IT was nearly a week later and Lady Betty’s chair was passing down the main street of Newmarket when she espied1 Denis at the corner of a lane that ran between a mercer’s shop and Drake’s. She stopped her chair, and springing from it ran after him, ran quite regardless of the people in the street who stood gaping2 at the charming young woman running after a groom3. She overtook him at the end of the lane; they were behind the mercer’s shop, and Denis started at the sight of her and stood irresolute4, eying her grimly. She snatched the vizard from her face.
“Where is your master?” she demanded breathlessly, “where is Lord Clancarty?”
The Irishman shut his lips stubbornly; he did not trust the daughter of Lord Sunderland.
“Will you not tell me?” cried Betty, in distress5, “I know that he is wounded—I must see him! I will not be denied! I command[Pg 197] you—nay,” she added, reading his inflexible6 face, “I beg and pray you,—give me news of him!”
Denis eyed her closely, relenting just a little, and that little was enough.
“Is he in danger?” cried Lady Clancarty, tears gathering8 in her eyes, “tell me, man, tell me,” and she wrung9 her hands. “Can’t gold tempt10 you? Take me to him!”
Denis made a strange motion; it seemed as if he would snatch her purse and then forbore to do it, but his eyes devoured11 it.
“Faix, I don’t know av I can thrust ye,” he said, looking at her keenly; “ye’ve done him harm enough already.”
“But I trust you!” cried Lady Betty, “I am your master’s wife,—take me to him. See, I will go with you alone—can’t you trust me now?”
The man looked down yet a little while, in evident hesitation12, and she watched him, trembling, not with fear, like another woman, but with hope.
“Faix, I’ll take ye,” he said bluntly, “if ye’ll go alone. Look ye, me lady, if ye bethray him, I’d as lief kill ye as not. I love me lord!”
[Pg 198]The color rose in Betty’s face, softly, sweetly, her eyes shone.
“And so do I!” she said; “lead on, I will follow—and alone.”
“Come, thin,” he said at last, “’tis a long way an’ the place isn’t fit fer a foine lady, but he’s there—tho’, by the Virgin13, I don’t know what he’ll say ter me fer bringing ye!”
As he spoke14 he cast a glance back at the chair and its bearers waiting at the mouth of the lane, the men staring after their mistress, and with them a knot of idlers who had gathered to watch the countess. Lady Clancarty turned her back upon them.
“Lead on!” she commanded, impatient and imperious.
Denis led the way down the narrow lane, out of sight of the group at the mercer’s shop, and into another byway, and so on through the outskirts15 of Newmarket. He did not take the public road but struck across the fields, passing close to the spot where Lord Clancarty had fought the duel16. Lady Betty shuddered17 as they approached it. They were out of sight of the last straggling houses now, crossing the meadows; the sun shone as it had upon that day when she had walked first with Clancarty, but there was more of a touch of[Pg 199] autumn upon the scene. Here, beyond the light green turf, was a field of stubble, and there, in the green hedgerow, were yellow leaves; and the stream, too, that flowed across the meadows, had brown depths and shadows where the pebbles18 lay thickest, and the purple distance took on gray.
They had left the open and were skirting a little woodland where the dry leaves rustled20 overhead, and once she heard the “kourre, kourre!” of the pigeons.
Whither was he going? Lady Betty wondered. The place grew more and more solitary21; they followed a path, but one so little used that briars fell across it and one of them tore her frock: but she went on fearlessly, for never did a braver heart throb22 in a woman’s bosom23. Her spirit was intrepid24. She looked about her through the sparsely25 growing trees and saw long distances without a sign of life or habitation, and still Denis plodded26 on and she followed, pity and love and remorse27 growing in her heart at every step. Her lover and her husband in poverty and obscurity, a proscribed28 rebel, and she rich. Nothing could have appealed so to her full heart. The thought stung her and the tears gathered on her dark lashes29.
[Pg 200]As Denis had predicted, the walk was a long one, but she did not heed30 it, she kept steadily31 on behind him; and at last, through an opening in the trees, she saw two horses grazing in a little strip of greensward, and beyond, the lonely farmhouse32. As her guide turned towards it Betty caught her breath and stood still—for a single moment—the place was so poor, so dark, so uninviting, and the vicinity of Newmarket swarmed33 with banditti; even when the king’s coach took the road it had to be strongly guarded. This old, weather-stained brown house, with half its window shutters34 broken, the green moss35 on its slanting36 gables, and the strong, iron-bound door, with the broken stone before it, was sad and forbidding enough without the silence and the woodland shadows that enfolded it. Betty stood and stared at it apprehensively37, and then she thought of Clancarty. Her hesitation was so soon over that the man, her guide, was scarcely aware of it. He went on steadily, hearing her light step rustling38 on the fallen leaves behind him, and at last he stopped at the door and waited.
“Is he here?” she whispered.
Denis nodded, opening the door and guiding her into the kitchen where the widow, Clancarty’s hostess and nurse, stood before the[Pg 201] hearth39 stirring a stew40 in a great pot that was suspended on a hook over blazing logs. At the sound of their entrance she turned sharply and stared at Lady Clancarty in grim amazement41, not uttering a word. Her stern, sad face and suspicious eye sent the hot blood up under her ladyship’s vizard, but even this, though it embarrassed her, could not hold her back. She stood an instant, though, in the centre of the bare kitchen, in her gay furbelows, holding up her skirts with one hand while the other involuntarily adjusted her mask. Meanwhile, the widow continued to eye her sternly, even while she stirred the broth42.
Denis was quick enough to perceive the difficulty.
“’Tis Lady Clancarty,” he said bluntly to the woman, indicating Lady Betty’s lovely figure with a backward sweep of the hand.
Clancarty’s hostess courtesied profoundly, but the fair intruder felt that those stern eyes said plainly, “A likely story, the brazen43 hussy!”
“Very well, ma’am,” retorted the widow grimly, and turning her back deliberately45, she began to flourish the huge spoon again.
[Pg 202]The poor young wife, meanwhile, fled after Denis across the kitchen, her heart beating wildly. He was waiting in the entry and led her down the hall to the opposite side of the house, before he finally halted at a closed door and waited. At a sign from her he let her enter alone. The place was poorly lighted by small windows, and as she entered and heard the door close behind her, her heart stood still. And then—
Poor Betty, her tears blinded her; she forgot the suspicious widow. The room was so poor, so bare, so wretched; the low, dark rafters, the stone floor, the miserable46 furniture. And stretched on the bed lay her husband, white as death; his head turned so that he could not see her, but she saw him, saw the pallor, the wasted cheek, the helpless figure. She did not move and he had not heard her enter, he seemed to be sleeping. She took off her mask and stood waiting. What would he say? For the first time her courage failed her, her knees trembled under her. Would he hate her, and despise her for coming? She stirred and he heard the rustle19 and looked up. In a moment it seemed as if the sun had risen and shone full upon his face: it was glorified47, but still she did not go nearer to him.
[Pg 203]“Ah,” he said, “I see it is but a dream! It has mocked me before. My fever must be upon me again, but, oh, sweet vision, stay with me this time, else I perish here of despair.”
“Can you forgive me?” she sobbed49, running to him and falling on her knees beside the bed, “oh, I have suffered too, the wound that hurt you pierced me also to the heart! Forgive me!”
He put his arm around her, drawing her close, with all his feeble strength, and looking at her with hungry eyes.
“My darling!” he said tenderly, “’tis you—you in the flesh?—and you came to see me?—the beggar, the exile, the traitor—”
“Don’t, don’t!” cried Betty, in a passion of grief, “I never meant it—it was my tongue, my reckless, wicked tongue—oh, my lord, forgive me!”
He smiled; he was so weak that tears gathered in his eyes.
“What have I to forgive, ‘my own Rosaleen’?” he asked tenderly; “I am not worthy50 of you—I am, indeed, an exile and a vagrant51, my queen, and no mate for you.”
“You are my husband,” Betty said, blushing divinely.
[Pg 204]“Betty,” he whispered soft and low, “you have never kissed me!”
“I have never kissed any man, my Lord Clancarty,” she replied softly, her face radiant, “I will never kiss any man—but the one I love best!”
He looked at her silently, his eyes glowing, holding her closer.
“Betty,” he murmured, “do you love me?—your husband?”
Betty did not reply in words. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him tenderly, laying her soft cheek against his with a sob48.
“My darling,” he said, after a pause, “it is too much to ask you to leave all and follow me—too much. I am only a beggar, Betty, and an outcast!”
She looked up into his eyes and he thought her face had never been so beautiful.
“My husband,” she said.
His tears wet her cheek as he kissed her again and again.
“My best beloved,” he said, “‘my own Rosaleen’! ‘Until death us do part,’ do you remember? The bond was made in heaven, Betty!”
She smiled through her tears.
[Pg 205]“I love you,” she murmured, “and shall forever and forever.”
“Unto the ends of the earth, my lord and master,” she answered smiling, the old Betty suddenly peeping out at him from her dark eyes; “if I have you I have all!” she whispered.
Warm hearted, impulsive53, careless Lady Betty was not one to give her heart unless she gave it royally.
“Did you know me at first?” she asked, “in the woods at Althorpe? Did you divine who I was?”
He laughed softly, taking her face between his hands and holding it fondly, framed thus, so she could not hide it from him.
“Did I know the sun when it shone?” he asked. “Ah, my little witch, I knew you! I had been watching you for two days and more, whenever I could catch a glimpse of you. Did you know me, madam?”
She smiled adorably and tried to hide her blushes in his hands.
“I felt it,” she whispered, “I think I knew[Pg 206] you by intuition—from that first moment—but afterwards—”
“But afterwards?” he asked relentlessly55.
She laughed, her eyes shining. “You tried to deceive me,” she said, “in the garden—you remember?—for a little while, I thought you couldn’t be you, and—” her voice trailed off, her face was as scarlet56 as any poppy.
“And?” he persisted gleefully, holding her still.
“I thought—I thought that I had given my heart to a stranger—and I was married—and—” she broke off, she could not speak for his kisses.
“Would you have divorced the beggar for me?” he whispered maliciously57.
“O Donough!” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck in the very ecstasy58 of her joy at her escape from such a dilemma59, “O Donough, it would have broken my heart if you hadn’t been—you!”
Again a silence and then,—
“Why did you put your foot on the shamrock?” he whispered.
She hid her face on his neck. “I wanted it,” she confessed, in a smothered60 tone, “I wanted it to keep! Where is it?”
He drew it from his breast, a withered61 sprig[Pg 207] folded in a piece of paper, and she seized upon it and kissed it.
“Nay,” he said, “that you shall not—not even my shamrock shall share your kisses with me! That is one stolen from me, madam, give me the shamrock.”
“Never!” she defied him, clasping it to her own bosom, “never—’tis mine to wear for your sake.”
His eyes shone. “My Irish beauty,” he said, “roisin bheag dubh!—if I may not have the shamrock I must have the kiss back.”
“Why did you treat me so that last night?” he went on, “you perverse62 witch, you tormentor63, you deserve to suffer for flouting64 your lord and master.”
“That was it,” she said, “you came in with the air of a conquering hero; I thought you would not woo me, that you claimed me too much like a master; that, perhaps, you didn’t love me, but only felt that you were my husband.”
He laughed quietly. “You coquette!” he said fondly, “you knew I loved you—you saw it in my eyes, for I know they devoured you—you felt it!”
Betty hung her head guiltily. “I could not help it,” she said, with a little sob, “I loved[Pg 208] you,—and suddenly I thought you knew it, and were careless of it!”
He kissed her hands softly. “You knew I loved you!” he exclaimed reproachfully.
She looked up through her tears. “I love to hear you say it,” she murmured rapturously.
After awhile she looked around the miserable room.
“My love,” she cried, “can’t I take you away from this awful place? It breaks my heart to have you here! With that female dragon, too.”
“Nay, grieve not, Betty,” he answered smiling, “it shines with you in it. How I shall picture you here—in your white and pink gown, with the little hood65 on your head—the house is a palace, dear! It is too good for a poor man now.”
“And you are poor!” she exclaimed, her tears breaking out afresh, “you are poor and I—I have everything!”
“Nay,” he replied, “I am rich in having you!”
But her tears fell. She could not leave him so, she cried, clinging to him; the thought of that poor place would break her heart! And it took all his persuasion66 and caresses67 to win a smile from her again.
[Pg 209]“And I must go,” she said at last, showing an April face, smiles and tears together, “I must go, or else they will miss me, and if Spencer found you here, I know not what he would do; he hates a Jacobite! But, oh, my darling, ’twill not be long ere I shall send some token to you, or have some message from you.”
“Not long,” he said, his eyes sparkling, “not long, dear Betty! As soon as I can walk—a plague upon this wound—as soon as I can move I will come to you! I can’t die now!”
“Oh, the risk of it!” she cried, but her face shone, and then suddenly, “Donough,” she said, “why had you to fight my Lord Savile? and after all I did to prevent it!”
“He insulted me, my love,” Clancarty replied, “and—and, well, dear heart, after that night I thought you might care for him and not for me, and it drove me mad.”
Betty smiled enchantingly.
“You were jealous,” she said, “jealous of me!”
“I was mad with it, Betty,” he declared passionately68; “and here I lie, curse this wound, like a log, and other men are near you, bask69 in your smiles, kiss your hand! It drives me to destruction!”
[Pg 210]And she looking down at him in his weakness, thin and fever flushed,—she fell upon her knees again beside him, holding her soft cheek against his, and saying only two words—softly, sweetly, with adorable tenderness—“My husband!”
Afterwards, in the loneliness of the woodland, Betty pressed a full purse into Denis’s unreluctant hand.
“Not a word to your lord—on your life!” she charged him; “but get all he needs and come to me for more—and we must move him to some comfortable refuge at once. Mind you, everything he needs and instantly.”
Denis’s face widened into a seraphic smile as he pressed the purse fondly.
“By the Virgin, my lady,” he said, “I shall have to be afther telling him a legend—faix, he’ll think I’ve found an angel of a Jew, yer ladyship!”
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收听单词发音
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1
espied
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| v.看到( espy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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irresolute
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| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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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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tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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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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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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15
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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intrepid
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| adj.无畏的，刚毅的 | |
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sparsely
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| adv.稀疏地；稀少地；不足地；贫乏地 | |
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plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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proscribed
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| v.正式宣布（某事物）有危险或被禁止( proscribe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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apprehensively
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| adv.担心地 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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40
stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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41
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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42
broth
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| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
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brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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44
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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45
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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46
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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47
glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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48
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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49
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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50
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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51
vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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52
longingly
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| adv. 渴望地 热望地 | |
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53
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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54
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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55
relentlessly
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| adv.不屈不挠地；残酷地；不间断 | |
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56
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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59
dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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60
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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61
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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62
perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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63
tormentor
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| n. 使苦痛之人, 使苦恼之物, 侧幕 =tormenter | |
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64
flouting
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| v.藐视，轻视( flout的现在分词 ) | |
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65
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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66
persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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67
caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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68
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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69
bask
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| vt.取暖，晒太阳，沐浴于 | |
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