‘He made love neither with roses, nor with apples, nor with locks of hair.’ — THEOCRITUS.
ONE Sunday afternoon Felix Holt rapped at the door of Mr Lyon’s house, although he could hear the voice of the minister preaching in the chapel1. He stood with a book under his arm, apparently2 confident that there was some one in the house to open the door for him. In fact, Esther never went to chapel in the afternoon: that ‘exercise’ made her head ache.
In these September weeks Felix had got rather intimate with Mr Lyon. They shared the same political sympathies; and though, to Liberals who had neither freehold nor copyhold nor leasehold3, the share in a county election consisted chiefly of that prescriptive amusement of the majority known as ‘looking on,’ there was still something to be said on the occasion, if not to be done. Perhaps the most delightful4 friendships are those in which there is much agreement, much disputation, and yet more personal liking5; and the advent6 of the public-spirited, contradictory7, yet affectionate Felix, into Treby life, had made a welcome epoch8 to the minister. To talk with this young man, who, though hopeful, had a singularity which some might at once have pronounced heresy9, but which Mr Lyon persisted in regarding as orthodoxy ‘in the making,’ was like a good bite to strong teeth after a too plentiful10 allowance of spoon meat. To cultivate his society with a view to checking his erratic11 tendencies was a laudable purpose; but perhaps if Felix had been rapidly subdued12 and reduced to conformity13, little Mr Lyon would have found the conversation much flatter.
Esther had not seen so much of their new acquaintance as her father had. But she had begun to find him amusing, and also rather irritating to her woman’s love of conquest. He always opposed and criticised her; and besides that, he looked at her as if he never saw a single detail about her person — quite as if she were a middle-aged14 woman in a cap. She did not believe that he had ever admired her hands, or her long neck, or her graceful15 movements, which had made all the girls at school call her Calypso (doubtless from their familiarity with Telemaque). Felix ought properly to have been a little in love with her — never mentioning it, of course, because that would have been disagreeable, and his being a regular lover was out of the question. But it was quite clear that, instead of feeling any disadvantage on his own side, he held himself to be immeasurably her superior: and, what was worse, Esther had a secret consciousness that he was her superior. She was all the more vexed16 at the suspicion that he thought slightly of her; and wished in her vexation that she could have found more fault with him — that she had not been obliged to admire more and more the varying expressions of his open face and his deliciously good-humoured laugh, always loud at a joke against himself. Besides, she could not help having her curiosity roused by the unusual combinations both in his mind and in his outward position, and she had surprised herself as well as her father one day by suddenly starting up and proposing to walk with him when he was going to pay an afternoon visit to Mrs Holt, to try and soothe17 her concerning Felix. ‘What a mother he has!’ she said to herself when they came away again; ‘but, rude and queer as he is, I cannot say there is anything vulgar about him. Yet — I don’t know — if I saw him by the side of a finished gentleman.’ Esther wished that finished gentleman were among her acquaintances: he would certainly admire her, and make her aware of Felix’s inferiority.
On this particular Sunday afternoon, when she heard the knock at the door, she was seated in the kitchen corner between the fire and the window reading Rene. Certainly, in her well-fitting light-blue dress — she almost always wore some shade of blue — with her delicate sandalled slipper18 stretched towards the fire, her little gold watch, which had cost her nearly a quarter’s earnings19, visible at her side, her slender fingers playing with a shower of brown curls, and a coronet of shining plaits at the summit of her head, she was a remarkable20 Cinderella. When the rap came, she coloured, and was going to shut her book and put it out of the way on the window-ledge behind her; but she desisted with a little toss, laid it open on the table beside her, and walked to the outer door, which opened into the kitchen. There was rather a mischievous21 gleam in her face: the rap was not a small one; it came probably from a large personage with a vigorous arm.
‘Good afternoon, Miss Lyon,’ said Felix, taking off his cloth cap: he resolutely22 declined the expensive ugliness of a hat, and in a poked23 cap and without a cravat24, made a figure at which his mother cried every Sunday, and thought of with a slow shake of the head at several passages in the minister’s prayer.
‘Dear me, it is you, Mr Holt! fear you will have to wait some time before you can see my father. The sermon is not ended yet, and there will be the hymn26 and the prayer, and perhaps other things to detain him.’
‘Well, will you let me sit down in the kitchen? I don’t want to be a bore.’
‘O no,’ said Esther, with her pretty light laugh, ‘I always give you credit for not meaning it. Pray come in, if you don’t mind waiting. I was sitting in the kitchen: the kettle is singing quite prettily27. It is much nicer than the parlour — not half so ugly.’
‘There I agree with you.’
‘How very extraordinary! But if you prefer the kitchen, and don’t want to sit with me, I can go into the parlour.’
‘I came on purpose to sit with you,’ said Felix, in his blunt way, ‘but I thought it likely you might be vexed at seeing me. I wanted to talk to you, but I’ve got nothing pleasant to say. As your father would have it, I’m not given to prophesy28 smooth things — to prophesy deceit.’
‘I understand,’ said Esther, sitting down. ‘Pray be seated. You thought I had no afternoon sermon, so you came to give me one.’
‘Yes,’ said Felix, seating himself sideways in a chair not far off her, and leaning over the back to look at her with his large clear grey eyes, ‘and my text is something you said the other day. You said you didn’t mind about people having right opinions so that they had good taste. Now I want you to see what shallow stuff that is.’
‘Oh, I don’t doubt it if you say so. I know you are a person of right opinions.’
‘But by opinions you mean men’s thoughts about great subjects, and by taste you mean their thoughts about small ones; dress, behaviour, amusements, ornaments29.’
‘Well — yes — or rather, their sensibilities about those things.’
‘It comes to the same thing; thoughts, opinions, knowledge, are only a sensibility to facts and ideas. If I understand a geometrical problem, it is because I have a sensibility to the way in which lines and figures are related to each other; and I want you to see that the creature who has the sensibilities that you call taste, and not the sensibilities that you call opinions, is simply a lower, pettier sort of being — an insect that notices the shaking of the table, but never notices the thunder.’
‘Very well, I am an insect; yet I notice that you are thundering at me.’
‘No, you are not an insect. That is what exasperates31 me at your making a boast of littleness. You have enough understanding to make it wicked that you should add one more to the women who hinder men’s lives from having any nobleness in them.’
Esther coloured deeply: she resented this speech, yet she disliked it less than many Felix had addressed to her.
‘What is my horrible guilt33?’ she said, rising and standing32, as she was wont34, with one foot on the fender, and looking at the fire. If it had been any one but Felix who was near her, it might have occurred to her that this attitude showed her to advantage; but she had only a mortified35 sense that he was quite indifferent to what others praised her for.
‘Why do you read this mawkish36 stuff on a Sunday, for example?’ he said, snatching up Rene, and running his eye over the pages.
‘Why don’t you always go to chapel, Mr Holt, and read Howe’s Living Temple, and join the church?’
‘There’s just the difference between us — I know why I don’t do those things. I distinctly see that I can do something better. I have other principles, and should sink myself by doing what I don’t recognise as the best.’
‘I understand,’ said Esther, as lightly as she could, to conceal37 her bitterness. ‘I am a lower kind of being, and could not so easily sink myself.’
‘Not by entering into your father’s ideas. If a woman really believes herself to be a lower kind of being, she should place herself in subjection: she should be ruled by the thoughts of her father or husband. If not, let her show her power of choosing something better. You must know that your father’s principles are greater and worthier38 than what guides your life. You have no reason but idle fancy and selfish inclination39 for shirking his teaching and giving your soul up to trifles.’
‘You are kind enough to say so. But I am not aware that I have ever confided40 my reasons to you.’
‘Why, what worth calling a reason could make any mortal hang over this trash? — idiotic41 immorality42 dressed up to look fine, with a little bit of doctrine43 tacked44 to it, like a hare’s foot on a dish, to make believe the mess is not cat’s flesh. Look here! “Est-ce ma faute, si je trouve partout les bornes, si ce qui est fini n’a pour moi aucune valeur?” Yes, sir, distinctly your fault, because you’re an ass25. Your dunce who can’t do his sums always has a taste for the infinite. Sir, do you know what a rhomboid is? Oh no, I don’t value these things with limits. “Cependant, j’aime la monotonie des sentimens de la vie, et si j’avais encore la folie de croire au bonheur —” ’
‘O pray, Mr Holt, don’t go on reading with that dreadful accent; it sets one’s teeth on edge.’ Esther, smarting helplessly under the previous lashes45, was relieved by this diversion of criticism.
‘There it is!’ said Felix, throwing the book on the table, and getting up to walk about. ‘You are only happy when you can spy a tag or a tassel46 loose to turn the talk, and get rid of any judgment47 that must carry grave action after it.’
‘I think I have borne a great deal of talk without turning it.’
‘Not enough, Miss Lyon — not all that I came to say. I want you to change. Of course I am a brute48 to say so. I ought to say you are perfect. Another man would, perhaps. But I say, I want you to change.’
‘How am I to oblige you? By joining the church?’
‘No; but by asking yourself whether life is not as solemn a thing as your father takes it to be — in which you may be either a blessing49 or a curse to many. You know you have never done that. You don’t care to be better than a bird trimming its feathers, and pecking about after what pleases it. You are discontented with the world because you can’t get just the small things that suit your pleasure, not because it’s a world where myriads50 of men and women are ground by wrong and misery51, and tainted52 with pollution.’
Esther felt her heart swelling53 with mingled54 indignation at this liberty, wounded pride at this depreciation55, and acute consciousness that she could not contradict what Felix said. He was outrageously56 ill-bred; but she felt that she should be lowering herself by telling him so, and manifesting her anger: in that way she would be confirming his accusation57 of a littleness that shrank from severe truth; and, besides, through all her mortification58 there pierced a sense that this exasperation59 of Felix against her was more complimentary60 than anything in his previous behaviour. She had self-command enough to speak with her usual silvery voice.
‘Pray go on, Mr Holt. Relieve yourself of these burning truths. I am sure they must be troublesome to carry unuttered.’
‘Yes, they are,’ said Felix, pausing, and standing not far off her. ‘I can’t bear to see you going the way of the foolish women who spoil men’s lives. Men can’t help loving them, and so they make themselves slaves to the petty desires of petty creatures. That’s the way those who might do better spend their lives for nought61 — get checked in every great effort — toil62 with brain and limb for things that have no more to do with a manly63 life than tarts64 and confectionery. That’s what makes women a curse; all life is stunted65 to suit their littleness. That’s why I’ll never love, if I can help it; and if I love, I’ll bear it, and never marry.’
The tumult66 of feeling in Esther’s mind — mortification, anger, the sense of a terrible power over her that Felix seemed to have as his angry words vibrated through her — was getting almost too much for her self-control. She felt her lips quivering; but her pride, which feared nothing so much as the betrayal of her emotion, helped her to a desperate effort. She pinched her own hand to overcome her tremor67, and said, in a tone of scorn —
‘I ought to be very much obliged to you for giving me your confidence so freely.’
‘Ah! now you are offended with me, and disgusted with me. I expected it would be so. A woman doesn’t like a man who tells her the truth.’
‘I think you boast a little too much of your truth-telling, Mr Holt,’ said Esther, flashing out at last. ‘That virtue68 is apt to be easy to people when they only wound others and not themselves. Telling the truth often means no more than taking a liberty.’
‘Yes, I suppose I should have been taking a liberty if I had tried to drag you back by the skirt when I saw you running into a pit.’
‘You should really found a sect30. Preaching is your vocation69. It is a pity you should ever have an audience of only one.’
‘I see; I have made a fool of myself. I thought you had a more generous mind — that you might be kindled70 to a better ambition. But I’ve set your vanity aflame — nothing else. I’m going. Good-bye.’
‘Good-bye,’ said Esther, not looking at him. He did not open the door immediately. He seemed to be adjusting his cap and pulling it down. Esther longed to be able to throw a lasso round him and compel him to stay, that she might say what she chose to him; her very anger made this departure irritating, especially as he had the last word, and that a very bitter one. But soon the latch71 was lifted and the door closed behind him. She ran up to her bedroom and burst into tears. Poor maiden72! There was a strange contradiction of impulses in her mind in those first moments. She could not bear that Felix should not respect her, yet she could not bear that he should see her bend before his denunciation. She revolted against his assumption of superiority, yet she felt herself in a new kind of subjection to him. He was ill-bred, he was rude, he had taken an unwarrantable liberty; yet his indignant words were a tribute to her: he thought she was worth more pains than the women of whom he took no notice. It was excessively impertinent in him to tell her of his resolving not to love — not to marry — as if she cared about that; as if he thought himself likely to inspire an affection that would incline any woman to marry him after such eccentric steps as he had taken. Had he ever for a moment imagined that she had thought of him in the light of a man who would make love to her? . . . But did he love her one little bit, and was that the reason why he wanted her to change? Esther felt less angry at that form of freedom; though she was quite sure that she did not love him, and that she could never love any one who was so much of a pedagogue73 and a master, to say nothing of his oddities. But he wanted her to change. For the first time in her life Esther felt herself seriously shaken in her self-contentment. She knew there was a mind to which she appeared trivial, narrow, selfish. Every word Felix had said to her seemed to have burnt itself into her memory. She felt as if she should for evermore be haunted by self-criticism, and never do anything to satisfy those fancies on which she had simply piqued74 herself before without being dogged by inward questions. Her father’s desire for her conversion75 had never moved her; she saw that he adored her all the while, and he never checked her unregenerate acts as if they degraded her on earth, but only mourned over them as unfitting her for heaven. Unfitness for heaven (spoken of as ‘Jerusalem’ and ‘glory’), the prayers of a good little father, whose thoughts and motives76 seemed to her like the Life of Dr Doddridge, which she was content to leave unread, did not attack her self-respect and self-satisfaction. But now she had been stung — stung even into a new consciousness concerning her father. Was it true that his life was so much worthier than her own? She could not change for anything Felix said, but she told herself he was mistaken if he supposed her incapable77 of generous thoughts.
She heard her father coming into the house. She dried her tears, tried to recover herself hurriedly, and went down to him.
‘You want your tea, father; how your forehead burns!’ she said gently, kissing his brow, and then putting her cool hand on it.
Mr Lyon felt a little surprise; such spontaneous tenderness was not quite common with her; it reminded him of her mother.
‘My sweet child,’ he said gratefully, thinking with wonder of the treasures still left in our fallen nature.
收听单词发音 |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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leasehold
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| n.租赁，租约，租赁权，租赁期，adj.租(来)的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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heresy
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| n.异端邪说；异教 | |
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plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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erratic
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| adj.古怪的，反复无常的，不稳定的 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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conformity
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| n.一致，遵从，顺从 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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slipper
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| n.拖鞋 | |
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earnings
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| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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prophesy
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| v.预言；预示 | |
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ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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sect
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| n.派别，宗教，学派，派系 | |
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exasperates
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| n.激怒，触怒( exasperate的名词复数 )v.激怒，触怒( exasperate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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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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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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mortified
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| v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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mawkish
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| adj.多愁善感的的；无味的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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worthier
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| 应得某事物( worthy的比较级 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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immorality
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| n. 不道德, 无道义 | |
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doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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tacked
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| 用平头钉钉( tack的过去式和过去分词 )； 附加，增补； 帆船抢风行驶，用粗线脚缝 | |
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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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tassel
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| n.流苏，穗；v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须 | |
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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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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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tainted
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| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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depreciation
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| n.价值低落，贬值，蔑视，贬低 | |
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outrageously
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| 凶残地； 肆无忌惮地； 令人不能容忍地； 不寻常地 | |
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accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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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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nought
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| n.／adj.无，零 | |
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62
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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63
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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64
tarts
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| n.果馅饼( tart的名词复数 )；轻佻的女人；妓女；小妞 | |
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65
stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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66
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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67
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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68
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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69
vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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70
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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71
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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72
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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73
pedagogue
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| n.教师 | |
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74
piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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conversion
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| n.转化，转换，转变 | |
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76
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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77
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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