“Oh, Mr. Irvin,” she said, and found that her voice was not entirely2 normal, “what must you think—”
He continued to hold her hands, and:
“I think you are very indiscreet to be out alone at three o'clock in the morning,” he answered gently. “I was recalled to London by urgent business, and returned by road—fortunately, since I have met you.”
“How can I explain—”
“I don't ask you to explain—Miss Dresden. I have no right and no desire to ask. But I wish I had the right to advise you.”
“How good you are,” she began, “and I—”
Her voice failed her completely, and her sensitive lips began to tremble. Monte Irvin drew her arm under his own and led her back to meet the car, which the chauffeur3 had turned and which was now approaching.
“I will drive you home,” he said, “and if I may call in the morning. I should like to do so.”
Rita nodded. She could not trust herself to speak again. And having placed her in the car, Monte Irvin sat beside her, reclaiming4 her hand and grasping it reassuringly5 and sympathetically throughout the short drive. They parted at her door.
“Good night,” said Irvin, speaking very deliberately6 because of an almost uncontrollable desire which possessed7 him to take Rita in his arms, to hold her fast, to protect her from her own pathetic self and from those influences, dimly perceived about her, but which intuitively he knew to be evil.
“If I call at eleven will that be too early?”
“No,” she whispered. “Please come early. There is a matinee tomorrow.”
“You mean today,” he corrected. “Poor little girl, how tired you will be. Good night.”
“Good night,” she said, almost inaudibly.
She entered, and, having closed the door, stood leaning against it for several minutes. Bleakness9 and nausea10 threatened to overcome her anew, and she felt that if she essayed another step she must collapse11 upon the floor. Her maid was in bed, and had not been awakened12 by Rita's entrance. After a time she managed to grope her way to her bedroom, where, turning up the light, she sank down helplessly upon the bed.
Her mental state was peculiar13, and her thoughts revolved14 about the journey from Oxford15 Street homeward. A thousand times she mentally repeated the journey, speaking the same words over and over again, and hearing Monte Irvin's replies.
In those few minutes during which they had been together her sentiments in regard to him had undergone a change. She had always respected Irvin, but this respect had been curiously16 compounded of the personal and the mercenary; his well-ordered establishment at Prince's Gate had loomed17 behind the figure of the man forming a pleasing background to the portrait. Without being showy he was a splendid “match” for any woman. His wife would have access to good society, and would enjoy every luxury that wealth could procure18. This was the picture lovingly painted and constantly retouched by Rita's mother.
Now it had vanished. The background was gone, and only the man remained; the strong, reserved man whose deep voice had spoken so gently, whose devotion was so true and unselfish that he only sought to shield and protect her from follies20 the nature of which he did not even seek to learn. She was stripped of her vanity, and felt loathsome21 and unworthy of such a love.
“Oh,” she moaned, rocking to and fro. “I hate myself—I hate myself!”
Now that the victory so long desired seemed at last about to be won, she hesitated to grasp the prize. One solacing22 reflection she had. She would put the errors of the past behind her. Many times of late she had found herself longing23 to be done with the feverish24 life of the stage. Envied by those who had been her companions in the old chorus days, and any one of whom would have counted ambition crowned could she have played The Maid of the Masque, Rita thought otherwise. The ducal mansions25 and rose-bowered Riviera hotels through which she moved nightly had no charm for her; she sighed for reality, and had wearied long ago of the canvas palaces and the artificial Southern moonlight. In fact, stage life had never truly appealed to her—save as a means to an end.
Again and yet again her weary brain reviewed the episodes of the night since she had left Cyrus Kilfane's flat, so that nearly an hour had elapsed before she felt capable of the operation of undressing. Finally, however, she undressed, shuddering26 although the room was warmed by an electric radiator27. The weakness and sickness had left her, but she was quite wide awake, although her brain demanded rest from that incessant28 review of the events of the evening.
She put on a warm wrap and seated herself at the dressing-table, studying her face critically. She saw that she was somewhat pale and that she had an indefinable air of dishevelment. Also she detected shadows beneath her eyes, the pupils of which were curiously contracted. Automatically, as a result of habit, she unlocked her jewel-case and took out a tiny phial containing minute cachets. She shook several out on to the palm of her hand, and then paused, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
“I shall never close my eyes all night if I don't!” she whispered, as if in reply to a spoken protest, “and I should be a wreck29 in the morning.”
Thus, in the very apogee30 of her resolve to reform, did she drive one more rivet31 into the manacles which held her captive to Kazmah and Company.
Upon a little spirit-stove stood a covered vessel32 containing milk, which was placed there nightly by Rita's maid. She lighted the burner and warmed the milk. Then, swallowing three of the cachets from the phial, she drank the milk. Each cachet contained three decigrams of malourea, the insidious33 drug notorious under its trade name of Veronal.
She slept deeply, and was not awakened until ten o'clock. Her breakfast consisted of a cup of strong coffee; but when Monte Irvin arrived at eleven Rita exhibited no sign of nerve exhaustion34. She looked bright and charming, and Irvin's heart leapt hotly in his breast at sight of her.
“May I speak quite frankly37 to you?” he said, drawing his chair nearer to the settee upon which Rita was seated.
She glanced at him swiftly. “Of course,” she replied. “Is it—about my late hours?”
He shook his head, smiling rather sadly.
“That is only one phase of your rather feverish life, little girl,” he said. “I don't mean that I want to lecture you or reproach you. I only want to ask you if you are satisfied?”
“Yes. You have achieved success in your profession.” He strove in vain to banish39 bitterness from his voice. “You are a 'star,' and your photograph is to be seen frequently in the smartest illustrated40 papers. You are clever and beautiful and have hosts of admirers. But—are you satisfied?”
She stared absently at the silk tassel, twirling it about her white fingers more and more rapidly. Then:
“No,” she answered softly.
Monte Irvin hesitated for a moment ere bending forward and grasping her hands.
“I am glad you are not satisfied,” he whispered. “I always knew you had a soul for something higher—better.”
She avoided his ardent41 gaze, but he moved to the settee beside her and looked into the bewitching face.
“Would it be a great sacrifice to give it all up?” he whispered in a yet lower tone.
Rita shook her head, persistently42 staring at the tassel.
“For me?”
She gave him a swift, half-frightened glance, pressing her hands against his breast and leaning, back.
“Oh, you don't know me—you don't know me!” she said, the good that was in her touched to life by the man's sincerity43. “I—don't deserve it.”
“Rita!” he murmured. “I won't hear you say that!”
“You know nothing about my friends—about my life—”
“I know that I want you for my wife, so that I can protect you from those 'friends.'” He took her in his arms, and she surrendered her lips to him.
“My sweet little girl,” he whispered. “I cannot believe it—yet.”
But the die was cast, and when Rita went to the theatre to dress for the afternoon performance she was pledged to sever8 her connection with the stage on the termination of her contract. She had luncheon44 with Monte Irvin, and had listened almost dazedly45 to his plans for the future. His wealth was even greater than her mother had estimated it to be, and Rita's most cherished dreams were dwarfed46 by the prospects47 which Monte Irvin opened up before her. It almost seemed as though he knew and shared her dearest ambitions. She was to winter beneath real Southern palms and to possess a cruising yacht, not one of boards and canvas like that which figured in The Maid of the Masque.
Real Southern palms, she mused48 guiltily, not those conjured49 up by opium50. That he was solicitous51 for her health the nature of his schemes revealed. They were to visit Switzerland, and proceed thence to a villa52 which he owned in Italy. Christmas they would spend in Cairo, explore the Nile to Assouan in a private dahabiyeh, and return home via the Riviera in time to greet the English spring. Rita's delicate, swiftly changing color, her almost ethereal figure, her intense nervous energy he ascribed to a delicate constitution.
She wondered if she would ever dare to tell him the truth; if she ought to tell him.
Pyne came to her dressing-room just before the performance began. He had telephoned at an early hour in the morning, and had learned from her maid that Rita had come home safely and was asleep. Rita had expected him; but the influence of Monte Irvin, from whom she had parted at the stage-door, had prevailed until she actually heard Sir Lucien's voice in the corridor. She had resolutely53 refrained from looking at the little jewelled casket, engraved54 “From Lucy to Rita,” which lay in her make-up box upon the table. But the imminence55 of an ordeal56 which she dreaded57 intensely weakened her resolution. She swiftly dipped a little nail-file into the white powder which the box contained, and when Pyne came in she turned to him composedly.
“I am so sorry if I gave you a scare last night, Lucy,” she said. “But I woke up feeling sick, and I had to go out into the fresh air.”
“I was certainly alarmed,” drawled Pyne, whose swarthy face looked more than usually worn in the hard light created by the competition between the dressing-room lamps and the grey wintry daylight which crept through the windows. “Do you feel quite fit again?”
“Quite, thanks.” Rita glanced at a ring which she had not possessed three hours before. “Oh, Lucy—I don't know how to tell you—”
She turned in her chair, looking up wistfully at Pyne, who was standing58 behind her. His jaw59 hardened, and his glance sought the white hand upon which the costly60 gems61 glittered. He coughed nervously62.
“Perhaps”—his drawling manner of speech temporarily deserted63 him; he spoke19 jerkily—“perhaps—I can guess.”
She watched him in a pathetic way, and there was a threat of tears in her beautiful eyes; for whatever his earlier intentions may have been, Sir Lucien had proved a staunch friend and, according to his own peculiar code, an honorable lover.
“Is it—Irvin?” he asked jerkily.
Sir Lucien cleared his throat again, then coolly extended his hand, once more master of his emotions.
“Congratulations, Rita,” he said. “The better man wins. I hope you will be very happy.”
He turned and walked quietly out of the dressing-room.
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1
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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reclaiming
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| v.开拓( reclaim的现在分词 )；要求收回；从废料中回收（有用的材料）；挽救 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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sever
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| v.切开，割开；断绝，中断 | |
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bleakness
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| adj. 萧瑟的, 严寒的, 阴郁的 | |
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nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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12
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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13
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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revolved
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| v.（使）旋转( revolve的过去式和过去分词 )；细想 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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16
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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18
procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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19
spoke
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| 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 | |
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20
follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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21
loathsome
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| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
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22
solacing
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| v.安慰，慰藉( solace的现在分词 ) | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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25
mansions
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| n.宅第，公馆，大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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26
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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27
radiator
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| n.暖气片，散热器 | |
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28
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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29
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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30
apogee
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| n.远地点；极点；顶点 | |
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31
rivet
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| n.铆钉；vt.铆接，铆牢；集中(目光或注意力) | |
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32
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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insidious
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| adj.阴险的，隐匿的，暗中为害的，（疾病）不知不觉之间加剧 | |
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34
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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35
desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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38
tassel
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| n.流苏，穗；v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须 | |
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39
banish
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| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
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40
illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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41
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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42
persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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43
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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44
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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45
dazedly
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| 头昏眼花地，眼花缭乱地，茫然地 | |
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46
dwarfed
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| vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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47
prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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48
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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49
conjured
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| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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50
opium
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| n.鸦片；adj.鸦片的 | |
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51
solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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52
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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53
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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54
engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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55
imminence
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| n.急迫，危急 | |
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56
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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57
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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58
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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59
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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60
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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61
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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62
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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63
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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64
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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