crane, "I am about to prove that I am no fair weather friend. With your permission, I will tell your mother."
No permission was ever more easily secured.
It was now five o'clock, an hour when the elder lady became restless if not served with a little tea and attention. Crane rang and ordered tea for two served in the office, and then sent Smithfield to ask Mrs. Falkener if he might have a word with her. She and her daughter passed each other on the threshold.
"How cozy54 this is," she began as she seated herself by the fire. "Smithfield keeps the silver bright, but I'm afraid he has no judgment. Have you seen the man he has engaged instead of that dreadful boy?—why, he's so old and lame55 he can hardly get up and down stairs. He'll never do, Burton, take my word for that."
"I have something more serious to say to you than the discussion of domestic matters, Mrs. Falkener," said Crane; and for one of the few times in her life, Mrs. Falkener forgot that the house contained such a thing as servants. A more important idea took possession of her attention.
Burton began to speak about romance. He said he did not know exactly how an older generation than his looked at such questions; for his own part, he regarded himself in many ways as a practical and hard-headed man, and yet more and more he found himself gravitating to the belief that romance, love, the drawing together for mutual56 strength and happiness of two individuals, was the only basis for individual life. People talked of the modern taste for luxury; to his mind there was no luxury like a congenial companion, no hardship like having to go through life without it. Love—did Mrs. Falkener believe in love?
"Do I believe in love, my dear Burt?" she cried. "What else is there to believe in? No girl, no nice girl, ever marries for any other reason. Oh, they try sometimes to be mercenary, but they don't succeed. I could never forgive a woman for considering anything else."
"I thought you would feel like that," said Crane. "I thought Cora was wrong in thinking you would oppose her. For, prudent57 or not from a worldly point of view, there is no doubt that she and Lefferts are in love."
The blow was a cruel one, and perhaps cruelly administered. Mrs. Falkener, even in the first instant of disaster, saw and took the only way out. Love, yes. But this was not love, this was a mere9 infatuation on one side, and a dark and wicked plot on the other. She would never forgive Burton, never, for being a party to this scheme to throw her daughter, her dear Cora, into the arms of this adventurer. Burton, who had always professed58 such friendship for her! She would not stay another moment in his house. There was a six-thirty train to the North, and she and her misguided daughter would take it.
Crane began to see why Cora, for all her physical courage, dreaded59 a disagreement with her mother. He himself felt as if an avalanche60 had passed over him, leaving him alive but dazed.
Mrs. Falkener sat with her handkerchief pressed to her eyes, not so much to wipe away her tears, for she was not crying, but to shut out the sight of her perfidious61 young host.
"Be so kind," she directed from behind this veil, "as to give orders for the packing of my trunks, and let Cora know that we are leaving immediately."
Burton hesitated.
"I am afraid, since the housemaid has left, there isn't any one to pack for you, Mrs. Falkener," he said. "Won't you delay your going until to-morrow? I can't bear to have you leave me like this."
Mrs. Falkener shook her head.
"Call Solon," she said. "No, don't ask me to stay. And why, pray, can't the cook make herself useful, for once?"
Mrs. Falkener was not, of course, in a position to know that Crane would not at the moment stoop to ask any favor of Jane-Ellen. He was glad of an excuse to escape, however, and summon Solon to take his place. He found Smithfield in the hall and explained to him that the ladies were called suddenly away, and then he himself walked down to the garage to arrange for their departure.
When he came back he found the house in the sort of turmoil62 that only a thoroughly63 executive woman in a bad temper can create. Smithfield, Cora and Jane-Ellen seemed to be all together engaged in packing. Solon and the new man were running up and down stairs with forgotten books and coats and umbrellas, while Mrs. Falkener was exercising a general and unflattering supervision64 of every one's activities. To say the new man was running is inaccurate65. Even Tucker's dignified celerity hardly deserves such a word. But the new man, crippled and bent66 as he was, attained67 only such velocity68 as was consistent with a perfectly69 stiff left leg. Crane really felt he ought to interfere70 on his behalf, when he saw him laboring71 downstairs with heavy bags and bundles. He probably would have done so, had not his mind been distracted by coming unexpectedly upon a little scene in the upper hall. Cora was trying to press a fee into the hand of Jane-Ellen, and Jane-Ellen was refusing it. Both were flushed and embarrassed.
"I wanted to give you this because—"
"Oh, I couldn't, really; I've not done any—"
"Oh, you've been such a—"
"Oh, no, miss, I've not done—"
The approach of Crane enabled the cook to escape. Cora turned to Burton.
"She's worked so hard, and she wouldn't take a tip," she said. "And you never felt anything like her little hands, Burt. It's like touching72 a bird."
"Yes, I know," said Crane. "I mean, they look so. I want just a word with you, Cora," he continued, rather rapidly. "I'm afraid I haven't done you much good except that your mother is angrier with me than she is with you, and that's something."
"Oh, I don't care, now it's over," she answered. "And you'll tell Len this evening all that's happened, and where to write to me, and we shall both be grateful to you as long as we live."
At this moment, Mrs. Falkener in hat, veil, and wrap swept out of her room, followed by Smithfield, Tucker and the old man, carrying the last of her possessions. The moment of departure had come.
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1
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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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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deigning
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的现在分词 ) | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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stimulates
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| v.刺激( stimulate的第三人称单数 )；激励；使兴奋；起兴奋作用，起刺激作用，起促进作用 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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feuds
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| n.长期不和，世仇( feud的名词复数 ) | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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luncheons
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| n.午餐，午宴( luncheon的名词复数 ) | |
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pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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unearthed
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| 出土的（考古） | |
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chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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discredit
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| vt.使不可置信；n.丧失信义；不信，怀疑 | |
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sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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scathing
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| adj.（言词、文章）严厉的，尖刻的；不留情的adv.严厉地，尖刻地v.伤害，损害（尤指使之枯萎）( scathe的现在分词) | |
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reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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eradicate
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| v.根除，消灭，杜绝 | |
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imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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tragically
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| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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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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fatuous
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| adj.愚昧的；昏庸的 | |
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candidly
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| adv.坦率地，直率而诚恳地 | |
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detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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50
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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52
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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53
statistical
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| adj.统计的，统计学的 | |
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54
cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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55
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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57
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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58
professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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59
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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60
avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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perfidious
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| adj.不忠的，背信弃义的 | |
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62
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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63
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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64
supervision
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| n.监督，管理 | |
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65
inaccurate
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| adj.错误的，不正确的，不准确的 | |
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66
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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67
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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68
velocity
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| n.速度，速率 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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71
laboring
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| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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