A Day of Love.
MEANWHILE the beautiful Henrietta sat in her bower1, her music neglected, her drawing thrown aside. Even her birds were forgotten, and her flowers untended. A soft tumult2 filled her frame: now rapt in reverie, she leaned her head upon her fair hand in charmed abstraction; now rising from her restless seat, she paced the chamber3, and thought of his quick coming. What was this mighty4 revolution that a few short days, a few brief hours had occasioned? How mysterious, yet how irresistible5, how overwhelming! Her father was absent, that father on whose fond idea she had alone lived; from whom the slightest separation had once been pain; and now that father claims not even her thoughts. Another, and a stranger’s, image is throned in her soul. She who had moved in the world so variously, who had received so much homage6 and been accustomed from her childhood to all that is considered accomplished7 and fascinating in man, and had passed through the ordeal8 with a calm clear spirit; behold9, she is no longer the mistress of her thoughts or feelings; she had fallen before a glance, and yielded in an instant to a burning word!
But could she blame herself? Did she repent10 the rapid and ravishing past? Did regret mingle11 with her wonder? Was there a pang12 of remorse13, however slight, blending its sharp tooth with all her bliss14? No! Her love was perfect, and her joy was full. She offered her vows15 to that Heaven that had accorded her happiness so supreme16; she felt only unworthy of a destiny so complete. She marvelled17, in the meekness18 and purity of her spirit, why one so gifted had been reserved for her, and what he could recognise in her imperfect and inferior qualities to devote to them the fondness of his rare existence.
Ferdinand Armine! Did there indeed ever breathe, had the wit of poet ever yet devised, a being so choice? So young, so beautiful, so lively and accomplished, so deeply and variously interesting! Was that sweet voice, indeed, only to sound in her enchanted19 ear, that graceful20 form to move only for the pleasure of her watchful21 eye? That quick and airy fancy but to create for her delight, and that soft, gentle heart to own no solicitude22 but for her will and infinite gratification? And could it be possible that he loved her, that she was indeed his pledged bride, that the accents of his adoration23 still echoed in her ear, and his fond embrace still clung to her mute and trembling lips! Would he always love her? Would he always be so fond? Would he be as faithful as he was now devoted24? Ah! she would not lose him. That heart should never escape her. Her life should be one long vigilant25 device to enchain his being.
What was she five days past? Is it possible that she lived before she met him? Of what did she think, what do? Could there be pursuits without this companion, plans or feelings without this sweet friend? Life must have been a blank, vapid26 and dull and weary. She could not recall herself before that morning ride to Armine. How rolled away the day! How heavy must have been the hours! All that had been uttered before she listened to Ferdinand seemed without point; all that was done before he lingered at her side, aimless and without an object.
O Love! in vain they moralise; in vain they teach us thou art a delusion27; in vain they dissect28 thine inspiring sentiment, and would mortify29 us into misery30 by its degrading analysis. The sage31 may announce that gratified vanity is thine aim and end; but the lover glances with contempt at his cold-blooded philosophy. Nature assures him thou art a beautiful and sublime32 emotion; and, he answers, canst thou deprive the sun of its heat because its ray may be decomposed33; or does the diamond blaze with less splendour because thou canst analyse its effulgence34?
A gentle rustling35 sounded at the window: Henrietta looked up, but the sight deserted36 her fading vision, as Ferdinand seized with softness her softer hand, and pressed it to his lips.
A moment since, and she had longed for his presence as the infant for its mother; a moment since, and she had murmured that so much of the morn had passed without his society; a moment since, and it had seemed that no time could exhaust the expression of her feelings. How she had sighed for his coming! How she had hoped that this day she might convey to him what last night she had so weakly, so imperfectly attempted! And now she sat trembling and silent, with downcast eyes and changing countenance37!
‘My Henrietta!’ exclaimed Ferdinand, ‘my beautiful Henrietta, it seemed we never should meet again, and yet I rose almost with the sun.’
‘My Ferdinand,’ replied Miss Temple, scarcely daring to meet his glance, ‘I cannot speak; I am so happy that I cannot speak.’
‘Ah! tell me, have you thought of me? Did you observe I stole your handkerchief last night? See! here it is; when I slept, I kissed it and wore it next my heart.’
‘Ah! give it me,’ she faintly murmured, extending her hand; and then she added, in a firmer and livelier tone, ‘and did you really wear it near your heart!’
‘Near thine; for thine it is, love! Sweet, you look so beautiful today! It seems to me you never yet looked half so fair. Those eyes are so brilliant, so very blue, so like the violet! There is nothing like your eyes!’
‘Except your own.’
‘You have taken away your hand. Give me back my hand, my Henrietta. I will not quit it. The whole day it shall be clasped in mine. Ah! what a hand! so soft, so very soft! There is nothing like your hand.’
‘Yours is as soft, dear Ferdinand.’
‘O Henrietta! I do love you so! I wish that I could tell you how I love you! As I rode home last night it seemed that I had not conveyed to you a tithe38, nay39, a thousandth part of what I feel.’
‘You cannot love me, Ferdinand, more than I love you.’
‘Say so again! Tell me very often, tell me a thousand times, how much you love me. Unless you tell me a thousand times, Henrietta, I never can believe that I am so blessed.’
They went forth40 into the garden. Nature, with the splendid sky and the sweet breeze, seemed to smile upon their passion. Henrietta plucked the most beautiful flowers and placed them in his breast.
‘Do you remember the rose at Armine?’ said Ferdinand, with a fond smile.
‘Ah! who would have believed that it would have led to this?’ said Henrietta, with downcast eyes.
‘I am not more in love now than I was then,’ said Ferdinand.
‘I dare not speak of my feelings,’ said Miss Temple. ‘Is it possible that it can be but five days back since we first met! It seems another era.’
‘I have no recollection of anything that occurred before I saw you beneath the cedar,’ replied Ferdinand: ‘that is the date of my existence. I saw you, and I loved. My love was at once complete; I have no confidence in any other; I have no confidence in the love that is the creature of observation, and reflection, and comparison, and calculation. Love, in my opinion, should spring from innate41 sympathy; it should be superior to all situations, all ties, all circumstances.’
‘Such, then, we must believe is ours,’ replied Henrietta, in a somewhat grave and musing42 tone: ‘I would willingly embrace your creed43. I know not why I should be ashamed of my feelings. They are natural, and they are pure. And yet I tremble. But so long as you do not think lightly of me, Ferdinand, for whom should I care?’
‘My Henrietta! my angel! my adored and beautiful! I worship you, I reverence44 you. Ah! my Henrietta, if you only knew how I dote upon you, you would not speak thus. Come, let us ramble45 in our woods.’
So saying, he withdrew her from the more public situation in which they were then placed, and entered, by a winding46 walk, those beautiful bowers47 that had given so fair and fitting a name to Ducie. Ah! that was a ramble of rich delight, as, winding his arm round her light waist, he poured into her palpitating ear all the eloquence48 of his passion. Each hour that they had known each other was analysed, and the feelings of each moment were compared. What sweet and thrilling confessions49! Eventually it was settled, to the complete satisfaction of both, that both had fallen in love at the same time, and that they had been mutually and unceasingly thinking of each other from the first instant of their meeting.
The conversation of lovers is inexhaustible. Hour glided51 away after hour, as Ferdinand alternately expressed his passion and detailed52 the history of his past life. For the curiosity of woman, lively at all times, is never so keen, so exacting53, and so interested, as in her anxiety to become acquainted with the previous career of her lover. She is jealous of all that he has done before she knew him; of every person to whom he has spoken. She will be assured a thousand times that he never loved before, yet she credits the first affirmation. She envies the mother who knew him as a child, even the nurse who may have rocked his cradle. She insists upon a minute and finished portraiture54 of his character and life.
Why did he not give it? More than once it was upon his lips to reveal all; more than once he was about to pour forth all his sorrows, all the entanglements55 of his painful situation; more than once he was about to make the full and mortifying56 confession50, that, though his heart was hers, there existed another, who even at that moment might claim the hand that Henrietta clasped with so much tenderness. But he checked himself. He would not break the charm that surrounded him; he would not disturb the clear and brilliant stream in which his life was at this moment flowing; he had not courage to change by a worldly word the scene of celestial57 enchantment58 in which he now moved and breathed. Let us add, in some degree for his justification59, that he was not altogether unmindful of the feelings of Miss Grandison. Sufficient misery remained, at all events, for her, without adding the misery of making her rival cognizant of her mortification60. The deed must be done, and done promptly61; but, at least, there should be no unnecessary witnesses to its harrowing achievement.
So he looked upon the radiant brow of his Henrietta, wreathed with smiles of innocent triumph, sparkling with unalloyed felicity, and beaming with unbroken devotion. Should the shade of a dark passion for a moment cloud that heaven, so bright and so serene62? Should even a momentary63 pang of jealousy64 or distrust pain that pure and unsullied breast? In the midst of contending emotions, he pressed her to his heart with renewed energy, and, bending down his head, imprinted65 an embrace upon her blushing forehead.
They seated themselves on a bank, which, it would seem, Nature had created for the convenience of lovers. The softest moss66, and the brightest flowers decked its elastic67 and fragrant68 side. A spreading beech69 tree shaded their heads from the sun, which now was on the decline; and occasionally its wide branches rustled70 with the soft breeze that passed over them in renovating71 and gentle gusts72. The woods widened before them, and at the termination of a well-contrived73 avenue, they caught the roofs of the village and the tall grey tower of Ducie Church. They had wandered for hours without weariness, yet the repose74 was grateful, while they listened to the birds, and plucked wildflowers.
‘Ah! I remember,’ said Ferdinand, ‘that it was not far from here, while slumbering75 indeed in the porch of my pretty farm-house, that the fairy of the spot dropped on my breast these beautiful flowers that I now wear. Did you not observe them, my sweet Henrietta? Do you know that I am rather mortified76, that they have not made you at least a little jealous?’
‘I am not jealous of fairies, dear Ferdinand.’
‘And yet I half believe that you are a fairy, my Henrietta.’
‘A very substantial one, I fear, my Ferdinand. Is this a compliment to my form?’
‘Well, then, a sylvan77 nymph, much more, I assure you, to my fancy; perhaps the rosy78 Dryad of this fair tree; rambling79 in woods, and bounding over commons, scattering80 beautiful flowers, and dreams as bright.’
‘And were your dreams bright yesterday morning?’
‘I dreamed of you.’
‘And when you awoke?’
‘I hastened to the source of my inspiration.’
‘And if you had not dreamt of me?’
‘I should have come to have enquired81 the reason why.’
Miss Temple looked upon the ground; a blended expression of mirth and sentiment played over her features, and then looking up with a smile contending with her tearful eye, she hid her face in his breast and murmured, ‘I watched him sleeping. Did he indeed dream of me?’
‘Darling of my existence!’ exclaimed the enraptured82 Ferdinand, ‘exquisite, enchanting83 being! Why am I so happy? What have I done to deserve bliss so ineffable84? But tell me, beauty, tell me how you contrived to appear and vanish without witnesses? For my enquiries were severe, and these good people must have been less artless than I imagined to have withstood them successfully.’
‘I came,’ said Miss Temple, ‘to pay them a visit, with me not uncommon85. When I entered the porch I beheld86 my Ferdinand asleep. I looked upon him for a moment, but I was frightened and stole away unperceived. But I left the flowers, more fortunate than your Henrietta.’
‘Sweet love!’
‘Never did I return home,’ continued Miss Temple, ‘more sad and more dispirited. A thousand times I wished that I was a flower, that I might be gathered and worn upon your heart. You smile, my Ferdinand. Indeed I feel I am very foolish, yet I know not why, I am now neither ashamed nor afraid to tell you anything. I was so miserable87 when I arrived home, my Ferdinand, that I went to my room and wept. And he then came! Oh! what heaven was mine! I wiped the tears from my face and came down to see him. He looked so beautiful and happy!’
‘And you, sweet child, oh! who could have believed, at that moment, that a tear had escaped from those bright eyes!’
‘Love makes us hypocrites, I fear, my Ferdinand; for, a moment before, I was so wearied that I was lying on my sofa quite wretched. And then, when I saw him, I pretended that I had not been out, and was just thinking of a stroll. Oh, my Ferdinand! will you pardon me?’
‘It seems to me that I never loved you until this moment. Is it possible that human beings ever loved each other as we do?’
Now came the hour of twilight88. While in this fond strain the lovers interchanged their hearts, the sun had sunk, the birds grown silent, and the star of evening twinkled over the tower of Ducie. The bat and the beetle89 warned them to return. They rose reluctantly and retraced90 their steps to Ducie, with hearts softer even than the melting hour.
‘Must we then part?’ exclaimed Ferdinand. ‘Oh! must we part! How can I exist even an instant without your presence, without at least the consciousness of existing under the same roof? Oh! would I were one of your serving-men, to listen to your footstep, to obey your bell, and ever and anon to catch your voice! Oh! now I wish indeed Mr. Temple were here, and then I might be your guest.’
‘My father!’ exclaimed Miss Temple, in a somewhat serious tone. ‘I ought to have written to him today! Oh! talk not of my father, speak only of yourself.’
They stood in silence as they were about to emerge upon the lawn, and then Miss Temple said, ‘Dear Ferdinand, you must go; indeed you must. Press me not to enter. If you love me, now let us part. I shall retire immediately, that the morning may sooner come. God bless you, my Ferdinand. May He guard over you, and keep you for ever and ever. You weep! Indeed you must not; you so distress91 me. Ferdinand, be good, be kind; for my sake do not this. I love you; what can I do more? The time will come we will not part, but now we must. Good night, my Ferdinand. Nay, if you will, these lips indeed are yours. Promise me you will not remain here. Well then, when the light is out in my chamber, leave Ducie. Promise me this, and early tomorrow, earlier than you think, I will pay a visit to your cottage. Now be good, and tomorrow we will breakfast together. There now!’ she added in a gay tone, ‘you see woman’s wit has the advantage.’ And so without another word she ran away.
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1
bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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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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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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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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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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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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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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meekness
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| n.温顺，柔和 | |
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enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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vigilant
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| adj.警觉的，警戒的，警惕的 | |
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vapid
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| adj.无味的；无生气的 | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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dissect
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| v.分割；解剖 | |
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mortify
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| v.克制，禁欲，使受辱 | |
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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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sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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decomposed
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| 已分解的，已腐烂的 | |
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effulgence
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| n.光辉 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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tithe
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| n.十分之一税；v.课什一税，缴什一税 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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bowers
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| n.（女子的）卧室( bower的名词复数 )；船首锚；阴凉处；鞠躬的人 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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confessions
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| n.承认( confession的名词复数 )；自首；声明；（向神父的）忏悔 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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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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exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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portraiture
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| n.肖像画法 | |
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entanglements
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| n.瓜葛( entanglement的名词复数 )；牵连；纠缠；缠住 | |
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mortifying
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| adj.抑制的，苦修的v.使受辱( mortify的现在分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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imprinted
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| v.盖印（imprint的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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beech
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| n.山毛榉；adj.山毛榉的 | |
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rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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renovating
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| 翻新，修复，整修( renovate的现在分词 ) | |
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gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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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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sylvan
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| adj.森林的 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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enraptured
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| v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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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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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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beetle
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| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
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retraced
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| v.折回( retrace的过去式和过去分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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