In the days that followed, Bettina’s only resource was in bodily activity. She wrote at once and took her passage on a steamer to sail for America one week from the day of Horace’s visit. Then, with Nora’s help, she set to work to do her packing. The French maid was sent away, and her lady refused all other offers of service.
Her first impulse had been to leave all her wardrobe and personal belongings1 behind her, and this she would undoubtedly2 have done but for the counteracting3 instinct to remove from any possibility of the sight of the future occupant of these apartments any smallest reminder4 of the late Lady Hurdly. No doubt another bearer of that name would soon be installed in them, and to her the least reminder of the beautiful Bettina who had once so strangely come to it would naturally be offensive.
With this thought in her mind, she eagerly [Pg 159]helped Nora to collect and pack away every trace of her ever having lived here. One record of the fact it was out of her power to remove, and this was the full-length portrait of her, in all the state and magnificence of her proud position, which hung in the picture-gallery, and which Horace had never seen. Neither had he ever seen her in such a guise5, and, in spite of her, there was a certain exultation6 in her breast when she imagined the moment of his first beholding7 it. Another moment, equally charged with mingled8 pride and pain, was the anticipation9 of the time when the next bearer of the name and title should come to have her portrait hung there. No Lady Hurdly who had come before could bear the comparison with her, and she knew it. Was it not, therefore, reasonable to believe that those who followed her might suffer as much by the contrast?
But these feelings of satisfaction in the consciousness of her appropriateness to such a setting as Kingdon Hall were only momentary10, and many of those busy hours of work were interspersed11 with lonely fits of weeping, when even Nora was excluded from her mistress’s room. The good creature, who had never been burdened with mentality12, went steadily13 on with her work [Pg 160]and asked no questions; yet it was not unknown to her that Bettina’s unhappiness depended not altogether upon the fact of her recent widowhood, or even upon the disastrous14 consequences of it in her future life.
Two or three times Nora had brought to her mistress letters in a handwriting which she had not forgotten, and although she made no sign of suspicion, she did connect these letters with Bettina’s unhappiness.
Certainly it was no wonder that such letters as she received from Horace now should have so desperately15 sad an influence on her. In them he begged, argued, pleaded with her to grant him this one request, even using her mother’s name to touch and change her. Indeed, there was a tone in these letters that she could scarcely understand. Keenly conscious as she was of the injustice16 of which she had been guilty toward him, it seemed incredible that he could so ignore it as to manifest any personal interest in her on her own account. She even felt a certain regret that he could so lose sight of this flagrant fact. It had come to be a vital need to her to have the ideal of Horace in her life. It was now almost more essential to her to have something to admire than something to love. Under these conditions [Pg 161]she felt a certain sense of disappointment in him, that he could seem to forget the deep wrong she had done him. And yet, in utter contradiction to this feeling, his kind ignoring of it soothed17 her tortured heart.
She sent no answer to these letters. She even hoped that by taking this course she might make the impression on him that she did not read them. This was her design and her consolation18, even while she read and re-read them with a devouring19 eagerness. She never paused to ask herself why this was. She avoided any investigation20 into her feeling for Horace. It was enough that, in spite of all the self-accusation and self-abasement which she carried in her heart, this being who knew the very worst of her could still think her worthy21 of kindness and respect. When she thought of this she felt as if she could go on her knees to him.
One fear was constantly before her mind, and that was that he might seek a personal interview with her again. She dared not trust herself to this, instinctively22 as she longed for it. It was, therefore, with positive terror in her breast that she heard one morning from Nora that Lord Hurdly was in the house, having come down by train from London.
[Pg 162]
“I cannot see him—I will not!” she cried, in an impassioned protest, which only Nora could have seen her portray23.
“He did not ask to see you,” said Nora. “I met him in the hall, and he told me to say to you that he required some papers which were in the library, and that he would, with your permission, like the use of the room for a few hours. He told me to say that he had had luncheon24, and would not disturb you in any way.”
At these words Bettina felt a sinking of the heart, which was her first consciousness of the sudden hope she had been entertaining. This made her reproach herself angrily for such weakness and want of pride, and with this feeling in her heart, she said, abruptly25,
“There is no answer to Lord Hurdly’s message.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Nora, hesitatingly, “but I am quite sure he is expecting an answer.”
“I say there is no answer,” Bettina repeated, with a sudden sternness. “Lord Hurdly is in his own house. He can come and go as he chooses. His asking permission of me is a mere26 farce27.”
Nora ventured to say no more, and withdrew in silence, leaving her mistress alone with the consciousness that Horace was in the very house [Pg 163]with her, and that at any moment she might, if she chose, go to him and tell him all the truth.
And why did she not? That old feeling between them was quite dead. She had a right to clear herself from a condemnation28 which she did not deserve—a right, at least, to make known the palliating circumstances in the case. In any other conceivable instance she would not have hesitated to do so. What was it, then, which made it so impossible in this instance?
The answer to this question leaped up in her heart, and so struggled for recognition that she had an instinct to run away from herself that she might not have to face it. She wanted to close her eyes, so that she might shut out the truth that was before her mental vision, and to put her hands over her ears, that she might not hear the voice that clamored to her heart.
Surely a part of this feeling was the compunction which she felt for having wronged him. That she might openly acknowledge. But that was not all. She was aware of something more in her own heart. Even that she might have stifled30, and, supported by her pride, might have concisely31 told him of the error under which she had acted. But there was still another thing that entered in. This was a faint, delicious, [Pg 164]disturbing, unacknowledged to her own heart, suspicion about Horace himself. He had said nothing to warrant her in the belief that his anxiety about her future was anything more than the satisfaction of his own self-respect, but her heart had said things which she trembled to hear, and there was a certain evidence of her eyes. In leaving her the other day—or rather at the moment of her hurried leaving of him—he had looked at her strangely.
That look had lingered in her consciousness, and without effort she could recall it now. In doing so her cheeks flushed, her heart beat quicker. She felt tempted32 to woo the sweet sensation, and by every effort of imagination to quicken it into keener life, but the seductiveness of this temptation terrified her.
She started from her seat and looked about her. How long had she sat there musing—dreaming dreams which every instinct of womanly pride compelled her to renounce33? She wondered if he had gone. Once more came that mingled hope and fear that he might seek an interview with her before leaving. The hope was stronger than ever, and for that reason the fear was stronger too.
A footstep in the hall arrested her attention, [Pg 165]and she stood palpitating, with her hand upon her heart. It passed, leaving only silence; but it had been a useful warning to her. Suppose, in her present mood, Horace should make his way to her sitting-room34 and knock for admittance. Would she—could she—send him away, with her heart crying out for the relief of speech and confession35 to him as it was doing now?
With a hurried impulse she caught up a light wrap of dense36 black material, and passed rapidly into the hall. Her impulse was to go out of doors, to get away from the house until he should have left it; but in order to do this from her apartments, she must pass by the library, and this she feared to do. So she changed her purpose, and stepping softly that no one might hear her, she entered the long picture-gallery, and closed the door behind her with great care to make no noise. Many of the blinds were closed, but down at the far end where her picture hung there was some light, and with an impulsive37 desire to look at this picture, with a view to the impression that it might make on Horace when he should see it, she glided38 noiselessly down the room toward it.
The full-length portraits to right and left of her loomed39 vaguely40 through the half-light. She [Pg 166]glanced at each one as she passed slowly along, with the feeling that she was taking leave of them forever. In this way her gaze had been diverted from the direction of her own portrait, and she was within a few yards of it when, looking straight ahead of her, she saw between the picture and herself the figure of a man.
He stood as still as any canvas on the wall, and gazed upward to the face before him. Bettina, as startled as if she had seen a ghost in this dim-lighted room, stood equally still behind him, her hand over her parted lips, as if to stifle29 back the cry that rose.
And still he stood and gazed and gazed, while she, as if petrified41, stood there behind him, for moments that seemed to her endless.
Presently she saw his shoulders raised by the inhalation of a deep-drawn42 breath, which escaped him in an audible sigh. The sound recalled her. Turning with a wild instinct of escape, she fled down the long room, her black cape43 streaming behind her, and vanished in the shadows out of which she had emerged.
Somehow, she never knew how, she let herself out into the hall, and thence she sped through the long corridor, down the stairs, past the open door of the vacant library, and out into the [Pg 167]grounds. She met no one, and when at last she paused in the dense shadows of some thick shrubbery, she had the satisfaction of feeling that she had been unobserved. Here, too, she was quite secluded44, and in the effort to collect herself she sat down on the grass, her knees drawn up, her forehead resting on them, her clasped hands strained about them.
How long she remained so, while her leaping heart grew gradually calmer, she did not know.
A sound aroused her from her lethargy. It was the clear whistle of some one calling a dog. She knew who it was before a voice said,
“Here, Comrade—come to me, sir.”
The voice was not far off, but the shrubbery was between it and her. She would have felt safe but for the dog. She did not move a muscle.
The footsteps were drawing near her, and now bounding leaps of a dog could be heard also. Both passed, and she began to breathe more freely, when what she had dreaded45 came. The dog, stopping his gambols46, began to sniff47 about him. The next moment he had bounded through the shrubbery and was yelping48 gleefully at her side.
Instantly she sprang to her feet and stood there, slight and tall and straight in her long black [Pg 168]wrap, the image of pallid49 woe50. All the blood had left her face, and her eyes were wide and terrified.
It was so that she appeared to the man who, parting the branches of the thick foliage51, stood silent and surprised before her. She might have been the very spirit of widowhood, so desolate52 she looked.
Raising his hat automatically, he said, in a strained, unnatural53 voice, “Can I do anything for you?”
“I beg your pardon,” he said, “but can I do anything for you, Lady Hurdly?”
Oh, that name! She had had an instinct to free herself at last from the burden she had borne, and to tell him, in answer to his question, that he could do this for her—he could hear her tell of the wretched treachery by which she had been led to do him such a wrong, and of the misery55 of its consequences in her life. But the utterance56 of that name recalled her to herself. It reminded her not only who she was, but also who and by what means he was also.
“Leave me,” she said, throwing out her hand with a repellent gesture. “I have gone through much, and I am not strong. If you have any [Pg 169]mercy, any kindness, leave me to myself. It is not proper, perhaps, that I should ask any favor of you, but I do. I beg you not to speak or write to me again until I have done what must be done here, and gone away from this place and this country forever.”
There was an instant’s silence, during which Comrade nestled close to her and tried to lick her hand, all the time looking longingly57 at Horace. Then a voice, constrained58 and low, said, sadly: “I will grant your favor, Lady Hurdly. What of the favor I have asked of you?”
“I cannot. It is impossible,” she cried. “Surely I have been humiliated59 enough without that. It is the one thing you have in your power to do for me, never to mention that subject again.”
“I shall obey you,” he said; “but in return I ask that you will not forget my request of you, though you have forced me to silence. While a wrong so gross as that goes unrepaired I can never rest. Remember this, and that you have it in your power to relieve me of this burden. Now I will go.”
He turned and vanished through the shrubbery, Comrade after him.
Bettina sank upon the ground, covering her face with the long drapery of her cape. Suddenly [Pg 170]she felt a touch. Her heart leaped, and she uncovered her head, showing the light of a great hope in her eyes.
But it was only Comrade, nestling close to her, with human-eyed compassion60. She threw her arms around him, and pressed her face against his shaggy side.
“Did he send you to me, Comrade,” she whispered, “because he knew that I was miserable61 and alone?”
“I know he did! I know he did!” she cried. “Oh, how kind and good and unrevengeful he is! And I can never tell him the truth. I can never tell that to any human being, Comrade, but I’ll tell it to you.” She drew his head close to her lips and whispered a few words in his ear.
Then she sprang to her feet, a great light in her eyes, as she threw her arms upward with an exultant63 movement, and cried, as if to some unseen witness up above, “I have said it!”
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1
belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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2
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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3
counteracting
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| 对抗，抵消( counteract的现在分词 ) | |
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4
reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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5
guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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7
beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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8
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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9
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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10
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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11
interspersed
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| adj.[医]散开的；点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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12
mentality
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| n.心理，思想，脑力 | |
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13
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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14
disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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15
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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16
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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17
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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18
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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19
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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20
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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21
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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portray
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| v.描写，描述；画(人物、景象等) | |
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24
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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condemnation
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| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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29
stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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30
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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31
concisely
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| adv.简明地 | |
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32
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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33
renounce
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| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
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34
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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35
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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36
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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37
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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38
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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39
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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40
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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41
petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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42
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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43
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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44
secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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45
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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46
gambols
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| v.蹦跳，跳跃，嬉戏( gambol的第三人称单数 ) | |
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47
sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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48
yelping
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的现在分词 ) | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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50
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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51
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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52
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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53
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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54
eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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55
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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56
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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57
longingly
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| adv. 渴望地 热望地 | |
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58
constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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59
humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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60
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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61
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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62
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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63
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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