At this happy conclusion to his labours, Frere went down to comfort the girl for whose sake he had suffered Rex to escape the gallows1. On his way he was met by a man who touched his hat, and asked to speak with him an instant. This man was past middle age, owned a red brandy-beaten face, and had in his gait and manner that nameless something that denotes the seaman2.
“Well, Blunt,” says Frere, pausing with the impatient air of a man who expects to hear bad news, “what is it now?”
“Only to tell you that it is all right, sir,” says Blunt. “She’s come aboard again this morning.”
“Come aboard again!” ejaculated Frere. “Why, I didn’t know that she had been ashore3. Where did she go?” He spoke4 with an air of confident authority, and Blunt — no longer the bluff5 tyrant6 of old — seemed to quail7 before him. The trial of the mutineers of the Malabar had ruined Phineas Blunt. Make what excuses he might, there was no concealing8 the fact that Pine found him drunk in his cabin when he ought to have been attending to his duties on deck, and the “authorities” could not, or would not, pass over such a heinous9 breach10 of discipline. Captain Blunt — who, of course, had his own version of the story — thus deprived of the honour of bringing His Majesty’s prisoners to His Majesty’s colonies of New South Wales and Van Diemen’s Land, went on a whaling cruise to the South Seas. The influence which Sarah Purfoy had acquired over him had, however, irretrievably injured him. It was as though she had poisoned his moral nature by the influence of a clever and wicked woman over a sensual and dull-witted man. Blunt gradually sank lower and lower. He became a drunkard, and was known as a man with a “grievance against the Government”. Captain Frere, having had occasion for him in some capacity, had become in a manner his patron, and had got him the command of a schooner11 trading from Sydney. On getting this command — not without some wry12 faces on the part of the owner resident in Hobart Town — Blunt had taken the temperance pledge for the space of twelve months, and was a miserable13 dog in consequence. He was, however, a faithful henchman, for he hoped by Frere’s means to get some “Government billet”— the grand object of all colonial sea captains of that epoch14.
“Well, sir, she went ashore to see a friend,” says Blunt, looking at the sky and then at the earth.
“What friend?”
“The — the prisoner, sir.”
“And she saw him, I suppose?”
“Yes, but I thought I’d better tell you, sir,” says Blunt.
“Of course; quite right,” returned the other; “you had better start at once. It’s no use waiting.”
“As you wish, sir. I can sail to-morrow morning — or this evening, if you like.”
“This evening,” says Frere, turning away; “as soon as possible.”
“There’s a situation in Sydney I’ve been looking after,” said the other, uneasily, “if you could help me to it.”
“What is it?”
“The command of one of the Government vessels15, sir.”
“Well, keep sober, then,” says Frere, “and I’ll see what I can do. And keep that woman’s tongue still if you can.”
The pair looked at each other, and Blunt grinned slavishly.
“I’ll do my best.” “Take care you do,” returned his patron, leaving him without further ceremony.
Frere found Vickers in the garden, and at once begged him not to talk about the “business” to his daughter.
“You saw how bad she was to-day, Vickers. For goodness sake don’t make her ill again.”
“My dear sir,” says poor Vickers, “I won’t refer to the subject. She’s been very unwell ever since. Nervous and unstrung. Go in and see her.”
So Frere went in and soothed16 the excited girl, with real sorrow at her suffering.
“It’s all right now, Poppet,” he said to her. “Don’t think of it any more. Put it out of your mind, dear.”
“It was foolish of me, Maurice, I know, but I could not help it. The sound of — of — that man’s voice seemed to bring back to me some great pity for something or someone. I don’t explain what I mean, I know, but I felt that I was on the verge17 of remembering a story of some great wrong, just about to hear some dreadful revelation that should make me turn from all the people whom I ought most to love. Do you understand?”
“I think I know what you mean,” says Frere, with averted18 face. “But that’s all nonsense, you know.”
“Of course,” returned she, with a touch of her old childish manner of disposing of questions out of hand. “Everybody knows it’s all nonsense. But then we do think such things. It seems to me that I am double, that I have lived somewhere before, and have had another life — a dream-life.”
“What a romantic girl you are,” said the other, dimly comprehending her meaning. “How could you have a dream-life?”
“Of course, not really, stupid! But in thought, you know. I dream such strange things now and then. I am always falling down precipices19 and into cataracts20, and being pushed into great caverns21 in enormous rocks. Horrible dreams!”
“Indigestion,” returned Frere. “You don’t take exercise enough. You shouldn’t read so much. Have a good five-mile walk.”
“And in these dreams,” continued Sylvia, not heeding22 his interruption, “there is one strange thing. You are always there, Maurice.”
“Come, that’s all right,” says Maurice.
“Ah, but not kind and good as you are, Captain Bruin, but scowling23, and threatening, and angry, so that I am afraid of you.”
“But that is only a dream, darling.”
“Yes, but —” playing with the button of his coat.
“But what?”
“But you looked just so to-day in the Court, Maurice, and I think that’s what made me so silly.”
“My darling! There; hush24 — don’t cry!”
But she had burst into a passion of sobs25 and tears, that shook her slight figure in his arms.
“Oh, Maurice, I am a wicked girl! I don’t know my own mind. I think sometimes I don’t love you as I ought — you who have saved me and nursed me.”
“There, never mind about that,” muttered Maurice Frere, with a sort of choking in his throat.
She grew more composed presently, and said, after a while, lifting her face, “Tell me, Maurice, did you ever, in those days of which you have spoken to me — when you nursed me as a little child in your arms, and fed me, and starved for me — did you ever think we should be married?”
“I don’t know,” says Maurice. “Why?”
“I think you must have thought so, because — it’s not vanity, dear — you would not else have been so kind, and gentle, and devoted26.”
“Nonsense, Poppet,” he said, with his eyes resolutely27 averted.
“No, but you have been, and I am very pettish28, sometimes. Papa has spoiled me. You are always affectionate, and those worrying ways of yours, which I get angry at, all come from love for me, don’t they?”
“I hope so,” said Maurice, with an unwonted moisture in his eyes.
“Well, you see, that is the reason why I am angry with myself for not loving you as I ought. I want you to like the things I like, and to love the books and the music and the pictures and the — the World I love; and I forget that you are a man, you know, and I am only a girl; and I forget how nobly you behaved, Maurice, and how unselfishly you risked your life for mine. Why, what is the matter, dear?”
He had put her away from him suddenly, and gone to the window, gazing across the sloping garden at the bay below, sleeping in the soft evening light. The schooner which had brought the witnesses from Port Arthur lay off the shore, and the yellow flag at her mast fluttered gently in the cool evening breeze. The sight of this flag appeared to anger him, for, as his eyes fell on it, he uttered an impatient exclamation29, and turned round again.
“Maurice!” she cried, “I have wounded you!”
“No, no. It is nothing,” said he, with the air of a man surprised in a moment of weakness. “I— I did not like to hear you talk in this way — about not loving me.”
“Oh, forgive me, dear; I did not mean to hurt you. It is my silly way of saying more than I mean. How could I do otherwise than love you — after all you have done?”
Some sudden desperate whim30 caused him to exclaim, “But suppose I had not done all you think, would you not love me still?”
Her eyes, raised to his face with anxious tenderness for the pain she had believed herself to have inflicted31, fell at this speech.
“What a question! I don’t know. I suppose I should; yet — but what is the use, Maurice, of supposing? I know you have done it, and that is enough. How can I say what I might have done if something else had happened? Why, you might not have loved me.”
If there had been for a moment any sentiment of remorse32 in his selfish heart, the hesitation33 of her answer went far to dispel34 it.
“To be sure, that’s true,” and he placed his arm round her.
She lifted her face again with a bright laugh.
“We are a pair of geese — supposing! How can we help what has past? We have the Future, darling — the Future, in which I am to be your little wife, and we are to love each other all our lives, like the people in the story-books.”
Temptation to evil had often come to Maurice Frere, and his selfish nature had succumbed35 to it when in far less witching shape than this fair and innocent child luring36 him with wistful eyes to win her. What hopes had he not built upon her love; what good resolutions had he not made by reason of the purity and goodness she was to bring to him? As she said, the past was beyond recall; the future — in which she was to love him all her life — was before them. With the hypocrisy37 of selfishness which deceives even itself, he laid the little head upon his heart with a sensible glow of virtue38.
“God bless you, darling! You are my Good Angel.”
The girl sighed. “I will be your Good Angel, dear, if you will let me.”
收听单词发音 |
1
gallows
|
|
| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
seaman
|
|
| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
ashore
|
|
| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
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： |
|
|
|
|
5
bluff
|
|
| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
tyrant
|
|
| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
quail
|
|
| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
concealing
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
heinous
|
|
| adj.可憎的，十恶不赦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
breach
|
|
| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
schooner
|
|
| n.纵帆船 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
wry
|
|
| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
epoch
|
|
| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
vessels
|
|
| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
soothed
|
|
| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
verge
|
|
| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
averted
|
|
| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
precipices
|
|
| n.悬崖，峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
cataracts
|
|
| n.大瀑布( cataract的名词复数 )；白内障 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
caverns
|
|
| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
heeding
|
|
| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
scowling
|
|
| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
hush
|
|
| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
sobs
|
|
| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
resolutely
|
|
| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
pettish
|
|
| adj.易怒的，使性子的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
exclamation
|
|
| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
whim
|
|
| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
inflicted
|
|
| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
remorse
|
|
| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
dispel
|
|
| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
succumbed
|
|
| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
luring
|
|
| 吸引，引诱（lure的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
hypocrisy
|
|
| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |