LADY BETTY shaded her eyes with her hand and looked out on the rose garden of Althorpe.
At her feet the lawn was close clipped and green; beyond was a garland of many colors, roses by hundreds and tens of hundreds, the warmth and glow of the sun upon them; behind them, the long avenue of limes and beeches1, and between the trees vistas2 of level land with the deer moving to and fro.
The butterflies—a little host of them—whirled under the window, and her ladyship smiled.
“Come, Alice,” she said, “’tis too fair a day to linger indoors. Bring your lute3, girl, and we’ll sing one of those dear Irish ballads5 where none may hear it, to carp and scold,—none,[Pg 2] indeed, but the rooks and butterflies, or perchance the roses. What sayst thou, Alice, may not a rose hear sweet sounds when it exhales6 such sweet perfume?”
“I know not, madam,” replied her handmaid soberly, as she laid aside her needlework and reached for her lute; “but sometimes, truly, I think ’twould be well if ears were fewer in this world.”
“Ay, or tongues more gentle,” assented7 Lady Betty laughing, as she stepped out of the window to the lawn, followed by her attendant.
Both were young girls, but youth and the rosy8 comeliness9 of youth sat more lightly on the handmaid Alice, whose simple face and figure suggested nothing more subtle than the virtue10 and homely11 wisdom of a country girl. It was quite different with Lady Betty Clancarty, the daughter of the Earl of Sunderland and the maiden12 wife of an Irish peer. There was a slight pensiveness13 to her beauty, for beautiful she was; yet there were times when the gayety of a vivacious15 spirit broke through all restraints, and she was the light-hearted, witty16 girl that nature had intended her to be. Her eyes—beautiful eyes they were, too,—were large, clear and sparkling with spirit, and[Pg 3] the soft tints17 of her complexion18 and the glossy19 waves of her dark hair combined to make a charming picture, far more human and bewitching, indeed, than her own portrait from the brush of Lely, hanging in the great gallery at Althorpe. The pensiveness of her expression showed only when her face was in repose20; when she smiled the sun shone through the cloud. Her figure was gracefully21 tall in its gown of white dimity flowered with pink, the neck dressed open with falls of lace, and the full sleeves loose and flowing at the elbow.
She moved lightly and swiftly across the lawn, one white hand resting on the shoulder of her handmaid, who was shorter and fuller in outline than her mistress. Though their stations were thus widely sundered22, a frank girlish friendship existed between them, and Lady Betty had few secrets that were not shared by Alice Lynn. They had grown up in the same household; the one child waiting on the other on all state occasions, but usually her playmate, after the fashion of those days when the feudal23 tie of lord and vassal24 still bound old servants and their descendants to their masters. The ancestors of Alice Lynn had borne the banner of the Despencers in many a bloody25 field; she came of good yeoman[Pg 4] stock, worthy26 of honor and trust, and she was single-hearted in her devotion to Lady Clancarty. They made a charming picture, walking through winding27 paths and talking freely, with little reference to their respective stations in the great world beyond Althorpe.
“Ah, the roses,” Lady Betty said, “I know not whether I love them best in their first budding or in their prime, or when the last few pale blossoms struggle to unfold under wintry skies, like our poor hearts, Alice, that need to be warmed by the sunshine of prosperous love. Mine should have shrivelled up long ago—like an old dried leaf. But it has not,” she added, smiling and laying her hand on her bosom28; “I feel it—it throbs—it is warm and strong and whole, Alice, and yet—I am a wife and, for aught I know, a widow too!”
“There be many wives who would fain be widows, I trow,” retorted Alice, bluntly, and Lady Betty laughed gayly and lightly, the sun shining in her lustrous29 eyes.
“Perchance I am happy, then, in not knowing my husband’s face,” she said; and added musingly30, “a strange fate is mine, Alice, married at eleven and then separated forever from my husband by a gulf31 as wide as—as the infinite space; I know no stronger simile32.[Pg 5] Here am I, the daughter of a Whig peer, who is a counsellor of King William’s, and the sister of a burning Whig—for Spencer is on fire, I am sure—and yet I am the wife, the wedded33 wife, of an Irish rebel and Jacobite; an outlaw34 from his country and a stranger even to me. What a fate!” and she shook her head with a pensive14 air, though a smile lurked35 about her lips for, after all, she could not mourn the absence of an unknown spouse37.
“’Twas wrong to marry a child of such tender years, my lady,” the handmaid said indignantly; “to tie you up—one of the loveliest women in England—to a—a—” she broke off confused, catching38 Lady Betty’s eye.
“A what, Alice?” the countess asked dryly; “ay, I know by your blushes and confusion that you have caught the contagion39, that you believe with Lord Spencer that my husband is a consummate40 villain41. But look you, my girl, if there is one thing above another that would make me love a man and take up his cause, it is to find him the object of senseless and bitter abuse. What of it if Clancarty has not sought me? how could he? Is he not banished42 from the kingdom, stripped of his estates, and denied even his most natural and[Pg 6] sacred rights?” Lady Clancarty’s eyes sparkled with indignation. “What of it, if he is a Jacobite and a Papist? Is he the only man who has changed his faith? I trow not!—though I should be the last one to say it,” and she broke off, blushing crimson43.
The thought of her own father’s apostasy44, of his frequent political somersaults, overwhelmed her, and she recollected45 her own dignity in time to bridle46 her impulsive47 tongue.
Alice was too discreet48 to take up the argument; she stooped, instead, to gather some violets, and arranged them slowly and in silence. Lady Betty walked ahead of her to a little rustic49 seat, and sitting down held out her hand with an impatient gesture.
“Give hither the violets, Alice,” she said imperiously, “and sing me a song. I am in as black a mood as ever Saul was, and may do you a mischief50 if you do not soothe51 me.”
Alice smiled. “I fear you not, dear Lady Betty,” she said, tuning52 her lute; “your anger passes over as quickly as a storm-cloud in April weather. What shall I sing you, madam?”
A roguish smile twinkled in Lady Clancarty’s eyes.
[Pg 7]“Nay, I am no Papist, but a good Protestant,” said Alice, stiffly, “therefore it must be an Irish ballad, which is what you really want, my lady!”
Lady Betty laughed softly.
“’Tis true, my girl,” she said, clasping her hands about her knees, the full sleeves falling away from arms as white as milk. “I love the ballads; whether for his sake or their own, I know not,” and she bent55 her head listening as the handmaid played the first plaintive56 notes on her lute.
Alice was no contemptible57 musician, and she touched the instrument softly with loving fingers, playing the first sweet sad chords of that old Irish air and Jacobite ballad, “Roseen Dhu,” or “Dark Rosaleen.”
The garden and the great park beyond and around it were quiet save for the cawing of the hundreds of rooks that haunted those stately avenues of trees. The warmth and the soft murmuring of the late summer were there; here was the deep shadow of stately groves58, yonder the wide sunshine on level lawns, but the place was deserted59 save for the two young women and the deer that were so tame that they pressed close about them, looking through the trees with soft brown eyes, and seeming to[Pg 8] listen to the wild, plaintive notes of the ballad, as Alice sang in a full, mellow60 voice:
“All day long in unrest
To and fro do I move,
The very soul within my breast
Is wasted for you, love!
The heart in my bosom faints,
To think of you, my queen,
My life of life, my saint of saints,
My dark Rosaleen!
My own Rosaleen!
To hear your sweet and sad complaints,
My life, my love, my saint of saints,
My dark Rosaleen!”
Midway in the song the girl paused, still playing the air softly.
“My lady,” she said, in an undertone, “there is some one yonder in the shrubbery.”
“’Tis Melissa,” replied Lady Clancarty; “I have seen her. She loves to lurk36 behind a bush, and to slip along softly as a cat upon nut-shells; ’tis her nature. Faith, I must buy her some bells for her toes. Go on, my girl; I care not,” she added, laughing, “and I do love the tune61. Ah, ‘Rosaleen, my own Rosaleen!’” she hummed, keeping time with her slender hand.
Alice sang again:
[Pg 9]
“Over dews, over sands,
Will I fly for your weal:
Your holy white hands
Shall gird me with steel.
From morning’s dawn till e’en,
You’ll pray for me, my flower of flowers,
My dark Rosaleen!
My fond Rosaleen!
You’ll think of me, through daylight’s hours,
My dark Rosaleen!”
Suddenly Lady Clancarty started and half rose, interrupting the singer; but as Alice looked up in alarm, she sat down again, rosy and defiant64.
“Pshaw!” she said; “go on, Alice, there comes Spencer himself, and, forsooth, I would not be frightened out of my pleasure.”
“But, my lady,” protested Alice, in confusion, “he will be dreadfully angry, he always is!”
“To be sure he will,” retorted Lady Betty, with a ripple65 of laughter, “therefore sing, lass, and I will sing, too.”
Alice still hesitated, her eyes on the figure of a young man who was coming swiftly across the lawn, but her mistress stamped her foot.
[Pg 10]“Sing!” she commanded so sharply that Alice obeyed hastily, and in a moment the countess’ rich contralto joined her voice in singing the last passionate66 verse of “Roseen Dhu.”
“O! the Erne shall run red
With redundance of blood,
The earth shall rock beneath our tread,
And flames wrap hill and wood,
Ere you shall fade, ere you shall die,
My dark Rosaleen!
My own Rosaleen!
Ere you can fade, ere you can die,
My dark Rosaleen!”
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1
beeches
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| n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 )；山毛榉木材 | |
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2
vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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3
lute
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| n.琵琶，鲁特琴 | |
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4
ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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5
ballads
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| 民歌，民谣，特别指叙述故事的歌( ballad的名词复数 )； 讴 | |
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6
exhales
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的第三人称单数 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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7
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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comeliness
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| n. 清秀, 美丽, 合宜 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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11
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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12
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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13
pensiveness
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| n.pensive（沉思的）的变形 | |
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pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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15
vivacious
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| adj.活泼的，快活的 | |
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witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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17
tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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18
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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19
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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20
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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21
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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22
sundered
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| v.隔开，分开( sunder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
feudal
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| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
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24
vassal
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| n.附庸的；属下；adj.奴仆的 | |
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25
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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26
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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28
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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29
lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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30
musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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31
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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32
simile
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| n.直喻，明喻 | |
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33
wedded
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| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34
outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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35
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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36
lurk
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| n.潜伏，潜行；v.潜藏，潜伏，埋伏 | |
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37
spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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38
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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39
contagion
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| n.(通过接触的疾病)传染；蔓延 | |
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40
consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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41
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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42
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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44
apostasy
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| n.背教，脱党 | |
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45
recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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47
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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48
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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49
rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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50
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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51
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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52
tuning
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| n.调谐，调整，调音v.调音( tune的现在分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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53
penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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54
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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55
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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56
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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57
contemptible
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| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
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58
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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59
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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60
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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61
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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62
bowers
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| n.（女子的）卧室( bower的名词复数 )；船首锚；阴凉处；鞠躬的人 | |
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63
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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64
defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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65
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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66
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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67
peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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68
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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69
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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