"Yes, really. Horrid2 bore, isn't it?—but county dinners must be attended, and Nicholas will do nothing. Besides, it isn't fair to ask him just now, dear old fellow, when he has so much upon his mind."
"Well, I rather think he has Violet on his mind. Did you ever see anything so spooney as they looked all through dinner yesterday and luncheon4 to-day? I didn't think it was in Violet."
"Did she never look at you like that?" asks Mona, maliciously5; "in the early days, I mean, before—before——"
"I fell a victim to your charms? No. Jack has it all to himself as far as I'm concerned. Well, I must be off, you know. It is a tremendous drive, and I'll barely do it in time. I shall be back about two in the morning."
"I can't well get away before that, you know, as Wigley is a good way off. But I'll try all I know. And, after all," says Geoffrey, with a view to cheering her, "it isn't as bad as if I was ordered off somewhere for a week, is it?"
"A week? I should be dead when you came back," declares Mrs. Geoffrey, with some vehemence7, and a glance that shows she can dissolve into tears at a moment's notice.
"Some fellows go away for months," says Geoffrey, still honestly bent8 on cheering her, but unfortunately going the wrong way to work.
"Then they ought to be ashamed of themselves," says Mona, with much indignation. "Months indeed!"
"Why, they can't help it," explains he. "They are sent half the time."
"Then the people who send them should be ashamed! But what about the other half of their time that they spend from home?"
"Oh, I don't know: that was a mere9 figure of speech," says Mr. Rodney, who is afraid to say such absences are caused by an innate10 love of freedom and a vile11 desire for liberty at any cost, and has nothing else handy. "Now don't stay moping up here when I go, but run downstairs and find the girls and make yourself happy with them."
"Happy?" reproachfully. "I shan't know a happy moment until I see you again!"
"Nor I, till I see you," says Geoffrey, earnestly, actually believing what he says himself.
"I shall do nothing but look at the clock and listen for the sound of the horse's feet."
"Mona, you musn't do that. Now, I shall be really annoyed if you insist on sitting up for me and so lose a good night's rest. Now, don't, darling. It will only take it out of you, and make you pale and languid next day."
"But I shall be more content so; and even if I went to bed I could not sleep. Besides, I shall not be companionless when the small hours begin to creep upon me."
"Eh?" says Geoffrey.
"My own old pet," says Mrs. Geoffrey, still mysteriously, and with the fondest smile imaginable.
"Good gracious, Mona, whom do you mean?" asks he, aghast both at her look and tone.
"Why, Spice, of course," opening her eyes. "Didn't you know. Why, what else could I mean?"
"I don't know, I'm sure; but really the way you expressed yourself, and——Yes, of course, Spice will be company, the very best company for you."
"I think I shall have Allspice too," goes on Mona. "But say nothing. Lady Rodney, if she knew it, would not allow it for a moment. But Jenkins" (the old butler) "has promised to manage it all for me, and to smuggle14 my dear dogs up to my room without any one being in the least the wiser."
"If you have Jenkins on your side you are pretty safe," says Geoffrey. "My mother is more afraid of Jenkins than you would be of a land-leaguer. Well, good-by again. I must be off."
"What horse are you taking?" asks she, holding him.
"Black Bess."
"Oh, Geoffrey, do you want to break my heart? Sure you know he is the most vicious animal in the whole stables. Take any horse but that."
"What! the horrid brute16 that puts back his ears and shows the white of his eyes! Geoffrey, once for all, I desire you to have nothing to do with him."
"Anything to please you," says Geoffrey, who is laughing by this time. "May I trust my precious bones to Mazerin? He is quite fifteen, has only one eye, and a shameless disregard for the whip."
"Ye—es; he will do," says Mona, after a second's careful thought, and even now reluctantly.
"I think I see myself behind Mazerin, at this time of day," says Mr. Rodney, heartlessly. "You don't catch me at it, if I know it. I'm not sure what horse I shall have, but I trust to Thomas to give me a good one. For the last time, good-by, you amiable17 young goose, and don't expect me till I come."
So saying, he embraces her warmly, and, running downstairs, jumps into the dog-cart, and drives away behind the "vicious Black Bess."
Mona watches him from her window, as far as the curve in the avenue will permit, and, having received and returned his farewell wave of the hand, sits down, and taking out her handkerchief, indulges in a good cry.
It is the first time since their marriage that she and Geoffrey have been parted, and it seems to her a hard thing that such partings should be. A sense of desolation creeps over her,—a sense of loneliness she has never known before.
Then she remembers her promise to go down to the girls and abstain18 from fretting19, and, rising bravely, she bathes her eyes, and goes down the marble staircase through the curtained alcove20 towards the small drawing-room, where one of the servants tells her, the family is assembled.
The door of the room she is approaching is wide open, and inside, as Mona draws nearer, it becomes apparent that some one is talking very loudly, and with much emphasis, and as though determined21 not to be silenced. Argument is plainly the order of the hour.
As Mona comes still nearer, the words of the speaker reach her, and sink into her brain. It is Lady Rodney who is holding forth22, and what she says floats lightly to Mona's ears. She is still advancing, unmindful of anything but the fact that she cannot see Geoffrey again for more hours than she cares to count, when the following words become clear to her, and drive the color from her cheeks,—
"And those dogs forever at her heels!—positively, she is half a savage23. The whole thing is in keeping, and quite detestable. How can you expect me to welcome a girl who is without family and absolutely penniless? Why, I am convinced that misguided boy bought her even her trousseau!"
Mona has no time to hear more; pale, but collected, she walks deliberately24 into the room and up to Lady Rodney.
"You are mistaken in one point," she says, slowly. "I may be savage, penniless, without family,—but I bought my own trousseau. I do not say this to excuse myself, because I should not mind taking anything from Geoffrey; but I think it a pity you should not know the truth. I had some money of my own,—very little, I allow, but enough to furnish me with wedding garments."
Her coming is a thunderbolt, her speech lightning. Lady Rodney changes color, and is for once utterly25 disconcerted.
"I beg your pardon," she manages to say. "Of course had I known you were listening at the door I should not have said what I did,"—this last with a desire to offend.
"I was not listening at the door," says Mona, with dignity, yet with extreme difficulty: some hand seems clutching at her heart-strings, and he who should have been near to succor26 her is far away. "I never," haughtily27, "listened at a door in all my life. I should not understand how to do it." Her Irish blood is up, and there is a distinct emphasis upon the pronoun. "You have wronged me twice!"
Her voice falters28. Instinctively29 she looks round for help. She feels deserted,—alone. No one speaks. Sir Nicholas and Violet, who are in the room, are as yet almost too shocked to have command of words; and presently the silence becomes unbearable30.
Two tears gather, and roll slowly down Mona's white cheeks. And then somehow her thoughts wander back to the old farmhouse31 at the side of the hill, with the spreading trees behind it, and to the sanded floor and the cool dairy, and the warmth of the love that abounded32 there, and the uncle, who, if rough, was at least ready to believe her latest action—whatever it might be—only one degree more perfect than the one that went before it.
She turns away in a desolate33 fashion, and moves towards the door; but Sir Nicholas, having recovered from his stupefaction by this time, follows her, and placing his arm round her, bends over her tenderly, and presses her face against his shoulder.
"My dearest child, do not take things so dreadfully to heart," he says, entreatingly34 and soothingly35: "it is all a mistake; and my mother will, I know, be the first to acknowledge herself in error."
"No, no," she says, drawing herself up and speaking with a touch of pride that sits very sweetly on her; "I beg you will say nothing. Mere words could not cure the wound you have inflicted37."
She lays her hand upon her heart, as though she would say, "The wound lies here," and once more turns to the door.
Violet, rising, flings from her the work she has been amusing herself with, and, with a gesture of impatience38 very foreign to her usual reserve goes up to Mona, and, slipping her arm round her, takes her quietly out of the room.
Up the stairs she takes her and into her own room, without saying a word. Then she carefully turns the key in the door, and, placing Mona in a large and cosey arm-chair, stands opposite to her, and thus begins,—
"Now listen, Mona," she says, in her low voice, that even now, when she is somewhat excited, shows no trace of heat or haste, "for I shall speak to you plainly. You must make up your mind to Lady Rodney. It is the common belief that mere birth will refine most people; but those who cling to that theory will surely find themselves mistaken. Something more is required: I mean the nobility of soul that Nature gives to the peasant as well as the peer. This, Lady Rodney lacks; and at heart, in sentiment, she is—at times—coarse. May I say what I like to you?"
"Well, then, I would ask you to harden your heart, because she will say many unpleasant things to you, and will be uncivil to you, simply because she has taken it into her head that you have done her an injury in that you have married Geoffrey! But do you take no notice of her rudeness; ignore her, think always of the time that is coming when your own home will be ready for you, and where you can live with Geoffrey forever, without fear of a harsh word or an unkind glance. There must be comfort in this thought."
She glances anxiously at Mona, who is gazing into the fire with a slight frown upon her brow, that looks sadly out of place on that smooth white surface. At Violet's last words it flies away, not to return.
"Comfort? I think of nothing else," she says, dreamily.
"On no account quarrel with Lady Rodney. Bear for the next few weeks (they will quickly pass) anything she may say, rather than create a breach41 between mother and son. You hear me, Mona?"
"Yes, I hear you. But must you say this? Have I ever sought a quarrel with—Geoffrey's mother?"
"No, no, indeed. You have behaved admirably where most women would have ignominiously42 failed. Let that thought console you. To have a perfect temper, such as yours, should be in itself a source of satisfaction. And now bathe your eyes, and make yourself look even prettier than usual. A difficult matter, isn't it?" with a friendly smile.
Mona smiles too in return, though still heavy at heart.
"Have you any rose-water?" goes on Miss Mansergh in her matter-of-fact manner. "No? A good sign that tears and you are enemies. Well, I have, and so I shall send it to you in a moment. You will use it?"
"Oh, yes, thank you," says Mona, who is both surprised and carried away by the other's unexpected eloquence43.
"And now a last word, Mona. When you come down to dinner to-night (and take care you are a little late), be gay, merry, wild with spirits, anything but depressed44, whatever it may cost you. And if in the drawing-room, later on, Lady Rodney should chance to drop her handkerchief, or that eternal knitting, do not stoop to pick it up. If her spectacles are on a distant table, forget to see them. A nature such as hers could not understand a nature such as yours. The more anxious you may seem to please, the more determined she will be not to be pleased."
"But you like Lady Rodney?" says Mona, in a puzzled tone.
"Very much indeed. But her faults are obvious, and I like you too. I have said more to you of her than I have ever yet said to human being; why, I know not, because you are (comparatively speaking) a stranger to me, whilst she is my very good friend. Yet so it rests. You will, I know, keep faith with me."
"I am glad you know that," says Mona. Then, going nearer to Violet, she lays her hand upon her arm and regards her earnestly. The tears are still glistening45 in her eyes.
"I don't think I should mind it if I did not feel so much alone. If I had a place in your hearts," she says. "You all like me, I know, but I want to be loved." Then, tremulously, "Will you try to love me?"
Violet looks at her criticizingly, then she smiles, and, placing her hand beneath Mrs. Geoffrey's chin, turns her face more to the fading light.
"Yes, that is just your greatest misfortune," she says, meditatively46. "Love at any price. You would die out of the sunshine, or spoil, which would be worse. You will never be quite happy, I think; and yet perhaps," with a faint sigh, "you get your own good out of your life, after all,—happiness more intense, if briefer, than we more material people can know. There, shall I tell you something? I think you have gained more love in a short time than any other person I ever knew. You have conquered me, at least; and, to tell you the truth," with a slight grimace47, "I was quite determined not to like you. Now lie down, and in a minute or two I shall send Halkett to you with the rose-water."
For the first time she stoops forward and presses her lips to Mona's warmly, graciously. Then she leaves her, and, having told her maid to take the rose-water to Mrs. Rodney, goes downstairs again to the drawing-room.
Sir Nicholas is there, silent, but angry, as Violet knows by the frown upon his brow. With his mother he never quarrels, merely expressing disapproval48 by such signs as an unwillingness49 to speak, and a stern grave line that grows upon his lips.
"Of course you are all against me," Lady Rodney is saying, in a rather hysterical50 tone. "Even you, Violet, have taken up that girl's cause!" She says this expectantly, as though calling on her ally for support. But for once the ally fails her. Miss Mansergh maintains an unflinching silence, and seats herself in her low wicker chair before the fire with all the air of one who has made up her mind to the course she intends to pursue, and is not be enticed51 from it.
"Oh, yes, no doubt I am in the wrong, because I cannot bring myself to adore a vulgar girl who all day long shocks me with her Irishisms," goes on Lady Rodney, almost in tears, born of vexation. "A girl who says, 'Sure you know I didn't' or 'Ah, did ye, now,' or 'Indeed I won't, then!' every other minute. It is too much. What you all see in her I can't imagine. And you too, Violet, you condemn52 me, I can see."
"Yes, I think you are quite and altogether in the wrong," says Miss Mansergh, in her cool manner, and without any show of hesitation53, selecting carefully from the basket near her the exact shade of peacock blue she will require for the cornflower she is working.
Lady Rodney, rising hurriedly, sails with offended dignity from the room.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
miserably
|
|
| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
jack
|
|
| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
luncheon
|
|
| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
maliciously
|
|
| adv.有敌意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
vehemence
|
|
| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
innate
|
|
| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
vile
|
|
| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
hush
|
|
| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
vivacity
|
|
| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
smuggle
|
|
| vt.私运；vi.走私 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
truant
|
|
| n.懒惰鬼，旷课者；adj.偷懒的，旷课的，游荡的；v.偷懒，旷课 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
brute
|
|
| n.野兽，兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
abstain
|
|
| v.自制，戒绝，弃权，避免 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
fretting
|
|
| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
alcove
|
|
| n.凹室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
succor
|
|
| n.援助，帮助；v.给予帮助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
haughtily
|
|
| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
falters
|
|
| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的第三人称单数 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
instinctively
|
|
| adv.本能地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
unbearable
|
|
| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
farmhouse
|
|
| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
abounded
|
|
| v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
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： |
|
|
|
|
34
entreatingly
|
|
| 哀求地，乞求地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
soothingly
|
|
| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
stonily
|
|
| 石头地，冷酷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
inflicted
|
|
| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
bracing
|
|
| adj.令人振奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
ordeal
|
|
| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
breach
|
|
| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
ignominiously
|
|
| adv.耻辱地，屈辱地，丢脸地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
eloquence
|
|
| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
depressed
|
|
| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
glistening
|
|
| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
meditatively
|
|
| adv.冥想地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
grimace
|
|
| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
disapproval
|
|
| n.反对，不赞成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
unwillingness
|
|
| n. 不愿意，不情愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
hysterical
|
|
| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
enticed
|
|
| 诱惑，怂恿( entice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
condemn
|
|
| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |