How steadfastly1 he fix’d his eyes on me —
His dark eyes shining through forgotten tears —
Then stretch’d his little arms, and call’d me mother!
What could I do? I took the bantling home —
I could not tell the imp2 he had no mother.
Count Basil.
When Warden3 had left the apartment, the Lady of Avenel gave way to the feelings of tenderness which the sight of the boy, his sudden danger, and his recent escape, had inspired; and no longer awed4 by the sternness, as she deemed it, of the preacher, heaped with caresses5 the lovely and interesting child. He was now, in some measure, recovered from the consequences of his accident, and received passively, though not without wonder, the tokens of kindness with which he was thus loaded. The face of the lady was strange to him, and her dress different and far more sumptuous7 than any he remembered. But the boy was naturally of an undaunted temper; and indeed children are generally acute physiognomists, and not only pleased by that which is beautiful in itself, but peculiarly quick in distinguishing and replying to the attentions of those who really love them. If they see a person in company, though a perfect stranger, who is by nature fond of children, the little imps8 seem to discover it by a sort of free-masonry, while the awkward attempts of those who make advances to them for the purpose of recommending themselves to the parents, usually fail in attracting their reciprocal attention. The little boy, therefore, appeared in some degree sensible of the lady’s caresses, and it was with difficulty she withdrew herself from his pillow, to afford him leisure for necessary repose9.
“To whom belongs our little rescued varlet?” was the first question which the Lady of Avenel put to her handmaiden Lilias, when they had retired11 to the hall.
“To an old woman in the hamlet,” said Lilias, “who is even now come so far as the porter’s lodge12 to inquire concerning his safety. Is it your pleasure that she be admitted?”
“Is it my pleasure?” said the Lady of Avenel, echoing the question with a strong accent of displeasure and surprise; “can you make any doubt of it? What woman but must pity the agony of the mother, whose heart is throbbing13 for the safety of a child so lovely!”
“Nay, but, madam,” said Lilias, “this woman is too old to be the mother of the child; I rather think she must be his grandmother, or some more distant relation.”
“Be she who she will, Lilias,” replied the Lady, “she must have an aching heart while the safety of a creature so lovely is uncertain. Go instantly and bring her hither. Besides, I would willingly learn something concerning his birth.”
Lilias left the hall, and presently afterwards returned, ushering14 in a tall female very poorly dressed, yet with more pretension15 to decency16 and cleanliness than was usually combined with such coarse garments. The Lady of Avenel knew her figure the instant she presented herself. It was the fashion of the family, that upon every Sabbath, and on two evenings in the week besides, Henry Warden preached or lectured in the chapel17 at the castle. The extension of the Protestant faith was, upon principle, as well as in good policy, a primary object with the Knight18 of Avenel. The inhabitants of the village were therefore invited to attend upon the instructions of Henry Warden, and many of them were speedily won to the doctrine19 which their master and protector approved. These sermons, homilies, and lectures, had made a great impression on the mind of the Abbot Eustace, or Eustatius, and were a sufficient spur to the severity and sharpness of his controversy20 with his old fellow-collegiate; and, ere Queen Mary was dethroned, and while the Catholics still had considerable authority in the Border provinces, he more than once threatened to levy21 his vassals22, and assail23 and level with the earth that stronghold of heresy24 the Castle of Avenel. But notwithstanding the Abbot’s impotent resentment25, and notwithstanding also the disinclination of the country to favour the new religion, Henry Warden proceeded without remission in his labours, and made weekly converts from the faith of Rome to that of the reformed church. Amongst those who gave most earnest and constant attendance on his ministry26, was the aged27 woman, whose form, tall, and otherwise too remarkable28 to be forgotten, the Lady had of late observed frequently as being conspicuous29 among the little audience. She had indeed more than once desired to know who that stately-looking woman was, whose appearance was so much above the poverty of her vestments. But the reply had always been, that she was an Englishwoman, who was tarrying for a season at the hamlet, and that no one knew more concerning her. She now asked her after her name and birth.
“Magdalen Graeme is my name,” said the woman; “I come of the Graemes of Heathergill, in Nicol Forest, 2 a people of ancient blood.”
“And what make you,” continued the Lady, “so far distant from your home?”
“I have no home,” said Magdalen Graeme, “it was burnt by your Border-riders — my husband and my son were slain30 — there is not a drop’s blood left in the veins31 of any one which is of kin6 to mine.”
“That is no uncommon32 fate in these wild times, and in this unsettled land,” said the Lady; “the English hands have been as deeply dyed in our blood as ever those of Scotsmen have been in yours.”
“You have right to say it, Lady,” answered Magdalen Graeme; “for men tell of a time when this castle was not strong enough to save your father’s life, or to afford your mother and her infant a place of refuge. And why ask ye me, then, wherefore I dwell not in mine own home, and with mine own people?”
“It was indeed an idle question,” answered the Lady, “where misery33 so often makes wanderers; but wherefore take refuge in a hostile country?”
“My neighbours were Popish and mass-mongers,” said the old woman; “it has pleased Heaven to give me a clearer sight of the gospel, and I have tarried here to enjoy the ministry of that worthy34 man Henry Warden, who, to the praise and comfort of many, teacheth the Evangel in truth and in sincerity35.”
“Are you poor?” again demanded the Lady of Avenel.
“You hear me ask alms of no one,” answered the Englishwoman.
Here there was a pause. The manner of the woman was, if not disrespectful, at least much less than gracious; and she appeared to give no encouragement to farther communication. The Lady of Avenel renewed the conversation on a different topic.
“You have heard of the danger in which your boy has been placed?”
“I have, Lady, and how by an especial providence36 he was rescued from death. May Heaven make him thankful, and me!”
“What relation do you bear to him?”
“I am his grandmother, lady, if it so please you; the only relation he hath left upon earth to take charge of him.”
“The burden of his maintenance must necessarily be grievous to you in your deserted37 situation?” pursued the Lady.
“I have complained of it to no one,” said Magdalen Graeme, with the same unmoved, dry, and unconcerned tone of voice, in which she had answered all the former questions.
“If,” said the Lady of Avenel, “your grandchild could be received into a noble family, would it not advantage both him and you?”
“Received into a noble family!” said the old woman, drawing herself up, and bending her brows until her forehead was wrinkled into a frown of unusual severity; “and for what purpose, I pray you?— to be my lady’s page, or my lord’s jackman, to eat broken victuals38, and contend with other menials for the remnants of the master’s meal? Would you have him to fan the flies from my lady’s face while she sleeps, to carry her train while she walks, to hand her trencher when she feeds, to ride before her on horseback, to walk after her on foot, to sing when she lists, and to be silent when she bids?— a very weathercock, which, though furnished in appearance with wings and plumage, cannot soar into the air — cannot fly from the spot where it is perched, but receives all its impulse, and performs all its revolutions, obedient to the changeful breath of a vain woman? When the eagle of Helvellyn perches39 on the tower of Lanercost, and turns and changes his place to show how the wind sits, Roland Graeme shall be what you would make him.”
The woman spoke40 with a rapidity and vehemence41 which seemed to have in it a touch of insanity42; and a sudden sense of the danger to which the child must necessarily be exposed in the charge of such a keeper, increased the Lady’s desire to keep him in the castle if possible.
“You mistake me, dame43,” she said, addressing the old woman in a soothing44 manner; “I do not wish your boy to be in attendance on myself, but upon the good knight my husband. Were he himself the son of a belted earl, he could not better be trained to arms, and all that befits a gentleman, than by the instructions and discipline of Sir Halbert Glendinning.”
“Ay,” answered the old woman, in the same style of bitter irony45, “I know the wages of that service;— a curse when the corslet is not sufficiently46 brightened,— a blow when the girth is not tightly drawn,— to be beaten because the hounds are at fault,— to be reviled47 because the foray is unsuccessful,— to stain his hands for the master’s bidding in the blood alike of beast and of man,— to be a butcher of harmless deer, a murderer and defacer of God’s own image, not at his own pleasure, but at that of his lord,— to live a brawling48 ruffian, and a common stabber — exposed to heat, to cold, to want of food, to all the privations of an anchoret, not for the love of God, but for the service of Satan,— to die by the gibbet, or in some obscure skirmish,— to sleep out his brief life in carnal security, and to awake in the eternal fire, which is never quenched49.”
“Nay,” said the Lady of Avenel, “but to such unhallowed course of life your grandson will not be here exposed. My husband is just and kind to those who live under his banner; and you yourself well know, that youth have here a strict as well as a good preceptor in the person of our chaplain.”
The old woman appeared to pause.
“You have named,” she said, “the only circumstance which can move me. I must soon onward50, the vision has said it — I must not tarry in the same spot — I must on,— I must on, it is my weird51.— Swear, then, that you will protect the boy as if he were your own, until I return hither and claim him, and I will consent for a space to part with him. But especially swear, he shall not lack the instruction of the godly man who hath placed the gospel-truth high above those idolatrous shavelings, the monks52 and friars.”
“Be satisfied, dame,” said the Lady of Avenel; “the boy shall have as much care as if he were born of my own blood. Will you see him now?”
“No,” answered the old woman sternly; “to part is enough. I go forth53 on my own mission. I will not soften54 my heart by useless tears and wailings, as one that is not called to a duty.”
“Will you not accept of something to aid you in your pilgrimage?” said the Lady of Avenel, putting into her hands two crowns of the sun. The old woman flung them down on the table.
“Am I of the race of Cain,” she said, “proud Lady, that you offer me gold in exchange for my own flesh and blood?”
“I had no such meaning,” said the Lady, gently; “nor am I the proud woman you term me. Alas55! my own fortunes might have taught me humility56, even had it not been born with me.”
The old woman seemed somewhat to relax her tone of severity.
“You are of gentle blood,” she said, “else we had not parleyed thus long together.— You are of gentle blood, and to such,” she added, drawing up her tall form as she spoke, “pride is as graceful57 as is the plume58 upon the bonnet59. But for these pieces of gold, lady, you must needs resume them. I need not money. I am well provided; and I may not care for myself, nor think how, or by whom, I shall be sustained. Farewell, and keep your word. Cause your gates to be opened, and your bridges to be lowered. I will set forward this very night. When I come again, I will demand from you a strict account, for I have left with you the jewel of my life! Sleep will visit me but in snatches, food will not refresh me, rest will not restore my strength, until I see Roland Graeme. Once more, farewell.”
“Make your obeisance60, dame,” said Lilias to Magdalen Graeme, as she retired, “make your obeisance to her ladyship, and thank her for her goodness, as is but fitting and right.”
The old woman turned short around on the officious waiting-maid. “Let her make her obeisance to me then, and I will return it. Why should I bend to her?— is it because her kirtle is of silk, and mine of blue lockeram?— Go to, my lady’s waiting-woman. Know that the rank of the man rates that of the wife, and that she who marries a churl’s son, were she a king’s daughter, is but a peasant’s bride.”
Lilias was about to reply in great indignation, but her mistress imposed silence on her, and commanded that the old woman should be safely conducted to the mainland.
“Conduct her safe!” exclaimed the incensed61 waiting-woman, while Magdalen Graeme left the apartment; “I say, duck her in the loch, and then we will see whether she is witch or not, as every body in the village of Lochside will say and swear. I marvel62 your ladyship could bear so long with her insolence63.” But the commands of the Lady were obeyed, and the old dame, dismissed from the castle, was committed to her fortune. She kept her word, and did not long abide64 in that place, leaving the hamlet on the very night succeeding the interview, and wandering no one asked whither. The Lady of Avenel inquired under what circumstances she had appeared among them, but could only learn that she was believed to be the widow of some man of consequence among the Graemes who then inhabited the Debateable Land, a name given to a certain portion of territory which was the frequent subject of dispute betwixt Scotland and England — that she had suffered great wrong in some of the frequent forays by which that unfortunate district was wasted, and had been driven from her dwelling-place. She had arrived in the hamlet no one knew for what purpose, and was held by some to be a witch, by others a zealous65 Protestant, and by others again a Catholic devotee. Her language was mysterious, and her manners repulsive66; and all that could be collected from her conversation seemed to imply that she was under the influence either of a spell or of a vow,— there was no saying which, since she talked as one who acted under a powerful and external agency.
Such were the particulars which the Lady’s inquiries67 were able to collect concerning Magdalen Graeme, being far too meagre and contradictory68 to authorize69 any satisfactory deduction70. In truth, the miseries71 of the time, and the various turns of fate incidental to a frontier country, were perpetually chasing from their habitations those who had not the means of defence or protection. These wanderers in the land were too often seen, to excite much attention or sympathy. They received the cold relief which was extorted72 by general feelings of humanity; a little excited in some breasts, and perhaps rather chilled in others, by the recollection that they who gave the charity today might themselves want it tomorrow. Magdalen Graeme, therefore, came and departed like a shadow from the neighbourhood of Avenel Castle.
The boy whom Providence, as she thought, had thus strangely placed under her care, was at once established a favourite with the Lady of the castle. How could it be otherwise? He became the object of those affectionate feelings, which, finding formerly73 no object on which to expand themselves, had increased the gloom of the castle, and imbittered the solitude74 of its mistress. To teach him reading and writing as far as her skill went, to attend to his childish comforts, to watch his boyish sports, became the Lady’s favourite amusement. In her circumstances, where the ear only heard the lowing of the cattle from the distant hills, or the heavy step of the warder as he walked upon his post, or the half-envied laugh of her maiden10 as she turned her wheel, the appearance of the blooming and beautiful boy gave an interest which can hardly be conceived by those who live amid gayer and busier scenes. Young Roland was to the Lady of Avenel what the flower, which occupies the window of some solitary75 captive, is to the poor wight by whom it is nursed and cultivated,— something which at once excited and repaid her care; and in giving the boy her affection, she felt, as it were, grateful to him for releasing her from the state of dull apathy76 in which she had usually found herself during the absence of Sir Halbert Glendinning.
But even the charms of this blooming favourite were unable to chase the recurring77 apprehensions78 which arose from her husband’s procrastinated79 return. Soon after Roland Graeme became a resident at the castle, a groom80, despatched by Sir Halbert, brought tidings that business still delayed the Knight at the Court of Holyrood. The more distant period which the messenger had assigned for his master’s arrival at length glided81 away, summer melted into autumn, and autumn was about to give place to winter, and yet he came not.
收听单词发音 |
1
steadfastly
|
|
| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
imp
|
|
| n.顽童 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
warden
|
|
| n.监察员，监狱长，看守人，监护人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
awed
|
|
| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
caresses
|
|
| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
kin
|
|
| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
sumptuous
|
|
| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
imps
|
|
| n.（故事中的）小恶魔( imp的名词复数 )；小魔鬼；小淘气；顽童 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
repose
|
|
| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
throbbing
|
|
| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
ushering
|
|
| v.引，领，陪同( usher的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
pretension
|
|
| n.要求；自命，自称；自负 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
decency
|
|
| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
chapel
|
|
| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
knight
|
|
| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
doctrine
|
|
| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
controversy
|
|
| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
levy
|
|
| n.征收税或其他款项，征收额 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
vassals
|
|
| n.奴仆( vassal的名词复数 )；（封建时代）诸侯；从属者；下属 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
assail
|
|
| v.猛烈攻击，抨击，痛斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
heresy
|
|
| n.异端邪说；异教 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
resentment
|
|
| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
ministry
|
|
| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
aged
|
|
| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
conspicuous
|
|
| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
slain
|
|
| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
veins
|
|
| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
uncommon
|
|
| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
sincerity
|
|
| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
providence
|
|
| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
victuals
|
|
| n.食物；食品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
perches
|
|
| 栖息处( perch的名词复数 )； 栖枝； 高处； 鲈鱼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
vehemence
|
|
| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
insanity
|
|
| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
dame
|
|
| n.女士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
irony
|
|
| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
reviled
|
|
| v.辱骂，痛斥( revile的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
brawling
|
|
| n.争吵，喧嚷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
quenched
|
|
| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
onward
|
|
| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
weird
|
|
| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
monks
|
|
| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
soften
|
|
| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
humility
|
|
| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
graceful
|
|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
plume
|
|
| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
bonnet
|
|
| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
obeisance
|
|
| n.鞠躬，敬礼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
incensed
|
|
| 盛怒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
marvel
|
|
| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
insolence
|
|
| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
abide
|
|
| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
zealous
|
|
| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
repulsive
|
|
| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
inquiries
|
|
| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
contradictory
|
|
| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
authorize
|
|
| v.授权，委任；批准，认可 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
deduction
|
|
| n.减除，扣除，减除额；推论，推理，演绎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
miseries
|
|
| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
extorted
|
|
| v.敲诈( extort的过去式和过去分词 )；曲解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
formerly
|
|
| adv.从前，以前 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
apathy
|
|
| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
recurring
|
|
| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
apprehensions
|
|
| 疑惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
procrastinated
|
|
| 拖延，耽搁( procrastinate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
groom
|
|
| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
glided
|
|
| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |