Three days after hearing of Jilian’s illness, Jeffray took his first drive with Wilson, in a light chaise that his father had used when his increasing feebleness had debarred him from the saddle. Dame1 Meg, the most sedate2 mare3 in the stable, was between the traces, with Wilson, who was equal to ruling so amiable4 a lady, in possession of the reins5. They rattled6 through the park and turned down towards Rodenham village, intending to follow the Lewes coach-road as far as the Lane that branched off to Thorney Chapel7, a hamlet lying under the southern slopes of Pevensel. Jeffray, who felt the fog shifting from his brain as they rolled along under the open sky, dilated8 to Wilson on the beauties of the place, insisting that he must paint it, and that he, Richard, would be the purchaser of the picture. He had been striving to persuade the painter to pass the summer at the priory, a kindness that Mr. Dick’s pride found some difficulty in accepting.
As they drove down into Rodenham village several of the women ran out to courtesy to the young squire9 and grin congratulations at him on his recovery. Richard bowed to them with a pleasant color rising in his cheeks. He was a man whose natural desire was to be loved and trusted by his fellows, and any affection that was shown to him inevitably10 kindled11 a kindred feeling in his heart. On the steps of the Wheat Sheaf they saw George Gogg standing12, his hands thrust into his breeches-pockets under his apron13, and a blackened clay pipe between his teeth. Jeffray bade Wilson draw up before the inn while he spoke14 sympathetically to the old man on the loss of his daughter. George Gogg’s face looked flushed and sodden15 as though he had been drinking heavily to drown his thoughts. His blue eyes, that seemed to see everything and understand nothing, stared blankly at the roofing of the village pump.
“Well, sir,” he said, “Parson Sugg tells me as how it is God’s way of doing things, and I reckon it is a comfortable sort of notion that no man can quarrel with. I mus’ say my poor wench was a purty wench, and I reckon she won’t disgrace ’em up above in the matter of looks. Anyway, the angels have got her, sir, for she was a gal16 as never did nobody any harm. Her old father can best say ‘hallelujah,’ and think a bit more of trying to climb up after her, and with Parson Sugg’s leave, sir, I’ll hang on to his coat-tails till I feel a bit surer of my feet. Will it please your honor to take a glass of wine?”
Jeffray shook Gogg’s hand sympathetically, and declined the courtesy.
“Yes, I have the boy, sir, and he’s a stocky lad, though a bit fond of helping18 himself to other folk’s fruit. I am glad to see your honor looking so fit and hearty19.”
“Thank you, Gogg, I am nearly myself again.”
“And I hope, sir, you will be soon saying the same of your good lady—Miss Hardacre.”
Jeffray’s face hardened at the innkeeper’s words; the frank, beaming look died out of the eyes, the angles of the sensitive mouth sank instantly. Even this fat fool’s suavity20 seemed to summon before his eyes all those grim and staring sentimentalities that hemmed21 him in like a crowd of attorneys. George Gogg’s round person vanished with its white-stockinged legs and dirty apron, and in its place Jeffray beheld22 the implacable Sir Peter and Mr. Lot’s red and arrogant23 face. A small crowd of children had gathered about the chaise, their natural impertinence suppressed by a hoped for largesse24 of pence. Jeffray threw some coppers25 among them as Wilson flapped the reins on Dame Meg’s back. The brats26 scrambled28 and fought for the money, one urchin29, a head taller than the rest, concluding the scramble27 by forcing the pennies from the fists of the feebler competitors. Richard’s munificence30 had wrought31 more woe32 than pleasure. There was much blubbering and squealing33, much running together of angry mothers, ready to squabble over their children’s feuds34.
There was an amused glint in Wilson’s eyes as he caught a glimpse of Jeffray’s melancholy36 face.
“See, sir,” he said, “the evils of too promiscuous37 a generosity38. There is about as much evil caused in this world by giving as by grinding. As to that pretty superstition39 with regard to the beautiful innocence40 of childhood, it is about as outrageous41 a myth as ever rose out of the affectations of maternity42. Children are generally worse than animals, sir, since they inherit all the devilish and human cunning of their ancestors.”
Jeffray lay back in the chaise as though he were weary.
“What it means to be an idealist!” he said.
“Live on a desert island and you may succeed,” quoth the painter, with a smile.
The day was one of those magical days in May when the earth seems radiant as for a bridal. A pearly haze43 hung like a great veil of gossamer44, tempering the blue of the cloudless heavens. The wind that came from the east was scarcely strong enough to set the bluebells45 nodding in the woods, or to scatter46 the fading blackthorn blossom from the boughs47. Despite his unlovely recollections of Rodenham village, Jeffray’s spirit kindled as the chaise threaded the green, and he saw the chaffinches darting48 in the hedgerows, and the larks49 shivering and singing in the sun. Over the ploughed lands the crops were thrusting up a myriad50 emerald spears, and already the buttercups were gilding51 the quiet meadows.
They came to the lane that branched off from the high-road, and wound over green hills and plunged52 into forest hollows towards the hamlet of Thorney Chapel. The woods rose up before them with all the deepening mystery of May as Dame Meg drew the chaise between the hedgerows. Dome53 on dome, and height on height, the trees were piled towards the blue. The spirits of spring were spinning everywhere, bronze for the oak, silver and gold for the poplar and the willow54, shimmering55 green for the birch, beech56, and thorn. Yonder a great larchwood rose solemn and stiff beneath a thousand emerald spires57. Dark yews58 and pines stood black amid the lighter59 multitude. About the pillared fore-courts of the forest the gorse was fringed and seamed with gold. Purple orchids60 had speared through their sheaths. Bluebells dusted each lush green knoll61. The broom blazed like living fire.
The lane had turned down from the woods into a shallow valley that ran east and west under the shadows of Pevensel. Meadow-land filled it, with here and there a pine thicket62 isleted amid the green, while astride the road lay the hamlet of Thorney, some half a score timbered cottages huddled63 about a tumble-down inn. To the east of the hamlet, and divided from it by a small stream and a fourteen-acre meadow, stood Thorney Chapel, a squat64, sombre-colored building of stone with an open belfry and a wooden porch.
A few frowsy women, with children hanging about their skirts, were loitering outside the chapel-gate as the chaise came down the hill towards the hamlet. Wilson, who had a keen scent65 for all the human interests of life, however trite66 and humble67 they might seem, prophesied68 that a country wedding was in progress.
“To be sure, May is an unlucky month,” he said, with a smile, “but the sun will shine on the bride; and, confound it, sir, the majority of wedded69 couples might have been tied together in May to judge by the unlucky show they make in after life. See, they seem to be coming out; the brats and the shes are pointing their noses up the path. Let’s stop, sir, and watch.”
The chapel burial-ground was bounded by a low stone-wall, and within two gnarled thorns and a few yews watched over the lichened70 stones that looked distinctly irreverent in their convivial71 attitudes. The bell in the open belfry began to clang vigorously. The women and children crowded round the gate, elbowing one another to enjoy one of the rare and elemental sights life in such a wilderness72 provided.
Wilson had drawn73 the chaise up under one of the thorn-trees that overhung the wall. He tilted74 his hat on to the back of his head, dropped the reins, and wiped his forehead with a red cotton handkerchief.
“This would have been a chance for that knave75 Herrick,” he said, with a wink76. “His muse35 was wanton, but his life was chaste77, so he said, sir, the fox. He should have been a pleasant old pagan, should Robert Herrick. He and Mr. Ovid would have made Miss Venus a lovely pair of twins.”
Richard, leaning forward slightly in the chaise, was watching the folk who were filing out of the chapel porch while the bell creaked to and fro in the belfry overhead. There were half a dozen lads and men with flowers in their hats and green jackets on their backs, chuckling78 and elbowing one another outside the porch. Richard saw the bride come out upon the bridegroom’s arm, a tall, black-haired girl gowned in green, with a garland of flowers on her head, rosemary and ribbons in her bosom79. Her face looked strained and white in the sun, her dark eyes sullen80 and restless, like the eyes of one afraid. Her hand was laid lightly on the sleeve of the bridegroom’s coat, and she seemed to hold apart from him, as though there were more hate in her heart than love.
There was a shout from the lads and men.
“The garters—the garters—”
It was a coarse custom in some country-sides that the oafs should scramble for the bride’s ribbons. One lad, bolder than the rest, seized hold of the bride’s gown, and began to fumble81 about her ankles. The others followed him, and amid much coarse laughter, struggling and scrambling82, the garters were torn from below the bride’s knees. She stood motionless the while, her face flushing crimson83, her teeth biting into her lips.
Jeffray’s face was like the face of a man undergoing torture. It was Bess—Bess of the Woods, mocked by this ribaldry, Bess looking miserable84 and fierce as any Cassandra wedded against her will. Richard’s eyes were fixed85 on her face as she moved on down the path beside Dan—Dan dressed out in his best clothes, rosemary in his button-hole and ribbons in his hat. Bess held her head very high, looking neither to the right hand nor the left. A few children threw flowers at her as she passed, but she seemed neither to notice them nor the stupid, curious faces at the gate. Limping behind her, bareheaded, came Isaac Grimshaw, his white hair shining in the sun. Solomon and his sons followed with old Ursula and the rest of the forest-folk.
At the gate Black Dan turned suddenly, clawed Bess’s waist, and put up his great, hairy face, sweating with satisfaction, for the bride’s kiss. What followed seemed swift as the flash of a swallow across the calm surface of a pond. Jeffray, looking with terrible earnestness at Bess, saw her face flush scarlet86 and a fierce flare87 of hate stream up into her eyes. She twisted herself free of Dan of a sudden, and swept him a blow with the back of the hand across the mouth.
There was a loud burst of laughter from the crowd at the gate. Dan’s face darkened, as though he were minded to return the blow had not Isaac limped in between them and cursed Bess in an undertone. Old Ursula was beginning to snivel, and at the same instant Bess’s eyes fell on the chaise waiting under the shadow of the thorn. She stood rigid88, staring at Jeffray, her mouth working, her bosom rising and falling. For the moment the look in her eyes was as the look of a hunted thing ready to run for shelter to Jeffray’s feet. Then the soul seemed to ebb89 out of her again. She hung her head as though ruined and ashamed, and swayed out of the gate, her hands hanging limply at her sides. Dan followed her, grinning and slouching his heavy shoulders. Isaac, Ursula, and the rest crowded behind them along the road.
Wilson, who had been utterly90 unconscious of Jeffray at his elbow, laughed cynically91, and watched Bess, who was thrusting aside the arm Dan offered her.
“Zounds!” he said, “the wench has a temper; she looks too fine to be broken by that boor92. I never saw a woman seem less willing. Why, Richard, lad, what’s amiss with you, eh?”
Jeffray was lying back in the chaise, white as linen93, with his eyes half closed. He had bitten his lower lip till the red blood showed in contrast to his gray, strained face.
“I am faint, Dick, nothing more.”
“Let me drive you to the inn and get some brandy.”
“No, no, turn back home. I shall be better with the east wind blowing in my face.”
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1
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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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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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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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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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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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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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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suavity
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| n.温和；殷勤 | |
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hemmed
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| 缝…的褶边( hem的过去式和过去分词 )； 包围 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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largesse
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| n.慷慨援助，施舍 | |
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coppers
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| 铜( copper的名词复数 )； 铜币 | |
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brats
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| n.调皮捣蛋的孩子( brat的名词复数 ) | |
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scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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urchin
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| n.顽童；海胆 | |
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munificence
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| n.宽宏大量，慷慨给与 | |
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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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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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squealing
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| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的现在分词 ) | |
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feuds
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| n.长期不和，世仇( feud的名词复数 ) | |
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muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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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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promiscuous
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| adj.杂乱的，随便的 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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maternity
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| n.母性，母道，妇产科病房；adj.孕妇的，母性的 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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gossamer
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| n.薄纱，游丝 | |
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bluebells
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| n.圆叶风铃草( bluebell的名词复数 ) | |
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scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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larks
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| n.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的名词复数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的第三人称单数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
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50
myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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51
gilding
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| n.贴金箔，镀金 | |
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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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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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beech
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| n.山毛榉；adj.山毛榉的 | |
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spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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yews
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| n.紫杉( yew的名词复数 ) | |
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lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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orchids
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| n.兰花( orchid的名词复数 ) | |
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knoll
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| n.小山，小丘 | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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63
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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trite
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| adj.陈腐的 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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prophesied
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wedded
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| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
lichened
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| adj.长满地衣的，长青苔的 | |
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convivial
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| adj.狂欢的，欢乐的 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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75
knave
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| n.流氓；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
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76
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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77
chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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78
chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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79
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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80
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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81
fumble
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| vi.笨拙地用手摸、弄、接等，摸索 | |
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82
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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83
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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84
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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85
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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86
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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87
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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88
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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89
ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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90
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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91
cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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92
boor
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| n.举止粗野的人；乡下佬 | |
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93
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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