It was a very tedious journey, and it took the whole day to accomplish a distance which a rapid express train now can achieve in an hour. The coach carried six inside passengers, and they had to dine on the road. All the passengers were strangers to Mr. Ferrars, and he was by them unknown; one of them purchased, though with difficulty, a second edition of the “Times” as they approached London, and favoured his fellow-travellers with the news of the change of ministry1. There was much excitement, and the purchaser of the paper gave it as his opinion, “that it was an intrigue2 of the Court and the Tories, and would never do.” Another modestly intimated that he thought there was a decided3 reaction. A third announced that England would never submit to be governed by O’Connell.
As the gloom of evening descended4, Mr. Ferrars felt depressed5. Though his life at Hurstley had been pensive6 and melancholy7, he felt now the charm and the want of that sweet domestic distraction8 which had often prevented his mind from over-brooding, and had softened9 life by sympathy in little things. Nor was it without emotion that he found himself again in London, that proud city where once he had himself been so proud. The streets were lighted, and seemed swarming10 with an infinite population, and the coach finally stopped at a great inn in the Strand11, where Mr. Ferrars thought it prudent12 to secure accommodation for the night. It was too late to look after the Rodneys, but in deference13 to the strict injunction of Mrs. Ferrars, he paid them a visit next morning on his way to his political chief.
In the days of the great modistes, when an English lady might absolutely be dressed in London, the most celebrated14 mantua-maker in that city was Madame Euphrosyne. She was as fascinating as she was fashionable. She was so graceful15, her manners were so pretty, so natural, and so insinuating16! She took so lively an interest in her clients—her very heart was in their good looks. She was a great favourite of Mrs. Ferrars, and that lady of Madame Euphrosyne. She assured Mrs. Ferrars that she was prouder of dressing17 Mrs. Ferrars than all the other fine ladies in London together, and Mrs. Ferrars believed her. Unfortunately, while in the way of making a large fortune, Madame Euphrosyne, who was romantic, fell in love with, and married, a very handsome and worthless husband, whose good looks had obtained for him a position in the company of Drury Lane Theatre, then a place of refined resort, which his abilities did not justify18. After pillaging19 and plundering20 his wife for many years, he finally involved her in such engagements, that she had to take refuge in the Bankruptcy22 Court. Her business was ruined, and her spirit was broken, and she died shortly after of adversity and chagrin23. Her daughter Sylvia was then eighteen, and had inherited with the grace of her mother the beauty of her less reputable parent. Her figure was slight and undulating, and she was always exquisitely24 dressed. A brilliant complexion25 set off to advantage her delicate features, which, though serene26, were not devoid27 of a certain expression of archness. Her white hands were delicate, her light eyes inclined to merriment, and her nose quite a gem21, though a little turned up.
After their ruin, her profligate28 father told her that her face was her fortune, and that she must provide for herself, in which she would find no difficulty. But Sylvia, though she had never enjoyed the advantage of any training, moral or religious, had no bad impulses even if she had no good ones, was of a rather cold character, and extremely prudent. She recoiled29 from the life of riot, and disorder30, and irregularity, in which she had unwittingly passed her days, and which had terminated so tragically31, and she resolved to make an effort to secure for herself a different career. She had heard that Mrs. Ferrars was in want of an attendant, and she determined32 to apply for the post. As one of the chief customers of her mother, Sylvia had been in the frequent habit of waiting on that lady, with whom she had become a favourite. She was so pretty, and the only person who could fit Mrs. Ferrars. Her appeal, therefore, was not in vain; it was more than successful. Mrs. Ferrars was attracted by Sylvia. Mrs. Ferrars was magnificent, generous, and she liked to be a patroness and surrounded by favourites. She determined that Sylvia should not sink into a menial position; she adopted her as a humble33 friend, and one who every day became more regarded by her. Sylvia arranged her invitations to her receptions, a task which required finish and precision; sometimes wrote her notes. She spoke34 and wrote French too, and that was useful, was a musician, and had a pretty voice. Above all, she was a first-rate counsellor in costume; and so, looking also after Mrs. Ferrars’ dogs and birds, she became almost one of the family; dined with them often when they were alone, and was frequently Mrs. Ferrars’ companion in her carriage.
Sylvia, though not by nature impulsive35, really adored her patroness. She governed her manners and she modelled her dress on that great original, and, next to Mrs. Ferrars, Sylvia in time became nearly the finest lady in London. There was, indeed, much in Mrs. Ferrars to captivate a person like Sylvia. Mrs. Ferrars was beautiful, fashionable, gorgeous, wonderfully expensive, and, where her taste was pleased, profusely36 generous. Her winning manner was not less irresistible37 because it was sometimes uncertain, and she had the art of being intimate without being familiar.
When the crash came, Sylvia was really broken-hearted, or believed she was, and implored38 that she might attend the deposed39 sovereigns into exile; but that was impossible, however anxious they might be as to the future of their favourite. Her destiny was sooner decided than they could have anticipated. There was a member of the household, or rather family, in Hill Street, who bore almost the same relation to Mr. Ferrars as Sylvia to his wife. This was Mr. Rodney, a remarkably40 good-looking person, by nature really a little resembling his principal, and completing the resemblance by consummate41 art. The courtiers of Alexander of Macedonia could not study their chief with more devotion, or more sedulously42 imitate his mien43 and carriage, than did Mr. Rodney that distinguished44 individual of whom he was the humble friend, and who he was convinced was destined45 to be Prime Minister of England. Mr. Rodney was the son of the office-keeper of old Mr. Ferrars, and it was the ambition of the father that his son, for whom he had secured a sound education, should become a member of the civil service. It had become an apothegm in the Ferrars family that something must be done for Rodney, and whenever the apparent occasion failed, which was not unfrequent, old Mr. Ferrars used always to add, “Never mind; so long as I live, Rodney shall never want a home.” The object of all this kindness, however, was little distressed46 by their failures in his preferment. He had implicit47 faith in the career of his friend and master, and looked forward to the time when it might not be impossible that he himself might find a haven48 in a commissionership. Recently Mr. Ferrars had been able to confer on him a small post with duties not too engrossing49, and which did not prevent his regular presence in Hill Street, where he made himself generally useful.
If there were anything confidential50 to be accomplished51 in their domestic life, everything might be trusted to his discretion52 and entire devotion. He supervised the establishment without injudiciously interfering53 with the house-steward, copied secret papers for Mr. Ferrars, and when that gentleman was out of office acted as his private secretary. Mr. Rodney was the most official person in the ministerial circle. He considered human nature only with reference to office. No one was so intimately acquainted with all the details of the lesser54 patronage55 as himself, and his hours of study were passed in the pages of the “Peerage” and in penetrating56 the mysteries of the “Royal Calendar.”
The events of 1832, therefore, to this gentleman were scarcely a less severe blow than to the Ferrars family itself. Indeed, like his chief, he looked upon himself as the victim of a revolution. Mr. Rodney had always been an admirer of Sylvia, but no more. He had accompanied her to the theatre, and had attended her to the park, but this was quite understood on both sides only to be gallantry; both, perhaps, in their prosperity, with respect to the serious step of life, had indulged in higher dreams. But the sympathy of sorrow is stronger than the sympathy of prosperity. In the darkness of their lives, each required comfort: he murmured some accents of tender solace57, and Sylvia agreed to become Mrs. Rodney.
When they considered their position, the prospect58 was not free from anxiety. To marry and then separate is, where there is affection, trying. His income would secure them little more than a roof, but how to live under that roof was a mystery. For her to become a governess, and for him to become a secretary, and to meet only on an occasional Sunday, was a sorry lot. And yet both possessed59 accomplishments60 or acquirements which ought in some degree to be productive. Rodney had a friend, and he determined to consult him.
That friend was no common person; he was Mr. Vigo, by birth a Yorkshireman, and gifted with all the attributes, physical and intellectual, of that celebrated race. At present he was the most fashionable tailor in London, and one whom many persons consulted. Besides being consummate in his art, Mr. Vigo had the reputation of being a man of singularly good judgment61. He was one who obtained influence over all with whom he came in contact, and as his business placed him in contact with various classes, but especially with the class socially most distinguished, his influence was great. The golden youth who repaired to his counters came there not merely to obtain raiment of the best material and the most perfect cut, but to see and talk with Mr. Vigo, and to ask his opinion on various points. There was a spacious62 room where, if they liked, they might smoke a cigar, and “Vigo’s cigars” were something which no one could rival. If they liked to take a glass of hock with their tobacco, there was a bottle ready from the cellars of Johannisberg. Mr. Vigo’s stable was almost as famous as its master; he drove the finest horses in London, and rode the best hunters in the Vale of Aylesbury. With all this, his manners were exactly what they should be. He was neither pretentious63 nor servile, but simple, and with becoming respect for others and for himself. He never took a liberty with any one, and such treatment, as is generally the case, was reciprocal.
Mr. Vigo was much attached to Mr. Rodney, and was proud of his intimate acquaintance with him. He wanted a friend not of his own order, for that would not increase or improve his ideas, but one conversant64 with the habits and feelings of a superior class, and yet he did not want a fine gentleman for an intimate, who would have been either an insolent65 patron or a designing parasite66. Rodney had relations with the aristocracy, with the political world, and could feel the pulse of public life. His appearance was engaging, his manners gentle if not gentlemanlike, and he had a temper never disturbed. This is a quality highly appreciated by men of energy and fire, who may happen not to have a complete self-control.
When Rodney detailed67 to his friend the catastrophe68 that had occurred and all its sad consequences, Mr. Vigo heard him in silence, occasionally nodding his head in sympathy or approbation69, or scrutinising a statement with his keen hazel eye. When his visitor had finished, he said—
“When there has been a crash, there is nothing like a change of scene. I propose that you and Mrs. Rodney should come and stay with me a week at my house at Barnes, and there a good many things may occur to us.”
And so, towards the end of the week, when the Rodneys had exhausted70 their whole programme of projects, against every one of which there seemed some invincible71 objection, their host said, “You know I rather speculate in houses. I bought one last year in Warwick Street. It is a large roomy house in a quiet situation, though in a bustling72 quarter, just where members of parliament would like to lodge73. I have put it in thorough repair. What I propose is that you should live there, let the first and second floors—they are equally good—and live on the ground floor yourselves, which is amply convenient. We will not talk about rent till the year is over and we see how it answers. The house is unfurnished, but that is nothing. I will introduce you to a friend of mine who will furnish it for you solidly and handsomely, you paying a percentage on the amount expended74. He will want a guarantee, but of course I will be that. It is an experiment, but try it. Try it for a year; at any rate you will be a householder, and you will have the opportunity of thinking of something else.”
Hitherto the Rodneys had been successful in their enterprise, and the soundness of Mr. Vigo’s advice had been proved. Their house was full, and of the best tenants75. Their first floor was taken by a distinguished M.P., a county member of repute whom Mr. Rodney had known before the “revolution,” and who was so pleased with his quarters, and the comfort and refinement77 of all about him, that to ensure their constant enjoyment78 he became a yearly tenant76. Their second floor, which was nearly as good as their first, was inhabited by a young gentleman of fashion, who took them originally only by the week, and who was always going to give them up, but never did. The weekly lodger79 went to Paris, and he went to German baths, and he went to country houses, and he was frequently a long time away, but he never gave up his lodgings80. When therefore Mr. Ferrars called in Warwick Street, the truth is the house was full and there was no vacant room for him. But this the Rodneys would not admit. Though they were worldly people, and it seemed impossible that anything more could be gained from the ruined house of Hurstley, they had, like many other people, a superstition81, and their superstition was an adoration82 of the family of Ferrars. The sight of their former master, who, had it not been for the revolution, might have been Prime Minister of England, and the recollection of their former mistress and all her splendour, and all the rich dresses which she used to give so profusely to her dependent, quite overwhelmed them. Without consultation83 this sympathising couple leapt to the same conclusion. They assured Mr. Ferrars they could accommodate him, and that he should find everything prepared for him when he called again, and they resigned to him, without acknowledging it, their own commodious84 and well-furnished chamber85, which Mrs. Rodney prepared for him with the utmost solicitude86, arranging his writing-table and materials as he used to have them in Hill Street, and showing by a variety of modes she remembered all his ways.
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ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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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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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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softened
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| （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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swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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insinuating
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| adj.曲意巴结的，暗示的v.暗示( insinuate的现在分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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pillaging
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| v.抢劫，掠夺( pillage的现在分词 ) | |
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plundering
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| 掠夺，抢劫( plunder的现在分词 ) | |
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gem
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| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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bankruptcy
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| n.破产；无偿付能力 | |
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chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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profligate
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| adj.行为不检的；n.放荡的人，浪子，肆意挥霍者 | |
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recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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tragically
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| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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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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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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impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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profusely
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| ad.abundantly | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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deposed
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| v.罢免( depose的过去式和过去分词 )；（在法庭上）宣誓作证 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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sedulously
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| ad.孜孜不倦地 | |
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mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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implicit
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| a.暗示的，含蓄的，不明晰的，绝对的 | |
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haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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engrossing
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| adj.使人全神贯注的，引人入胜的v.使全神贯注( engross的现在分词 ) | |
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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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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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53
interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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patronage
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| n.赞助，支援，援助；光顾，捧场 | |
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penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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57
solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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pretentious
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| adj.自命不凡的，自负的，炫耀的 | |
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conversant
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| adj.亲近的，有交情的，熟悉的 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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parasite
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| n.寄生虫；寄生菌；食客 | |
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detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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approbation
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| n.称赞；认可 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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expended
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| v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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lodger
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| n.寄宿人，房客 | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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commodious
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| adj.宽敞的；使用方便的 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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