[Pg 42]
That was at the last rehearsal, when the poetic5 Viola had lost her temper like an ordinary woman and jumped on the Tracy boy—something about the place he stood in—nothing, as far as Shine could see, to get mad about. And the boy had answered in kind like the spitting of an angry cat. An ugly scene that the director had to stop.
Then the man Stokes who played the Duke, a handsome, romantic-looking chap—something was the matter with him. “Eating him” was the phrase Shine used to himself and it wasn’t a bad one. He had a haunted sort of look, as if his mind was disturbed, especially when he’d turn his eyes on Miss Saunders. Shine had noticed him particularly when they gathered for the group pictures; his hands were unsteady and the perspiration6 was out on his forehead though the air was cool from the sea. His wife—the woman they called Flora7—was on to him. Shine saw her watching him, sidelong from under her eyelids8, the way you watch a person when you don’t want them to see it.
[Pg 43]
The photographer was a fat easy-going man, inured9 to the vagaries10 of those who follow the arts. But he was sensitive to emotional stress and he felt it here—below the surface—and was moved to curiosity.
The photographs were finished and the group broke up. Part of the company were going and they ran toward the house—a medieval route—the big Sir Toby with a rolling amble11, Sir Andrew, long and lank12, cavorting13 like a mettlesome14 steed. Their antic shadows fled before them over the dried sea grass, and their voices, shouting absurdities15, rang rich and deep-throated on the crystal atmosphere.
Miss Saunders and Miss Tracy linked arms and moved off toward the headlands. Receding16 in the amber17 light they were like a picture from some antique romance—the noble lady and her page. One in narrow casings of crimson18 brocade, the other in short swinging kilt and braided jacket of more sober gray. Shine, fascinated, watched them pacing slowly over the burnished19 grass. [Pg 44]Flocks of sea-gulls20, roused by their voices, rose into the air, poised22 and wheeled, one moment dark, the next floating shapes of gold. He turned to go and saw that Stokes was watching them too, intent like a hungry dog, the hand that held a stalk of feathered grass against his lips, trembling.
The photographer shouldered his camera and went toward the house. A jeweled brightness of garden extended along its seaward front. Beyond this was the one stretch of cultivated turf on the island, an emerald slope leading to the cuplike hollow that held the amphitheater. He skirted the side balcony, the wide-flung doors giving a glimpse of an entrance hall, and turning the corner emerged upon the land front of the long capacious building. The surroundings on this side had been left as nature made them—rock shelves and ledges23, devoid24 of vegetation, a path winding25 round them from the entrance to the wharf26. Hayworth showed across the channel in a clustering of gray roofs from which smoke skeins rose straight into the suave27 rose-washed sky. The water [Pg 45]rushed between, a swollen28 tide, threads of white dimpled eddies29, telling of its racing30 speed.
The door on this side of the house opened directly into the living-room. No hall within or porch without interfered31 with the view; the path ended unceremoniously at the foot of two broad steps that led to the threshold. On the lower of these steps Shine found a lady sitting smoking a cigarette. This was the Maria of the cast, Mrs. Cornell in private life. She was still in her costume, her redundant32 figure swelling33 over the traditional laced bodice, the rouge34 on her cheeks hardly showing against the coat of sunburn a week at Gull21 Island had laid on. He had found her as easy as himself, good-humoredly loquacious35 and not involved in the prevailing36 discord. An admirable person to clear up mysteries. He sank down beside her on the step and took the cigarette box she flipped37 toward him.
“Wouldn’t you think,” she said, “a man as rich as this Mr. Driscoll would fix up round here better?”
[Pg 46]
“I guess he liked it wild,” he suggested, and lit a cigarette.
“But it looks so rough, not a flower bed or a vase—just paths. That one there,” she pointed40 to a path that skirted the side of the house and dipped to a small grove41 of pines below, “goes through those pines and up to that summer-house. Nothing on the way and what’s the summer-house when you get there? Old style rustic42 work with vines. You’d suppose he’d build a temple and have some marble benches round. The way the rich spend their money always gets me.”
Shine had been in the grove of pines, a growth of stunted43 trees filling in a hollow. He had followed the path through it, up the slope to the summer-house and beyond to where the bluff44 dropped away in a sheer cliff to the channel. They called the place “The Point” as it projected beyond the shore line in a rocky outthrust shoulder, gulls circling about it, water seething45 below. [Pg 47]He looked there now, let his glance slip along the curve of headlands till it reached the two girls, perched on a boulder46 like a pair of bright-plumaged birds. He was thinking how to approach the matter in his mind, when Mrs. Cornell went on:
“I don’t see what any one wanted to build a house here for—cut off this way. It’s too lonesome. With the tide at the full as it is now you can’t get ashore47 without a motor-boat. You know that current’s something fierce.”
He looked down at it, its rushing corded surface purple dark:
“Looks to be some current.”
“It would carry you out and ‘Good night’ to you. Gabriel who runs the launch told me. Set’s right out to sea someway. And the rise and fall to it—I couldn’t tell you how many feet it is, but you’ll see for yourself to-night if you’re awake—all the channel bare, nothing but rocks and mud. And across the middle of it to Hayworth, a causeway. That’s the only way you can get ashore at low tide. High or low you’re pretty [Pg 48]well marooned48. It’s seclusion49 all right if that’s what you’re after.”
Shine was after information and with the talk running on tides and causeways he saw no chance of getting it. So he tried to divert the garrulous50 lady:
“That’s Miss Saunders and Miss Tracy out there looking at the sunset.”
Mrs. Cornell answered with emphasis:
“Yes, they’re friends.”
“Aren’t you all?”
“Some of us knew each other before we came here,” was her cryptic51 reply. Then she added pensively52: “Six months ago you’d never have found Sybil Saunders looking at a sunset. She was the brightest thing!”
“Awful misfortune that what happened to her.”
“Hah—awful! Took the heart right out of her. If you ever saw a girl in love it was she—bound up in him. Everything ready, the wedding [Pg 49]day set, the trousseau made.” Tears rose in her eyes and she dove into her tight bodice for a handkerchief. “Never to be worn, Mr. Shine—that’s life.”
Shine gave forth55 sympathetic murmurs56 and Mrs. Cornell, dabbing57 at her eyes, furnished data between the dabs58:
“Two men drinking too much and then a fight, and before anybody knew, murder! If there hadn’t been a brass59 candlestick near Jim Dallas’ hand it would never have happened. Honest to God, Mr. Shine, there was nothing evil in that young man. But the Parkinson family are camped on his trail. The evil’s in them, if you ask me, with their rewards and detectives.”
“I wonder if she knows where he is.”
“I guess there’s more than one wondering that,” the lady murmured.
“Terribly hard position for her if she does know—or if she doesn’t.”
Shine looked at the page’s figure on the rock. She carried the thing stamped on her face. He [Pg 50]had noticed it particularly where he had taken the photographs of her in the living-room. They were time exposures with his small camera, attempts to catch her fragile prettiness in artistic combinations of light and shade. Once or twice the mask had been dropped and he had seen the drooping60 lines, the weariness, and something like fear on the delicate features.
For a space they smoked in silence. Round the corner of the house the tall figure of Stokes strolled into view. He looked at the seated girls, then turned and glanced behind him with a quick and furtive61 sweep of the eyes. At the sight of them he nodded, walked down to the wharf and dropped on a bench.
Shine lowered his voice:
“What’s the matter with him?”
Mrs. Cornell met his eyes; her own were narrowed and sharp.
“What makes you think anything is?”
“His whole make-up—something’s wearing on him.”
[Pg 51]
She blew out a long shoot of smoke and, watching it, murmured:
“Yes, it’s out on him like a rash. He oughtn’t to have come, but the first man they had, Sylvanus Grey, took sick and Mr. Walberg engaged Stokes in a hurry and sent him up. It’s spoiled everything for the rest of us. He’s crazy about Sybil if you want to know what’s the matter with him.”
“Oh!” It came with an understanding inflection, the haggard glances rising on Shine’s memory.
“Can’t hide it, doesn’t want to hide it. There’s no shame in him, tracking after the girl. And it’s not as if he got any encouragement. She can’t bear him; that’s why she has Anne Tracy out there, afraid if she sits alone five minutes he’ll come loping up. You’d think if he didn’t have any pride he’d have some feeling for his wife. She’s half crazy with jealousy62, burning up with it. These purple passions are all right in books, Mr. Shine, but believe me they’re not comfortable to live with.”
[Pg 52]
“I felt it.”
“I guess you would, it’s in the air. All of us cooped up in this place where you can’t get off. I thought it was going to be such a nice restful change. But lord! It’s about as restful as camping on the side of Vesuvius. Sybil and Joe Tracy ready to fight at the drop of the hat and Flora going round in circles and Stokes like one of those fireworks that starts sputtering63 and you don’t know whether they’re going to explode or die on you. I tell you I’ll be glad when we get out of here to-morrow morning.”
There was a footfall in the room behind them and Mrs. Cornell turned to see who was coming.
“Oh, Flora,” she said. “Come out and take a look at the sunset. It’s something grand.”
The woman stepped out and stood beside them. She had changed her costume and her narrow blue linen64 dress outlined her too slender figure. Shine thought she would have been pretty if she had not looked so worn and thin. He noticed the brightness of her dark eyes, brilliant and quick-moving [Pg 53]as a bird’s. There was red on her cheek-bones, a flushed patch that was not rouge. Mrs. Cornell’s expression recurred65 to him, “burning up”—the meager66 body, the hot high color, the dry lips resolutely67 smiling, suggested inner fires.
“Yes,” she answered, “it’s a wonderful evening.”
“Take a cig.” Mrs. Cornell offered the box.
“Sit down, there’s plenty of room.” Shine moved up.
“No, I can’t sit down. There’s something about the air that makes you restless—too stimulating68 maybe.” She raised her voice and called to her husband, “Aleck, aren’t you coming in to change your clothes?”
Without moving the man called back:
“Not yet. There’s no hurry.”
“Mr. Stokes has been shut up so long in town he can’t get enough of the fresh air.”
“He’s enjoying the scenery, too,” Shine answered,[Pg 54] and saw her eyes travel to the two figures on the rock.
“Oh, that of course—that’s the best part of it.” Then in a tone of bright discovery: “Why look where Anne and Sybil are! Have they been there long?”
“Ever since I’ve been here.” Mrs. Cornell’s voice was more than soothing71, bluffly72 reassuring73 as the voice of one who tells a child there is no ghost. “And ever since Mr. Shine got through the pictures! Wallowing in the beauties of nature like the rest of us.”
“Won’t you wallow, too?” Shine indicated the long unoccupied space on the step.
She shook her head:
“I like moving about. Something in this place gets on my nerves, it’s like being in a jail.” On a deep breath she shot out, “I hate it,” and stepped back into the room.
“Yes. I enjoy the scenery better when it hasn’t got people in it.”
[Pg 55]
They looked at each other; a still minute of eye communication.
“She’s all worked up,” he murmured.
Her answer was to point to the two girls and then to Stokes:
“Now she’ll keep her eye on them from somewhere else—probably the side piazza75. That’s the way you are when you’re jealous—the sight of it kills you and you can’t stop watching.”
“Lord!” whispered Shine into whose life no such gnawing76 passions had entered. And he thought of the girl in the page’s dress who was afraid to sit alone, and the man on the wharf brooding within sight of her, and the woman who was hovering77 round them like a helpless distracted bird.
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收听单词发音
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1
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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2
rehearsal
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| n.排练，排演；练习 | |
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3
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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6
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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7
flora
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| n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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8
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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9
inured
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| adj.坚强的，习惯的 | |
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10
vagaries
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| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
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11
amble
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| vi.缓行，漫步 | |
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lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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13
cavorting
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| v.跳跃( cavort的现在分词 ) | |
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14
mettlesome
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| adj.（通常指马等）精力充沛的，勇猛的 | |
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15
absurdities
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| n.极端无理性( absurdity的名词复数 )；荒谬；谬论；荒谬的行为 | |
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16
receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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17
amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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18
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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19
burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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20
gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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gull
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| n.鸥；受骗的人；v.欺诈 | |
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22
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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23
ledges
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| n.（墙壁，悬崖等）突出的狭长部分( ledge的名词复数 )；（平窄的）壁架；横档；（尤指）窗台 | |
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24
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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suave
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| adj.温和的；柔和的；文雅的 | |
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28
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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29
eddies
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| （水、烟等的）漩涡，涡流( eddy的名词复数 ) | |
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30
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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31
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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32
redundant
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| adj.多余的，过剩的；(食物)丰富的；被解雇的 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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34
rouge
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| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
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35
loquacious
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| adj.多嘴的，饶舌的 | |
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36
prevailing
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| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
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37
flipped
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| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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38
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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39
intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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40
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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41
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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42
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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43
stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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44
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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45
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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46
boulder
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| n.巨砾；卵石，圆石 | |
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47
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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48
marooned
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| adj.被围困的；孤立无援的；无法脱身的 | |
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49
seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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50
garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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51
cryptic
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| adj.秘密的，神秘的，含义模糊的 | |
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52
pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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53
derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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54
inadequacy
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| n.无法胜任，信心不足 | |
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55
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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56
murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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57
dabbing
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| 石面凿毛，灰泥抛毛 | |
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58
dabs
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| 少许( dab的名词复数 )； 是…能手； 做某事很在行； 在某方面技术熟练 | |
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59
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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60
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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61
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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62
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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63
sputtering
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| n.反应溅射法；飞溅；阴极真空喷镀；喷射v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的现在分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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64
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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65
recurred
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| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
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66
meager
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| adj.缺乏的，不足的，瘦的 | |
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67
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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68
stimulating
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| adj.有启发性的，能激发人思考的 | |
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69
condoning
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| v.容忍，宽恕，原谅( condone的现在分词 ) | |
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70
tolerance
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| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
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71
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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72
bluffly
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| 率直地，粗率地 | |
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73
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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74
veered
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| v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的过去式和过去分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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75
piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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76
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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77
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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