Kate and Alice, as they drew near to their journey’s end, were both a little flurried, and I cannot but own that there was cause for nervousness. Kate Vavasor was to meet Mr Grey for the first time. Mr Grey was now staying at Matching and was to remain there until a week of his marriage. He was then to return to Cambridgeshire for a day or two, and after that was to become a guest at the rector’s house at Matching the evening before the ceremony. “Why not let him come here at once?” Lady Glencora had said to her husband. “It is such nonsense, you know.” But Mr Palliser would not hear of it. Mr Palliser, though a Radical1 in public life, would not for worlds transgress2 the social laws of his ancestors; and so the matter was settled. Kate on this very day of her arrival at Matching would thus see Mr Grey for the first time, and she could not but feel that she had been the means of doing Mr Grey much injury. She had moreover something — not much indeed, but still something — of that feeling which made the Pallisers terrible to the imagination, because of their rank and wealth. She was a little afraid of the Pallisers, but of Mr Grey she was very much afraid. And Alice also was not at her ease. She would fain have prevented so very quick a marriage had she not felt that now — after all the trouble that she had caused — there was nothing left for her but to do as others wished. When a day had been named she had hardly dared to demur3, and had allowed Lady Glencora to settle everything as she had wished. But it was not only the suddenness of her marriage which dismayed her. Its nature and attributes were terrible to her. Both Lady Midlothian and the Marchioness of Auld4 Reekie were coming. When this was told to her by letter she had no means of escape. “Lady Macleod is right in nearly all that she says,” Lady Glencora had written to her. “At any rate, you needn’t be such a fool as to run away from your cousins, simply because they have handles to their names. You must take the thing as it comes.” Lady Glencora, moreover, had settled for her the list of bridesmaids. Alice had made a petition that she might be allowed to go through the ceremony with only one — with none but Kate to back her. But she ought to have known that when she consented to be married at Matching — and indeed she had had very little power of resisting that proposition — all such questions would be decided5 for her. Two daughters therefore of Lady Midlothian were to act, Lady Jane and Lady Mary, and the one daughter of the Marchioness, who was also a Lady Jane, and there were to be two Miss Howards down from London — girls who were known both to Alice and to Lady Glencora, and who were in some distant way connected with them both. A great attempt was made to induce the two Miss Pallisers to join the bevy6, but they had frankly7 pleaded their age. “No woman should stand up as a bridesmaid,” said the strong-minded Iphy, “who doesn’t mean to get married if she can. Now I don’t mean to get married, and I won’t put myself among the young people.” Lady Glencora was therefore obliged to submit to do the work with only six. But she swore that they should be very smart. She was to give all the dresses, and Mr Palliser was to give a brooch and an armlet to each. “She is the only person in the world I want to pet, except yourself,” Lady Glencora had said to her husband, and he had answered by giving her carte blanche as regards expense.
All this was very terrible to Kate, who had not much feminine taste for finery. Of the dress she had heard — of the dress which was waiting at Matching to be made up after her arrival — though as yet she knew nothing of the trinkets. There are many girls who could submit themselves at a moment to the kindness of such a woman as Lady Glencora. Perhaps most girls would do so, for of all such women in the world, Lady Glencora was the least inclined to patronise or to be condescending8 in her kindnesses. But Kate Vavasor was one to whom such submission9 would not come easily.
“I wish I was out of this boat,” she said to Alice in the train.
“So that I might be shipwrecked alone!”
“No; there can be no shipwreck10 to you. When the day of action comes you will be taken away, up to heaven, upon the clouds. But what am I to do with all these Lady Janes and Lady Marys? Or what are they to do with me?”
“You’ll find that Glencora will not desert you. You can’t conceive what taste she has.”
“I’d sooner be bridesmaid to Charlie Fairstairs. I would indeed. My place in the world is not among Cabinet Ministers and old countesses.”
“Nor mine.”
“Yes; it seems that yours is to be there. They are your cousins, and you have made at any rate one great friend among them, one who is to be the biggest of them all.”
“And you are going to throw me over, Kate?”
“To tell the truth, Alice, I sometimes think you had better throw me over. I know it would be sad — sad for both, but perhaps it would be better. I have done you much harm and no good; and now where I am going I shall disgrace you.” She talked even of getting out at some station and returning, and would have done so had not Alice made it impossible. As it was, the evening found her and Alice together entering the park-gate at Matching, in Lady Glencora’s carriage. Lady Glencora had sent a note to the station. “She could not come herself,” she said, “because Mr Palliser was a little fussy11. You’ll understand, dear, but don’t say a word.” Alice didn’t say a word, having been very anxious not to lower Mr Palliser in her cousin’s respect.
None of the Lady Janes and Lady Marys were at Matching when they arrived. Indeed, there was no guest there but Mr Grey, for which Kate felt herself to be extremely grateful. Mr Grey came into the hall, standing12 behind Mr Palliser, who stood behind his wife. Alice passed by them both, and was at once in her lover’s arms. “Then I must introduce myself,” said Lady Glencora to Kate, “and my husband also.” This she did, and no woman in England could have excelled her in the manner of doing it. “I have heard so much about you,” said she, still keeping Kate’s hand, “and I know how good you’ve been — and how wicked you have been,” she added in a whisper. Then Mr Grey was brought up to her, and they were introduced. It was not till some days had passed over them that she felt herself at all at her ease with Mr Grey, and I doubt whether she ever reached that point with Mr Palliser; but Lady Glencora she knew, and liked, and almost loved, from the first moment of their meeting.
“Have you heard the news?” said Lady Glencora to Alice, the first minute that they were alone. Alice, of course, had not heard the news. “Mr Bott is going to marry Mrs Marsham. There is such a row about it. Plantagenet is nearly mad. I never knew him so disgusted in my life. Of course I don’t dare to tell him so, but I am so heartily13 rejoiced. You know how I love them both, and I could not possibly wish any better reward for either.” Alice, who had personally known more of Mr Bott than of Mrs Marsham, said that she couldn’t but be sorry for the lady. “She’s old enough to be his mother,” said Lady Glencora, “otherwise I really don’t know any people better suited to each other. The best is, that Mr Bott is doing it to regain14 his footing with Mr Palliser! I am sure of that — and Plantagenet will never speak to him again. But, Alice, there is other news.”
“What other news?”
“It is hardly news yet, and of course I am very wicked to tell you. But I feel sure Mr Grey knows all about it, and if I didn’t tell, he would.”
“He hasn’t told me anything yet.”
“He hasn’t had time; and when he does, you mustn’t pretend to know. I believe Mr Palliser will certainly be Chancellor15 of the Exchequer16 before next month, and, if so, he’ll never come in for Silverbridge again.”
“But he’ll be in Parliament; will he not?”
“Oh, yes; he’ll be in Parliament. I don’t understand all about it. There is a man going out for the county — for Barsetshire — some man whom the Duke used to favour, and he wants Plantagenet to come in for that. I can’t understand what difference it makes.”
“But he will be in the Cabinet?”
“Oh, yes. But who do you suppose is to be the new Member for Silverbridge?”
“I can’t guess,” said Alice. Though, of course, she did guess.
“Mind, I don’t know it. He has never told me. But he told me that he had been with the Duke, and asked the Duke to let Jeffrey have the seat. The Duke became as black as thunder, and said that Jeffrey had no fortune. In short, he wouldn’t hear of it. Poor Jeffrey! we must try to do something for him, but I really don’t know how. Then the Duke said that Plantagenet should put in for Silverbridge some friend who would support himself; and I fancy — mind it’s only fancy — but I fancy that Plantagenet mentioned to his Grace — one Mr Grey.”
“Oh, Glencora!”
“They’ve been talking together till sometimes I think Mr Grey is worse than Plantagenet. When Mr Grey began to say something the other night in the drawing-room about sugar, I knew it was all up with you. He’ll be a financial Secretary; you see if he isn’t; or a lord of something, or an under-somebody of State; and then some day he’ll go mad, either because he does or because he doesn’t get into the Cabinet.” Lady Glencora, as she said all this, knew well that the news she was giving would please her cousin better than any other tidings that could be told.
By degrees the guests came. The two Miss Howards were the first, and they expressed themselves as delighted with Lady Glencora’s taste and with Mr Palliser’s munificence17 — for at that time the brooches and armlets had been produced. Kate had said very little about these matters, but the Miss Howards were loud in their thanks. But they were good-humoured, merry girls, and the house was pleasanter after their arrival than it had been before. Then came the dreaded18 personage — the guest — Lady Midlothian! On the subject of Lady Midlothian Kate had really become curious. She had a real desire to see the face and gait of the woman, and to hear her voice. Lady Midlothian came, and with her came Lady Jane and Lady Mary. I am by no means sure that Lady Jane and Lady Mary were not nearly as old as the two Miss Pallisers; but they were not probably so fully19 resolved as to the condition of their future modes of living as were those two ladies, and if so, they were not wrong to shine as bridesmaids. With them Alice had made some slight acquaintance during the last spring in London, and as they were now to attend upon her as the bride they were sufficiently20 gracious. To Kate, too, they were civil enough, and things, in public, went on very pleasantly at Matching.
A scene there was, of course, between Alice and Lady Midlothian — a scene in private. “You must go through it,” Lady Glencora had said, with jocose21 mournfulness; “and why should you not let her jump upon you a little? It can’t hurt you now.”
“But I don’t like people to jump upon me,” Alice said.
“And why are you to have everything just as you like it? You are so unreasonable22. Think how I’ve been jumped on! Think what I have borne from them! If you knew the things she used to say to me, you would not be such a coward. I was sent down to her for a week, and had no power of helping23 myself. And the Marchioness used to be sent for to look at me, for she never talks. She used to look at me, and groan24, and hold up her hands till I hated her the worst of the two. Think what they did to me, and yet they are my dear friends now. Why should you escape altogether?”
Alice could not escape altogether, and therefore was closeted with Lady Midlothian for the best part of an hour. “Did Lady Macleod read to you what I wrote?” the Countess asked,
“Yes — that is, she gave me the letter to read.”
“And I hope you understand me, Alice?”
“Oh, yes, I suppose so.”
“You suppose so, my dear! If you only suppose so I shall not be contented25. I want you to appreciate my feelings towards you thoroughly26. I want you to know that I am most anxious as to your future life, and that I am thoroughly satisfied with the step you are now taking.” The Countess paused, but Alice said nothing. Her tongue was itching27 to tell the old woman that she cared nothing for this expression of satisfaction; but she was aware that she had done much that was deserving of punishment, and resolved to take this as part of her penance28. She was being jumped upon, and it was unpleasant; but, after all that had happened, it was only fitting that she should undergo much unpleasantness. “Thoroughly satisfied,” continued the Countess; “and now, I only wish to refer, in the slightest manner possible, to what took place between us when we were both of us under this roof last winter.”
“Why refer to it at all, Lady Midlothian?”
“Because I think it may do good, and because I cannot make you understand that I have thoroughly forgiven everything, unless I tell you that I have forgiven that also. On that occasion I had come all the way from Scotland on purpose to say a few words to you.”
“I am so sorry that you should have had the trouble.”
“I do not regret it, Alice. I never do regret doing anything which I believe to have been my duty. There is no knowing how far what I said then may have operated for good.” Alice thought that she knew very well, but she said nothing. “I must confess that what I then understood to be your obstinacy29 — and I must say also, if I tell the truth, your indifference30 to — to — to all prudential considerations whatever, not to talk of appearances and decorum, and I might say, anything like a high line of duty or moral conduct — shocked me very much. It did, indeed, my dear. Taking it altogether, I don’t know that I was ever more shocked in my life. The thing was so inscrutable!” Here Lady Midlothian held up one hand in a manner that was truly imposing31; “so inscrutable! But that is all over now. What was personally offensive to myself I could easily forgive, and I do forgive it. I shall never think of it any more.” Here Lady Midlothian put up both her hands gently, as though wafting32 the injury away into the air. “But what I wish specially33 to say to you is this; your own conduct is forgiven also!” Here she paused again, and Alice winced34. Who was this dreadful old Countess — what was the Countess to her, that she should be thus tormented35 with the old woman’s forgiveness? John Grey had forgiven her, and of external forgiveness that was enough. She had not forgiven herself — would never forgive herself altogether; and the pardon of no old woman in England could assist her in doing so. She had sinned, but she had not sinned against Lady Midlothian. “Let her jump upon you, and have done with it,” Lady Glencora had said. She had resolved that it should be so, but it was very hard to keep her resolution.
“The Marchioness and I have talked it over,” continued Lady Midlothian, “and she has asked me to speak for both her and myself.” There is comfort at any rate in that, thought Alice, who had never yet seen the Marchioness. “We have resolved that all those little mistakes should be as though they had never been committed. We shall both be most happy to receive you and your husband, who is, I must say, one of the most gentlemanlike looking men I ever saw. It seems that he and Mr Palliser are on most friendly — I may say, most confidential36 terms, and that must be quite a pleasure to you.”
“It’s a pleasure to him, which is more to the purpose,” said Alice.
“Exactly so. And now, my dear, everything is forgiven and shall be forgotten. Come and give me a kiss, and let me wish you joy.” Alice did as she was bidden, and accepted the kiss and the congratulations, and a little box of jewellery which Lady Midlothian produced from out of her pocket. “The diamonds are from the Marchioness, my dear, whose means, as you doubtless are aware, greatly exceed my own. The garnets are from me. I hope they may both be worn long and happily.”
I hardly know which was the worst, the lecture, the kiss, or the present. The latter she would have declined, had it been possible; but it was not possible. When she had agreed to be married at Matching she had not calculated the amount of punishment which would thereby37 be inflicted38 on her. But I think that, though she bore it impatiently, she was aware that she had deserved it. Although she fretted39 herself greatly under the infliction40 of Lady Midlothian, she acknowledged to herself even at the time, that she deserved all the lashes41 she received. She had made a fool of herself in her vain attempt to be greater and grander than other girls, and it was only fair that her folly42 should be in some sort punished before it was fully pardoned. John Grey punished it after one fashion; by declining to allude43 to it, or to think of it, or to take an account of it. And now Lady Midlothian had punished it after another fashion, and Alice went out of the Countess’s presence with sundry44 inward exclamations45 of “mea culpa,” and with many unseen beatings of the breast.
Two days before the ceremony came the Marchioness and her august daughter. Her Lady Jane was much more august than the other Lady Jane — very much more august indeed. She had very long flaxen hair, and very light blue eyes, which she did not move frequently, and she spoke46 very little — one may almost say not at all, and she never seemed to do anything. But she was very august, and was, as all the world knew, engaged to marry the Duke of Dumfriesshire, who, though twice her own age, was as yet childless, as soon as he should have completed his mourning for his first wife. Kate told her cousin that she did not at all know how she should ever stand up as one in a group with so august a person as this Lady Jane, and Alice herself felt that such an attendant would quite obliterate47 her. But Lady Jane and her mother were both harmless. The Marchioness never spoke to Kate and hardly spoke to Alice, and the Marchioness’s Lady Jane was quite as silent as her mother.
On the morning of this day — the day on which these very august people came — a telegram arrived at the Priory calling for Mr Palliser’s immediate48 presence in London. He came to Alice full of regret, and behaved himself very nicely. Alice now regarded him quite as a friend. “Of course I understand,” she said, “and I know that the business which takes you up to London pleases you.” “Well; yes — it does please me. I am glad — I don’t mind saying so to you. But it does not please me to think that I shall be away at your marriage. Pray make your father understand that it was absolutely unavoidable. But I shall see him, of course, when I come back. And I shall see you too before very long.”
“Shall you?”
“Oh yes.”
“And why so?”
“Because Mr Grey must be at Silverbridge for his election — But perhaps I ought not tell you his secrets.” Then he took her into the breakfast parlour and showed her his present. It was a service of Sèvres china — very precious and beautiful. “I got you these things because Grey likes china.”
“So do I like china,” said she, with her face brighter than he had ever yet seen it.
“I thought you would like them best,” said he. Alice looking up at him with her eyes full of tears told him that she did like them best; and then, as he wished her all happiness, and as he was stooping over her to kiss her, Lady Glencora came in.
“I beg pardon,” said she, “I was just one minute too soon; was I not?”
“She would have them sent here and unpacked49,” said Mr Palliser, “though I told her it was foolish.”
“Of course I would,” said Lady Glencora. “Everything shall be unpacked and shown. It’s easy to get somebody to pack them again.”
Much of the wedding tribute had already been deposited with the china, and among other things there were the jewels that Lady Midlothian had brought,
“Upon my word, her ladyship’s diamonds are not to be sneezed at,” said Lady Glencora.
“I don’t care for diamonds,” said Alice.
Then Lady Glencora took up the Countess’s trinkets, and shook her head and turned up her nose. There was a wonderfully comic expression on her face as she did so,
“To me they are just as good as the others,” said Alice.
“To me they are not, then,” said Lady Glencora. “Diamonds are diamonds, and garnets are garnets; and I am not so romantic but what I know the difference.”
On the evening before the marriage Alice and Lady Glencora walked for the last time through the Priory ruins. It was now September, and the evenings were still long, so that the ladies could get out upon the lawn after dinner. Whether Lady Glencora would have been allowed to walk through the ruins so late as half past eight in the evening if her husband had been there may be doubtful, but her husband was away and she took this advantage of his absence.
“Do you remember that night we were here?” said Lady Glencora.
“When shall I forget it; or how is it possible that such a night should ever be forgotten?”
“No; I shall never forget it. Oh dear, what wonderful things have happened since that! Do you ever think of Jeffrey?”
“Yes — of course I think of him. I did like him so much. I hope I shall see him some day.”
“And he liked you too, young woman; and, what was more, young woman, I thought at one time that, perhaps, you were going to like him in earnest.”
“Not in that way, certainly.”
“You’ve done much better, of course; especially as poor Jeffrey’s chance of promotion50 doesn’t look so good now. If I have a boy, I wonder whether he’ll hate me?”
“Why should he hate you?”
“I can’t help it, you know, if he does. Only think what it is to Plantagenet. Have you seen the difference it makes in him already?”
“Of course it makes a difference — the greatest difference in the world.”
“And think what it will be to me, Alice. I used to lie in bed and wish myself dead, and make up my mind to drown myself — if I could only dare. I shan’t think any more of that poor fellow now.” Then she told Alice what had been done for Burgo; how his uncle had paid his bills once again, and had agreed to give him a small income. “Poor fellow!” said Lady Glencora, “it won’t do more than buy him gloves, you know.”
The marriage was magnificent, greatly to the dismay of Alice and to the discomfort51 of Mr Vavasor, who came down on the eve of the ceremony — arriving while his daughter and Lady Glencora were in the ruins. Mr Grey seemed to take it all very easily, and, as Lady Glencora said, played his part exactly as though he were in the habit of being married, at any rate, once a year. “Nothing on earth will ever put him out, so you need not try, my dear,” she said, as Alice stood with her a moment alone in the dressing-room upstairs before her departure.
“I know that,” said Alice, “and therefore I shall never try.”
收听单词发音 |
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radical
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| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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transgress
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| vt.违反，逾越 | |
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demur
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| v．表示异议，反对 | |
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auld
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| adj.老的，旧的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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bevy
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| n.一群 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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shipwreck
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| n.船舶失事，海难 | |
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fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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chancellor
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| n.(英)大臣；法官；(德、奥)总理；大学校长 | |
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exchequer
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| n.财政部；国库 | |
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munificence
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| n.宽宏大量，慷慨给与 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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jocose
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| adj.开玩笑的，滑稽的 | |
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unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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itching
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| adj.贪得的，痒的，渴望的v.发痒( itch的现在分词 ) | |
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penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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wafting
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的现在分词 ) | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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infliction
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| n.（强加于人身的）痛苦，刑罚 | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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42
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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43
allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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44
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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45
exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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46
spoke
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| 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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47
obliterate
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| v.擦去，涂抹，去掉...痕迹，消失，除去 | |
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48
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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49
unpacked
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| v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的过去式和过去分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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50
promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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51
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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