Here is a father now,
Will truck his daughter for a foreign venture,
Make her the stop-gap to some canker’d feud1,
Or fling her o’er, like Jonah, to the fishes,
To appease2 the sea at highest.
THE Lord Keeper opened his discourse4 with an appearance of unconcern, marking, however, very carefully, the effect of his communication upon young Ravenswood.
“You are aware,” he said, “my young friend, that suspicion is the natural vice6 of our unsettled times, and exposes the best and wisest of us to the imposition of artful rascals7. If I had been disposed to listen to such the other day, or even if I had been the wily politicians which you have been taught to believe me, you, Master of Ravenswood, instead of being at freedom, and with fully5 liberty to solicit8 and act against me as you please, in defence of what you suppose to be your rights, would have been in the Castle of Edinburgh, or some other state prison; or, if you had escaped that destiny, it must have been by flight to a foreign country, and at the risk of a sentence of fugitation.”
“My Lord Keeper,” said the Master, “I think you would not jest on such a subject; yet it seems impossible you can be in earnest.”
“Innocence9,” said the Lord Keeper, “is also confident, and sometimes, though very excusably, presumptuously10 so.”
“I do not understand,” said Ravenswood, “how a consciousess of innocence can be, in any case, accounted presumptuous11.”
“Imprudent, at least, it may be called,” said Sir William Ashton, “since it is apt to lead us into the mistake of supposing that sufficiently12 evident to others of which, in fact, we are only conscious ourselves. I have known a rogue13, for this very reason, make a better defence than an innocent man could have done in the same circumstances of suspicion. Having no consciousness of innocence to support him, such a fellow applies himself to all the advantages which the law will afford him, and sometimes — if his counsel be men of talent — succeeds in compelling his judges to receive him as innocent. I remember the celebrated14 case of Sir Coolie Condiddle of Condiddle, who was tried for theft under trust, of which all the world knew him guilty, and yet was not only acquitted15, but lived to sit in judgment16 on honester folk.”
“Allow me to beg you will return to the point,” said the Master; “you seemed to say that I had suffered under some suspicion.”
“Suspicion, Master! Ay, truly, and I can show you the proofs of it; if I happen only to have them with me. Here, Lockhard.” His attendant came. “Fetch me the little private mail with the padlocks, that I recommended to your particular charge, d’ye hear?”
“Yes, my lord.” Lockhard vanished; and the Keeper continued, as if half speaking to himself.
“I think the papers are with me — I think so, for, as I was to be in this country, it was natural for me to bring them with me. I have them, however, at Ravenswood Castle, that I am sure; so perhaps you might condescend17 ——”
Here Lockhard entered, and put the leathern scrutoire, or mail-box, into his hands. The Keeper produced one or two papers, respecting the information laid before the privy18 council concerning the riot, as it was termed, at the funeral of Allan Lord Ravenswood, and the active share he had himself taken in quashing the proceedings20 against the Master. These documents had been selected with care, so as to irritate the natural curiosity of Ravenswood upon such a subject, without gratifying it, yet to show that Sir William Ashton had acted upon that trying occasion the part of an advocate and peacemaker betwixt him and the jealous authorities of the day. Having furnished his host with such subjects for examination, the Lord Keeper went to the breakfast-table, and entered into light conversation, addressed partly to old Caleb, whose resentment21 against the usurper22 of the Castle of Ravenswood began to be softened23 by his familiarity, and partly to his daughter.
After perusing24 these papers, the Master of Ravenswood remained for a minute or two with his hand pressed against his brow, in deep and profound meditation25. He then again ran his eye hastily over the papers, as if desirous of discovering in them some deep purpose, or some mark of fabrication, which had escaped him at first perusal26. Apparently27 the second reading confirmed the opinion which had pressed upon him at the first, for he started from the stone bench on which he was sitting, and, going to the Lord Keeper, took his hand, and, strongly pressing it, asked his pardon repeatedly for the injustice28 he had done him, when it appeared he was experiencing, at his hands, the benefit of protection to his person and vindication29 to his character.
The statesman received these acknowledgments at first with well-feigned surprise, and then with an affectation of frank cordiality. The tears began already to start from Lucy’s blue eyes at viewing this unexpected and moving scene. To see the Master, late so haughty30 and reserved, and whom she had always supposed the injured person, supplicating31 her father for forgiveness, was a change at once surprising, flattering, and affecting.
“Dry your eyes, Lucy,” said her father; “why should you weep, because your father, though a lawyer, is discovered to be a fair and honourable32 man? What have you to thank me for, my dear Master,” he continued, addressing Ravenswood, “that you would not have done in my case? ‘Suum cuique tribuito,’ was the Roman justice, and I learned it when I studied Justinian. Besides, have you not overpaid me a thousand times, in saving the life of this dear child?”
“Yes,” answered the Master, in all the remorse33 of self-accusation; “but the little service I did was an act of mere34 brutal35 instinct; YOUR defence of my cause, when you knew how ill I thought of you, and how much I was disposed to be your enemy, was an act of generous, manly36, and considerate wisdom.”
“Pshaw!” said the Lord Keeper, “each of us acted in his own way; you as a gallant37 soldier, I as an upright judge and privy-councillor. We could not, perhaps, have changed parts; at least I should have made a very sorry tauridor, and you, my good Master, though your cause is so excellent, might have pleaded it perhaps worse yourself than I who acted for you before the council.”
“My generous friend!” said Ravenswood; and with that brief word, which the Keeper had often lavished38 upon him, but which he himself now pronounced for the first time, he gave to his feudal39 enemy the full confidence of an haughty but honourable heart. The Master had been remarked among his contemporaries for sense and acuteness, as well as for his reserved, pertinacious40, and irascible character. His prepossessions accordingly, however obstinate41, were of a nature to give way before love and gratitude42; and the real charms of the daughter, joined to the supposed services of the father, cancelled in his memory the vows43 of vengeance44 which he had taken so deeply on the eve of his father’s funeral. But they had been heard and registered in the book of fate.
Caleb was present at this extraordinary scene, and he could conceive no other reason for a proceeding19 so extraordinary than an alliance betwixt the houses, and Ravenswood Castle assigned for the young lady’s dowry. As for Lucy, when Ravenswood uttered the most passionate45 excuses for his ungrateful negligence46, she could but smile through her tears, and, as she abandoned her hand to him, assure him, in broken accents, of the delight with which she beheld47 the complete reconciliation48 between her father and her deliverer. Even the statesman was moved and affected49 by the fiery50, unreserved, and generous self-abandonment with which the Master of Ravenswood renounced51 his feudal enmity, and threw himself without hesitation52 upon his forgiveness. His eyes glistened53 as he looked upon a couple who were obviously becoming attached, and who seemed made for each other. He thought how high the proud and chivalrous54 character of Ravenswood might rise under many circumstances in which HE found himself “overcrowed,” to use a phrase of Spenser, and kept under, by his brief pedigree, and timidity of disposition55. Then his daughter — his favorite child — his constant playmate — seemed formed to live happy in a union with such a commanding spirit as Ravenswood; and even the fine, delicate, fragile form of Lucy Ashton seemed to require the support of the Master’s muscular strength and masculine character. And it was not merely during a few minutes that Sir William Ashton looked upon their marriage as a probable and even desirable event, for a full hour intervened ere his imagination was crossed by recollection of the Master’s poverty, and the sure displeasure of Lady Ashton. It is certain, that the very unusual flow of kindly57 feeling with which the Lord Keeper had been thus surprised, was one of the circumstances which gave much tacit encouragement to the attachment58 between the Master and his daughter, and led both the lovers distinctly to believe that it was a connexion which would be most agreeable to him. He himself was supposed to have admitted this in effect, when, long after the catastrophe59 of their love, he used to warn his hearers against permitting their feelings to obtain an ascendency over their judgment, and affirm, that the greatest misfortune of his life was owing to a very temporary predominance of sensibility over self-interest. It must be owned, if such was the case, he was long and severely60 punished for an offence of very brief duration.
After some pause, the Lord Keeper resumed the conversation.—
“In your surprise at finding me an honester man than you expected, you have lost your curiosity about this Craigengelt, my good Master; and yet your name was brought in, in the course of that matter too.”
“The scoundrel!” said Ravenswood. “My connexion with him was of the most temporary nature possible; and yet I was very foolish to hold any communication with him at all. What did he say of me?”
“Enough,” said the Keeper, “to excite the very loyal terrors of some of our sages61, who are for proceeding against men on the mere grounds of suspicion or mercenary information. Some nonsense about your proposing to enter into the service of France, or of the Pretender, I don’t recollect56 which, but which the Marquis of A——, one of your best friends, and another person, whom some call one of your worst and most interested enemies, could not, somehow, be brought to listen to.”
“I am obliged to my honourable friend; and yet,” shaking the Lord Keeper’s hand —“and yet I am still more obliged to my honourable enemy.”
“Inimicus amicissimus,” said the Lord Keeper, returning the pressure; “but this gentleman — this Mr. Hayston of Bucklaw — I am afraid the poor young man — I heard the fellow mention his name — is under very bad guidance.”
“He is old enough to govern himself,” answered the Master.
“Old enough, perhaps, but scarce wise enough, if he has chosen this fellow for his fidus Achates. Why, he lodged62 an information against him — that is, such a consequence might have ensued from his examination, had we not looked rather at the character of the witness than the tenor63 of his evidence.”
“Mr. Hayston of Bucklaw,” said the master, “is, I believe, a most honourable man, and capable of nothing that is mean or disgraceful.”
“Capable of much that is unreasonable64, though; that you must needs allow, master. Death will soon put him in possession of a fair estate, if he hath it not already; old Lady Girnington — an excellent person, excepting that her inveterate65 ill-nature rendered her intolerable to the whole world — is probably dead by this time. Six heirs portioners have successively died to make her wealthy. I know the estates well; they march with my own — a noble property.”
“I am glad of it,” said Ravenswood, “and should be more so, were I confident that Bucklaw would change his company and habits with his fortunes. This appearance of Craigengelt, acting66 in the capacity of his friend, is a most vile67 augury68 for his future respectability.”
“He is a bird of evil omen69, to be sure,” said the Keeper, “and croaks70 of jail and gallows-tree. But I see Mr. Caleb grows impatient for our return to breakfast.”
1 feud | |
n.长期不和;世仇;v.长期争斗;世代结仇 | |
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2 appease | |
v.安抚,缓和,平息,满足 | |
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3 anonymous | |
adj.无名的;匿名的;无特色的 | |
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4 discourse | |
n.论文,演说;谈话;话语;vi.讲述,著述 | |
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5 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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6 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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7 rascals | |
流氓( rascal的名词复数 ); 无赖; (开玩笑说法)淘气的人(尤指小孩); 恶作剧的人 | |
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8 solicit | |
vi.勾引;乞求;vt.请求,乞求;招揽(生意) | |
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9 innocence | |
n.无罪;天真;无害 | |
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10 presumptuously | |
adv.自以为是地,专横地,冒失地 | |
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11 presumptuous | |
adj.胆大妄为的,放肆的,冒昧的,冒失的 | |
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12 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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13 rogue | |
n.流氓;v.游手好闲 | |
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14 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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15 acquitted | |
宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 ); 使(自己)作出某种表现 | |
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16 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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17 condescend | |
v.俯就,屈尊;堕落,丢丑 | |
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18 privy | |
adj.私用的;隐密的 | |
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19 proceeding | |
n.行动,进行,(pl.)会议录,学报 | |
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20 proceedings | |
n.进程,过程,议程;诉讼(程序);公报 | |
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21 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
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22 usurper | |
n. 篡夺者, 僭取者 | |
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23 softened | |
(使)变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 ); 缓解打击; 缓和; 安慰 | |
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24 perusing | |
v.读(某篇文字)( peruse的现在分词 );(尤指)细阅;审阅;匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览(某篇文字) | |
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25 meditation | |
n.熟虑,(尤指宗教的)默想,沉思,(pl.)冥想录 | |
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26 perusal | |
n.细读,熟读;目测 | |
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27 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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28 injustice | |
n.非正义,不公正,不公平,侵犯(别人的)权利 | |
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29 vindication | |
n.洗冤,证实 | |
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30 haughty | |
adj.傲慢的,高傲的 | |
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31 supplicating | |
v.祈求,哀求,恳求( supplicate的现在分词 ) | |
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32 honourable | |
adj.可敬的;荣誉的,光荣的 | |
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33 remorse | |
n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
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34 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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35 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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36 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
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37 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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38 lavished | |
v.过分给予,滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39 feudal | |
adj.封建的,封地的,领地的 | |
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40 pertinacious | |
adj.顽固的 | |
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41 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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42 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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43 vows | |
誓言( vow的名词复数 ); 郑重宣布,许愿 | |
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44 vengeance | |
n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
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45 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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46 negligence | |
n.疏忽,玩忽,粗心大意 | |
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47 beheld | |
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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48 reconciliation | |
n.和解,和谐,一致 | |
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49 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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50 fiery | |
adj.燃烧着的,火红的;暴躁的;激烈的 | |
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51 renounced | |
v.声明放弃( renounce的过去式和过去分词 );宣布放弃;宣布与…决裂;宣布摒弃 | |
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52 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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53 glistened | |
v.湿物闪耀,闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54 chivalrous | |
adj.武士精神的;对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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55 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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56 recollect | |
v.回忆,想起,记起,忆起,记得 | |
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57 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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58 attachment | |
n.附属物,附件;依恋;依附 | |
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59 catastrophe | |
n.大灾难,大祸 | |
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60 severely | |
adv.严格地;严厉地;非常恶劣地 | |
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61 sages | |
n.圣人( sage的名词复数 );智者;哲人;鼠尾草(可用作调料) | |
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62 lodged | |
v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 );暂住;埋入;(权利、权威等)归属 | |
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63 tenor | |
n.男高音(歌手),次中音(乐器),要旨,大意 | |
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64 unreasonable | |
adj.不讲道理的,不合情理的,过度的 | |
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65 inveterate | |
adj.积习已深的,根深蒂固的 | |
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66 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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67 vile | |
adj.卑鄙的,可耻的,邪恶的;坏透的 | |
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68 augury | |
n.预言,征兆,占卦 | |
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69 omen | |
n.征兆,预兆;vt.预示 | |
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70 croaks | |
v.呱呱地叫( croak的第三人称单数 );用粗的声音说 | |
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