THE sound of the dinner-bell, which rang in the ears of Edgar before he reached his intended retreat, would have been unnoticed, if not seconded by a message from Sir Hugh, who had seen him from his window.
Compelled to obey, though in a state of suspense1 almost intolerable, he put up the important little packet, and repaired to the dining parlour; where, though none were equally disturbed with himself, no one was at ease. Young Lynmere, under an appearance of mingled2 assurance and apathy3, the effect of acquired conceit4, playing upon natural insipidity5, was secretly tormented6 with the rueful necessity of sacrificing either a noble fortune, or his own fine person; Sir Hugh felt a strange disappointment from the whole behaviour of his nephew, though it was what he would not acknowledge, and could not define; Mr. Tyrold saw with much uneasiness the glaringly apparent unsuitableness of the intended alliance; Eugenia had never yet thought herself so plain and insignificant7, and felt as if, even since the morning, the small-pox had renewed its ravages8, and she had sunk into being shorter; Indiana and Miss Margland were both acutely incensed9 with Mandlebert; Dr. Orkborne saw but small reason to expect gratitude10 for his labours from the supercilious11 negligence12 of the boasted young student; Lavinia was disturbed for both her sisters; and Camilla felt that all she valued in life depended upon the next critical hour or two.
In this state of general discomfort13, Sir Hugh, who could never be silent, alone talked. Having long prepared himself to look upon this meeting as a day of happiness, he strove to believe, for a while, the whole family were peculiarly enjoying themselves; but, upon a dead silence, which ensued upon his taking a copious14 draught15 of Madeira and water, ‘Why, my dear nephew,’ he cried, putting down his goblet16, ‘you don’t tell us any thing? which I’ve no doubt but you know why yourself. However, as we’re all met o’ purpose to see you, I can’t say I should be sorry to hear the sound of your voice, provided it won’t be disagreeable.’
‘We are not much-conversant, sir, in each other’s connexions, I believe,’ answered Lynmere, without ceasing a moment to eat, and to help himself, and ordering a fresh plate at every second mouthful; ‘I have seen nothing, yet, of your folks hereabouts; and, I fancy, sir, you don’t know a great deal of the people I have been used to.’
Sir Hugh, having good humouredly acknowledged this to be truth, was at a loss what further to purpose; and, imagining the taciturnity of the rest of the party to proceed from an awe17 of the knowledge and abilities of his nephew, soon became himself so infected with fear and reverence18, that, though he could not be silent, he spoke19 only to those who were next him, and in a whisper.
When the dessert was served, something like a general relief was effected by the unexpected entrance of Dr. Marchmont. Alarmed by the ungoverned, and, in him, unprecedented20 emotions of Edgar, he had been to Beech21 Park; and, finding he had not returned there, had ridden on, in the most uneasy uncertainty22, to inquire for him at Cleves.
Happy to see him safe, though almost smiling to see with whom, he was beginning some excuse for his intrusion, when the baronet saved his proceeding23, by calling out, ‘Well, this is as good a piece of good luck as any we’ve met with yet! Here’s Dr. Marchmont come to wish us joy; and as he’s as good a scholar as yourself, nephew, for any thing I know to the contrary, why you need not be so afraid of speaking, for the sake of our not understanding you; which here’s five of us can do now, as well as yourself.’
Lynmere, readily concluding Mr. Tyrold and Edgar, with the two Doctors, made four, glanced round the table to see who might be the fifth; when, supposing it Miss Margland, he withdrew his eyes with a look of derision, and, turning to the butler, asked what wines he might call for.
Sir Hugh then proposed that they should all pair off; the ignorant ones going one way, and the learned ones straying another.
It would be difficult to say which looked most averse24 to this proposition, Eugenia, or the young traveller; who hastily said, ‘I always ride after dinner, sir. Is your groom25 at hand? Can he shew me your horses?’
‘My nephew little suspects,’ cried Sir Hugh, winking26, ‘Eugenia belongs to the scholars! Ten to one but he thinks he’s got Homer and Horace to himself! But here, my dear boy, as you’re so fond of the classics’–
Clermont, nimbly rising, and knocking down a decanter of water in his haste, but not turning back to look at it, nor staying to offer any apology, affected27 not to hear his uncle, and flung hastily out of the room, calling upon Indiana to follow him.
‘In the name of all the Diavoli,’ cried he, pulling her into the park with him, ‘what does all this mean? Is the old gentleman non compos? what’s all this stuff he descants28 upon so freely, of scholars, and classics, and Homer, and Horace?’
‘O you must ask Eugenia, not me!’ answered Indiana, scornfully.
‘Why, what does Eugenia know of the matter?’
‘Know? why every thing. She’s a great scholar, and has been brought up by Dr. Orkborne; and she talks Greek and Latin.’
‘Does she so? then, by the Lord! she’s no wife of mine! I’d as soon marry the old Doctor himself! and I’m sure he’d make me as pretty a wife. Greek and Latin! why I’d as soon tie myself to a rod. Pretty sort of dinners she’ll give!’
‘O dear, yes, brother; she don’t care what she eats; she cares for nothing but books, and such kind of things.’
‘Books! ha! ha! Books, and Latin and Greek! upon my faith, a pretty wife the old gentleman has been so good as to find me! why he must be a downright driveller!’
‘Ah, brother, if we had all that fortune, what a different figure we should cut with it!’
‘Why, yes, I rather flatter myself we should. No great need of five thousand a year to pore over books! Ha! ha! faith, this is a good hum enough! So he thinks to take me in, does he?’
‘Why, you know, she is so rich, brother.’...
‘Rich? well, and what am I? do you see such a figure as this,’ (suddenly skipping before her,) ‘every day? Am I reduced to my last legs, think you? Do you suppose I can’t meet with some kind old dowager any time these twenty years?’
‘La, brother, won’t you have her then?’
‘No, faith, won’t I! It’s not come to that, neither. This learning is worse than her ugliness; ’twould make me look like a dunce in my own house.’
He then protested he had rather lose forty estates, than so be sacrificed, and vowed29, without venturing a direct refusal, he would soon sicken the old gentleman of his scheme.
* * *
Eugenia, in retreating to her room, was again accompanied by her father and her uncle, whom she conjured30 now, to name her to Clermont no more.
‘I can’t say I admire these puttings off, my dear,’ said the baronet, ‘in this our mortal state, which is always liable to end in our dying. Not that I pretend to tell you I think him over much alert; but there’s no knowing but what he may have some meaning in it that we can’t understand; a person having studied all his life, has a right to a little particularity.’
Mr. Tyrold himself now seriously interfered31, and desired that, henceforth, Clermont might be treated as if his visit to Cleves was merely to congratulate his uncle upon his recovery; and that all schemes, preparations, and allusions32, might be put aside, unless the youth himself, and with a good grace, brought them forward; meanwhile, he and Lavinia would return without delay to Etherington, to obviate33 all appearance of waiting the decision of any plan.
Sir Hugh was much discomfited34 by the exaction35 of such forbearance, yet could the less oppose it, from his own discontent with his nephew, which he inadvertently betrayed, by murmuring, in his way to his chamber36, ‘There’s no denying but what they’ve got some odd-fangled new ways of their own, in those foreign parts; meeting a set of old relations for the first time, and saying nothing to them, but asking for the newspapers! Lord help us! caring about the wide world, so, when we know nothing of it, instead of one’s own uncles and nephews, and kinspeople!’
* * *
During this time, Edgar, almost agonised by suspence and doubt, had escaped to the summer-house, whither he was followed by Dr. Marchmont, greatly to the wonder, almost with the contempt of Dr. Orkborne; whom he quitted, in anxiety for his young friend, just as he had intimated a design to consult him upon a difficult passage in an ancient author, which had a place in his work, that was now nearly ready for the press.
‘I know well, Doctor,’ said Edgar, ‘that to find me here, after all that has passed, will make you conclude me the weakest of men... but I cannot now explain how it has been brought about... these letters must first tell me if Camilla and I meet more than once again.’
He then hastily ran over the letters; but by no means hastily could he digest, nor even comprehend their contents. He thought them florid, affected, and presuming; yet vague, studied, with little appearance of sincerity37, and less of explicit38 decision. What related to Lionel, and to aiding him in the disposal of his wealth, seemed least intelligible39, yet most like serious meaning; but when he found that the interview at the Grove40 was by positive appointment, and granted to a request made with a forwardness and assurance so wide from all delicacy41 and propriety42, the blood mounted high into his cheeks, and, precipitately43 putting up the packet he exclaimed: ‘Here, then, it ends! the last little ray of hesitation44 is extinct to be kindled45 never more!’
The sound of these last words caused him an emotion of sorrow he was unable to resist, though unwilling46 to betray, and he hurried out of the summer-house to the wood, where he strove to compose his mind to the last leave-taking upon which he was now determined47; but so dreadful was the resolution which exacted from his own mouth the resignation of all that, till now, had been dearest to his views and hopes, that the afternoon was far advanced, before he could assume sufficient courage to direct his steps to the spot where the sacrifice was to be made.
Accusing himself, then of weakness unpardonable, he returned to the summer-house, to apologise to Dr. Marchmont for his abrupt48 retreat; but the Doctor had already re-entered the mansion49. Thither50, therefore, he proceeded, purposing to seek Camilla, to return her the letters of Sir Sedley, and to desire her commands in what manner to conduct himself with her father and her uncle, in acknowledging his fears that the projected union would fail of affording, to either party, the happiness which, at first, it seemed to promise.
The carriage of Sir Hugh was in waiting at the door, and Mr. Tyrold and Lavinia were in the hall. Edgar, in no condition for such an encounter, would have avoided them; but Mr. Tyrold, little suspecting his desire, rejoiced at the meeting, saying he had had the house searched for him in vain, that he might shake hands with him before his return to Etherington.
Then, taking him apart, ‘My dear Edgar,’ he cried, ‘I have long loved you as tenderly, and I may now confide51 in you as completely, as if you were my son. I go hence in some inquietude; I fear my brother has been too hasty in making known his views with regard to Clermont; who does not seem equal to appreciating the worth of Eugenia, though it is evident he has not been slack in noticing her misfortunes. I entreat52 you, during my absence, to examine him as if you were already the brother of that dear child, who merits, you well know, the best and tenderest of husbands.’
He then followed Lavinia into the carriage, prevented by his own occupied mind from observing the fallen countenance53 of Edgar, who, more wretched than ever, bemoaned54 now the kindness of which he had hitherto been proud, and lamented55 the paternal56 trust which he would have purchased the day before almost with life.
* * *
Camilla, during this period, had gone through conflicts no less severe.
Jacob, who had bought a horse, for which he had advanced 20l. had informed her of the gate adventure of Edgar, and told her that, but for his stopping him, he was riding like mad from Cleves, and only sending them all a message that he could not come back.
Grieved, surprised, and offended, she instantly determined she would not risk such another mark of his cold superiority, but restore to him his liberty, and leave him master of himself. ‘If the severity of his judgment57,’ cried she, ‘is so much more potent58 than the warmth of his affection, it shall not be his delicacy, nor his compassion59, that shall make me his. I will neither be the wife of his repentance60 nor of his pity. I must be convinced of his unaltered love, his esteem61, his trust... or I shall descend62 to humiliation63, not rise to happiness, in becoming his. Softness here would be meanness; submission64 degrading... if he hesitates-let him go!’
She then, without weighing, or even seeing one objection, precipitately resolved to beg permission of her friends, to accept an invitation she had received, without as yet answering, to meet Mrs. Berlinton at Southampton, where that lady was going to pass some weeks. She could there, she thought, give the rejection65 which here its inviolable circumstances made her, for Lionel’s sake, afraid to risk; or she could there, if a full explanation should appease66 him, find opportunity to make it with equal safety; his dislike to that acquaintance rather urged than impede67 her plan, for her wounded spirit panted to prove its independence and dignity.
Eugenia approved this elevation68 of sentiment, and doubted not it would shew her again in her true light to Edgar, and bring him, with added esteem, to her feet.
Camilla wept with joy at the idea: ‘Ah!; she cried, ‘if such should be my happy fate; if, after hearing all my imprudence, my precipitance, and want of judgment, he should voluntarily, when wholly set free, return to me... I will confess to him every feeling... and every failing of my heart! I will open to him my whole soul, and cast myself ever after upon his generosity69 and his goodness... O, my Eugenia! almost on my knees could I receive... a second time... the vows70 of Edgar Mandlebert!’
1 suspense | |
n.(对可能发生的事)紧张感,担心,挂虑 | |
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2 mingled | |
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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3 apathy | |
n.漠不关心,无动于衷;冷淡 | |
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4 conceit | |
n.自负,自高自大 | |
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5 insipidity | |
n.枯燥无味,清淡,无精神;无生气状 | |
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6 tormented | |
饱受折磨的 | |
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7 insignificant | |
adj.无关紧要的,可忽略的,无意义的 | |
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8 ravages | |
劫掠后的残迹,破坏的结果,毁坏后的残迹 | |
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9 incensed | |
盛怒的 | |
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10 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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11 supercilious | |
adj.目中无人的,高傲的;adv.高傲地;n.高傲 | |
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12 negligence | |
n.疏忽,玩忽,粗心大意 | |
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13 discomfort | |
n.不舒服,不安,难过,困难,不方便 | |
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14 copious | |
adj.丰富的,大量的 | |
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15 draught | |
n.拉,牵引,拖;一网(饮,吸,阵);顿服药量,通风;v.起草,设计 | |
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16 goblet | |
n.高脚酒杯 | |
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17 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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18 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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19 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 | |
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20 unprecedented | |
adj.无前例的,新奇的 | |
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21 beech | |
n.山毛榉;adj.山毛榉的 | |
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22 uncertainty | |
n.易变,靠不住,不确知,不确定的事物 | |
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23 proceeding | |
n.行动,进行,(pl.)会议录,学报 | |
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24 averse | |
adj.厌恶的;反对的,不乐意的 | |
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25 groom | |
vt.给(马、狗等)梳毛,照料,使...整洁 | |
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26 winking | |
n.瞬眼,目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 );递眼色(表示友好或高兴等);(指光)闪烁;闪亮 | |
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27 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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28 descants | |
n.多声部音乐中的上方声部( descant的名词复数 ) | |
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29 vowed | |
起誓,发誓(vow的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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30 conjured | |
用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 ); 祈求,恳求; 变戏法; (变魔术般地) 使…出现 | |
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31 interfered | |
v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 );调停;妨碍;干涉 | |
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32 allusions | |
暗指,间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
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33 obviate | |
v.除去,排除,避免,预防 | |
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34 discomfited | |
v.使为难( discomfit的过去式和过去分词);使狼狈;使挫折;挫败 | |
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35 exaction | |
n.强求,强征;杂税 | |
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36 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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37 sincerity | |
n.真诚,诚意;真实 | |
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38 explicit | |
adj.详述的,明确的;坦率的;显然的 | |
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39 intelligible | |
adj.可理解的,明白易懂的,清楚的 | |
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40 grove | |
n.林子,小树林,园林 | |
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41 delicacy | |
n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
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42 propriety | |
n.正当行为;正当;适当 | |
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43 precipitately | |
adv.猛进地 | |
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44 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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45 kindled | |
(使某物)燃烧,着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 ); 激起(感情等); 发亮,放光 | |
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46 unwilling | |
adj.不情愿的 | |
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47 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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48 abrupt | |
adj.突然的,意外的;唐突的,鲁莽的 | |
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49 mansion | |
n.大厦,大楼;宅第 | |
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50 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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51 confide | |
v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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52 entreat | |
v.恳求,恳请 | |
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53 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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54 bemoaned | |
v.为(某人或某事)抱怨( bemoan的过去式和过去分词 );悲悼;为…恸哭;哀叹 | |
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55 lamented | |
adj.被哀悼的,令人遗憾的v.(为…)哀悼,痛哭,悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56 paternal | |
adj.父亲的,像父亲的,父系的,父方的 | |
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57 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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58 potent | |
adj.强有力的,有权势的;有效力的 | |
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59 compassion | |
n.同情,怜悯 | |
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60 repentance | |
n.懊悔 | |
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61 esteem | |
n.尊敬,尊重;vt.尊重,敬重;把…看作 | |
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62 descend | |
vt./vi.传下来,下来,下降 | |
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63 humiliation | |
n.羞辱 | |
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64 submission | |
n.服从,投降;温顺,谦虚;提出 | |
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65 rejection | |
n.拒绝,被拒,抛弃,被弃 | |
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66 appease | |
v.安抚,缓和,平息,满足 | |
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67 impede | |
v.妨碍,阻碍,阻止 | |
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68 elevation | |
n.高度;海拔;高地;上升;提高 | |
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69 generosity | |
n.大度,慷慨,慷慨的行为 | |
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70 vows | |
誓言( vow的名词复数 ); 郑重宣布,许愿 | |
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