Can Painting’s glowing hand supply
A charm so suited to my mind,
As blows this hollow gust1 of wind?
As drops this little weeping rill,
Soft tinkling2 down the moss-grown hill;
While, through the west, where sinks the crimson3 day,
Meek4 Twilight5 slowly sails, and waves her banners gray?
MASON
Emily, some time after her return to La Vallee, received letters from her aunt, Madame Cheron, in which, after some common-place condolement and advice, she invited her to Tholouse, and added, that, as her late brother had entrusted6 Emily’s EDUCATION to her, she should consider herself bound to overlook her conduct. Emily, at this time, wished only to remain at La Vallee, in the scenes of her early happiness, now rendered infinitely7 dear to her, as the late residence of those, whom she had lost for ever, where she could weep unobserved, retrace8 their steps, and remember each minute particular of their manners. But she was equally anxious to avoid the displeasure of Madame Cheron.
Though her affection would not suffer her to question, even a moment, the propriety9 of St. Aubert’s conduct in appointing Madame Cheron for her guardian10, she was sensible, that this step had made her happiness depend, in a great degree, on the humour of her aunt. In her reply, she begged permission to remain, at present, at La Vallee, mentioning the extreme dejection of her spirits, and the necessity she felt for quiet and retirement11 to restore them. These she knew were not to be found at Madame Cheron’s, whose inclinations12 led her into a life of dissipation, which her ample fortune encouraged; and, having given her answer, she felt somewhat more at ease.
In the first days of her affliction, she was visited by Monsieur Barreaux, a sincere mourner for St. Aubert. ‘I may well lament13 my friend,’ said he, ‘for I shall never meet with his resemblance. If I could have found such a man in what is called society, I should not have left it.’
M. Barreaux’s admiration14 of her father endeared him extremely to Emily, whose heart found almost its first relief in conversing15 of her parents, with a man, whom she so much revered16, and who, though with such an ungracious appearance, possessed17 to much goodness of heart and delicacy18 of mind.
Several weeks passed away in quiet retirement, and Emily’s affliction began to soften19 into melancholy20. She could bear to read the books she had before read with her father; to sit in his chair in the library — to watch the flowers his hand had planted — to awaken21 the tones of that instrument his fingers had pressed, and sometimes even to play his favourite air.
When her mind had recovered from the first shock of affliction, perceiving the danger of yielding to indolence, and that activity alone could restore its tone, she scrupulously22 endeavoured to pass all her hours in employment. And it was now that she understood the full value of the education she had received from St. Aubert, for in cultivating her understanding he had secured her an asylum23 from indolence, without recourse to dissipation, and rich and varied24 amusement and information, independent of the society, from which her situation secluded26 her. Nor were the good effects of this education confined to selfish advantages, since, St. Aubert having nourished every amiable27 qualify of her heart, it now expanded in benevolence28 to all around her, and taught her, when she could not remove the misfortunes of others, at least to soften them by sympathy and tenderness;— a benevolence that taught her to feel for all, that could suffer.
Madame Cheron returned no answer to Emily’s letter, who began to hope, that she should be permitted to remain some time longer in her retirement, and her mind had now so far recovered its strength, that she ventured to view the scenes, which most powerfully recalled the images of past times. Among these was the fishing-house; and, to indulge still more the affectionate melancholy of the visit, she took thither29 her lute30, that she might again hear there the tones, to which St. Aubert and her mother had so often delighted to listen. She went alone, and at that still hour of the evening which is so soothing31 to fancy and to grief. The last time she had been here she was in company with Monsieur and Madame St. Aubert, a few days preceding that, on which the latter was seized with a fatal illness. Now, when Emily again entered the woods, that surrounded the building, they awakened32 so forcibly the memory of former times, that her resolution yielded for a moment to excess of grief. She stopped, leaned for support against a tree, and wept for some minutes, before she had recovered herself sufficiently33 to proceed. The little path, that led to the building, was overgrown with grass and the flowers which St. Aubert had scattered34 carelessly along the border were almost choked with weeds — the tall thistle — the fox-glove, and the nettle35. She often paused to look on the desolate36 spot, now so silent and forsaken37, and when, with a trembling hand, she opened the door of the fishing-house, ‘Ah!’ said she, ‘every thing — every thing remains38 as when I left it last — left it with those who never must return!’ She went to a window, that overhung the rivulet39, and, leaning over it, with her eyes fixed40 on the current, was soon lost in melancholy reverie. The lute she had brought lay forgotten beside her; the mournful sighing of the breeze, as it waved the high pines above, and its softer whispers among the osiers, that bowed upon the banks below, was a kind of music more in unison41 with her feelings. It did not vibrate on the chords of unhappy memory, but was soothing to the heart as the voice of Pity. She continued to muse25, unconscious of the gloom of evening, and that the sun’s last light trembled on the heights above, and would probably have remained so much longer, if a sudden footstep, without the building, had not alarmed her attention, and first made her recollect42 that she was unprotected. In the next moment, a door opened, and a stranger appeared, who stopped on perceiving Emily, and then began to apologize for his intrusion. But Emily, at the sound of his voice, lost her fear in a stronger emotion: its tones were familiar to her ear, and, though she could not readily distinguish through the dusk the features of the person who spoke43, she felt a remembrance too strong to be distrusted.
He repeated his apology, and Emily then said something in reply, when the stranger eagerly advancing, exclaimed, ‘Good God! can it be — surely I am not mistaken — ma’amselle St. Aubert?— is it not?’
‘It is indeed,’ said Emily, who was confirmed in her first conjecture44, for she now distinguished45 the countenance46 of Valancourt, lighted up with still more than its usual animation47. A thousand painful recollections crowded to her mind, and the effort, which she made to support herself, only served to increase her agitation48. Valancourt, meanwhile, having enquired49 anxiously after her health, and expressed his hopes, that M. St. Aubert had found benefit from travelling, learned from the flood of tears, which she could no longer repress, the fatal truth. He led her to a seat, and sat down by her, while Emily continued to weep, and Valancourt to hold the hand, which she was unconscious he had taken, till it was wet with the tears, which grief for St. Aubert and sympathy for herself had called forth50.
‘I feel,’ said he at length, ‘I feel how insufficient51 all attempt at consolation52 must be on this subject. I can only mourn with you, for I cannot doubt the source of your tears. Would to God I were mistaken!’
Emily could still answer only by tears, till she rose, and begged they might leave the melancholy spot, when Valancourt, though he saw her feebleness, could not offer to detain her, but took her arm within his, and led her from the fishing-house. They walked silently through the woods, Valancourt anxious to know, yet fearing to ask any particulars concerning St. Aubert; and Emily too much distressed53 to converse54. After some time, however, she acquired fortitude55 enough to speak of her father, and to give a brief account of the manner of his death; during which recital56 Valancourt’s countenance betrayed strong emotion, and, when he heard that St. Aubert had died on the road, and that Emily had been left among strangers, he pressed her hand between his, and involuntarily exclaimed, ‘Why was I not there!’ but in the next moment recollected57 himself, for he immediately returned to the mention of her father; till, perceiving that her spirits were exhausted58, he gradually changed the subject, and spoke of himself. Emily thus learned that, after they had parted, he had wandered, for some time, along the shores of the Mediterranean59, and had then returned through Languedoc into Gascony, which was his native province, and where he usually resided.
When he had concluded his little narrative60, he sunk into a silence, which Emily was not disposed to interrupt, and it continued, till they reached the gate of the chateau61, when he stopped, as if he had known this to be the limit of his walk. Here, saying, that it was his intention to return to Estuviere on the following day, he asked her if she would permit him to take leave of her in the morning; and Emily, perceiving that she could not reject an ordinary civility, without expressing by her refusal an expectation of something more, was compelled to answer, that she should be at home.
She passed a melancholy evening, during which the retrospect62 of all that had happened, since she had seen Valancourt, would rise to her imagination; and the scene of her father’s death appeared in tints63 as fresh, as if it had passed on the preceding day. She remembered particularly the earnest and solemn manner, in which he had required her to destroy the manuscript papers, and, awakening64 from the lethargy, in which sorrow had held her, she was shocked to think she had not yet obeyed him, and determined65, that another day should not reproach her with the neglect.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
gust
|
|
| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
tinkling
|
|
| n.丁当作响声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
meek
|
|
| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
twilight
|
|
| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
entrusted
|
|
| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
retrace
|
|
| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
propriety
|
|
| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
guardian
|
|
| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
retirement
|
|
| n.退休，退职 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
inclinations
|
|
| 倾向( inclination的名词复数 )； 倾斜； 爱好； 斜坡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
lament
|
|
| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
conversing
|
|
| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
revered
|
|
| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
delicacy
|
|
| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
soften
|
|
| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
awaken
|
|
| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
scrupulously
|
|
| adv.一丝不苟地；小心翼翼地，多顾虑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
asylum
|
|
| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
muse
|
|
| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
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： |
|
|
|
|
27
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
benevolence
|
|
| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
thither
|
|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
lute
|
|
| n.琵琶，鲁特琴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
awakened
|
|
| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
nettle
|
|
| n.荨麻；v.烦忧，激恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
desolate
|
|
| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
Forsaken
|
|
| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
rivulet
|
|
| n.小溪，小河 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
unison
|
|
| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
recollect
|
|
| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
conjecture
|
|
| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
animation
|
|
| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
enquired
|
|
| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
insufficient
|
|
| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
consolation
|
|
| n.安慰，慰问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
distressed
|
|
| 痛苦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
converse
|
|
| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
fortitude
|
|
| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
recital
|
|
| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
recollected
|
|
| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
Mediterranean
|
|
| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
narrative
|
|
| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
chateau
|
|
| n.城堡，别墅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
retrospect
|
|
| n.回顾，追溯；v.回顾，回想，追溯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
tints
|
|
| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
awakening
|
|
| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |