With the Orgreaves
i
The Orgreave family was holding its nightly session in the large drawing-room of Lane End House when Hilda and Janet arrived. The bow-window stood generously open in three different places, and the heavy outer curtains as well as the lace inner ones were moving gently in the capricious breeze that came across the oval lawn. The multitudinous sound of rain on leaves entered also with the wind; and a steam-car could be heard thundering down Trafalgar Road, from which the house was separated by only a few intervening minor2 roofs.
Mrs. Orgreave, the plump, faded image of goodness, with Janet’s full red lips and Janet’s kindly3 eyes, sat as usual, whether in winter or in summer, near the fireplace, surveying with placidity4 the theatre where the innumerable dramas of her motherhood had been enacted5. Tom, her eldest6, the thin, spectacled lawyer, had, as a boy of seven, rampaged on that identical Turkey hearthrug, when it was new, a quarter of a century earlier. He was now seated at the grand piano with the youngest child, Alicia, a gawky little treasure, always alternating between pertness and timidity, aged7 twelve. Jimmie and Johnnie, young bloods of nineteen and eighteen, were only present in their mother’s heart, being in process of establishing, by practice, the right to go forth8 into the world of an evening and return when they chose without suffering too much from family curiosity. Two other children—Marian, eldest daughter and sole furnisher of grandchildren to the family, and Charlie, a young doctor— were permanently9 away in London. Osmond Orgreave, the elegant and faintly mocking father of the brood, a handsome grizzled man of between fifty and sixty, was walking to and fro between the grand piano and the small upright piano in the farther half of the room.
“Well, my dear?” said Mrs. Orgreave to Hilda. “You aren’t wet?” She drew Hilda towards her and stroked her shoulder, and then kissed her. The embrace was to convey the mother’s sympathy with Hilda in the ordeal10 of the visit to Turnhill, and her satisfaction that the ordeal was now over. The ageing lady seemed to kiss her on behalf of the entire friendly family; all the others, appreciating the delicacy11 of the situation, refrained from the peril12 of clumsy speech.
“Oh no, mother!” Janet exclaimed reassuringly13. “We came up by car. And I had my umbrella. And it only began to rain in earnest just as we got to the gate.”
“Very thoughtful of it, I’m sure!” piped the pig-tailed Alicia from the piano. She could talk, in her pert moments, exactly like her brothers.
“Alicia, darling,” said Janet coaxingly14, as she sat on the sofa flanked by the hat, gloves, and jacket which she had just taken off, “will you run upstairs with these things, and take Hilda’s too? I’m quite exhausted15. Father will swoon if I leave them here. I suppose he’s walking about because he’s so proud of his new birthday slippers16.”
“But I’m just playing the symphony with Tom!” Alicia protested.
“I’ll run up—I was just going to,” said Hilda.
“You’ll do no such thing!” Mrs. Orgreave announced, sharply. “Alicia, I’m surprised at you! Here Janet and Hilda have been out since noon, and you—”
“And so on and so on,” said Alicia, jumping up from the piano in obedience17.
“We didn’t wait supper,” Mrs. Orgreave went on. “But I told Martha to leave—”
“Mother, dearest,” Janet stopped her. “Please don’t mention food. We’ve stuffed ourselves, haven’t we, Hilda? Anyone been?”
“Swetnam,” said Alicia, as she left the room with her arms full.
“Mr. Swetnam,” corrected Mrs. Orgreave.
“Which one? The Ineffable18?”
“The Ineffable,” replied Mr. Orgreave, who had wandered, smiling enigmatically, to the sofa. His legs, like the whole of his person, had a distinguished19 air; and he held up first one slippered20 foot and then the other to the silent, sham-ecstatic inspection21 of the girls. “He may look in again, later on. It’s evidently Hilda he wants to see.” This said, Mr. Orgreave lazily sank into an easy chair, opposite the sofa, and lighted a cigarette. He was one of the most industrious22 men in the Five Towns, and assuredly the most industrious architect; but into an idle hour he could pack more indolence than even Johnnie and Jimmie, alleged23 wastrels24, could accomplish in a week.
“I say, Janet,” Tom sang out from the piano, “you aren’t really exhausted, are you?”
“I’m getting better.”
“Well, let’s dash through the scherzo before the infant comes back. She can’t take it half fast enough.”
“And do you think I can?” said Janet, rising. In theory, Janet was not a pianist, and she never played solos, nor accompanied songs; but in the actual practice of duet-playing her sympathetic presence of mind at difficult crises of the music caused her to be esteemed25 by Tom, the expert and enthusiast26, as superior to all other performers in the family.
ii
Hilda listened with pleasure and with exaltation to the scherzo. Beyond a little part-singing at school she had no practical acquaintance with music; there had never been a piano at home. But she knew that this music was Beethoven’s; and from the mere27 intonation28 of that name, as it was uttered in her presence in the house of the Orgreaves, she was aware of its greatness, and the religious faculty29 in her had enabled her at once to accept its supremacy30 as an article of genuine belief; so that, though she understood it not, she felt it, and was uplifted by it. Whenever she heard Beethoven—and she heard it often, because Tom, in the words of the family, had for the moment got Beethoven on the brain—her thoughts and her aspirations31 were ennobled.
She was singularly content with this existence amid the intimacy32 of the Orgreaves. The largeness and prodigality33 and culture of the family life, so different from anything she had ever known, and in particular so different from the desolating34 atmosphere of the Cedars35, soothed36 and flattered her in a manner subtly agreeable. At the same time she was but little irked by it, for the reason that her spirit was not one to be unduly37 affected38 by exterior39 social, intellectual, and physical conditions. Moreover, the Orgreaves, though obviously of a class superior to her own, had the facile and yet aristocratic unceremoniousness which, unconsciously, repudiates40 such distinctions until circumstances arise that compel their acknowledgment. To live among the Orgreaves was like living in a small private republic that throbbed41 with a hundred activities and interests. Each member of it was a centre of various energy. And from each, Hilda drew something that was precious: from Mrs. Orgreave, sheer love and calm wisdom; from Janet, sheer love and the spectacle of elegance42; from little Alicia candour and admiration43; from Tom, knowledge, artistic44 enthusiasm, and shy, curt1 sympathy; from Johnnie and Jimmie the homage45 of their proud and na?ve mannishness: as for Mr. Orgreave, she admired him perhaps as much as she admired even Janet, and once when he and she had taken a walk together up to Toft End, she had thought him quite exquisite46 in his attitude to her, quizzical, worldly, and yet sensitively understanding and humane48. And withal they never worried her by interferences and criticisms; they never presumed on their hospitality, but left her as free as though her age had been twice what it was. Undoubtedly49, in the ardour of her gratitude50 she idealized every one of them. The sole reproach which in secret she would formulate51 against them had reference to their quasi-cynical52 levity53 in conversation. They would never treat a serious topic seriously for more than a few minutes. Either one or another would yield to the temptation of clever facetiousness54, and clever facetiousness would always carry off the honours in a discussion. This did not apply to Mrs. Orgreave, who was incapable55 of humour; but it applied56 a little even to Janet.
The thought continually arising in Hilda’s mind was: “Why do they care for me? What can they see in me? Why are they so good to me? I was never good to them.” She did not guess that, at her very first visit to Lane End House, the force and mystery of her character had powerfully attracted these rather experienced amateurs of human nature. She was unaware58 that she had made her mark upon Janet and Charlie so far back as the days of the dancing-classes. And she under-estimated the appeal of her situation as an orphan59 and a solitary60 whose mother’s death, in its swiftness, had amounted to a tragedy.
The scherzo was finished, and Alicia had not returned into the drawing-room. The two pianists sat hesitant.
“Where is that infant?” Tom demanded. “If I finish it all without her she’ll be vexed61.”
“I can tell you where she ought to be,” said Mrs. Orgreave placidly62. “She ought to be in bed. No wonder she looks pale, stopping up till this time of night!”
Then there were unusual and startling movements behind the door, accompanied by giggling63. And Alicia entered, followed by Charlie—Charlie who was supposed at that precise instant to be in London!
“Hello, mater!” said the curly-headed Charlie, with a sublime64 affectation of calmness, as though he had slipped out of the next room. He produced an effect fully57 equal to his desires.
iii
In a little while, Charlie, on the sofa, was seated at a small table covered with viands65 and fruit; the white cloth spread on the table made a curiously66 charming patch amid the sombre colours of the drawing-room. He had protested that, having consumed much food en route, he was not hungry; but in vain. Mrs. Orgreave demolished67 such arguments by the power of her notorious theory, which admitted no exceptions, that any person coming off an express train must be in need of sustenance68. The odd thing was that all the others discovered mysterious appetites and began to eat and drink with gusto, sitting, standing47, or walking about, while Charlie, munching69, related how he had miraculously70 got three days’ leave from the hospital, and how he had impulsively71 ‘cabbed it’ to Euston, and how, having arrived at Knype, he had also ‘cabbed it’ from Knype to Bleakridge instead of waiting for the Loop Line train. The blot72 on his advent73, in the eyes of Mrs. Orgreave, was that he had no fresh news of Marian and her children.
“You don’t seem very surprised to find Hilda here,” said Alicia.
“It’s not my business to be surprised at anything, kid,” Charlie retorted, smiling at Hilda, who sat beside him on the sofa. “Moreover, don’t I get ten columns of news every three days? I know far more about this town than you do, I bet!”
Everybody laughed at Mrs. Orgreave, the great letter-writer and universal disseminator74 of information.
“Now, Alicia, you must go to bed,” said Mrs. Orgreave. And Alicia regretted that she had been so indiscreet as to draw attention to herself.
“The kid can stay up if she will say her piece,” said Charlie mockingly. He knew that he could play the autocrat75, for that evening at any rate.
“What piece?” the child demanded, blushing and defiant76.
“Her ‘Abou Ben Adhem,’” said Charlie. “Do you think I don’t know all about that too?”
“Oh, mother, you are a bore!” Alicia exclaimed, pouting77. “Why did you tell him that?... Well, I’ll say it if Hilda will recite something as well.”
“Me!” murmured Hilda, staggered. “I never recite!”
“I’ve always understood you recite beautifully,” said Mrs. Orgreave.
“You know you do, Hilda!” said Janet.
“Of course you do,” said Charlie.
“You’ve never heard me, anyhow!” she replied to him obstinately78. How could they have got it fixed79 into their heads that she was a reciter? This renown80 was most disconcerting.
“Now, Hilda!” Mr. Orgreave soothingly81 admonished82 her from the back of the sofa. She turned her head and looked up at him, smiling in her distress83.
“Go ahead, then, kid! It’s agreed,” said Charlie.
And Alicia galloped84 through Leigh Hunt’s moral poem, which she was preparing for an imminent85 speech-day, in an extraordinarily86 short space of time.
“But I can’t remember anything. I haven’t recited for years and years,” Hilda pleaded, when the child burst out, “Now, Hilda!”
“Stuff!” Charlie pronounced.
“Some Tennyson?” Mrs. Orgreave suggested. “Don’t you know any Tennyson? We must have something, now.” And Alicia, exulting87 in the fact that she had paid the penalty imposed, cried that there could be no drawing back.
Hilda was lost. Mrs. Orgreave’s tone, with all its softness, was a command. “Tennyson? I’ve forgotten ‘Maud,’” she muttered.
“I’ll prompt you,” said Charlie. “Thomas!”
Everybody looked at Tom, expert in literature as well as in music; Tom, the collector, the owner of books and bookcases. Tom went to a bookcase and drew forth a green volume, familiar and sacred throughout all England.
“Oh dear!” Hilda moaned.
“Where do you mean to begin?” Charlie sternly inquired. “It just happens that I’m reading ‘In Memoriam,’ myself. I read ten stanzas88 a day.”
Hilda bent89 over the book with him.
“But I must stand up,” she said, with sudden fire. “I can’t recite sitting down.”
They all cried “Bravo!” and made a circle for her. And she stood up.
The utterance90 of the first lines was a martyrdom for her. But after that she surrendered herself frankly91 to the mood of the poem and forgot to suffer shame, speaking in a loud, clear, dramatic voice which she accompanied by glances and even by gestures. After about thirty lines she stopped, and, regaining92 her ordinary senses, perceived that the entire family was staring at her with an extreme intentness.
“I can’t do any more,” she murmured weakly, and dropped on to the sofa.
Everybody clapped very heartily93.
“It’s wonderful!” said Janet in a low tone.
“I should just say it was!” said Tom seriously, and Hilda was saturated94 with delicious joy.
“You ought to go on the stage; that’s what you ought to do!” said Charlie.
For a fraction of a second, Hilda dreamt of the stage, and then Mrs. Orgreave said softly, like a mother:
“I’m quite sure Hilda would never dream of any such thing!”
iv
There was an irruption of Jimmie and Johnnie, and three of the Swetnam brothers, including him known as the Ineffable. Jimmie and Johnnie played the r?le of the absolutely imperturbable95 with a skill equal to Charlie’s own; and only a series of calm “How-do’s?” marked the greetings of these relatives. The Swetnams were more rollickingly demonstrative. Now that the drawing-room was quite thickly populated, Hilda, made nervous by Mr. Orgreave’s jocular insinuation that she herself was the object of the Swetnams’ call, took refuge, first with Janet, and then, as Janet was drawn96 into the general crowd, with Charlie, who was absently turning over the pages of “In Memoriam.”
“Know this?” he inquired, friendly, indicating the poem.
“I don’t,” she said. “It’s splendid, isn’t it?”
“Well,” he answered. “It’s rather on the religious tack97, you know. That’s why I’m reading it.” He smiled oddly.
“Really?”
He hesitated, and then nodded. It was the strangest avowal98 from this young dandy of twenty-three with the airy and cynical tongue. Hilda thought: “Here, then, is another!” And her own most secret troubles recurred99 to her mind.
“What’s that about Teddy Clayhanger?” Charlie cried out, suddenly looking up. He had caught the name in a distant conversation.
Janet explained how they had seen Edwin, and went on to say that it was impossible to persuade him to call.
“What rot!” said Charlie. “I bet you what you like I get him here tomorrow night.” He added to Hilda: “Went to school with him!” Hilda’s face burned.
“I bet you don’t,” said Janet stoutly100, from across the room.
“I’ll bet you a shilling I do,” said Charlie.
“Haven’t a penny left,” Janet smiled. “Father, will you lend me a shilling?”
“That’s what I’m here for,” said Mr. Orgreave.
“Mr. Orgreave,” the youngest Swetnam put in, “you talk exactly like the dad talks.”
The bet was made, and according to a singular but long-established family custom, Tom had to be stake-holder.
Hilda became troubled and apprehensive101. She hoped that Charlie would lose, and then she hoped that he would win. Looking forward to the intimate bedroom chat with Janet which brought each evening to a heavenly close, she said to herself: “If he does come, I shall make Janet promise that I’m not to be asked to recite or anything. In fact, I shall get her to see that I’m not discussed.”
收听单词发音 |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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placidity
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| n.平静，安静，温和 | |
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enacted
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| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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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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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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coaxingly
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| adv. 以巧言诱哄，以甘言哄骗 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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slippered
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| 穿拖鞋的 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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wastrels
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| n.无用的人，废物( wastrel的名词复数 )；浪子 | |
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esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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enthusiast
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| n.热心人，热衷者 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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supremacy
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| n.至上；至高权力 | |
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aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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prodigality
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| n.浪费，挥霍 | |
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desolating
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| 毁坏( desolate的现在分词 )； 极大地破坏； 使沮丧； 使痛苦 | |
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cedars
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| 雪松，西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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repudiates
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| v.（正式地）否认( repudiate的第三人称单数 )；拒绝接受；拒绝与…往来；拒不履行（法律义务） | |
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throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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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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humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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formulate
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| v.用公式表示；规划；设计；系统地阐述 | |
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cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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levity
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| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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facetiousness
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| n.滑稽 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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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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placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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giggling
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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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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viands
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| n.食品，食物 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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demolished
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| v.摧毁( demolish的过去式和过去分词 )；推翻；拆毁（尤指大建筑物）；吃光 | |
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sustenance
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| n.食物，粮食；生活资料；生计 | |
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munching
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| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的现在分词 ) | |
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miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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disseminator
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| 传播者，撒种者 | |
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autocrat
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| n.独裁者；专横的人 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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renown
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| n.声誉，名望 | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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admonished
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| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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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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galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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exulting
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| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
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stanzas
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| 节，段( stanza的名词复数 ) | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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regaining
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| 复得( regain的现在分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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avowal
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| n.公开宣称，坦白承认 | |
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recurred
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| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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