Bettina loved this power and importance. The drama of her present life was like the unfolding, before her gaze, of a beautiful series of pictures which she had conceived in her imagination, and which some enchanter’s word had turned into reality. The crowded functions of the London season had somewhat palled1 upon her, though she had not quite owned it to herself; but here she was the centre of the system, the light around which these lesser2 lights revolved3, and she seemed, under these conditions, to shine with an increased radiance. Her manners, where they differed from those of the women about her, seemed to gain rather than lose by the contrast, and her costumes seemed to be endless in their variety as well as in their beauty. Certainly she had an air of being born to the purple, and her husband’s pride in her was undoubted, if unexpressed.
Bettina was aware that this pride was his [Pg 73]strongest feeling in regard to her, and she was abundantly willing to have it so. If she had found it difficult to fall in love with a youth who might have disturbed the heart of Diana, she was not likely to have fallen in love with the cool, cynical4, narrow-chested, thin-haired man whom she could yet feel a certain pride in owning as her husband, since his appearance, no less than his name, was distinguished5. She had always had a theory that she would never love deeply any one besides her mother, and her two experiences in the lottery6 of marriage, so different as they were, convinced her that her knowledge of herself had been correct. She was glad of it. The hot anguish7 which at times even yet contracted her heart at the thought of her mother made her hope devoutly8 that she would never love again. The joy of it could not be worth the pain.
When Lady Hurdly’s house-party broke up, she went with her husband on a round of visits to other country-houses. This phase of society she liked, and she threw herself into it with ardor9. But toward the end she wearied of these visits, as she had wearied of London, and was glad to get back to Kingdon Hall. Instead of rest, however, she found restlessness, and the disturbing [Pg 74]thoughts which she had smothered10 before came back with added force. It was a relief to her to think of going abroad—Lord Hurdly having made plans for their spending some months of the winter on the Continent.
There was one instinctive11 fear connected with this plan—the possibility that she might by some chance encounter Horace. She had little fear that he would come to England. What would it matter if she should meet him? He had never been anything to her, really—so she assured herself—and she had certainly been, in reality, quite as little to him. Yet she did unreasonably12 dread13 such a meeting with him, and felt anxious to know where he was.
Accordingly, one morning she asked Parlett, in a casual way, if she ever heard from Mr. Horace.
“Oh yes, my lady; he writes to me now and then,” replied the housekeeper14. Bettina had not expected to hear this; her only thought was to draw out some information gained by hearsay15.
“He is at St. Petersburg?” she asked, indifferently.
“No, my lady; at Simla,” was the unexpected answer. “He has been there a good while. I had a pamphlet from him the other day. When [Pg 75]he has not time to answer my letters, he often sends me a paper, or something like that, to show me what he has been doing. I can’t always understand them, but he knows I like to have them just because he wrote them.”
Bettina was unwilling16 to show her ignorance, so she did not say that she had no knowledge that he ever wrote for publication, and when Parlett went on to offer her the reading of the pamphlet she said, with an indifferent kindness,
“Yes, bring it to me, by all means. I am very glad that Mr. Horace keeps up his intercourse17 with the old place, which of course may yet be his. I shall take an interest in seeing what he writes.”
She went on to speak of certain changes which she wished made in some of the sleeping-apartments, and then dismissed her housekeeper with something less than her usual graciousness of manner.
Bettina felt a strong desire to be alone. These tidings of Horace, slight as they were, had been disturbing to her. Indeed, as time went on and her knowledge of Lord Hurdly increased, the fear that he might have dealt insincerely with his cousin or with herself grew steadily18. She saw proofs every day of the ruthlessness with [Pg 76]which he sacrificed men, and even what should have been principles, to gain his ends. By the light of the same knowledge she realized how his meeting with her had disturbed him in his customary calmness of poise19, and she argued from this fact how important it had been to him to gain his object of making her his wife.
In the midst of these reflections a house-maid tapped at her door, with some folded papers on a tray.
“If you please, my lady, Mrs. Parlett sends you these,” she said.
She was a sweet-faced, rosy-cheeked English girl, with a soft voice and very pretty manner, and at present she was gently agitated21 by the privilege of speaking to her lady, whom she, as well as all the rest of the maids, regarded as a sort of cross between angel and goddess.
Bettina thanked her with a kind smile which sent her away completely happy; then, in the privacy of her own chamber22, she opened the papers. One was a diplomatic pamphlet on a public question in the line of the writer’s professional work. The other was an article which went very thoroughly23 into the question of the best means of relieving the famine then raging in India.
[Pg 77]
It seemed to Bettina that she had vaguely24 heard that there was such a famine, but she had not felt more than a kindly25 casual interest in it as an unfortunate matter which she could not help. Now, however, as she read the account which this paper gave, and the lines which it followed in the effort to render help, her heart burned within her. Here was a man who had no more power than herself to give money help—far less, indeed, perhaps. Yet how he was spending his soul, his strength, his time, his talent, his very heart-beats, on this effort to go to the rescue of these perishing thousands! No one who read the throbbing26 sentences of that paper could have a doubt of the writer’s earnest desire to help, or of his ability to move the hearts and wills of others to come to his aid. It wrought27 upon her strangely.
How much money could she lay her hands on? She had no idea, but she would make it her business to find out. There was her own little income, which she had taken no account of since her marriage, and there was the money which Lord Hurdly had put to her credit in the bank. She would get all she could and send it—anonymously, of course—to the famine fund which she had casually28 heard mentioned. But, oh, what a [Pg 78]pitiful offering it seemed compared with what this man was giving with such lavish29 self-devotion! From the fervor30 of his printed words, and his report of what had so far been accomplished31, she saw that the very passion of his heart was in it. Of his ardent32 temperament33, his quick sympathies, she had knowledge in her own experience. Perhaps it had been these very traits of his which had led him to the conduct which had separated them.
At this thought, that faint suspicion that he had been misrepresented to her rose in her heart again; but she choked it back. That would be too awful. Besides the hideous34 self-accusations which would have followed the admission of this doubt, there was another argument against it which still had its powerful hold on her. She had grown accustomed to her great position in the social world, and her inborn35 instinct for power and admiration36 was deliciously gratified by the brilliancy of her present circumstances. She found it very agreeable to be Lady Hurdly, with all that that name and title implied, and she did not, even in this moment of such unwonted emotion, lose sight of that fact.
Yet the reading of this little paper had stirred a feeling in Bettina’s heart which she had not [Pg 79]felt for so long a time—a yearning37 tenderness for some object outside herself: a longing38 that her health and strength might avail for others bereft39 of these blessings40. It was akin20 to the emotion she had felt by her mother’s dying bed, and as it swept over her she wept as she had not done since she had knelt beside that sacred spot.
Instinctively41 now she fell upon her knees. She tried to pray—but for what? She could not compose a form of prayer or articulate a definite wish. All she could do was to pray to God—the God in whom her mother had trusted—to give her this thing, this unknown boon42 which He knew her passionate43 need of.
When she rose from her knees she put her hands to her head, and, pressing her temples hard, looked about her, as if in search of some object which might help her to the comprehension of her own mood. Then, running her fingers inside the collar of her dress, she drew out, by a slight chain, a small locket, which contained her mother’s picture and a lock of her white hair. It was a sort of talisman44 whose mere45 touch gave her a sense of comfort. She did not open it now, but held it between her palms and pressed her cheek against it, standing46 there alone, and presently she whispered:
[Pg 80]
“What is it, mother darling? What is it that you seem trying to say to me? Oh, if you can ever speak to me, speak now, and I will listen as I did not do when you were here beside me! There is something that I ought to do, and I am not doing it. There is something I am doing which distresses47 you. That is the feeling that I have. Oh, my mother—my lovely, precious, good, good mother—if I had you here, you would tell me what it is that I ought to do—and I would do it!”
She ceased her half-inarticulate whispers, and stood intensely still—almost, it seemed, as if she waited for an answer to them.
But there came no answer save the still, small voice within her soul, which had so often tried to speak before, and which even yet she could not, would not listen to.
This voice suggested to her with persistent48 iteration that she should even now look strictly49 into the evidence which had so quickly sufficed to convince her that the young and ardent lover who had wooed her so passionately50, and promised her such loyalty51 and faith and devotion, had been false to his professions and his promises alike.
Suppose she should investigate; suppose she [Pg 81]should get proof that she as well as he had been falsely dealt with, that he had been true in every word and thought—what then? Could she endure to keep, after that, the position of wife to the man who had so deceived and injured two beings who had believed him? Assuredly she could not. What, then, would be her alternative? To leave him and go back to the poor life at home, which her mother’s presence had justified52 and glorified53, but which without that presence, and with the contrast of her present position in her mind, would be too intolerable a thought to contemplate54.
No, she had no sufficient reason to doubt the representations that her husband had made to her. She would try to accept them more implicitly55 for the future, and so fight against such disturbing ideas. There were ample means of diversion within her reach. Her sojourn56 abroad would soon begin, and she must fight against any recurrence57 of her present mood of weakness.
If she was to win this fight, however, there was one precaution which she felt that she must take. This was to avoid the very name of Horace Spotswood, and, as far as might be possible, every thought of him as well.
Her foreign travels began, and she then had [Pg 82]the assurance that this effort would not be difficult of accomplishment58. There were a thousand new issues for Bettina’s interest and feelings in her constantly changing surroundings, and these were sufficiently59 absorbing to do away with lately disturbing considerations. The world had still its powerful charm for Bettina, and she was now seeing the world in a very fascinating aspect.
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1
palled
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| v.（因过多或过久而）生厌，感到乏味，厌烦( pall的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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revolved
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| v.（使）旋转( revolve的过去式和过去分词 )；细想 | |
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4
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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6
lottery
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| n.抽彩；碰运气的事，难于算计的事 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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8
devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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10
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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11
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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unreasonably
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| adv. 不合理地 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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14
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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hearsay
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| n.谣传，风闻 | |
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16
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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19
poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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23
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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24
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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32
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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33
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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inborn
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| adj.天生的，生来的，先天的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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37
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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39
bereft
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| adj.被剥夺的 | |
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40
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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41
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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42
boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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43
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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44
talisman
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| n.避邪物，护身符 | |
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45
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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46
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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47
distresses
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| n.悲痛( distress的名词复数 )；痛苦；贫困；危险 | |
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48
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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49
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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50
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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51
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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52
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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53
glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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54
contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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55
implicitly
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| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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56
sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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57
recurrence
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| n.复发，反复，重现 | |
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58
accomplishment
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| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
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59
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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