Did Fortune guide,
Or rather Destiny, our bark, to which
We could appoint no port, to this best place?
Fletcher.
The islands in the Firth of Clyde, which the daily passage of so many smoke-pennoned steamboats now renders so easily accessible, were in our fathers’ times secluded1 spots, frequented by no travellers, and few visitants of any kind. They are of exquisite2, yet varied3 beauty. Arran, a mountainous region, or Alpine4 island, abounds5 with the grandest and most romantic scenery. Bute is of a softer and more woodland character. The Cumbrays, as if to exhibit a contrast to both, are green, level, and bare, forming the links of a sort of natural bar which is drawn6 along the mouth of the firth, leaving large intervals7, however, of ocean. Roseneath, a smaller isle8, lies much higher up the firth, and towards its western shore, near the opening of the lake called the Gare Loch, and not far from Loch Long and Loch Scant9, or the Holy Loch, which wind from the mountains of the Western Highlands to join the estuary11 of the Clyde.
In these isles12 the severe frost winds which tyrannise over the vegetable creation during a Scottish spring, are comparatively little felt; nor, excepting the gigantic strength of Arran, are they much exposed to the Atlantic storms, lying landlocked and protected to the westward13 by the shores of Ayrshire. Accordingly, the weeping-willow, the weeping-birch, and other trees of early and pendulous14 shoots, flourish in these favoured recesses15 in a degree unknown in our eastern districts; and the air is also said to possess that mildness which is favourable16 to consumptive cases.
The picturesque17 beauty of the island of Roseneath, in particular, had such recommendations, that the Earls and Dukes of Argyle, from an early period, made it their occasional residence, and had their temporary accommodation in a fishing or hunting-lodge18, which succeeding improvements have since transformed into a palace. It was in its original simplicity19 when the little bark which we left traversing the firth at the end of last CHAPTER approached the shores of the isle.
When they touched the landing-place, which was partly shrouded20 by some old low but wide-spreading oak-trees, intermixed with hazel-bushes, two or three figures were seen as if awaiting their arrival. To these Jeanie paid little attention, so that it was with a shock of surprise almost electrical, that, upon being carried by the rowers out of the boat to the shore, she was received in the arms of her father!
It was too wonderful to be believed — too much like a happy dream to have the stable feeling of reality — She extricated21 herself from his close and affectionate embrace, and held him at arm’s length, to satisfy her mind that it was no illusion. But the form was indisputable — Douce David Deans himself, in his best light-blue Sunday’s coat, with broad metal buttons, and waistcoat and breeches of the same, his strong gramashes or leggins of thick grey cloth — the very copper22 buckles23 — the broad Lowland blue bonnet24, thrown back as he lifted his eyes to Heaven in speechless gratitude25 — the grey locks that straggled from beneath it down his weather-beaten “haffets”— the bald and furrowed26 forehead — the clear blue eye, that, undimmed by years, gleamed bright and pale from under its shaggy grey pent-house — the features, usually so stern and stoical, now melted into the unwonted expression of rapturous joy, affection, and gratitude — were all those of David Deans; and so happily did they assort together, that, should I ever again see my friends Wilkie or Allan, I will try to borrow or steal from them a sketch27 of this very scene.
“Jeanie — my ain Jeanie — my best — my maist dutiful bairn — the Lord of Israel be thy father, for I am hardly worthy28 of thee! Thou hast redeemed29 our captivity30 — brought back the honour of our house — Bless thee, my bairn, with mercies promised and purchased! But He has blessed thee, in the good of which He has made thee the instrument.”
These words broke from him not without tears, though David was of no melting mood. Archibald had, with delicate attention, withdrawn31 the spectators from the interview, so that the wood and setting sun alone were witnesses of the expansion of their feelings.
“And Effie? — and Effie, dear father?” was an eager interjectional question which Jeanie repeatedly threw in among her expressions of joyful32 thankfulness.
“Ye will hear — Ye will hear,” said David hastily, and over and anon renewed his grateful acknowledgments to Heaven for sending Jeanie safe down from the land of prelatic deadness and schismatic heresy33; and had delivered her from the dangers of the way, and the lions that were in the path.
“And Effie?” repeated her affectionate sister again and again. “And — and” (fain would she have said Butler, but she modified the direct inquiry34)—“and Mr. and Mrs. Saddletree — and Dumbiedikes — and a’ friends?”
“A’ weel — a’ weel, praise to His name!”
“And — Mr. Butler — he wasna weel when I gaed awa?”
“He is quite mended — quite weel,” replied her father.
“Thank God — but O, dear father, Effie? — Effie?”
“You will never see her mair, my bairn,” answered Deans in a solemn tone — “You are the ae and only leaf left now on the auld35 tree — hale be your portion!”
“She is dead! — She is slain36! — It has come ower late!” exclaimed Jeanie, wringing37 her hands.
“No, Jeanie,” returned Deans, in the same grave melancholy38 tone. “She lives in the flesh, and is at freedom from earthly restraint, if she were as much alive in faith, and as free from the bonds of Satan.”
“The Lord protect us!” said Jeanie. —“Can the unhappy bairn hae left you for that villain39?”
“It is ower truly spoken,” said Deans —“She has left her auld father, that has wept and prayed for her — She has left her sister, that travailed and toiled40 for her like a mother — She has left the bones of her mother, and the land of her people, and she is ower the march wi’ that son of Belial — She has made a moonlight flitting of it.” He paused, for a feeling betwixt sorrow and strong resentment41 choked his utterance42.
“And wi’ that man? — that fearfu’ man?” said Jeanie. “And she has left us to gang aff wi’ him? — O Effie, Effie, wha could hae thought it, after sic a deliverance as you had been gifted wi’!”
“She went out from us, my bairn, because she was not of us,” replied David. “She is a withered43 branch will never bear fruit of grace — a scapegoat44 gone forth45 into the wilderness46 of the world, to carry wi’ her, as I trust, the sins of our little congregation. The peace of the warld gang wi’ her, and a better peace when she has the grace to turn to it! If she is of His elected, His ain hour will come. What would her mother have said, that famous and memorable47 matron, Rebecca MacNaught, whose memory is like a flower of sweet savour in Newbattle, and a pot of frankincense in Lugton? But be it sae — let her part — let her gang her gate — let her bite on her ain bridle48 — The Lord kens49 his time — She was the bairn of prayers, and may not prove an utter castaway. But never, Jeanie, never more let her name be spoken between you and me — She hath passed from us like the brook50 which vanisheth when the summer waxeth warm, as patient Job saith — let her pass, and be forgotten.”
There was a melancholy pause which followed these expressions. Jeanie would fain have asked more circumstances relating to her sister’s departure, but the tone of her father’s prohibition51 was positive. She was about to mention her interview with Staunton at his father’s rectory; but, on hastily running over the particulars in her memory, she thought that, on the whole, they were more likely to aggravate52 than diminish his distress53 of mind. She turned, therefore, the discourse54 from this painful subject, resolving to suspend farther inquiry until she should see Butler, from whom she expected to learn the particulars of her sister’s elopement.
But when was she to see Butler? was a question she could not forbear asking herself, especially while her father, as if eager to escape from the subject of his youngest daughter, pointed55 to the opposite shore of Dumbartonshire, and asking Jeanie “if it werena a pleasant abode56?” declared to her his intention of removing his earthly tabernacle to that country, “in respect he was solicited57 by his Grace the Duke of Argyle, as one well skilled in country labour, and a’ that appertained to flocks and herds58, to superintend a store-farm, whilk his Grace had taen into his ain hand for the improvement of stock.”
Jeanie’s heart sunk within her at this declaration. “She allowed it was a goodly and pleasant land, and sloped bonnily to the western sun; and she doubtedna that the pasture might be very gude, for the grass looked green, for as drouthy as the weather had been. But it was far frae hame, and she thought she wad be often thinking on the bonny spots of turf, sae fu’ of gowans and yellow king-cups, amang the Crags at St. Leonard’s.”
“Dinna speak on’t, Jeanie,” said her father; “I wish never to hear it named mair — that is, after the rouping is ower, and the bills paid. But I brought a’ the beasts owerby that I thought ye wad like best. There is Gowans, and there’s your ain brockit cow, and the wee hawkit ane, that ye ca’d — I needna tell ye how ye ca’d it — but I couldna bid them sell the petted creature, though the sight o’ it may sometimes gie us a sair heart — it’s no the poor dumb creature’s fault — And ane or twa beasts mair I hae reserved, and I caused them to be driven before the other beasts, that men might say, as when the son of Jesse returned from battle, ‘This is David’s spoil.’”
Upon more particular inquiry, Jeanie found new occasion to admire the active beneficence of her friend the Duke of Argyle. While establishing a sort of experimental farm on the skirts of his immense Highland10 estates, he had been somewhat at a loss to find a proper person in whom to vest the charge of it. The conversation his Grace had upon country matters with Jeanie Deans during their return from Richmond, had impressed him with a belief that the father, whose experience and success she so frequently quoted, must be exactly the sort of person whom he wanted. When the condition annexed59 to Effie’s pardon rendered it highly probable that David Deans would choose to change his place of residence, this idea again occurred to the Duke more strongly, and as he was an enthusiast60 equally in agriculture and in benevolence61, he imagined he was serving the purposes of both, when he wrote to the gentleman in Edinburgh entrusted62 with his affairs, to inquire into the character of David Deans, cowfeeder, and so forth, at St. Leonard’s Crags; and if he found him such as he had been represented, to engage him without delay, and on the most liberal terms, to superintend his fancy-farm in Dumbartonshire.
The proposal was made to old David by the gentleman so commissioned, on the second day after his daughter’s pardon had reached Edinburgh. His resolution to leave St. Leonard’s had been already formed; the honour of an express invitation from the Duke of Argyle to superintend a department where so much skill and diligence was required, was in itself extremely flattering; and the more so, because honest David, who was not without an exeellent opinion of his own talents, persuaded himself that, by accepting this charge, he would in some sort repay the great favour he had received at the hands of the Argyle family. The appointments, including the right of sufficient grazing for a small stock of his own, were amply liberal; and David’s keen eye saw that the situation was convenient for trafficking to advantage in Highland cattle. There was risk of “her’ship”1 from the neighbouring mountains, indeed, but the awful name of the Duke of Argyle would be a great security, and a trifle of black-mail would, David was aware, assure his safety.
Still however, there were two points on which he haggled63. The first was the character of the clergyman with whose worship he was to join; and on this delicate point he received, as we will presently show the reader, perfect satisfaction. The next obstacle was the condition of his youngest daughter, obliged as she was to leave Scotland for so many years.
The gentleman of the law smiled, and said, “There was no occasion to interpret that clause very strictly64 — that if the young woman left Scotland for a few months, or even weeks, and came to her father’s new residence by sea from the western side of England, nobody would know of her arrival, or at least nobody who had either the right or inclination65 to give her disturbance66. The extensive heritable jurisdictions67 of his Grace excluded the interference of other magistrates68 with those living on his estates, and they who were in immediate69 dependence70 on him would receive orders to give the young woman no disturbance. Living on the verge71 of the Highlands, she might, indeed, be said to be out of Scotland, that is, beyond the bounds of ordinary law and civilisation72.”
Old Deans was not quite satisfied with this reasoning; but the elopement of Effie, which took place on the third night after her liberation, rendered his residence at St. Leonard’s so detestable to him, that he closed at once with the proposal which had been made him, and entered with pleasure into the idea of surprising Jeanie, as had been proposed by the Duke, to render the change of residence more striking to her. The Duke had apprised73 Archibald of these circumstances, with orders to act according to the instructions he should receive from Edinburgh, and by which accordingly he was directed to bring Jeanie to Roseneath.
The father and daughter communicated these matters to each other, now stopping, now walking slowly towards the Lodge, which showed itself among the trees, at about half-a-mile’s distance from the little bay in which they had landed. As they approached the house, David Deans informed his daughter, with somewhat like a grim smile, which was the utmost advance he ever made towards a mirthful expression of visage, that “there was baith a worshipful gentleman, and ane reverend gentleman, residing therein. The worshipful gentleman was his honour the Laird of Knocktarlitie, who was bailie of the lordship under the Duke of Argyle, ane Highland gentleman, tarr’d wi’ the same stick,” David doubted, “as mony of them, namely, a hasty and choleric74 temper, and a neglect of the higher things that belong to salvation75, and also a gripping unto the things of this world, without muckle distinction of property; but, however, ane gude hospitable76 gentleman, with whom it would be a part of wisdom to live on a gude understanding (for Hielandmen were hasty, ower hasty). As for the reverend person of whom he had spoken, he was candidate by favour of the Duke of Argyle (for David would not for the universe have called him presentee) for the kirk of the parish in which their farm was situated77, and he was likely to be highly acceptable unto the Christian78 souls of the parish, who were hungering for spiritual manna, having been fed but upon sour Hieland sowens by Mr. Duncan MacDonought, the last minister, who began the morning duly, Sunday and Saturday, with a mutchkin of usquebaugh. But I need say the less about the present lad,” said David, again grimly grimacing79, “as I think ye may hae seen him afore; and here he is come to meet us.”
She had indeed seen him before, for it was no other than Reuben Butler himself.
收听单词发音 |
1
secluded
|
|
| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
alpine
|
|
| adj.高山的；n.高山植物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
abounds
|
|
| v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
intervals
|
|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
isle
|
|
| n.小岛，岛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
scant
|
|
| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
highland
|
|
| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
estuary
|
|
| n.河口，江口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
isles
|
|
| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
westward
|
|
| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
pendulous
|
|
| adj.下垂的；摆动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
recesses
|
|
| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
favourable
|
|
| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
picturesque
|
|
| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
simplicity
|
|
| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
shrouded
|
|
| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
extricated
|
|
| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
copper
|
|
| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
buckles
|
|
| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
bonnet
|
|
| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
furrowed
|
|
| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
sketch
|
|
| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
redeemed
|
|
| adj. 可赎回的，可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
captivity
|
|
| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
withdrawn
|
|
| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
joyful
|
|
| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
heresy
|
|
| n.异端邪说；异教 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
inquiry
|
|
| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
auld
|
|
| adj.老的，旧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
slain
|
|
| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
wringing
|
|
| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
villain
|
|
| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
toiled
|
|
| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
resentment
|
|
| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
utterance
|
|
| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
withered
|
|
| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
scapegoat
|
|
| n.替罪的羔羊，替人顶罪者；v.使…成为替罪羊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
wilderness
|
|
| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
memorable
|
|
| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
bridle
|
|
| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
kens
|
|
| vt.知道（ken的第三人称单数形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
brook
|
|
| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
prohibition
|
|
| n.禁止；禁令，禁律 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
aggravate
|
|
| vt.加重(剧)，使恶化；激怒，使恼火 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
discourse
|
|
| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
abode
|
|
| n.住处，住所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
solicited
|
|
| v.恳求( solicit的过去式和过去分词 )；（指娼妇）拉客；索求；征求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
herds
|
|
| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
annexed
|
|
| [法] 附加的，附属的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
enthusiast
|
|
| n.热心人，热衷者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
benevolence
|
|
| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
entrusted
|
|
| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
haggled
|
|
| v.讨价还价( haggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
strictly
|
|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
disturbance
|
|
| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
jurisdictions
|
|
| 司法权( jurisdiction的名词复数 )； 裁判权； 管辖区域； 管辖范围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
magistrates
|
|
| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
dependence
|
|
| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
verge
|
|
| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
civilisation
|
|
| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
apprised
|
|
| v.告知，通知( apprise的过去式和过去分词 )；评价 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
choleric
|
|
| adj.易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
salvation
|
|
| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
hospitable
|
|
| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
situated
|
|
| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
grimacing
|
|
| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |