Lewisham was not quite clear what course he meant to take in the high enterprise of foiling Lagune, and indeed he was anything but clear about the entire situation. His logical processes, his emotions and his imagination seemed playing some sort of snatching game with his will. Enormous things hung imminent2, but it worked out to this, that he walked home with Ethel night after night for--to be exact--seven-and-sixty nights. Every week night through November and December, save once, when he had to go into the far East to buy himself an overcoat, he was waiting to walk with her home. A curious, inconclusive affair, that walk, to which he came nightly full of vague longings3, and which ended invariably under an odd shadow of disappointment. It began outside Lagune's most punctually at five, and ended--mysteriously--at the corner of a side road in Clapham, a road of little yellow houses with sunk basements and tawdry decorations of stone. Up that road she vanished night after night, into a grey mist and the shadow beyond a feeble yellow gas-lamp, and he would watch her vanish, and then sigh and turn back towards his lodgings4.
They talked of this and that, their little superficial ideas about themselves, and of their circumstances and tastes, and always there was something, something that was with them unspoken, unacknowledged, which made all these things unreal and insincere.
Yet out of their talk he began to form vague ideas of the home from which she came. There was, of course, no servant, and the mother was something meandering6, furtive7, tearful in the face of troubles. Sometimes of an afternoon or evening she grew garrulous8. "Mother does talk so--sometimes." She rarely went out of doors. Chaffery always rose late, and would sometimes go away for days together. He was mean; he allowed only a weekly twenty-five shillings for housekeeping, and sometimes things grew unsatisfactory at the week-end. There seemed to be little sympathy between mother and daughter; the widow had been flighty in a dingy9 fashion, and her marriage with her chief lodger10 Chaffery had led to unforgettable sayings. It was to facilitate this marriage that Ethel had been sent to Whortley, so that was counted a mitigated11 evil. But these were far-off things, remote and unreal down the long, ill-lit vista12 of the suburban13 street which swallowed up Ethel nightly. The walk, her warmth and light and motion close to him, her clear little voice, and the touch of her hand; that was reality.
The shadow of Chaffery and his deceptions14 lay indeed across all these things, sometimes faint, sometimes dark and present. Then Lewisham became insistent15, his sentimental16 memories ceased, and he asked questions that verged17 on gulfs of doubt. Had she ever "helped"? She had not, she declared. Then she added that twice at home she had "sat down" to complete the circle. She would never help again. That she promised--if it needed promising19. There had already been dreadful trouble at home about the exposure at Lagune's. Her mother had sided with her stepfather and joined in blaming her. But was she to blame?
"Of _course_ you were not to blame," said Lewisham. Lagune, he learnt, had been unhappy and restless for the three days after the _seance_--indulging in wearisome monologue--with Ethel as sole auditor20 (at twenty-one shillings a week). Then he had decided21 to give Chaffery a sound lecture on his disastrous22 dishonesty. But it was Chaffery gave the lecture. Smithers, had he only known it, had been overthrown23 by a better brain than Lagune's, albeit24 it spoke5 through Lagune's treble.
Ethel did not like talking of Chaffery and these other things. "If you knew how sweet it was to forget it all," she would say; "to be just us two together for a little while." And, "What good _does_ it do to keep on?" when Lewisham was pressing. Lewisham wanted very much to keep on at times, but the good of it was a little hard to demonstrate. So his knowledge of the situation remained imperfect and the weeks drifted by.
Wonderfully varied26 were those seven-and-sixty nights, as he came to remember in after life. There were nights of damp and drizzle27, and then thick fogs, beautiful, isolating28, grey-white veils, turning every yard of pavement into a private room. Grand indeed were these fogs, things to rejoice at mightily29, since then it was no longer a thing for public scorn when two young people hurried along arm in arm, and one could do a thousand impudent30, significant things with varying pressure and the fondling of a little hand (a hand in a greatly mended glove of cheap kid). Then indeed one seemed to be nearer that elusive31 something that threaded it all together. And the dangers of the street corners, the horses looming32 up suddenly out of the dark, the carters with lanterns at their horses' heads, the street lamps, blurred33, smoky orange at one's nearest, and vanishing at twenty yards into dim haze34, seemed to accentuate35 the infinite need of protection on the part of a delicate young lady who had already traversed three winters of fogs, thornily36 alone. Moreover, one could come right down the quiet street where she lived, halfway37 to the steps of her house, with a delightful38 sense of enterprise.
The fogs passed all too soon into a hard frost, into nights of starlight and presently moonlight, when the lamps looked hard, flashing like rows of yellow gems39, and their reflections and the glare of the shop windows were sharp and frosty, and even the stars hard and bright, snapping noiselessly (if one may say so) instead of twinkling. A jacket trimmed with imitation Astrachan replaced Ethel's lighter40 coat, and a round cap of Astrachan her hat, and her eyes shone hard and bright, and her forehead was broad and white beneath it. It was exhilarating, but one got home too soon, and so the way from Chelsea to Clapham was lengthened41, first into a loop of side streets, and then when the first pulverulent snows told that Christmas was at hand, into a new loop down King's Road, and once even through the Brompton Road and Sloane Street, where the shops were full of decorations and entertaining things.
And, under circumstances of infinite gravity, Mr. Lewisham secretly spent three-and-twenty shillings out of the vestiges42 of that hundred pounds, and bought Ethel a little gold ring set with pearls. With that there must needs be a ceremonial, and on the verge18 of the snowy, foggy Common she took off her glove and the ring was placed on her finger. Whereupon he was moved to kiss her--on the frost-pink knuckle43 next to an inky nail.
"It's silly of us," she said. "What can we do?--ever?"
"You wait." he said, and his tone was full of vague promises.
Afterwards he thought over those promises, and another evening went into the matter more fully25, telling her of all the brilliant things that he held it was possible for a South Kensington student to do and be--of headmasterships, northern science schools, inspectorships, demonstratorships, yea, even professorships. And then, and then--To all of which she lent a willing and incredulous ear, finding in that dreaming a quality of fear as well as delight.
The putting on of the pearl-set ring was mere44 ceremonial, of course; she could not wear it either at Lagune's or at home, so instead she threaded it on a little white satin ribbon and wore it round her neck--"next her heart." He thought of it there warm "next her heart."
When he had bought the ring he had meant to save it for Christmas before he gave it to her. But the desire to see her pleasure had been too strong for him.
Christmas Eve, I know not by what deceit on her part, these young people spent together all day. Lagune was down with a touch of bronchitis and had given his typewriter a holiday. Perhaps she forgot to mention it at home. The Royal College was in vacation and Lewisham was free. He declined the plumber's invitation; "work" kept him in London, he said, though it meant a pound or more of added expenditure45. These absurd young people walked sixteen miles that Christmas Eve, and parted warm and glowing. There had been a hard frost and a little snow, the sky was a colourless grey, icicles hung from the arms of the street lamps, and the pavements were patterned out with frond-like forms that were trodden into slides as the day grew older. The Thames they knew was a wonderful sight, but that they kept until last. They went first along the Brompton Road....
And it is well that you should have the picture of them right: Lewisham in the ready-made overcoat, blue cloth and velvet46 collar, dirty tan gloves, red tie, and bowler47 hat; and Ethel in a two-year-old jacket and hat of curly Astrachan; both pink-cheeked from the keen air, shyly arm in arm occasionally, and very alert to miss no possible spectacle. The shops were varied and interesting along the Brompton Road, but nothing to compare with Piccadilly. There were windows in Piccadilly so full of costly48 little things, it took fifteen minutes to get them done, card shops, drapers' shops full of foolish, entertaining attractions. Lewisham, in spite of his old animosities, forgot to be severe on the Shopping Class, Ethel was so vastly entertained by all these pretty follies49.
Then up Regent Street by the place where the sham1 diamonds are, and the place where the girls display their long hair, and the place where the little chickens run about in the window, and so into Oxford50 Street, Holborn, Ludgate Hill, St. Paul's Churchyard, to Leadenhall, and the markets where turkeys, geese, ducklings, and chickens--turkeys predominant, however--hang in rows of a thousand at a time.
"I _must_ buy you something," said Lewisham, resuming a topic.
"No, no," said Ethel, with her eye down a vista of innumerable birds.
"But I _must_," said Lewisham. "You had better choose it, or I shall get something wrong." His mind ran on brooches and clasps.
"You mustn't waste your money, and besides, I have that ring."
But Lewisham insisted.
"Then--if you must--I am starving. Buy me something to eat."
An immense and memorable51 joke. Lewisham plunged52 recklessly--orientally--into an awe-inspiring place with mitred napkins. They lunched on cutlets--stripped the cutlets to the bone--and little crisp brown potatoes, and they drank between them a whole half bottle of--some white wine or other, Lewisham selected in an off-hand way from the list. Neither of them had ever taken wine at a meal before. One-and-ninepence it cost him, Sir, and the name of it was Capri! It was really very passable Capri--a manufactured product, no doubt, but warming and aromatic53. Ethel was aghast at his magnificence and drank a glass and a half.
Then, very warm and comfortable, they went down by the Tower, and the Tower Bridge with its crest54 of snow, huge pendant icicles, and the ice blocks choked in its side arches, was seasonable seeing. And as they had had enough of shops and crowds they set off resolutely55 along the desolate56 Embankment homeward.
But indeed the Thames was a wonderful sight that year! ice-fringed along either shore, and with drift-ice in the middle reflecting a luminous57 scarlet58 from the broad red setting sun, and moving steadily59, incessantly60 seaward. A swarm61 of mewing gulls62 went to and fro, and with them mingled63 pigeons and crows. The buildings on the Surrey side were dim and grey and very mysterious, the moored64, ice-blocked barges65 silent and deserted66, and here and there a lit window shone warm. The sun sank right out of sight into a bank of blue, and the Surrey side dissolved in mist save for a few insoluble, spots of yellow light, that presently became many. And after our lovers had come under Charing67 Cross Bridge the Houses of Parliament rose before them at the end of a great crescent of golden lamps, blue and faint, halfway between the earth and sky. And the clock on the Tower was like a November sun.
It was a day without a flaw, or at most but the slightest speck68. And that only came at the very end.
"Good-bye, dear," she said. "I have been very happy to-day."
His face came very close to hers. "Good-bye," he said, pressing her hand and looking into her eyes.
She glanced round, she drew nearer to him. "_Dearest_ one," she whispered very softly, and then, "Good-bye."
Suddenly he became unaccountably petulant69, he dropped her hand. "It's always like this. We are happy. _I_ am happy. And then--then you are taken away...."
There was a silence of mute interrogations.
"Dear," she whispered, "we must wait."
A moment's pause. "_Wait_!" he said, and broke off. He hesitated. "Good-bye," he said as though he was snapping a thread that held them together.
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sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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longings
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| 渴望，盼望( longing的名词复数 ) | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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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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meandering
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| 蜿蜒的河流，漫步，聊天 | |
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furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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lodger
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| n.寄宿人，房客 | |
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mitigated
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| v.减轻，缓和( mitigate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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deceptions
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| 欺骗( deception的名词复数 )； 骗术，诡计 | |
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insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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verged
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| 接近，逼近（verge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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auditor
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| n.审计员，旁听着 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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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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overthrown
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| adj. 打翻的，推倒的，倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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albeit
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| conj.即使；纵使；虽然 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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isolating
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| adj.孤立的，绝缘的v.使隔离( isolate的现在分词 )；将…剔出（以便看清和单独处理）；使（某物质、细胞等）分离；使离析 | |
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mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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impudent
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| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
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elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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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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accentuate
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| v.着重，强调 | |
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thornily
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| 棘手 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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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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lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vestiges
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| 残余部分( vestige的名词复数 )； 遗迹； 痕迹； 毫不 | |
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knuckle
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| n.指节；vi.开始努力工作；屈服，认输 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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expenditure
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| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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bowler
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| n.打保龄球的人，（板球的）投（球）手 | |
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costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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52
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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aromatic
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| adj.芳香的，有香味的 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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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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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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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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moored
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| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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barges
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| 驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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charing
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| n.炭化v.把…烧成炭，把…烧焦( char的现在分词 )；烧成炭，烧焦；做杂役女佣 | |
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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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petulant
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| adj.性急的，暴躁的 | |
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