Mary Ashburton was in her twentieth summer. Like the fair maiden3 Amoret, she was sitting inthe lap of womanhood. They did her wrong, who said she was not beautiful; and yet
"she was not fair,
Nor beautiful;--those words express her not.
But O, her looks had something excellent,
That wants a name!"
Her face had a wonderful fascination4 in it. It was such a calm, quiet face, with the light of the rising soul shining so peacefully through it. At times it wore an expression of seriousness,--of sorrow even; and then seemed to make the very air bright with what the Italian poets so beautifully call the lampeggiar dell' angelico riso,--the lightning of the angelic smile.
And O, those eyes,--those deep, unutterable eyes, with "down-falling eyelids5, full of dreams and slumber," and within them a cold, living light, as in mountain lakes at evening, or in the river of Paradise, forever gliding6,
"with a brown, brown current
Under the shade perpetual, that never
Ray of the sun lets in, nor of the moon."
I dislike an eye that twinkles like a star. Those only are beautiful which, like the planets, have a steady, lambent light;--are luminous7, but not sparkling. Such eyes the Greek poets give to the Immortals8. But I forget myself.
The lady's figure was striking. Every step, every attitude was graceful9, and yet lofty, as if inspired by the soul within. Angels in the old poetic10 philosophy have such forms; it was the soul itself imprinted11 on the air. And what a soul was hers! A temple dedicated12 to Heaven, and, like the Pantheon at Rome, lighted only from above. And earthly passions in the form of gods were no longer there, but the sweet and thoughtful faces of Christ, and the Virgin13 Mary, and the Saints. Thus there was not one discordant14 thing in her; but a perfect harmony of figure, and face, and soul, in a word of the whole being. And he who had a soul to comprehend hers, must of necessity love her, and, having once loved her, could love no other woman forevermore.
No wonder, then, that Flemming felt his heartdrawn towards her, as, in her morning walk, she passed him, sitting alone under the great walnut15 trees near the cloister16, and thinking of Heaven, but not of her. She, too, was alone. Her cheek was no longer pale; but glowing and bright, with the inspiration of the summer air. Flemming gazed after her till she disappeared, even as a vision of his dreams, he knew not whither. He was not yet in love, but very near it; for he thanked God, that he had made such beautiful beings to walk the earth.
Last night he had heard a voice to which his soul responded; and he might have gone on his way, and taken no farther heed17. But he would have heard that voice afterwards, whenever at evening he thought of this evening at Interlachen. To-day he had seen more clearly the vision, and his restless soul calm. The place seemed pleasant to him; and he could not go. He did not ask himself whence came this calm. He felt it; and was happy in the feeling; and blessed thelandscape and the summer morning, as if they possessed18 the wonder-working power.
"A pleasant morning dream to you;" said a friendly voice; and at the same moment some one laid his hand upon Flemming's shoulder. It was Berkley. He had approached unseen and unheard.
"I see by the smile on your countenance," he continued, "that it is no day-incubus."
"You are right," replied Flemming. "It was a pleasant dream, which you have put to flight."
"And I am glad to see, that you have also put to flight the gloomy thoughts which used to haunt you. I like to see people cheerful and happy. What is the use of giving way to sadness in this beautiful world?"
"Ah! this beautiful world!" said Flemming, with a smile. "Indeed, I know not what to think of it. Sometimes it is all gladness and sunshine, and Heaven itself lies not far off. And then it changes suddenly; and is dark and sorrowful, and clouds shut out the sky. In the lives of the saddestof us, there are bright days like this, when we feel as if we could take the great world in our arms and kiss it. Then come the gloomy hours, when the fire will neither burn on our hearths19 nor in our hearts; and all without and within is dismal20, cold, and dark. Believe me, every heart has its secret sorrows, which the world knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad."
"And who says we don't?" interrupted Berkley. "Come, come! Let us go to breakfast. The morning air has given me a rude appetite. I long to say grace over a fresh egg; and eat salt with my worst enemies; namely, the Cockneys at the hotel. After breakfast you must give yourself up wholly to me. I shall take you to the Grindelwald!"
"To-day, then, you do not breakfast like Diogenes, but consent to leave your tub."
"Yes, for the pleasure of your company. I shall also blow out the light in my lantern, having found you."
"Thank you."
The breakfast passed without any unusual occurrence. Flemming watched the entrance of every guest; but she came not,--the guest he most desired to see.
"And now for the Grindelwald!" said Berkley.
"Why such haste? We have the whole day before us. There is time enough."
"Not a moment to loso, I assure you. The carriage is at the door."
They drove up the valley of Lauterbrunnen, and turned eastward21 among the mountains of the Grindelwald. There they passed the day; half-frozen by the icy breath of the Great Glacier22, upon whose surface stand pyramids and blocks of ice, like the tombstones of a cemetery23. It was a weary day to Flemming. He wished himself at Interlachen; and was glad when, towards evening, he saw once more the cone-roofed towers of the cloister rising above the walnut trees.
That evening is written in red letters in his history. It gave him another revelation of thebeauty and excellence24 of the female character and intellect; not wholly new to him, yet now renewed and fortified25. It was from the lips of Mary Ashburton, that the revelation came. Her form arose, like a tremulous evening star, in the firmament26 of his soul. He conversed27 with her; and with her alone; and knew not when to go. All others were to him as if they were not there. He saw their forms, but saw them as the forms of inanimate things. At length her mother came; and Flemming beheld in her but another Mary Ashburton, with beauty more mature;--the same forehead and eyes, the same majestic28 figure; and, as yet, no trace of age. He gazed upon her with a feeling of delight, not unmingled with holy awe29. She was to him the rich and glowing Evening, from whose bosom30 the tremulous star was born.
Berkley took no active part in the conversation, but did what was much more to the purpose, that it is to say, arranged a drive for the next day with the Ashburtons, and of course invited Flemming, who went home that night with a halo round hishead; and wondering much at a dandy, who stood at the door of the hotel, and said to his companion, as Flemming passed;
"What do you call this place? I have been here two hours already, and find it devilish dull!"
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1
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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2
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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3
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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4
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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5
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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6
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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7
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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8
immortals
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| 不朽的人物( immortal的名词复数 )； 永生不朽者 | |
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9
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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10
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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11
imprinted
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| v.盖印（imprint的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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12
dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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13
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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14
discordant
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| adj.不调和的 | |
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15
walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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16
cloister
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| n.修道院；v.隐退，使与世隔绝 | |
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17
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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18
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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19
hearths
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| 壁炉前的地板，炉床，壁炉边( hearth的名词复数 ) | |
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20
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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21
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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22
glacier
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| n.冰川，冰河 | |
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23
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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24
excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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25
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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26
firmament
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| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
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27
conversed
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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28
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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29
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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30
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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