Jeffray left Hardacre House that afternoon with his betrothal1 an assured fact in the eyes of Christendom. The way the fog had melted before him of a sudden had surprised even the generous Squireling of Rodenham. He had expected an unnerving interview with Sir Peter, and possibly a very affecting one with Miss Jilian, and here—in a morning he found himself betrothed2 to the daughter and embraced and blessed by a future father. Jeffray could only admire in Sir Peter the workings of an admirable and manly3 spirit of forgiveness. As for Mr. Lot, Richard still felt the slap that worthy4 gentleman had given him upon the shoulder and the hearty5 way he had crunched6 his hand. Jilian had been wondrous7 sweet and coy with her betrothed, and Jeffray should have boasted himself happy in possessing the right to clasp such perfumed purity in his arms.
Was it the inevitable8 reaction after so much sweet ecstasy9 and such squanderings of sentiment that threw Richard into a decidedly melancholy10 mood after taking leave of his Jilian on the terrace? No doubt the parting from the lady should have accounted for the onset11 of such a humor, but Richard’s inclinations12 were contrary to custom, since he desired to think and to be alone. Whether contact had crumbled13 up the romance, or whether the seriousness of the step bulked for the first time in Jeffray’s mind, he found himself meditating14 on the affair with a chilly15 reasonableness that was not begotten16 in the rapturous school of Venus.
Why was it that Aunt Letitia’s gibes17 and fables18 recurred19 with such vividness to his mind? He had not heeded21 them before the crisis; wherefore should he heed20 them now? He wished somehow that Wilson had not loved the girl ten years ago; ten years were ten years—despite idealism. What was amiss with him that the happy reunion of the morning lost some of its glamour22 and assumed the suggestive notion of a net? Surely he was not for recovering his own liberty, that liberty that had weighed as a mere23 feather in the balance against honor? Was not Jilian sweet and amiable24, and still a girl, though older than himself? Surely he could imagine a father in Sir Peter and a worthy brother in honest Lot? And yet the vapor25 of melancholy persisted in Richard Jeffray’s mind, despite his angry reasonings with himself. He had been happy in the morning, righteously and sincerely happy. Why this loosening of the cords of confidence, this morbid26 introspection that suggested the possibility of error.
The day was such a one as begets27 the ideal of spring in the heart, warm, fragrant28, like a dewy dawn in June. The hills and valleys were bathed in silvery light, a light more delicate and rare than the glare of summer. All the colors of the landscape were soft and beautiful, the dusky greens, the purples, the browns, the blue mistiness29 of the distant downs. On the far hills beyond Pevensel a piece of ploughed land would flash up almost as gold under the sun, or a chalk cliff glisten30 like foam31 at the throat of a bursting billow. The meadows in the lowlands were like a mosaic32 of emeralds set in silver.
Jeffray took the western track that plunged33 into Pevensel by White Hard Ghyll. The pines and firs stood out a rich and generous green against the sensitive azure34 of the sky, while the olive-colored trunks of the oaks upheld the purple feltwork of swelling36 buds above. The yellow palm was flashing in the breeze; primroses37 shone everywhere amid the moss38 and leaves. The ragged39 and tempestuous40 gorse flamed about the listening shadows of the woods. The track ran down into the wastes and crossed the stream that fretted41 by the ruins of the old Abbey of Holy Cross.
Richard had not seen the place since he had climbed and hunted there as a boy in the days when life flew fast and without thought. Holy Cross was a mile or more from the hamlet of the foresters, and perhaps some insensible magic drew Jeffray towards this relic42 of Popish power. The monastic calm, the glow of ancient memories, would be in keeping with the temper of the day. Certainly Mr. Richard was not anxious to return to the society of the Lady Letitia, and he found sufficient friendship in his thoughts. Yet the sly plea crept in amid the rest, for if chance favored him he might catch sight of Bess amid the woods, and learn how fortune had served her since she had nursed him in old Ursula’s cottage.
He walked his horse down the hill that closed in Holy Cross on the north. He saw the ruined walls and the ragged remnant of a tower rising beyond the trees that covered the hill-side. A stream came glinting through the green to swell35 into a broad pool above the stone weir43 that the monks44 had built of old. The thunder of the fall filled the dreamy silence of the valley, as though chanting an eternal mass for the souls of those who had lived and died in Holy Cross.
He gave himself to these Gothic mysteries for a while before turning his horse towards the ford45 that crossed the stream some sixty yards above the weir. The weir pool was hidden by undergrowth and a clump46 of firs and birches. The sound of his horse’s hoofs47 was deadened by the mossy grass as he rode down slowly from the ruins. As he rounded the birchen brake he saw something on the farther side of the stream that made him rein48 in suddenly.
Bess was sitting on a rock beside the pool, combing her hair with her fingers as it hung in a black mass over her shoulders. She looked up as Jeffray came splashing through the water, recognized him instantly, and flushed red as a poppy. A peculiar49 light kindled50 in her keen, blue eyes, softening51 their hardness, and making her face seem less petulant52 and heavy.
Jeffray dismounted and advanced towards her, leading his horse by the bridle53. Bess had risen and came some paces to meet him, making no pretence54 to conceal55 her pleasure.
“Bess, I am glad I happened to take the track by the abbey.”
“I am glad, also, Mr. Jeffray.”
They looked at each other and smiled, instant sympathy flashing from face to face. Bess looked very handsome with her black hair about her, and Jeffray could not refrain from confessing the truth instinctively56 to himself. Never in all Italy had he seen such coloring, such eyes, or so fine a figure. To be sure her hands were a little red and rough, but they were prettily57 made, and suited her simple and brightly colored clothes.
“I have been wishing to see you,” said the girl, beginning to bind58 up her black hair and watching Jeffray all the while.
“To see me, Bess?”
“They seem long days since I nursed you in our cottage.”
Richard, good youth, experienced secret pleasure at the confession59. The girl’s voice, deep, rich, and slightly husky, contrasted strangely with Miss Jilian’s prattle60. She spoke61 slowly, as though with an inward effort, trying to temper her words to Jeffray’s superior culture. It was done without affectation, however, and her quaint62, slow way of mouthing her words had an irresistible63 charm in it that made Jeffray delight in hearing her speak.
“You have been bathing, Bess?”
She laughed, blushed a little, and began to coil up her hair over the curve of her long, brown neck.
“You might have caught me, Mr. Jeffray.”
This time Richard colored.
“How are they treating you in Pevensel?” he made haste to ask.
“Treating me?”
“Yes.”
“I am glad of your pistols.”
Her expression changed suddenly from frankness to rebellion. Jeffray, who was studying her with a secret sense of delight, marked the hardening of her red mouth, the gleam in her fierce, far-sighted eyes. He had forgotten Miss Jilian completely for the moment, and the delicate and highly civilized64 sentiments that had made him throw his liberty at her feet.
“Tell me what your trouble is,” he asked her.
“They are for marrying me to Dan.”
“What!”
“They tried to force me into it. Mother Ursula was with them till Dan tried his bullying65, and then she held him and his father off.”
“But, Bess, old Grimshaw promised me—”
“They can’t marry you against your will.”
“Not while I have the pistols.”
There was a look almost suggestive of fear on her face for the moment, despite its spirit of defiance68. She glanced round her swiftly, and drew closer to Jeffray.
“I am afraid of Dan.”
“Afraid, Bess?”
“Yes, as much as I am of anything.”
Jeffray understood her meaning of a sudden. His sensitive face grew strangely stern and thoughtful, and there was a tightness about his mouth, a steadiness in his eyes that would have puzzled Mr. Lancelot Hardacre.
“You keep the pistols by you?” he asked, quietly.
“See, one is there,” she said. “They are the best friends I have in Pevensel. I look to the priming every day.”
Jeffray’s usually smooth brow was still knotted in thought.
“I wonder if I could help you, Bess,” he said.
“Perhaps,” she answered.
“How?”
She glanced round her rapidly as though accustomed to fear what the woods might conceal. The sun was low in the west and the forest-clad valley full of golden mist. She took her cloak and pistol from the rock, and pointed to a path that branched off from the main ride into a larch-wood, telling Jeffray that they could reach the Beacon71 Rock heath by the path.
Thus with the shadows of the twilight72 stealing over the woods, and the birds piping lustily in every thicket73, Bess and Richard Jeffray wandered through Pevensel together, looking with questioning youth into each other’s eyes. Bess began to tell him of the memories that stood like frail74 ghosts on the threshold of her forest life. She told him of the flitting fancies of other days, of the faces and scenes she but half remembered. Jeffray, impressed by her eager intensity75 of belief, reacted to the many suggestions her words inspired. He watched her as she walked beside him, tall, lissome76, and convincing, her looks eloquent77 towards the proving of her childish memories. Jeffray had seen what country hoydens were worth in the matter of charm and of beauty, and had discovered pretty milkmaids to be a myth. Bess was as different from any Sussex Blowzelinda as a stately cypress78 from a dwarf79 oak outcrowded in some sodden80 wood.
When she had ended he turned to her with no little eagerness, as though her needs were already his.
“Have you ever spoken of this to any one?” he asked her.
Her face had kindled in the telling of the tale, and her eyes met Jeffray’s and held them steadily81.
“I have often spoken to old Ursula, but she has always laughed at me.”
“And you have no trinkets or rings that might have come from your mother?”
She shook her head, still looking at him solemnly.
“Not one.”
“And why do they want to marry you to Dan?”
“Because he’s hot for my sake,” she answered, coloring and looking fierce.
Jeffray walked on for a while in silence, his horse’s bridle over his arm. Peter Gladden had hinted at mysteries with regard to the forest-folk, and confessed that no one knew how the Grimshaws came by their money. Could Bess have been stolen away as a child in gypsy fashion? Were her memories of the sea, the great ship, and the rest mere dawn dreams or the dim evidences of her origin? He glanced at her as she swung along at his side, her strong chin up, her keen eyes watching the darkening woods. He had never seen a Sussex wench bear herself like Mistress Bess.
“Bess,” he said, suddenly.
Her eyes flashed round to him.
“There is something about you that makes me believe that you are not of the Grimshaw stock.”
“Ah—”
“You look as though you had been born to be a great lady, and not Mother Ursula’s niece.”
By the light in Bess’s eyes and the softness about her mouth, the innocent flattery seemed very sweet to her.
“Do you know what made me tell you all this, Mr. Jeffray?” she asked.
“No—”
“Because you are one of the great folk—and because I—am nothing.”
Jeffray missed her meaning for the moment, and then caught a subtle something in the girl’s eyes that made him hold his breath.
“God knows, Bess,” he said, “whether you are a Grimshaw or no. I have as much honor for you as though you were my sister.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jeffray,” she answered.
They had come out upon the heath that smiled in the evening light. The deep azure of the east curved up beyond. The woods stood a rare purple below them, and a few plover83 were flapping and wailing84 over the moor85.
“Bess,” said the man, looking in her face.
She glanced at him and waited.
“You will count me your friend?”
“Ah—I have done so—already.”
“And I want to talk with you again.”
“I can be by the abbey.”
“On Monday—about four?”
“Yes. I can be there.”
They stood looking at each other in silence, as though there were some regret in either heart that the sun had sunk below the hills. It was growing dusk apace. Richard fumbled86 with his bridle and made as though to go. They were standing87 quite close to each other in the dusk, Bess’s eyes fixed88 upon Jeffray’s face, her lips half parted as though she were about to speak.
“I have not told you my dream,” she said, with a little laugh.
“St. Agnes’s dream?”
“Yes. I will tell it to you on Monday.”
Jeffray held out his hand to her. She was stooping a little, and her look suggested that she would have liked Richard to kiss her. The man remembered Miss Jilian Hardacre of a sudden, and he gazed at Bess as though some intangible barrier were between them.
“Good-night.”
“Good-night, Bess. I will think of you—till next time.”
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1
betrothal
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| n. 婚约, 订婚 | |
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betrothed
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| n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
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3
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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6
crunched
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的过去式和过去分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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7
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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onset
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| n.进攻，袭击，开始，突然开始 | |
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inclinations
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| 倾向( inclination的名词复数 )； 倾斜； 爱好； 斜坡 | |
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13
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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14
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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15
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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16
begotten
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| v.为…之生父( beget的过去分词 )；产生，引起 | |
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17
gibes
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| vi.嘲笑，嘲弄（gibe的第三人称单数形式） | |
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18
fables
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| n.寓言( fable的名词复数 )；神话，传说 | |
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19
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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20
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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21
heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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23
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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24
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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25
vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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26
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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27
begets
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| v.为…之生父( beget的第三人称单数 )；产生，引起 | |
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28
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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29
mistiness
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| n.雾，模糊，不清楚 | |
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glisten
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| vi.（光洁或湿润表面等）闪闪发光，闪闪发亮 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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mosaic
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| n./adj.镶嵌细工的，镶嵌工艺品的，嵌花式的 | |
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33
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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34
azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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35
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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primroses
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| n.报春花( primrose的名词复数 )；淡黄色；追求享乐（招至恶果） | |
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38
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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43
weir
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| n.堰堤，拦河坝 | |
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44
monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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45
Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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46
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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47
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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48
rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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49
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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50
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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51
softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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52
petulant
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| adj.性急的，暴躁的 | |
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53
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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54
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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55
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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56
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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58
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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59
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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60
prattle
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| n.闲谈；v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话；发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
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61
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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62
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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63
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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64
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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65
bullying
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| v.恐吓，威逼( bully的现在分词 )；豪；跋扈 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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67
snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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68
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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69
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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70
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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71
beacon
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| n.烽火，（警告用的）闪火灯，灯塔 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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73
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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74
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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75
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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lissome
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| adj.柔软的；敏捷的 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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cypress
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| n.柏树 | |
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dwarf
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| n.矮子，侏儒，矮小的动植物；vt.使…矮小 | |
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sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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peevish
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| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
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plover
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| n.珩，珩科鸟，千鸟 | |
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wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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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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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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