T happened that Mrs. Pomfret had had a slight quarrel with Mrs. Best, the housekeeper1, on this Thursday morning — a fact which had two consequences highly convenient to Hetty. It caused Mrs. Pomfret to have tea sent up to her own room, and it inspired that exemplary lady’s maid with so lively a recollection of former passages in Mrs. Best’s conduct, and of dialogues in which Mrs. Best had decidedly the inferiority as an interlocutor with Mrs. Pomfret, that Hetty required no more presence of mind than was demanded for using her needle, and throwing in an occasional “yes” or “no.” She would have wanted to put on her hat earlier than usual; only she had told Captain Donnithorne that she usually set out about eight o’clock, and if he SHOULD go to the Grove2 again expecting to see her, and she should be gone! Would he come? Her little butterfly soul fluttered incessantly3 between memory and dubious4 expectation. At last the minute-hand of the old-fashioned brazen-faced timepiece was on the last quarter to eight, and there was every reason for its being time to get ready for departure. Even Mrs. Pomfret’s preoccupied5 mind did not prevent her from noticing what looked like a new flush of beauty in the little thing as she tied on her hat before the looking-glass.
“That child gets prettier and prettier every day, I do believe,” was her inward comment. “The more’s the pity. She’ll get neither a place nor a husband any the sooner for it. Sober well-to-do men don’t like such pretty wives. When I was a girl, I was more admired than if I had been so very pretty. However, she’s reason to be grateful to me for teaching her something to get her bread with, better than farm-house work. They always told me I was good-natured — and that’s the truth, and to my hurt too, else there’s them in this house that wouldn’t be here now to lord it over me in the housekeeper’s room.”
Hetty walked hastily across the short space of pleasure-ground which she had to traverse, dreading7 to meet Mr. Craig, to whom she could hardly have spoken civilly. How relieved she was when she had got safely under the oaks and among the fern of the Chase! Even then she was as ready to be startled as the deer that leaped away at her approach. She thought nothing of the evening light that lay gently in the grassy8 alleys9 between the fern, and made the beauty of their living green more visible than it had been in the overpowering flood of noon: she thought of nothing that was present. She only saw something that was possible: Mr. Arthur Donnithorne coming to meet her again along the Fir-tree Grove. That was the foreground of Hetty’s picture; behind it lay a bright hazy10 something — days that were not to be as the other days of her life had been. It was as if she had been wooed by a river-god, who might any time take her to his wondrous11 halls below a watery12 heaven. There was no knowing what would come, since this strange entrancing delight had come. If a chest full of lace and satin and jewels had been sent her from some unknown source, how could she but have thought that her whole lot was going to change, and that tomorrow some still more bewildering joy would befall her? Hetty had never read a novel; if she had ever seen one, I think the words would have been too hard for her; how then could she find a shape for her expectations? They were as formless as the sweet languid odours of the garden at the Chase, which had floated past her as she walked by the gate.
She is at another gate now — that leading into Fir-tree Grove. She enters the wood, where it is already twilight13, and at every step she takes, the fear at her heart becomes colder. If he should not come! Oh, how dreary14 it was — the thought of going out at the other end of the wood, into the unsheltered road, without having seen him. She reaches the first turning towards the Hermitage, walking slowly — he is not there. She hates the leveret that runs across the path; she hates everything that is not what she longs for. She walks on, happy whenever she is coming to a bend in the road, for perhaps he is behind it. No. She is beginning to cry: her heart has swelled15 so, the tears stand in her eyes; she gives one great sob6, while the corners of her mouth quiver, and the tears roll down.
She doesn’t know that there is another turning to the Hermitage, that she is close against it, and that Arthur Donnithorne is only a few yards from her, full of one thought, and a thought of which she only is the object. He is going to see Hetty again: that is the longing16 which has been growing through the last three hours to a feverish17 thirst. Not, of course, to speak in the caressing18 way into which he had unguardedly fallen before dinner, but to set things right with her by a kindness which would have the air of friendly civility, and prevent her from running away with wrong notions about their mutual19 relation.
If Hetty had known he was there, she would not have cried; and it would have been better, for then Arthur would perhaps have behaved as wisely as he had intended. As it was, she started when he appeared at the end of the side-alley, and looked up at him with two great drops rolling down her cheeks. What else could he do but speak to her in a soft, soothing20 tone, as if she were a bright-eyed spaniel with a thorn in her foot?
“Has something frightened you, Hetty? Have you seen anything in the wood? Don’t be frightened — I’ll take care of you now.”
Hetty was blushing so, she didn’t know whether she was happy or miserable21. To be crying again — what did gentlemen think of girls who cried in that way? She felt unable even to say “no,” but could only look away from him and wipe the tears from her cheek. Not before a great drop had fallen on her rose-coloured strings22 — she knew that quite well.
“Come, be cheerful again. Smile at me, and tell me what’s the matter. Come, tell me.”
Hetty turned her head towards him, whispered, “I thought you wouldn’t come,” and slowly got courage to lift her eyes to him. That look was too much: he must have had eyes of Egyptian granite23 not to look too lovingly in return.
“You little frightened bird! Little tearful rose! Silly pet! You won’t cry again, now I’m with you, will you?”
Ah, he doesn’t know in the least what he is saying. This is not what he meant to say. His arm is stealing round the waist again; it is tightening24 its clasp; he is bending his face nearer and nearer to the round cheek; his lips are meeting those pouting25 child-lips, and for a long moment time has vanished. He may be a shepherd in Arcadia for aught he knows, he may be the first youth kissing the first maiden26, he may be Eros himself, sipping27 the lips of Psyche28 — it is all one.
There was no speaking for minutes after. They walked along with beating hearts till they came within sight of the gate at the end of the wood. Then they looked at each other, not quite as they had looked before, for in their eyes there was the memory of a kiss.
But already something bitter had begun to mingle29 itself with the fountain of sweets: already Arthur was uncomfortable. He took his arm from Hetty’s waist, and said, “Here we are, almost at the end of the Grove. I wonder how late it is,” he added, pulling out his watch. “Twenty minutes past eight — but my watch is too fast. However, I’d better not go any further now. Trot30 along quickly with your little feet, and get home safely. Good-bye.”
He took her hand, and looked at her half-sadly, half with a constrained31 smile. Hetty’s eyes seemed to beseech32 him not to go away yet; but he patted her cheek and said “Good-bye” again. She was obliged to turn away from him and go on.
As for Arthur, he rushed back through the wood, as if he wanted to put a wide space between himself and Hetty. He would not go to the Hermitage again; he remembered how he had debated with himself there before dinner, and it had all come to nothing — worse than nothing. He walked right on into the Chase, glad to get out of the Grove, which surely was haunted by his evil genius. Those beeches33 and smooth limes — there was something enervating34 in the very sight of them; but the strong knotted old oaks had no bending languor35 in them — the sight of them would give a man some energy. Arthur lost himself among the narrow openings in the fern, winding36 about without seeking any issue, till the twilight deepened almost to night under the great boughs37, and the hare looked black as it darted38 across his path.
He was feeling much more strongly than he had done in the morning: it was as if his horse had wheeled round from a leap and dared to dispute his mastery. He was dissatisfied with himself, irritated, mortified39. He no sooner fixed40 his mind on the probable consequences of giving way to the emotions which had stolen over him today — of continuing to notice Hetty, of allowing himself any opportunity for such slight caresses41 as he had been betrayed into already — than he refused to believe such a future possible for himself. To flirt42 with Hetty was a very different affair from flirting43 with a pretty girl of his own station: that was understood to be an amusement on both sides, or, if it became serious, there was no obstacle to marriage. But this little thing would be spoken ill of directly, if she happened to be seen walking with him; and then those excellent people, the Poysers, to whom a good name was as precious as if they had the best blood in the land in their veins44 — he should hate himself if he made a scandal of that sort, on the estate that was to be his own some day, and among tenants45 by whom he liked, above all, to be respected. He could no more believe that he should so fall in his own esteem46 than that he should break both his legs and go on crutches47 all the rest of his life. He couldn’t imagine himself in that position; it was too odious48, too unlike him.
And even if no one knew anything about it, they might get too fond of each other, and then there could be nothing but the misery49 of parting, after all. No gentleman, out of a ballad50, could marry a farmer’s niece. There must be an end to the whole thing at once. It was too foolish.
And yet he had been so determined51 this morning, before he went to Gawaine’s; and while he was there something had taken hold of him and made him gallop52 back. It seemed he couldn’t quite depend on his own resolution, as he had thought he could; he almost wished his arm would get painful again, and then he should think of nothing but the comfort it would be to get rid of the pain. There was no knowing what impulse might seize him tomorrow, in this confounded place, where there was nothing to occupy him imperiously through the livelong day. What could he do to secure himself from any more of this folly53?
There was but one resource. He would go and tell Irwine — tell him everything. The mere54 act of telling it would make it seem trivial; the temptation would vanish, as the charm of fond words vanishes when one repeats them to the indifferent. In every way it would help him to tell Irwine. He would ride to Broxton Rectory the first thing after breakfast tomorrow.
Arthur had no sooner come to this determination than he began to think which of the paths would lead him home, and made as short a walk thither55 as he could. He felt sure he should sleep now: he had had enough to tire him, and there was no more need for him to think.
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1
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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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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watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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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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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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psyche
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| n.精神；灵魂 | |
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mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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beseech
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| v.祈求，恳求 | |
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beeches
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| n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 )；山毛榉木材 | |
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enervating
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| v.使衰弱，使失去活力( enervate的现在分词 ) | |
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languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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mortified
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| v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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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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caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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flirting
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的现在分词 ) | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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45
tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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46
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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47
crutches
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| n.拐杖, 支柱 v.支撑 | |
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48
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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49
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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51
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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52
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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53
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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54
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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55
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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