THE principal characters in the story were an old Irish nobleman, who was called the Earl, and the youngest of his two sons, mysteriously distinguished2 as “the wild lord.”
It was said of the Earl that he had not been a good father; he had cruelly neglected both his sons. The younger one, badly treated at school, and left to himself in the holidays, began his adventurous3 career by running away. He got employment (under an assumed name) as a ship’s boy. At the outset, he did well; learning his work, and being liked by the Captain and the crew. But the chief mate was a brutal4 man, and the young runaway’s quick temper resented the disgraceful infliction5 of blows. He made up his mind to try his luck on shore, and attached himself to a company of strolling players. Being a handsome lad, with a good figure and a fine clear voice, he did very well for a while on the country stage. Hard times came; salaries were reduced; the adventurer wearied of the society of actors and actresses. His next change of life presented him in North Britain as a journalist, employed on a Scotch6 newspaper. An unfortunate love affair was the means of depriving him of this new occupation. He was recognised, soon afterwards, serving as assistant steward7 in one of the passenger steamers voyaging between Liverpool and New York. Arrived in this last city, he obtained notoriety, of no very respectable kind, as a “medium” claiming powers of supernatural communication with the world of spirits. When the imposture8 was ultimately discovered, he had gained money by his unworthy appeal to the meanly prosaic10 superstition11 of modern times. A long interval12 had then elapsed, and nothing had been heard of him, when a starving man was discovered by a traveller, lost on a Western prairie. The ill-fated Irish lord had associated himself with an Indian tribe — had committed some offence against their laws — and had been deliberately13 deserted14 and left to die. On his recovery, he wrote to his elder brother (who had inherited the title and estates on the death of the old Earl) to say that he was ashamed of the life that he had led, and eager to make amendment15 by accepting any honest employment that could be offered to him. The traveller who had saved his life, and whose opinion was to be trusted, declared that the letter represented a sincerely penitent16 state of mind. There were good qualities in the vagabond, which only wanted a little merciful encouragement to assert themselves. The reply that he received from England came from the lawyers employed by the new Earl. They had arranged with their agents in New York to pay to the younger brother a legacy17 of a thousand pounds, which represented all that had been left to him by his father’s will. If he wrote again his letters would not be answered; his brother had done with him. Treated in this inhuman18 manner, the wild lord became once more worthy9 of his name. He tried a new life as a betting man at races and trotting-matches. Fortune favoured him at the outset, and he considerably19 increased his legacy. With the customary infatuation of men who gain money by risking the loss of it, he presumed on his good luck. One pecuniary20 disaster followed another, and left him literally21 penniless. He was found again, in England, exhibiting an open boat in which he and a companion had made one of those foolhardy voyages across the Atlantic, which have now happily ceased to interest the public. To a friend who remonstrated22 with him, he answered that he reckoned on being lost at sea, and on so committing a suicide worthy of the desperate life that he had led. The last accounts of him, after this, were too vague and too contradictory23 to be depended on. At one time it was reported that he had returned to the United States. Not long afterwards unaccountable paragraphs appeared in newspapers declaring, at one and the same time, that he was living among bad company in Paris, and that he was hiding disreputably in an ill famed quarter of the city of Dublin, called “the Liberties.” In any case there was good reason to fear that Irish–American desperadoes had entangled24 the wild lord in the network of political conspiracy25.
The maid noticed a change in the mistress which surprised her, when she had reached the end of the newspaper story. Of Miss Henley’s customary good spirits not a trace remained. “Few people, Rhoda, remember what they read as well as you do.” She said it kindly26 and sadly — and she said no more.
There was a reason for this.
Now at one time, and now at another, Iris1 had heard of Lord Harry27’s faults and failings in fragments of family history. The complete record of his degraded life, presented in an uninterrupted succession of events, had now forced itself on her attention for the first time. It naturally shocked her. She felt, as she had never felt before, how entirely28 right her father had been in insisting on her resistance to an attachment29 which was unworthy of her. So far, but no farther, her conscience yielded to its own conviction of what was just. But the one unassailable vital force in this world is the force of love. It may submit to the hard necessities of life; it may acknowledge the imperative30 claims of duty; it may be silent under reproach, and submissive to privation — but, suffer what it may, it is the master-passion still; subject to no artificial influences, owning no supremacy31 but the law of its own being. Iris was above the reach of self-reproach, when her memory recalled the daring action which had saved Lord Harry at the milestone32. Her better sense acknowledged Hugh Mountjoy’s superiority over the other man — but her heart, her perverse33 heart, remained true to its first choice in spite of her. She made an impatient excuse and went out alone to recover her composure in the farm-house garden.
The hours of the evening passed slowly.
There was a pack of cards in the house; the women tried to amuse themselves, and failed. Anxiety about Arthur preyed34 on the spirits of Miss Henley and Mrs. Lewson. Even the maid, who had only seen him during his last visit to London, said she wished to-morrow had come and gone. His sweet temper, his handsome face, his lively talk had made Arthur a favourite everywhere. Mrs. Lewson had left her comfortable English home to be his housekeeper35, when he tried his rash experiment of farming in Ireland. And, more wonderful still, even wearisome Sir Giles became an agreeable person in his nephew’s company.
Iris set the example of retiring at an early hour to her room.
There was something terrible in the pastoral silence of the place. It associated itself mysteriously with her fears for Arthur; it suggested armed treachery on tiptoe, taking its murderous stand in hiding; the whistling passage of bullets through the air; the piercing cry of a man mortally wounded, and that man, perhaps ——? Iris shrank from her own horrid36 thought. A momentary37 faintness overcame her; she opened the window. As she put her head out to breathe the cool night-air, a man on horseback rode up to the house. Was it Arthur? No: the light-coloured groom38’s livery that he wore was just visible.
Before he could dismount to knock at the door, a tall man walked up to him out of the darkness.
“Is that Miles?” the tall man asked.
The groom knew the voice. Iris was even better acquainted with it. She, too, recognised Lord Harry.
1 iris | |
n.虹膜,彩虹 | |
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2 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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3 adventurous | |
adj.爱冒险的;惊心动魄的,惊险的,刺激的 | |
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4 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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5 infliction | |
n.(强加于人身的)痛苦,刑罚 | |
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6 scotch | |
n.伤口,刻痕;苏格兰威士忌酒;v.粉碎,消灭,阻止;adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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7 steward | |
n.乘务员,服务员;看管人;膳食管理员 | |
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8 imposture | |
n.冒名顶替,欺骗 | |
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9 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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10 prosaic | |
adj.单调的,无趣的 | |
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11 superstition | |
n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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12 interval | |
n.间隔,间距;幕间休息,中场休息 | |
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13 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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14 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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15 amendment | |
n.改正,修正,改善,修正案 | |
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16 penitent | |
adj.后悔的;n.后悔者;忏悔者 | |
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17 legacy | |
n.遗产,遗赠;先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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18 inhuman | |
adj.残忍的,不人道的,无人性的 | |
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19 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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20 pecuniary | |
adj.金钱的;金钱上的 | |
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21 literally | |
adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
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22 remonstrated | |
v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 );告诫 | |
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23 contradictory | |
adj.反驳的,反对的,抗辩的;n.正反对,矛盾对立 | |
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24 entangled | |
adj.卷入的;陷入的;被缠住的;缠在一起的v.使某人(某物/自己)缠绕,纠缠于(某物中),使某人(自己)陷入(困难或复杂的环境中)( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25 conspiracy | |
n.阴谋,密谋,共谋 | |
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26 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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27 harry | |
vt.掠夺,蹂躏,使苦恼 | |
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28 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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29 attachment | |
n.附属物,附件;依恋;依附 | |
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30 imperative | |
n.命令,需要;规则;祈使语气;adj.强制的;紧急的 | |
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31 supremacy | |
n.至上;至高权力 | |
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32 milestone | |
n.里程碑;划时代的事件 | |
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33 perverse | |
adj.刚愎的;坚持错误的,行为反常的 | |
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34 preyed | |
v.掠食( prey的过去式和过去分词 );掠食;折磨;(人)靠欺诈为生 | |
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35 housekeeper | |
n.管理家务的主妇,女管家 | |
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36 horrid | |
adj.可怕的;令人惊恐的;恐怖的;极讨厌的 | |
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37 momentary | |
adj.片刻的,瞬息的;短暂的 | |
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38 groom | |
vt.给(马、狗等)梳毛,照料,使...整洁 | |
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