There was some little undefinable coolness between old General Chattesworth and Devereux. He admired the young fellow, and he liked good blood in his corps1, but somehow he was glad when he thought he was likely to go. When old Bligh, of the Magazine, commended the handsome young dog’s good looks, the general would grow grave all at once, and sniff2 once or twice, and say, ‘Yes, a good-looking fellow certainly, and might make a good officer, a mighty3 good officer, but he’s wild, a troublesome dog.’ And, lowering his voice, ‘I tell you what, colonel, as long as a young buck4 sticks to his claret, it is all fair; but hang it, you see, I’m afraid he likes other things, and he won’t wait till after dinner — this between ourselves, you know. ’Tis not a button to me, by Jupiter, what he does or drinks, off duty; but hang it, I’m afraid some day he’ll break out; and once or twice in a friendly way, you know, I’ve had to speak with him, and, to say truth, I’d rather he served under anyone else. He’s a fine fellow, ’tis a pity there should be anything wrong, and it would half break my heart to have to take a public course with him; not, you know, that it has ever come to anything like that — but — but I’ve heard things — and — and he must pull up, or he’ll not do for the service.’ So, though the thing did not amount to a scandal, there was a formality between Devereux and his commanding officer, who thought he saw bad habits growing apace, and apprehended5 that ere long disagreeable relations might arise between them.
Lord Athenry had been no friend to Devereux in his nonage, and the good-natured countess, to make amends6, had always done her utmost to spoil him, and given him a great deal more of his own way, as well as of plum-cake, and Jamaica preserves, and afterwards a great deal more money, than was altogether good for him. Like many a worse person, she was a little bit capricious, and a good deal selfish; but the young fellow was handsome. She was proud of his singularly good looks, and his wickedness interested her, and she gave him more money than to all the best public charities to which she contributed put together. Devereux, indeed, being a fast man, with such acres as he inherited, which certainly did not reach a thousand, mortgaged pretty smartly, and with as much personal debt beside, of the fashionable and refined sort, as became a young buck of bright though doubtful expectations — and if the truth must be owned, sometimes pretty nearly pushed into a corner — was beholden, not only for his fun, but, occasionally for his daily bread and even his liberty, to those benevolent7 doles8.
He did not like her peremptory9 summons; but he could not afford to quarrel with his bread and butter, nor to kill by undutiful behaviour the fair, plump bird whose golden eggs were so very convenient. I don’t know whether there may not have been some slight sign in the handwriting — in a phrase, perhaps, or in the structure of the composition, which a clever analysis might have detected, and which only reached him vaguely10, with a foreboding that he was not to see Chapelizod again so soon as usual when this trip was made. And, in truth, his aunt had plans. She designed his retirement11 from the Royal Irish Artillery12, and had negociated an immediate13 berth14 for him on the Staff of the Commander of the Forces, and a prospective15 one in the household of Lord Townshend; she had another arrangement ‘on the anvil’ for a seat in Parliament, which she would accomplish, if that were possible; and finally a wife. In fact her ladyship had encountered old General Chattesworth at Scarborough only the autumn before, and they had had, in that gay resort, a good deal of serious talk (though serious talk with the good countess never lasted very long), between their cards and other recreations, the result of which was, that she began to think, with the good general, that Devereux would be better where one unlucky misadventure would not sully his reputation for life. Besides, she thought Chapelizod was not safe ground for a young fellow so eccentric, perverse16, and impetuous, where pretty faces were plentier than good fortunes, and at every tinkling17 harpsichord18 there smiled a possible mesalliance. In the town of Chapelizod itself, indeed, the young gentleman did not stand quite so high in estimation as with his aunt, who thought nothing was good or high enough for her handsome nephew, with his good blood and his fine possibilities. The village folk, however, knew that he was confoundedly dipped; that he was sometimes alarmingly pestered19 by duns, and had got so accustomed to hear that his uncle, the earl, was in his last sickness, and his cousin, the next heir, dead, when another week disclosed that neither one nor the other was a bit worse than usual, that they began to think that Devereux’s turn might very possibly never come at all. Besides, the townspeople had high notions of some of their belles20, and not without reason. There was Miss Gertrude Chattesworth, for instance, with more than fourteen thousand pounds to her fortune, and Lilias Walsingham, who would inherit her mother’s money, and the good rector’s estate of twelve hundred a year beside, and both with good blood in their veins21, and beautiful princesses too. However, in those days there was more parental22 despotism than now. The old people kept their worldly wisdom to themselves, and did not take the young into a scheming partnership23; and youth and beauty, I think, were more romantic, and a great deal less venal24.
Such being the old countess’s programme — a plan, according to her lights, grand and generous, she might have dawdled25 over it, for a good while, for she did not love trouble. It was not new; the airy castle had been some years built, and now, in an unwonted hurry, she wished to introduce the tenant26 to the well-aired edifice27, and put him in actual possession. For a queer little attack in her head, which she called a fainting fit, and to which nobody dared afterwards to make allusion28, and which she had bullied29 herself and everybody about her into forgetting, had, nevertheless, frightened her confoundedly. And when her helpless panic and hysterics were over, she silently resolved, if the thing were done, then ’twere well ’twere done quickly.
1 corps | |
n.(通信等兵种的)部队;(同类作的)一组 | |
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2 sniff | |
vi.嗅…味道;抽鼻涕;对嗤之以鼻,蔑视 | |
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3 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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4 buck | |
n.雄鹿,雄兔;v.马离地跳跃 | |
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5 apprehended | |
逮捕,拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 ); 理解 | |
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6 amends | |
n. 赔偿 | |
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7 benevolent | |
adj.仁慈的,乐善好施的 | |
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8 doles | |
救济物( dole的名词复数 ); 失业救济金 | |
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9 peremptory | |
adj.紧急的,专横的,断然的 | |
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10 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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11 retirement | |
n.退休,退职 | |
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12 artillery | |
n.(军)火炮,大炮;炮兵(部队) | |
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13 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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14 berth | |
n.卧铺,停泊地,锚位;v.使停泊 | |
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15 prospective | |
adj.预期的,未来的,前瞻性的 | |
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16 perverse | |
adj.刚愎的;坚持错误的,行为反常的 | |
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17 tinkling | |
n.丁当作响声 | |
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18 harpsichord | |
n.键琴(钢琴前身) | |
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19 pestered | |
使烦恼,纠缠( pester的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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20 belles | |
n.美女( belle的名词复数 );最美的美女 | |
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21 veins | |
n.纹理;矿脉( vein的名词复数 );静脉;叶脉;纹理 | |
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22 parental | |
adj.父母的;父的;母的 | |
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23 partnership | |
n.合作关系,伙伴关系 | |
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24 venal | |
adj.唯利是图的,贪脏枉法的 | |
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25 dawdled | |
v.混(时间)( dawdle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26 tenant | |
n.承租人;房客;佃户;v.租借,租用 | |
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27 edifice | |
n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿,教室) | |
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28 allusion | |
n.暗示,间接提示 | |
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29 bullied | |
adj.被欺负了v.恐吓,威逼( bully的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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