Reveals How the True Heroine of Romance Comes Finally to Her, Time of Triumph
The shutting of her house-door closed for Dacier that woman’s history in connection with himself. He set his mind on the consequences of the act of folly—the trusting a secret to a woman. All were possibly not so bad: none should be trusted.
The air of the street fanned him agreeably as he revolved1 the horrible project of confession2 to the man who had put faith in him. Particulars might be asked. She would be unnamed, but an imagination of the effect of naming her placarded a notorious woman in fresh paint: two members of the same family her victims!
And last night, no later than last night, he had swung round at this very corner of the street to give her the fullest proof of his affection. He beheld3 a dupe trotting4 into a carefully-laid pitfall5. She had him by the generosity6 of his confidence in her. Moreover, the recollection of her recent feeble phrasing, when she stood convicted of the treachery, when a really clever woman would have developed her resources, led him to doubt her being so finely gifted. She was just clever enough to hoodwink. He attributed the dupery to a trick of imposing7 the idea of her virtue8 upon men. Attracted by her good looks and sparkle, they entered the circle of her charm, became delightfully9 intimate, suffered a rebuff, and were from that time prepared to serve her purpose. How many other wretched dupes had she dangling10? He spied at Westlake, spied at Redworth, at old Lord Larrian, at Lord Dannisburgh, at Arthur Rhodes, dozens. Old and young were alike to her if she saw an end to be gained by keeping them hooked. Tonans too, and Whitmonby. Newspaper editors were especially serviceable. Perhaps ‘a young Minister of State’ held the foremost rank in that respect: if completely duped and squeezeable, he produced more substantial stuff.
The background of ice in Dacier’s composition was brought to the front by his righteous contempt of her treachery. No explanation of it would have appeased11 him. She was guilty, and he condemned12 her. She stood condemned by all the evil likely to ensue from her misdeed. Scarcely had he left her house last night when she was away to betray him!—He shook her from him without a pang13. Crediting her with the one merit she had—that of not imploring14 for mercy—he the more easily shook her off. Treacherous15, she had not proved theatrical16. So there was no fuss in putting out her light, and it was done. He was justified17 by the brute18 facts. Honourable19, courteous20, kindly21 gentleman, highly civilized22, an excellent citizen and a patriot23, he was icy at an outrage24 to his principles, and in the dominion25 of Love a sultan of the bow-string and chopper period, sovereignly endowed to stretch a finger for the scimitared Mesrour to make the erring26 woman head and trunk with one blow: and away with those remnants! This internally he did. Enough that the brute facts justified him.
St. James’s park was crossed, and the grass of the Green park, to avoid inquisitive27 friends. He was obliged to walk; exercise, action of any sort, was imperative28, and but for some engagement he would have gone to his fencing-rooms for a bout29 with the master. He remembered his engagement and grew doubly embittered30. He had absurdly pledged himself to lunch with Quintin Manx; that was, to pretend to eat while submitting to be questioned by a political dullard strong on his present right to overhaul31 and rail at his superiors. The house was one of a block along the North–Western line of Hyde park. He kicked at the subjection to go there, but a promise was binding32, though he gave it when stunned33. He could have silenced Mr. Manx with the posing interrogation: Why have I so long consented to put myself at the mercy of a bore? For him, he could not answer it, though Manx, as leader of the Shipping34 interest, was influential35. The man had to be endured, like other doses in politics.
Dacier did not once think of the great ship-owner’s niece till Miss Constance Asper stepped into her drawing-room to welcome him. She was an image of repose36 to his mind. The calm pure outline of her white features refreshed him as the Alps the Londoner newly alighted at Berne; smoke, wrangle37, the wrestling city’s wickedness, behind him.
‘My uncle is very disturbed,’ she said. ‘Is the news—if I am not very indiscreet in inquiring?’
‘I have a practice of never paying attention to newspaper articles,’ Dacier replied.
‘I am only affected38 by living with one who does,’ Miss Asper observed, and the lofty isolation39 of her head above politics gave her a moral attractiveness in addition to physical beauty. Her water-colour sketches40 were on her uncle’s walls: the beautiful in nature claimed and absorbed her. She dressed with a pretty rigour, a lovely simplicity42, picturesque43 of the nunnery. She looked indeed a high-born young lady-abbess.
‘It’s a dusty game for ladies,’ Dacier said, abhorring44 the women defiled45 by it.
And when one thinks of the desire of men to worship women, there is a pathos46 in a man’s discovery of the fair young creature undefiled by any interest in public affairs, virginal amid her bower’s environments.
The angelical beauty of a virgin47 mind and person captivated him, by contrast. His natural taste was to admire it, shunning48 the lures49 and tangles50 of the women on high seas, notably51 the married: who, by the way, contrive52 to ensnare us through wonderment at a cleverness caught from their traffic with the masculine world: often—if we did but know!—a parrot-repetition of the last male visitor’s remarks. But that which the fair maiden53 speaks, though it may be simple, is her own.
She too is her own: or vowed54 but to one. She is on all sides impressive in purity. The world worships her as its perfect pearl: and we are brought refreshfully to acknowledge that the world is right.
By contrast, the white radiation of Innocence55 distinguished56 Constance Asper celestially57. As he was well aware, she had long preferred him—the reserved among many pleading pressing suitors. Her steady faithfulness had fed on the poorest crumbs58.
He ventured to express the hope that she was well.
‘Yes,’ she answered, with eyelids59 lifted softly to thank him for his concern in so humble60 a person.
‘You look a little pale,’ he said.
She coloured like a sea-water shell. ‘I am inclined to paleness by nature.’
Her uncle disturbed them. Lunch was ready. He apologized for the absence of Mrs. Markland, a maternal61 aunt of Constance, who kept house for them. Quintin Manx fell upon the meats, and then upon the Minister. Dacier found himself happily surprised by the accession of an appetite. He mentioned it, to escape from the worrying of his host, as unusual with him at midday: and Miss Asper, supporting him in that effort, said benevolently62: ‘Gentlemen should eat; they have so many fatigues63 and troubles.’ She herself did not like to be seen eating in public. Her lips opened to the morsels64, as with a bird’s bill, though with none of the pecking eagerness we complacently65 observe in poultry66.
‘But now, I say, positively67, how about that article?’ said Quintin.
Dacier visibly winced68, and Constance immediately said ‘Oh! spare us politics, dear uncle.’
Her intercession was without avail, but by contrast with the woman implicated69 in the horrible article, it was a carol of the seraphs.
‘Come, you can say whether there’s anything in it,’ Dacier’s host pushed him.
‘I should not say it if I could,’ he replied.
The mild sweetness of Miss Asper’s look encouraged him.
He was touched to the quick by hearing her say: ‘You ask for Cabinet secrets, uncle. All secrets are holy, but secrets of State are under a seal next to divine.’
Next to divine! She was the mouthpiece of his ruling principle.
‘I ‘m not, prying70 into secrets,’ Quintin persisted; ‘all I want to know is, whether there ‘s any foundation for that article—all London’s boiling about it, I can tell you—or it’s only newspaper’s humbug71.’
‘Clearly the oracle72 for you is the Editor’s office,’ rejoined Dacier.
‘A pretty sort of answer I should get.’
‘It would at least be complimentary73.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘The net was cast for you—and the sight of a fish in it!’
Miss Asper almost laughed. ‘Have you heard the choir74 at St. Catherine’s?’ she asked.
Dacier had not. He repented75 of his worldliness, and drinking persuasive76 claret, said he would go to hear it next Sunday.
‘Do,’ she murmured.
‘Well, you seem to be a pair against me,’ her uncle grumbled77. ‘Anyhow I think it’s important. People have been talking for some time, and I don’t want to be taken unawares; I won’t be a yoked78 ox, mind you.’
‘Have you been sketching79 lately?’ Dacier asked Miss Asper.
She generally filled a book in the autumn, she said.
‘May I see it?’
‘If you wish.’
They had a short tussle80 with her uncle and escaped. He was conducted to a room midway upstairs: an heiress’s conception of a saintly little room; and more impresive in purity, indeed it was, than a saint’s, with the many crucifixes, gold and silver emblems81, velvet82 prie-Dieu chairs, jewel-clasped sacred volumes: every invitation to meditate83 in luxury on an ascetic84 religiousness.
She depreciated85 her sketching powers. ‘I am impatient with my imperfections. I am therefore doomed86 not to advance.’
‘On the contrary, that is the state guaranteeing ultimate excellence,’ he said, much disposed to drone about it.
She sighed: ‘I fear not.’
He turned the leaves, comparing her modesty87 with the performance. The third of the leaves was a subject instantly recognized by him. It represented the place he had inherited from Lord Dannisburgh.
He named it.
She smiled: ‘You are good enough to see a likeness88? My aunt and I were passing it last October, and I waited for a day, to sketch41.’
‘You have taken it from my favourite point of view.’
‘I am glad.’
‘How much I should like a copy!’
‘If you will accept that?’
‘I could not rob you.’
‘I can make a duplicate.’
‘The look of the place pleases you?’
‘Oh! yes; the pines behind it; the sweet little village church; even the appearance of the rustics;—it is all impressively old English. I suppose you are very seldom there?’
‘Does it look like a home to you?’
‘No place more!’
‘I feel the loneliness.’
‘Where I live I feel no loneliness!’
‘You have heavenly messengers near you.’
‘They do not always come.’
‘Would you consent to make the place less lonely to me?’
Her bosom89 rose. In deference90 to her maidenly91 understanding, she gazed inquiringly.
‘If you love it!’ said he.
‘The place?’ she said, looking soft at the possessor.
‘Constance!’
‘Is it true?’
‘As you yourself. Could it be other than true? This hand is mine?’
‘Oh! Percy.’
Borrowing the world’s poetry to describe them, the long prayed-for Summer enveloped92 the melting snows.
So the recollection of Diana’s watch beside his uncle’s death-bed was wiped out. Ay, and the hissing93 of her treachery silenced. This maidenly hand put him at peace with the world, instead of his defying it for a worthless woman—who could not do better than accept the shelter of her husband’s house, as she ought to be told, if her friends wished her to save her reputation.
Dacier made his way downstairs to Quintin Manx, by whom he was hotly congratulated and informed of the extent of the young lady’s fortune: on the strength of which it was expected that he would certainly speak a private word in elucidation94 of that newspaper article.
‘I know nothing of it,’ said Dacier, but promised to come and dine. Alone in her happiness Constance Asper despatched various brief notes under her gold-symbolled crest95 to sisterly friends; one to Lady Wathin, containing the single line:
‘Your prophesy96 is confirmed.’
Dacier was comfortably able to face his Club after the excitement of a proposal, with a bride on his hands. He was assaulted concerning the article, and he parried capitally. Say that her lips were rather cold: at any rate, they invigorated him. Her character was guaranteed—not the hazy97 idea of a dupe. And her fortune would be enormous: a speculation98 merely due to worldly prudence100 and prospective101 ambition.
At the dinner-table of four, in the evening, conversation would have seemed dull to him, by contrast, had it not, been for the presiding grace of his bride, whose habitually102 eminent103 feminine air of superiority to the repast was throned by her appreciative104 receptiveness of his looks and utterances105. Before leaving her, he won her consent to a very early marriage; on the plea of a possibly approaching Session, and also that they had waited long. The consent, notwithstanding the hurry of preparations, it involved, besides the annihilation of her desire to meditate on so solemn a change in her life and savour the congratulations of her friends and have the choir of St. Catherine’s rigorously drilled in her favourite anthems106 was beautifully yielded to the pressure of circumstances.
There lay on his table at night a letter; a bulky letter. No need to tear it open for sight of the signature: the superscription was redolent of that betraying woman. He tossed it unopened into the fire.
As it was thick, it burned sullenly107, discolouring his name on the address, as she had done, and still offering him a last chance of viewing the contents. She fought on the consuming fire to have her exculpation108 heard.
But was she not a shameless traitor109? She had caught him by his love of his country and hope to serve it. She had wound into his heart to bleed him of all he knew and sell the secrets for money. A wonderful sort of eloquence110 lay there, on those coals, no doubt. He felt a slight movement of curiosity to glance at two or three random111 sentences: very slight. And why read them now? They were valueless to him, mere99 outcries. He judged her by the brute facts. She and her slowly-consuming letter were of a common blackness. Moreover, to read them when he was plighted112 to another woman would be senseless. In the discovery of her baseness, she had made a poor figure. Doubtless during the afternoon she had trimmed her intuitive Belial art of making ‘the worse appear the better cause’: queer to peruse113, and instructive in an unprofitable department of knowledge-the tricks of the sex.
He said to himself, with little intuition of the popular taste: She wouldn’t be a bad heroine of Romance! He said it derisively114 of the Romantic. But the right worshipful heroine of Romance was the front-face female picture he had won for his walls. Poor Diana was the flecked heroine of Reality: not always the same; not impeccable; not an ignorant-innocent, nor a guileless: good under good leading; devoted115 to the death in a grave crisis; often wrestling with her terrestrial nature nobly; and a growing soul; but not one whose purity was carved in marble for the assurance to an Englishman that his possession of the changeless thing defies time and his fellows, is the pillar of his home and universally enviable. Your fair one of Romance cannot suffer a mishap116 without a plotting villain117, perchance many of them; to wreak118 the dread119 iniquity120: she cannot move without him; she is the marble block, and if she is to have a feature, he is the sculptor121; she depends on him for life, and her human history at least is married to him far more than to the rescuing lover. No wonder, then, that men should find her thrice cherishable featureless, or with the most moderate possible indication of a countenance122. Thousands of the excellent simple creatures do; and every reader of her tale. On the contrary, the heroine of Reality is that woman whom you have met or heard of once in your course of years, and very probably despised for bearing in her composition the motive123 principle; at best, you say, a singular mixture of good and bad; anything but the feminine ideal of man. Feature to some excess, you think, distinguishes her. Yet she furnishes not any of the sweet sensual excitement pertaining124 to her spotless rival pursued by villany. She knocks at the doors of the mind, and the mind must open to be interested in her. Mind and heart must be wide open to excuse her sheer descent from the pure ideal of man.
Dacier’s wandering reflections all came back in crowds to the judicial125 Bench of the Black Cap. He felt finely, apart from the treason, that her want of money degraded her: him too, by contact. Money she might have had to any extent: upon application for it, of course. How was he to imagine that she wanted money! Smilingly as she welcomed him and his friends, entertaining them royally, he was bound to think she had means. A decent propriety126 bound him not to think of the matter at all. He naturally supposed she was capable of conducting her affairs. And—money! It soiled his memory: though the hour at Rovio was rather pretty, and the scene at Copsley touching127: other times also, short glimpses of the woman, were taking. The flood of her treachery effaced128 them. And why reflect? Constance called to him to look her way.
Diana’s letter died hard. The corners were burnt to black tissue, with an edge or two of discoloured paper. A small frayed129 central heap still resisted, and in kindness to the necessity for privacy, he impressed the fire-tongs to complete the execution. After which he went to his desk and worked, under the presidency130 of Constance.
收听单词发音 |
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revolved
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| v.（使）旋转( revolve的过去式和过去分词 )；细想 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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beheld
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| 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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trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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pitfall
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| n.隐患，易犯的错误；陷阱，圈套 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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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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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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appeased
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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patriot
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| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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dominion
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| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
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erring
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| 做错事的，错误的 | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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embittered
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| v.使怨恨，激怒( embitter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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overhaul
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| v./n.大修，仔细检查 | |
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binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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influential
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| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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wrangle
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| vi.争吵 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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abhorring
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| v.憎恶( abhor的现在分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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defiled
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| v.玷污( defile的过去式和过去分词 )；污染；弄脏；纵列行进 | |
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pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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shunning
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的现在分词 ) | |
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lures
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| 吸引力，魅力（lure的复数形式） | |
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tangles
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| （使）缠结， （使）乱作一团( tangle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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notably
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| adv.值得注意地，显著地，尤其地，特别地 | |
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contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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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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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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celestially
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| adv.神地，神圣地 | |
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crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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62
benevolently
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| adv.仁慈地，行善地 | |
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63
fatigues
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| n.疲劳( fatigue的名词复数 )；杂役；厌倦；（士兵穿的）工作服 | |
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64
morsels
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| n.一口( morsel的名词复数 )；（尤指食物）小块，碎屑 | |
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complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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68
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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implicated
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| adj.密切关联的；牵涉其中的 | |
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prying
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| adj.爱打听的v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的现在分词 )；撬开 | |
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71
humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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oracle
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| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
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complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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74
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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75
repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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persuasive
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| adj.有说服力的，能说得使人相信的 | |
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77
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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78
yoked
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| 结合（yoke的过去式形式） | |
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79
sketching
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| n.草图 | |
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80
tussle
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| n.&v.扭打，搏斗，争辩 | |
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emblems
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| n.象征，标记( emblem的名词复数 ) | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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83
meditate
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| v.想，考虑，（尤指宗教上的）沉思，冥想 | |
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ascetic
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| adj.禁欲的；严肃的 | |
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85
depreciated
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| v.贬值，跌价，减价( depreciate的过去式和过去分词 )；贬低，蔑视，轻视 | |
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86
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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89
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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maidenly
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| adj. 像处女的, 谨慎的, 稳静的 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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elucidation
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| n.说明，阐明 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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prophesy
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| v.预言；预示 | |
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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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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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99
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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100
prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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101
prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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102
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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103
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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104
appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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105
utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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106
anthems
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| n.赞美诗( anthem的名词复数 )；圣歌；赞歌；颂歌 | |
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107
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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108
exculpation
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| n.使无罪，辩解 | |
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109
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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110
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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111
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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112
plighted
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| vt.保证，约定（plight的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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113
peruse
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| v.细读，精读 | |
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114
derisively
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| adv. 嘲笑地，嘲弄地 | |
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115
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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116
mishap
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| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
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117
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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118
wreak
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| v.发泄；报复 | |
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119
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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120
iniquity
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| n.邪恶；不公正 | |
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121
sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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122
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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123
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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124
pertaining
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| 与…有关系的，附属…的，为…固有的(to) | |
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125
judicial
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| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
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126
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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127
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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128
effaced
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| v.擦掉( efface的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
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129
frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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130
presidency
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| n.总统(校长，总经理)的职位(任期) | |
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