In Which Captain Armine Proves Himself a Complete Tactician1.
THE midnight moon flung its broad beams over the glades2 and avenues of Armine, as Ferdinand, riding Miss Temple’s horse, reentered the park. His countenance3 was paler than the spectral4 light that guided him on his way. He looked little like a pledged and triumphant5 lover; but in his contracted brow and compressed lip might be read the determination of his soul. There was no longer a contest between poverty and pride, between the maintenance or destruction of his ancient house, between his old engagement and his present passion; that was past. Henrietta Temple was the light in the pharos amid all his stormy fortunes; thither7 he directed all the energies of his being; and to gain that port, or sink, was his unflinching resolution.
It was deep in the night before he again beheld8 the towers and turrets9 of his castle, and the ivy-covered fragment of the old Place seemed to sleep in peace under its protecting influence. A wild and beautiful event had happened since last he quitted those ancient walls. And what would be its influence upon them? But it is not for the passionate10 lover to moralise. For him, the regrets of the past and the chances of the future are alike lost in the ravishing and absorbing present. For a lover that has but just secured the object of his long and tumultuous hopes is as a diver who has just plucked a jewel from the bed of some rare sea. Panting and wild he lies upon the beach, and the gem6 that he clutches is the sole idea that engrosses12 his existence.
Ferdinand is within his little chamber13, that little chamber where his mother had bid him so passionate a farewell. Ah! he loves another woman better than his mother now. Nay14, even a feeling of embarrassment15 and pain is associated with the recollection of that fond and elegant being, whom he had recognised once as the model of all feminine perfection, and who had been to him so gentle and so devoted16. He drives his mother from his thoughts. It is of another voice that he now muses17; it is the memory of another’s glance that touches his eager heart. He falls into a reverie; the passionate past is acted again before him; in his glittering eye and the rapid play of his features may be traced the tumult11 of his soul. A doubt crosses his brow. Is he indeed so happy; is it not all a dream? He takes from his bosom18 the handkerchief of Henrietta Temple. He recognises upon it her magical initials, worked in her own fine dark hair. A smile of triumphant certainty irradiates his countenance, as he rapidly presses the memorial to his lips, and imprints19 upon it a thousand kisses: and holding this cherished testimony20 of his felicity to his heart, sleep at length descended21 upon the exhausted22 frame of Ferdinand Armine.
But the night that brought dreams to Ferdinand Armine brought him not visions more marvellous and magical than his waking life. He who loves lives in an ecstatic trance. The world that surrounds him is not the world of working man: it is fairy land. He is not of the same order as the labouring myriads23 on which he seems to tread. They are to him but a swarm24 of humble-minded and humble-mannered insects. For him, the human species is represented by a single individual, and of her he makes an idol25. All that is bright and rare is but invented and devised to adorn26 and please her. Flowers for her were made so sweet and birds so musical. All nature seems to bear an intimate relation to the being we adore; and as to us life would now appear intolerable, a burthen of insupportable and wearying toil27, without this transcendent sympathy, so we cannot help fancying that were its sweet and subtle origin herself to quit this inspired scene, the universe itself would not be unconscious of its deprivation28, and somewhat of the world’s lustre29 might be missed even by the most callous30.
The morning burst as beautiful as such love. A rosy31 tint32 suffused33 the soft and tremulous sky, and tinted34 with a delicate hue35 the tall trees and the wide lawns, freshened with the light and vanishing dew. The air was vocal36 with a thousand songs; all was bright and clear, cheerful and golden. Ferdinand awoke from delicious dreams, and gazed upon the scene that responded to his own bright and glad emotions, and inhaled37 the balmy air, ethereal as his own soul. Love, that can illumine the dark hovel and the dismal38 garret, that sheds a ray of enchanting39 light over the close and busy city, seems to mount with a lighter40 and more glittering pinion41 in an atmosphere as brilliant as its own plumes42. Fortunate the youth, the romance of whose existence is placed in a scene befitting its fair and marvellous career; fortunate the passion that is breathed in palaces, amid the ennobling creations of surrounding art, and greets the object of its fond solicitude43 amid perfumed gardens, and in the shade of green and silent woods! Whatever may be the harsher course of his career, however the cold world may cast its dark shadows upon his future path, he may yet consider himself thrice blessed to whom this graceful44 destiny has fallen, and amid the storms and troubles of after-life may look back to these hours, fair as the dawn, beautiful as the twilight45, with solace46 and satisfaction. Disappointment may wither47 up his energies, oppression may bruise48 his spirit; but baulked, daunted49, deserted50, crushed, lone51 where once all was sympathy, gloomy where all was light, still he has not lived in vain.
Business, however, rises with the sun. The morning brings cares, and although with rebraced energies and renovated52 strength, then is the season that we are best qualified53 to struggle with the harassing54 brood, still Ferdinand Armine, the involved son of a ruined race, seldom rose from his couch, seldom recalled consciousness after repose55, without a pang56. Nor was there indeed magic withal, in the sweet spell that now bound him, to preserve him, from this black invasion. Anxiety was one of the ingredients of the charm. He might have forgotten his own broken fortunes, his audacious and sanguine57 spirit might have built up many a castle for the future, as brave as that of Armine; but the very inspiring recollection of Henrietta Temple, the very remembrance of the past and triumphant eve, only the more forced upon his memory the conviction that he was, at this moment, engaged also to another, and bound to be married to two women.
Something must be done; Miss Grandison might arrive this very day. It was an improbable incident, but still it might occur. While he was thus musing58, his servant brought him his letters, which had arrived the preceding day, letters from his mother and Katherine, his Katherine. They brought present relief. The invalid59 had not amended60; their movements were still uncertain. Katherine, ‘his own Kate,’ expressed even a faint fond wish that he would return. His resolution was taken in an instant. He decided61 with the prescient promptitude of one who has his dearest interests at stake. He wrote to Katherine that he would instantly fly to her, only that he daily expected his attendance would be required in town, on military business of urgent importance to their happiness. This might, this must, necessarily delay their meeting. The moment he received his summons to attend the Horse Guards, he should hurry off. In the meantime, she was to write to him here; and at all events not to quit Bath for Armine, without giving him a notice of several days. Having despatched this letter and another to his mother, Ferdinand repaired to the tower to communicate to Glastonbury the necessity of his immediate62 departure for London, but he also assured that good old man of his brief visit to that city. The pang of this unexpected departure was softened63 by the positive promise of returning in a very few days, and returning with his family.
Having made these arrangements, Ferdinand now felt that, come what might, he had at least secured for himself a certain period of unbroken bliss64. He had a faithful servant, an Italian, in whose discretion65 he had justly unlimited66 confidence. To him Ferdinand intrusted the duty of bringing, each day, his letters to his retreat, which he had fixed67 upon should be that same picturesque68 farm-house, in whose friendly porch he had found the preceding day such a hospitable69 shelter, and where he had experienced that charming adventure which now rather delighted than perplexed70 him.
1 tactician | |
n. 战术家, 策士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 glades | |
n.林中空地( glade的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 spectral | |
adj.幽灵的,鬼魂的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 triumphant | |
adj.胜利的,成功的;狂欢的,喜悦的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 gem | |
n.宝石,珠宝;受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 beheld | |
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 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 turrets | |
(六角)转台( turret的名词复数 ); (战舰和坦克等上的)转动炮塔; (摄影机等上的)镜头转台; (旧时攻城用的)塔车 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 tumult | |
n.喧哗;激动,混乱;吵闹 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 engrosses | |
v.使全神贯注( engross的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 embarrassment | |
n.尴尬;使人为难的人(事物);障碍;窘迫 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 muses | |
v.沉思,冥想( muse的第三人称单数 );沉思自语说(某事) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 imprints | |
n.压印( imprint的名词复数 );痕迹;持久影响 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 testimony | |
n.证词;见证,证明 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 myriads | |
n.无数,极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 swarm | |
n.(昆虫)等一大群;vi.成群飞舞;蜂拥而入 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 idol | |
n.偶像,红人,宠儿 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 adorn | |
vt.使美化,装饰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 deprivation | |
n.匮乏;丧失;夺去,贫困 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 lustre | |
n.光亮,光泽;荣誉 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 callous | |
adj.无情的,冷淡的,硬结的,起老茧的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 rosy | |
adj.美好的,乐观的,玫瑰色的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 tint | |
n.淡色,浅色;染发剂;vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 suffused | |
v.(指颜色、水气等)弥漫于,布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 tinted | |
adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 hue | |
n.色度;色调;样子 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 vocal | |
adj.直言不讳的;嗓音的;n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 inhaled | |
v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 dismal | |
adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 enchanting | |
a.讨人喜欢的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 lighter | |
n.打火机,点火器;驳船;v.用驳船运送;light的比较级 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 pinion | |
v.束缚;n.小齿轮 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 plumes | |
羽毛( plume的名词复数 ); 羽毛饰; 羽毛状物; 升上空中的羽状物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 solicitude | |
n.焦虑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 solace | |
n.安慰;v.使快乐;vt.安慰(物),缓和 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 wither | |
vt.使凋谢,使衰退,(用眼神气势等)使畏缩;vi.枯萎,衰退,消亡 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 bruise | |
n.青肿,挫伤;伤痕;vt.打青;挫伤 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 daunted | |
使(某人)气馁,威吓( daunt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 lone | |
adj.孤寂的,单独的;唯一的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 renovated | |
翻新,修复,整修( renovate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 qualified | |
adj.合格的,有资格的,胜任的,有限制的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 harassing | |
v.侵扰,骚扰( harass的现在分词 );不断攻击(敌人) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 repose | |
v.(使)休息;n.安息 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 pang | |
n.剧痛,悲痛,苦闷 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 sanguine | |
adj.充满希望的,乐观的,血红色的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 musing | |
n. 沉思,冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 invalid | |
n.病人,伤残人;adj.有病的,伤残的;无效的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 Amended | |
adj. 修正的 动词amend的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 softened | |
(使)变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 ); 缓解打击; 缓和; 安慰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
64 bliss | |
n.狂喜,福佑,天赐的福 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 discretion | |
n.谨慎;随意处理 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
66 unlimited | |
adj.无限的,不受控制的,无条件的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
67 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
68 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
69 hospitable | |
adj.好客的;宽容的;有利的,适宜的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
70 perplexed | |
adj.不知所措的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |