Windy Corner lay, not on the summit of the ridge1, but a few hundred feet down the southern slope, at the springing of one of the great buttresses2 that supported the hill. On either side of it was a shallow ravine, filled with ferns and pine-trees, and down the ravine on the left ran the highway into the Weald.
Whenever Mr. Beebe crossed the ridge and caught sight of these noble dispositions3 of the earth, and, poised4 in the middle of them, Windy Corner,--he laughed. The situation was so glorious, the house so commonplace, not to say impertinent. The late Mr. Honeychurch had affected5 the cube, because it gave him the most accommodation for his money, and the only addition made by his widow had been a small turret6, shaped like a rhinoceros7' horn, where she could sit in wet weather and watch the carts going up and down the road. So impertinent--and yet the house "did," for it was the home of people who loved their surroundings honestly. Other houses in the neighborhood had been built by expensive architects, over others their inmates8 had fidgeted sedulously9, yet all these suggested the accidental, the temporary; while Windy Corner seemed as inevitable10 as an ugliness of Nature's own creation. One might laugh at the house, but one never shuddered11. Mr. Beebe was bicycling over this Monday afternoon with a piece of gossip. He had heard from the Miss Alans. These admirable ladies, since they could not go to Cissie Villa12, had changed their plans. They were going to Greece instead.
"Since Florence did my poor sister so much good," wrote Miss Catharine, "we do not see why we should not try Athens this winter. Of course, Athens is a plunge13, and the doctor has ordered her special digestive bread; but, after all, we can take that with us, and it is only getting first into a steamer and then into a train. But is there an English Church?" And the letter went on to say: "I do not expect we shall go any further than Athens, but if you knew of a really comfortable pension at Constantinople, we should be so grateful."
Lucy would enjoy this letter, and the smile with which Mr. Beebe greeted Windy Corner was partly for her. She would see the fun of it, and some of its beauty, for she must see some beauty. Though she was hopeless about pictures, and though she dressed so unevenly--oh, that cerise frock yesterday at church!--she must see some beauty in life, or she could not play the piano as she did. He had a theory that musicians are incredibly complex, and know far less than other artists what they want and what they are; that they puzzle themselves as well as their friends; that their psychology14 is a modern development, and has not yet been understood. This theory, had he known it, had possibly just been illustrated15 by facts. Ignorant of the events of yesterday he was only riding over to get some tea, to see his niece, and to observe whether Miss Honeychurch saw anything beautiful in the desire of two old ladies to visit Athens.
A carriage was drawn16 up outside Windy Corner, and just as he caught sight of the house it started, bowled up the drive, and stopped abruptly17 when it reached the main road. Therefore it must be the horse, who always expected people to walk up the hill in case they tired him. The door opened obediently, and two men emerged, whom Mr. Beebe recognized as Cecil and Freddy. They were an odd couple to go driving; but he saw a trunk beside the coachman's legs. Cecil, who wore a bowler18, must be going away, while Freddy (a cap)--was seeing him to the station. They walked rapidly, taking the short cuts, and reached the summit while the carriage was still pursuing the windings19 of the road.
They shook hands with the clergyman, but did not speak.
"So you're off for a minute, Mr. Vyse?" he asked.
Cecil said, "Yes," while Freddy edged away.
"I was coming to show you this delightful20 letter from those friends of Miss Honeychurch. He quoted from it. "Isn't it wonderful? Isn't it romance? most certainly they will go to Constantinople. They are taken in a snare21 that cannot fail. They will end by going round the world."
Cecil listened civilly, and said he was sure that Lucy would be amused and interested.
"Isn't Romance capricious! I never notice it in you young people; you do nothing but play lawn tennis, and say that romance is dead, while the Miss Alans are struggling with all the weapons of propriety22 against the terrible thing. 'A really comfortable pension at Constantinople!' So they call it out of decency24, but in their hearts they want a pension with magic windows opening on the foam25 of perilous26 seas in fairyland forlorn! No ordinary view will content the Miss Alans. They want the Pension Keats."
"I'm awfully27 sorry to interrupt, Mr. Beebe," said Freddy, "but have you any matches?"
"I have," said Cecil, and it did not escape Mr. Beebe's notice that he spoke28 to the boy more kindly29.
"You have never met these Miss Alans, have you, Mr. Vyse?"
"Never."
"Then you don't see the wonder of this Greek visit. I haven't been to Greece myself, and don't mean to go, and I can't imagine any of my friends going. It is altogether too big for our little lot. Don't you think so? Italy is just about as much as we can manage. Italy is heroic, but Greece is godlike or devilish--I am not sure which, and in either case absolutely out of our suburban30 focus. All right, Freddy--I am not being clever, upon my word I am not--I took the idea from another fellow; and give me those matches when you've done with them." He lit a cigarette, and went on talking to the two young men. "I was saying, if our poor little Cockney lives must have a background, let it be Italian. Big enough in all conscience. The ceiling of the Sistine Chapel31 for me. There the contrast is just as much as I can realize. But not the Parthenon, not the frieze32 of Phidias at any price; and here comes the victoria."
"You're quite right," said Cecil. "Greece is not for our little lot"; and he got in. Freddy followed, nodding to the clergyman, whom he trusted not to be pulling one's leg, really. And before they had gone a dozen yards he jumped out, and came running back for Vyse's match-box, which had not been returned. As he took it, he said: "I'm so glad you only talked about books. Cecil's hard hit. Lucy won't marry him. If you'd gone on about her, as you did about them, he might have broken down."
"But when--"
"Late last night. I must go."
"Perhaps they won't want me down there."
"No--go on. Good-bye."
"Thank goodness!" exclaimed Mr. Beebe to himself, and struck the saddle of his bicycle approvingly, "It was the one foolish thing she ever did. Oh, what a glorious riddance!" And, after a little thought, he negotiated the slope into Windy Corner, light of heart. The house was again as it ought to be--cut off forever from Cecil's pretentious33 world.
He would find Miss Minnie down in the garden.
In the drawing-room Lucy was tinkling34 at a Mozart Sonata35. He hesitated a moment, but went down the garden as requested. There he found a mournful company. It was a blustering36 day, and the wind had taken and broken the dahlias. Mrs. Honeychurch, who looked cross, was tying them up, while Miss Bartlett, unsuitably dressed, impeded37 her with offers of assistance. At a little distance stood Minnie and the "garden-child," a minute importation, each holding either end of a long piece of bass38.
"Oh, how do you do, Mr. Beebe? Gracious what a mess everything is! Look at my scarlet39 pompons, and the wind blowing your skirts about, and the ground so hard that not a prop23 will stick in, and then the carriage having to go out, when I had counted on having Powell, who--give every one their due--does tie up dahlias properly."
Evidently Mrs. Honeychurch was shattered.
"How do you do?" said Miss Bartlett, with a meaning glance, as though conveying that more than dahlias had been broken off by the autumn gales40.
"Here, Lennie, the bass," cried Mrs. Honeychurch. The garden-child, who did not know what bass was, stood rooted to the path with horror. Minnie slipped to her uncle and whispered that every one was very disagreeable to-day, and that it was not her fault if dahlia-strings would tear longways instead of across.
"Come for a walk with me," he told her. "You have worried them as much as they can stand. Mrs. Honeychurch, I only called in aimlessly. I shall take her up to tea at the Beehive Tavern41, if I may."
"Oh, must you? Yes do.--Not the scissors, thank you, Charlotte, when both my hands are full already--I'm perfectly42 certain that the orange cactus43 will go before I can get to it."
Mr. Beebe, who was an adept44 at relieving situations, invited Miss Bartlett to accompany them to this mild festivity.
"Yes, Charlotte, I don't want you--do go; there's nothing to stop about for, either in the house or out of it."
Miss Bartlett said that her duty lay in the dahlia bed, but when she had exasperated45 every one, except Minnie, by a refusal, she turned round and exasperated Minnie by an acceptance. As they walked up the garden, the orange cactus fell, and Mr. Beebe's last vision was of the garden-child clasping it like a lover, his dark head buried in a wealth of blossom.
"It is terrible, this havoc46 among the flowers," he remarked.
"It is always terrible when the promise of months is destroyed in a moment," enunciated47 Miss Bartlett.
"Perhaps we ought to send Miss Honeychurch down to her mother. Or will she come with us?"
"I think we had better leave Lucy to herself, and to her own pursuits."
"They're angry with Miss Honeychurch because she was late for breakfast," whispered Minnie, "and Floyd has gone, and Mr. Vyse has gone, and Freddy won't play with me. In fact, Uncle Arthur, the house is not AT ALL what it was yesterday."
"Don't be a prig," said her Uncle Arthur. "Go and put on your boots."
He stepped into the drawing-room, where Lucy was still attentively48 pursuing the Sonatas49 of Mozart. She stopped when he entered.
"How do you do? Miss Bartlett and Minnie are coming with me to tea at the Beehive. Would you come too?"
"I don't think I will, thank you."
"No, I didn't suppose you would care to much."
Lucy turned to the piano and struck a few chords.
"How delicate those Sonatas are!" said Mr. Beebe, though at the bottom of his heart, he thought them silly little things.
Lucy passed into Schumann.
"Miss Honeychurch!"
"Yes."
"I met them on the hill. Your brother told me."
"Oh he did?" She sounded annoyed. Mr. Beebe felt hurt, for he had thought that she would like him to be told.
"I needn't say that it will go no further."
"Mother, Charlotte, Cecil, Freddy, you," said Lucy, playing a note for each person who knew, and then playing a sixth note.
"If you'll let me say so, I am very glad, and I am certain that you have done the right thing."
"So I hoped other people would think, but they don't seem to."
"I could see that Miss Bartlett thought it unwise."
"So does mother. Mother minds dreadfully."
"I am very sorry for that," said Mr. Beebe with feeling.
Mrs. Honeychurch, who hated all changes, did mind, but not nearly as much as her daughter pretended, and only for the minute. It was really a ruse50 of Lucy's to justify51 her despondency--a ruse of which she was not herself conscious, for she was marching in the armies of darkness.
"And Freddy minds."
"Still, Freddy never hit it off with Vyse much, did he? I gathered that he disliked the engagement, and felt it might separate him from you."
"Boys are so odd."
Minnie could be heard arguing with Miss Bartlett through the floor. Tea at the Beehive apparently52 involved a complete change of apparel. Mr. Beebe saw that Lucy--very properly--did not wish to discuss her action, so after a sincere expression of sympathy, he said, "I have had an absurd letter from Miss Alan. That was really what brought me over. I thought it might amuse you all."
"How delightful!" said Lucy, in a dull voice.
For the sake of something to do, he began to read her the letter. After a few words her eyes grew alert, and soon she interrupted him with "Going abroad? When do they start?"
"Next week, I gather."
"Did Freddy say whether he was driving straight back?"
"No, he didn't."
"Because I do hope he won't go gossiping."
So she did want to talk about her broken engagement. Always complaisant53, he put the letter away. But she, at once exclaimed in a high voice, "Oh, do tell me more about the Miss Alans! How perfectly splendid of them to go abroad!"
"I want them to start from Venice, and go in a cargo54 steamer down the Illyrian coast!"
She laughed heartily55. "Oh, delightful! I wish they'd take me."
"Has Italy filled you with the fever of travel? Perhaps George Emerson is right. He says that 'Italy is only an euphuism for Fate.'"
"Oh, not Italy, but Constantinople. I have always longed to go to Constantinople. Constantinople is practically Asia, isn't it?"
Mr. Beebe reminded her that Constantinople was still unlikely, and that the Miss Alans only aimed at Athens, "with Delphi, perhaps, if the roads are safe." But this made no difference to her enthusiasm. She had always longed to go to Greece even more, it seemed. He saw, to his surprise, that she was apparently serious.
"I didn't realize that you and the Miss Alans were still such friends, after Cissie Villa."
"Oh, that's nothing; I assure you Cissie Villa's nothing to me; I would give anything to go with them."
"Would your mother spare you again so soon? You have scarcely been home three months."
"She MUST spare me!" cried Lucy, in growing excitement. "I simply MUST go away. I have to." She ran her fingers hysterically56 through her hair. "Don't you see that I HAVE to go away? I didn't realize at the time--and of course I want to see Constantinople so particularly."
"You mean that since you have broken off your engagement you feel--"
"Yes, yes. I knew you'd understand."
Mr. Beebe did not quite understand. Why could not Miss Honeychurch repose57 in the bosom58 of her family? Cecil had evidently taken up the dignified59 line, and was not going to annoy her. Then it struck him that her family itself might be annoying. He hinted this to her, and she accepted the hint eagerly.
"Yes, of course; to go to Constantinople until they are used to the idea and everything has calmed down."
"I am afraid it has been a bothersome business," he said gently.
"No, not at all. Cecil was very kind indeed; only--I had better tell you the whole truth, since you have heard a little--it was that he is so masterful. I found that he wouldn't let me go my own way. He would improve me in places where I can't be improved. Cecil won't let a woman decide for herself--in fact, he daren't. What nonsense I do talk! but that is the kind of thing."
"It is what I gathered from my own observation of Mr. Vyse; it is what I gather from all that I have known of you. I do sympathize and agree most profoundly. I agree so much that you must let me make one little criticism: Is it worth while rushing off to Greece?"
"But I must go somewhere!" she cried. "I have been worrying all the morning, and here comes the very thing." She struck her knees with clenched60 fists, and repeated: "I must! And the time I shall have with mother, and all the money she spent on me last spring. You all think much too highly of me. I wish you weren't so kind." At this moment Miss Bartlett entered, and her nervousness increased. "I must get away, ever so far. I must know my own mind and where I want to go."
"Come along; tea, tea, tea," said Mr. Beebe, and bustled61 his guests out of the front-door. He hustled62 them so quickly that he forgot his hat. When he returned for it he heard, to his relief and surprise, the tinkling of a Mozart Sonata.
"She is playing again," he said to Miss Bartlett.
"Lucy can always play," was the acid reply.
"One is very thankful that she has such a resource. She is evidently much worried, as, of course, she ought to be. I know all about it. The marriage was so near that it must have been a hard struggle before she could wind herself up to speak."
Miss Bartlett gave a kind of wriggle63, and he prepared for a discussion. He had never fathomed64 Miss Bartlett. As he had put it to himself at Florence, "she might yet reveal depths of strangeness, if not of meaning." But she was so unsympathetic that she must be reliable. He assumed that much, and he had no hesitation65 in discussing Lucy with her. Minnie was fortunately collecting ferns.
She opened the discussion with: "We had much better let the matter drop."
"I wonder."
"It is of the highest importance that there should be no gossip in Summer Street. It would be DEATH to gossip about Mr. Vyse's dismissal at the present moment."
Mr. Beebe raised his eyebrows66. Death is a strong word--surely too strong. There was no question of tragedy. He said: "Of course, Miss Honeychurch will make the fact public in her own way, and when she chooses. Freddy only told me because he knew she would not mind."
"I know," said Miss Bartlett civilly. "Yet Freddy ought not to have told even you. One cannot be too careful."
"Quite so."
"I do implore67 absolute secrecy68. A chance word to a chattering69 friend, and--"
"Exactly." He was used to these nervous old maids and to the exaggerated importance that they attach to words. A rector lives in a web of petty secrets, and confidences and warnings, and the wiser he is the less he will regard them. He will change the subject, as did Mr. Beebe, saying cheerfully: "Have you heard from any Bertolini people lately? I believe you keep up with Miss Lavish70. It is odd how we of that pension, who seemed such a fortuitous collection, have been working into one another's lives. Two, three, four, six of us--no, eight; I had forgotten the Emersons--have kept more or less in touch. We must really give the Signora a testimonial."
And, Miss Bartlett not favouring the scheme, they walked up the hill in a silence which was only broken by the rector naming some fern. On the summit they paused. The sky had grown wilder since he stood there last hour, giving to the land a tragic71 greatness that is rare in Surrey. Grey clouds were charging across tissues of white, which stretched and shredded72 and tore slowly, until through their final layers there gleamed a hint of the disappearing blue. Summer was retreating. The wind roared, the trees groaned73, yet the noise seemed insufficient74 for those vast operations in heaven. The weather was breaking up, breaking, broken, and it is a sense of the fit rather than of the supernatural that equips such crises with the salvos of angelic artillery75. Mr. Beebe's eyes rested on Windy Corner, where Lucy sat, practising Mozart. No smile came to his lips, and, changing the subject again, he said: "We shan't have rain, but we shall have darkness, so let us hurry on. The darkness last night was appalling76."
They reached the Beehive Tavern at about five o'clock. That amiable77 hostelry possesses a verandah, in which the young and the unwise do dearly love to sit, while guests of more mature years seek a pleasant sanded room, and have tea at a table comfortably. Mr. Beebe saw that Miss Bartlett would be cold if she sat out, and that Minnie would be dull if she sat in, so he proposed a division of forces. They would hand the child her food through the window. Thus he was incidentally enabled to discuss the fortunes of Lucy.
"I have been thinking, Miss Bartlett," he said, "and, unless you very much object, I would like to reopen that discussion." She bowed. "Nothing about the past. I know little and care less about that; I am absolutely certain that it is to your cousin's credit. She has acted loftily and rightly, and it is like her gentle modesty78 to say that we think too highly of her. But the future. Seriously, what do you think of this Greek plan?" He pulled out the letter again. "I don't know whether you overheard, but she wants to join the Miss Alans in their mad career. It's all--I can't explain--it's wrong."
Miss Bartlett read the letter in silence, laid it down, seemed to hesitate, and then read it again.
"I can't see the point of it myself."
To his astonishment79, she replied: "There I cannot agree with you. In it I spy Lucy's salvation80."
"Really. Now, why?"
"She wanted to leave Windy Corner."
"I know--but it seems so odd, so unlike her, so--I was going to say--selfish."
"It is natural, surely--after such painful scenes--that she should desire a change."
Here, apparently, was one of those points that the male intellect misses. Mr. Beebe exclaimed: "So she says herself, and since another lady agrees with her, I must own that I am partially81 convinced. Perhaps she must have a change. I have no sisters or-- and I don't understand these things. But why need she go as far as Greece?"
"You may well ask that," replied Miss Bartlett, who was evidently interested, and had almost dropped her evasive manner. "Why Greece? (What is it, Minnie dear--jam?) Why not Tunbridge Wells? Oh, Mr. Beebe! I had a long and most unsatisfactory interview with dear Lucy this morning. I cannot help her. I will say no more. Perhaps I have already said too much. I am not to talk. I wanted her to spend six months with me at Tunbridge Wells, and she refused."
Mr. Beebe poked82 at a crumb83 with his knife.
"But my feelings are of no importance. I know too well that I get on Lucy's nerves. Our tour was a failure. She wanted to leave Florence, and when we got to Rome she did not want to be in Rome, and all the time I felt that I was spending her mother's money--."
"Let us keep to the future, though," interrupted Mr. Beebe. "I want your advice."
"Very well," said Charlotte, with a choky abruptness84 that was new to him, though familiar to Lucy. "I for one will help her to go to Greece. Will you?"
Mr. Beebe considered.
"It is absolutely necessary," she continued, lowering her veil and whispering through it with a passion, an intensity85, that surprised him. "I know--I know." The darkness was coming on, and he felt that this odd woman really did know. "She must not stop here a moment, and we must keep quiet till she goes. I trust that the servants know nothing. Afterwards--but I may have said too much already. Only, Lucy and I are helpless against Mrs. Honeychurch alone. If you help we may succeed. Otherwise--"
"Otherwise--?"
"Otherwise," she repeated as if the word held finality.
"Yes, I will help her," said the clergyman, setting his jaw86 firm. "Come, let us go back now, and settle the whole thing up."
Miss Bartlett burst into florid gratitude87. The tavern sign--a beehive trimmed evenly with bees--creaked in the wind outside as she thanked him. Mr. Beebe did not quite understand the situation; but then, he did not desire to understand it, nor to jump to the conclusion of "another man" that would have attracted a grosser mind. He only felt that Miss Bartlett knew of some vague influence from which the girl desired to be delivered, and which might well be clothed in the fleshly form. Its very vagueness spurred him into knight-errantry. His belief in celibacy88, so reticent89, so carefully concealed90 beneath his tolerance91 and culture, now came to the surface and expanded like some delicate flower. "They that marry do well, but they that refrain do better." So ran his belief, and he never heard that an engagement was broken off but with a slight feeling of pleasure. In the case of Lucy, the feeling was intensified92 through dislike of Cecil; and he was willing to go further--to place her out of danger until she could confirm her resolution of virginity. The feeling was very subtle and quite undogmatic, and he never imparted it to any other of the characters in this entanglement93. Yet it existed, and it alone explains his action subsequently, and his influence on the action of others. The compact that he made with Miss Bartlett in the tavern, was to help not only Lucy, but religion also.
They hurried home through a world of black and grey. He conversed94 on indifferent topics: the Emersons' need of a housekeeper95; servants; Italian servants; novels about Italy; novels with a purpose; could literature influence life? Windy Corner glimmered96. In the garden, Mrs. Honeychurch, now helped by Freddy, still wrestled97 with the lives of her flowers.
"It gets too dark," she said hopelesly. "This comes of putting off. We might have known the weather would break up soon; and now Lucy wants to go to Greece. I don't know what the world's coming to."
"Mrs. Honeychurch," he said, "go to Greece she must. Come up to the house and let's talk it over. Do you, in the first place, mind her breaking with Vyse?"
"Mr. Beebe, I'm thankful--simply thankful."
"So am I," said Freddy.
"Good. Now come up to the house."
They conferred in the dining-room for half an hour.
Lucy would never have carried the Greek scheme alone. It was expensive and dramatic--both qualities that her mother loathed98. Nor would Charlotte have succeeded. The honours of the day rested with Mr. Beebe. By his tact99 and common sense, and by his influence as a clergyman--for a clergyman who was not a fool influenced Mrs. Honeychurch greatly--he bent100 her to their purpose, "I don't see why Greece is necessary," she said; "but as you do, I suppose it is all right. It must be something I can't understand. Lucy! Let's tell her. Lucy!"
"She is playing the piano," Mr. Beebe said. He opened the door, and heard the words of a song:
"Look not thou on beauty's charming."
"I didn't know that Miss Honeychurch sang, too."
"Sit thou still when kings are arming, Taste not when the wine-cup glistens101--"
"It's a song that Cecil gave her. How odd girls are!"
"What's that?" called Lucy, stopping short.
"All right, dear," said Mrs. Honeychurch kindly. She went into the drawing-room, and Mr. Beebe heard her kiss Lucy and say: "I am sorry I was so cross about Greece, but it came on the top of the dahlias."
Rather a hard voice said: "Thank you, mother; that doesn't matter a bit."
"And you are right, too--Greece will be all right; you can go if the Miss Alans will have you."
"Oh, splendid! Oh, thank you!"
Mr. Beebe followed. Lucy still sat at the piano with her hands over the keys. She was glad, but he had expected greater gladness. Her mother bent over her. Freddy, to whom she had been singing, reclined on the floor with his head against her, and an unlit pipe between his lips. Oddly enough, the group was beautiful. Mr. Beebe, who loved the art of the past, was reminded of a favourite theme, the Santa Conversazione, in which people who care for one another are painted chatting together about noble things--a theme neither sensual nor sensational102, and therefore ignored by the art of to-day. Why should Lucy want either to marry or to travel when she had such friends at home?
"Taste not when the wine-cup glistens, Speak not when the people listens,"
she continued.
"Here's Mr. Beebe."
"Mr. Beebe knows my rude ways."
"It's a beautiful song and a wise one," said he. "Go on."
"It isn't very good," she said listlessly. "I forget why--harmony or something."
"I suspected it was unscholarly. It's so beautiful."
"The tune's right enough," said Freddy, "but the words are rotten. Why throw up the sponge?"
"How stupidly you talk!" said his sister. The Santa Conversazione was broken up. After all, there was no reason that Lucy should talk about Greece or thank him for persuading her mother, so he said good-bye.
Freddy lit his bicycle lamp for him in the porch, and with his usual felicity of phrase, said: "This has been a day and a half."
"Stop thine ear against the singer--"
"Wait a minute; she is finishing."
"From the red gold keep thy finger; Vacant heart and hand and eye Easy live and quiet die."
"I love weather like this," said Freddy.
Mr. Beebe passed into it.
The two main facts were clear. She had behaved splendidly, and he had helped her. He could not expect to master the details of so big a change in a girl's life. If here and there he was dissatisfied or puzzled, he must acquiesce103; she was choosing the better part.
"Vacant heart and hand and eye--"
Perhaps the song stated "the better part" rather too strongly. He half fancied that the soaring accompaniment--which he did not lose in the shout of the gale--really agreed with Freddy, and was gently criticizing the words that it adorned104:
"Vacant heart and hand and eye Easy live and quiet die."
However, for the fourth time Windy Corner lay poised below him-- now as a beacon105 in the roaring tides of darkness.
风角并不坐落在山脊的顶上，而是在南坡往下数百英尺的地方，就在矗立着一座雄伟的扶壁状岩石边，那一带有好多这样的扶壁，支撑着那座山。风角两边是长满羊齿植物与松树的浅谷，沿着左边的浅谷有一条公路，直通威尔德地区。
毕比先生每次跨过山脊，看到这里的气势雄浑的地形，在它的中央稳稳当当地蜷伏着风角时，总不免一笑。周围的环境是如此辉煌，这所房子却是如此平庸，姑且不用格格不入一词。已故的霍尼彻奇先生非常喜爱这所小房子，因为它为他提供了花了那些钱所能得到的最好的居住条件，而在他去世后，他太太仅仅增建了一座形状像犀牛角的小塔楼，下雨天她可以坐在里面观看路上来往的车辆。这所房子显得格格不入——然而它却是“行”的，这是由于房子的主人真心诚意地喜爱他们家的周围环境的缘故。这一带的其他房屋由收费昂贵的建筑师所建，住在里面的人一直对另外一些房屋感到焦躁不安，然而这一切都表明其偶然性与短暂性，而风角却像大自然本身所创造的必不可少的丑八怪。对这幢房屋你可能会感到好笑，但是你绝不会感到害怕。
本星期一下午毕比先生骑车经过这里，带来了一条小新闻。他收到了两位艾伦小姐的信。这两位可敬的女士由于不能到希西别墅来住，已改变了计划。她们将出游希腊。
“既然佛罗伦萨之行对我那可怜的姐姐大有好处，”凯瑟琳小姐写道，“我们认为没有理由今年不到雅典去试试。当然，去雅典是一次冒险，而医生曾嘱咐她吃一种助消化的特殊面包；可是我们毕竟可以随身携带一些这种面包，而且这只是先上一条船，然后再上火车的问题。不过那里有英国教堂吗？”信上继续写道，“我并不期望我们会到达比雅典更远的地方，不过要是你知道君士坦丁堡有一家真正舒适的膳宿公寓，我们将非常感激。”
露西对这封信会很感兴趣，而毕比先生迎候风角的微笑一半是针对她的。她将发现这件事的有趣的方面，以及它包含的一些美的部分，因为她一定会发现一些美的。虽然她对名画一窍不通，虽然她的服饰变化无常——唉，昨天上教堂穿的那件樱桃色的衣裙多糟啊！——她一定能看到生活中的一些美，不然就不可能弹钢琴弹得那样动人。他有一种理论，认为音乐家复杂得令人难以置信，他们对自己想要什么与自己是怎么样的人比其他艺术家知道得少得多；认为他们使朋友困惑，也使自己困惑；认为他们的心理状态是一种现代的新发展，人们至今还不理解。这种理论很可能刚刚被事实所证明，可是他还不知道。他对上一天发生的事情完全不知道，他骑乍过来只是想喝喝茶，看看他的侄女，并且观察一下霍尼彻奇小姐是否会在那两位高龄女士游览雅典的愿望中发现一些美好的东西。
一辆马车正停在风角的门外，就在他看到房子的一刹那，那辆马车突然启动，顺着车道疾驰，到了大路口突然停下来。一定是为了那头拉车的马儿的缘故，它总希望乘车人走上山去，这样它就不会太累。车门顺从地开了，两个男人走下来，毕比先生认出是塞西尔和弗雷迪。他们两个一起乘车倒是顶奇怪的；可是他看到马车夫脚边有一只大衣箱。塞西尔戴着一顶圆顶礼帽，一定是离开此地，而弗雷迪——戴着一顶便帽——是送他去车站的。他们走得很快，抄近路走，到达山顶时那马车还在大路上不断拐弯。
他们同教区长握手，但没有说话。
“维斯先生，看来你要暂时离开一段时间，是吗？”他问。
塞西尔说了声“是的”，弗雷迪却侧着身子缓缓地走开了。
“我是来给你们看霍尼彻奇小姐的那些朋友写来的这封非常有趣的信的。”他引用了一些信中的话。“这不是妙不可言吗？这不是很浪漫吗？她们是必定会去君士坦丁堡的。她们已落人了一个怎么也逃脱不了的陷阱。最后她们会去周游世界。”
塞西尔很有礼貌地听着，说他肯定露西会感到高兴和有趣的。
“浪漫精神不是挺反复无常吗！我从来也没有在你们年轻人身上发现过浪漫精神。你们仅仅打打草地网球，却说浪漫精神已经死亡了，而那两位艾伦小姐却用合乎礼仪的各种武器与这可怕的字眼作斗争。‘君士坦丁堡的一家真正舒适的膳宿公寓！’她们这样说是出于礼节，可是她们心里要的是一家有奇妙窗户的公寓，从窗户望出去可以看到寂寞仙境中的惊涛骇浪上的白沫（译注：引自英国诗人济慈的名作《夜莺颂》，和原文略有出入）！一般景色绝对满足不了这两位艾伦小姐。她们要的是济慈公寓。”
“毕比先生，非常抱歉要打断你，”弗雷迪说，“你有火柴吗？”
“有，”塞西尔说，毕比先生不禁注意到他和弗雷迪讲话时态度更友好了。
“你从没见过这两位艾伦小姐吧，维斯先生？”
“从没见过。”
“这样你就不明白这次希腊之行的奇妙之处了。我本人从没去过希腊，也不打算去，也想象不出我朋友中有任何人会去。对我们这群小人物来说，希腊实在太大了。你不觉得是这样吗？意大利的大小刚好，我们还能应付。如果把意大利比作一位英雄，那么希腊就是一位天神或者是一个魔鬼——我不能肯定究竟是哪一个，而不管是哪一个，它都绝对在我们这种带有乡气的人的视野范围之外。好吧，弗雷迪——我并没有自作聪明，可以发誓说我没有——我是借用了别人的想法。你点完了把火柴给我吧。”他点了一支烟，继续同这两位年轻人说话。“刚才我在说，假使我们这些在伦敦土生土长的可怜虫的生活一定要获得一些根底的话，那就到意大利去找吧。凭良心说，意大利是够大的。我就喜欢西斯廷教堂天花板上的画。那里的对比正好够上我的欣赏水平。但是我欣赏不了帕台农神庙，无论如何也欣赏不了菲迪亚斯（译注：帕台农抻庙，雅典卫城中供奉雅典娜女抻的主神庙，建于公元前五世纪，庙内的雕刻相传为雕刻家菲迪亚斯所设计）的壁缘雕带；啊，马车来了。”
“你说得很对，”塞西尔说。“对我们这群小人物来说，希腊并不合适。”他说罢登上马车。弗雷迪跟着上去，向教区长点了点头，因为他相信教区长实在并不是在嘲弄人。马车才驰去十来码，他又跳下车来，跑回来取维斯的火柴盒，因为刚才没有还给维斯。他接过火柴盒时说，“我很高兴你刚才只是谈谈书籍。塞西尔受到了很大的打击。露西不愿嫁给他了。要是你谈论她像你刚才谈论书籍那样，他可能会支撑不住的。”
“不过那是什么时候——”
“昨天深夜。我得走了。”
“也许那边不欢迎我去。”
“不——去吧。再见。”
“谢天谢地！”毕比先生出声地自言自语，他猛击了一下自行车的鞍座，表示赞许。“这是她所做的唯一的一件蠢事。啊，真是个绝妙的解脱！”于是他思考了一下，便骑车顺利地登上山坡，进入风角，心情十分轻松。这所房子又一次像它应该成为的那样——永远和塞西尔的那个自命不凡的社会断绝来往。
他将在花园里找到明妮小姐。
露西正在客厅里弹奏一首莫扎特的奏鸣曲。他迟疑了一下，还是顺应请求到花园里去。在那里，他发现人人都愁眉苦脸。那天刮大风，风把大丽花吹得东歪西倒。霍尼彻奇太太看上去很不高兴，正在缚扎花枝，而巴特利特小姐穿戴得很不合适，再三提出要帮她干，实际上却是碍手碍脚。稍远一点站着明妮与“花童”，那是个外国来的小不点儿，各自手中握着一根长椴木条的一端。
“噢，毕比先生，你好？哎呀，什么都是一团糟！看看我的那些猩红色大丽花，风把你们的裙子都吹起来了，还有地这么硬，一根木条也插不进，再说，马车又非出去不可，当时我曾打算要鲍威尔——说句公道话吧——他扎大丽花很不错。”
显然霍尼彻奇太太的神经已濒于崩溃。
“你好？”巴特利特小姐说，饱含深意地瞅了一眼，似乎在说被秋风摧毁的还不止是大丽花呢。
“拿来，莱尼，椴木条，”霍尼彻奇太太叫道。花童不知道椴木条是什么，正站在小径上，吓得呆如木鸡。明妮悄悄地走到她伯父跟前，低声说今天每个人都在发脾气，还说扎大丽花的绳子被风吹得撕裂而不是折断可不是她的过错。
“来和我一起去散步吧，”他对她说。“你给她们添的麻烦可够她们受的了。霍尼彻奇太太，我只是过来看看，没有什么特别的事，如果可以的话，我要带明妮到蜂窝旅舍去喝茶。”
“哦，你一定得去吗？好，去吧——谢谢你，夏绿蒂，我不是要剪刀，你看我的两只手都是满满的——我完全可以肯定地说，不等我扎到那株仙人掌似的火红大丽花，它早就倒下了。”
毕比先生很善于解围，便邀请巴特利特小姐陪伴他们一起去凑个小热闹。
“好吧，夏绿蒂，我并不需要你——你就去吧；没有什么事需要你留下照料，无论是室内，还是室外。”
巴特利特小姐说她的职责在大丽花坛，这一拒绝使每个人（明妮除外）都很恼怒，她便改变主意接受了邀请，这一来又激怒了明妮。当他们向花园上方走去时，火红大丽花倒下来了，于是毕比先生最后看到的景象是那花童像一位情人那样抱着它，一头黑发埋在成堆的花朵里。
“花朵遭到这样的浩劫真是太可怕了，”他说。
“好几个月的期望毁于一旦，总是可怕的，”巴特利特小姐发表意见道。
“也许我们应该把霍尼彻奇小姐送到她妈妈那里去。要不，她会愿意和我们一起去吗？”
“我想我们还是让露西一个人待着，让她想干什么就干什么。”
“她们很生霍尼彻奇小姐的气，因为她吃早饭到得晚了，”明妮低声说，“而且弗洛伊德先生走了，维斯先生也走了，弗雷迪不肯陪我玩，亚瑟伯伯，这个家跟昨天完全不一样了。”
“不要这么一本正经啦，”她的亚瑟伯伯说。“去穿上你的靴子。”
他走进客厅，露西仍然全神贯注地在那里弹奏莫扎特的奏鸣曲。他进入房间，她就停下来。
“你好？巴特利特小姐与明妮要和我一起到蜂窝旅舍去喝茶。你一起去好吗？”
“我不想去，谢谢你。”
“你不去也好，我料想你不会太感兴趣的。”
露西转过身去，面对钢琴，用力弹了几个和音。
“这些奏鸣曲多优美啊！”毕比先生说，虽然心底里认为这些小玩艺儿很无聊。
露西改弹舒曼的作品。
“霍尼彻奇小姐！”
“嗯。”
“我在山上遇见了他们。你弟弟告诉我了。”
“哦，是吗？”听她的声音似乎有点生气。毕比先生感到感情上受到了伤害，他原以为她会很乐意让他知道这件事的。
“我无需说我不会外传吧。”
“妈妈、夏绿蒂、塞西尔、弗雷迪，还有你，”露西一面说，一面为每个了解情况的人弹了一个音，接着弹了第六个音。
“我非常高兴，如果你让我这样说的话，而且我相信你做得正对。”
“我希望其他人也这样想，不过他们似乎不是这样想的。”
“我看得出来巴特利特小姐认为这样做不明智。”
“妈妈也这样想。妈妈非常介意。”
“对此我非常遗憾，”毕比先生说话的时候动了感情。
霍尼彻奇太太讨厌各种变动，因此确实很介意，但是并没有达到她女儿声称的那种程度，而且一下子就过去了。这实际上是露西为自己的失望辩解的一个花招——她自己并没有意识到这是个花招，因为她正和黑暗大军一起大步前进。
“还有，弗雷迪也很介意。”
“不过，弗雷迪和维斯向来不怎么合得来，是不？我的印象是他不喜欢这个婚约，觉得它很可能把他和你分开。”
“男孩子是很怪的。”
从楼下传来明妮与巴特利特小姐在争论的声音。显然到蜂窝旅舍去喝茶意味着要完全重新打扮。毕比先生发现露西不希望讨论她的行动，这一点他认为露西做得很对，因此在深表同情后说，“我收到了艾伦小姐的一封很荒唐的信。我到这里来实在是为了这封信。我以为它会使你们大家都感到很有趣。”
“多有意思啊！”露西说，但是声音很呆板。
毕比先生为了找一些事情做，就给她念起信来。露西听了没两句，眼神便活跃起来，不久就打断他说——“到海外去？她们什么时候动身？”
“我想是下星期吧。”
“弗雷迪有没有说他直接乘车回来？”
“不，没有说。”
“因为我确实希望他不要去到处乱说。”
这样看来她是想谈谈有关她解除婚约的事的。他一向为人随和，就把信收起来。可是她却马上高声说起来：“好啊，请你多讲一些关于两位艾伦小姐的情况吧！她们要到海外去，真是太好了！”
“我要她们从威尼斯动身，搭货轮直下伊利里亚悔岸！（译注：伊利里亚，古代亚德里亚海东岸一地区名，今分属南斯拉夫和阿尔巴尼亚）”
她笑得很开心。“啊，真有意思！但愿她们肯带我一起去。”
“难道意大利使你害上了旅游热不成？也许乔治·艾默森是对的。他说意大利不过是个用来代表命运的委婉语而已。”
“哦，不是意大利，是君士坦丁堡。我一直想去君士坦丁堡。君士坦丁堡实际上是亚洲，是不是？”
毕比先生提醒她君士坦丁堡的可能性仍然很小，这两位艾伦小姐的目的地只是雅典，“也许还要去特尔斐（译注：特尔斐，古希腊城市，因有阿波罗神庙而出名），如果路上安全的话。”可是这并不影响她的热情。看来她一直更想去的地方是希腊。使他惊奇的是他发现她看上去不像是在开玩笑。
“我没想到希西别墅事件发生后，你和这两位艾伦小姐仍旧是好朋友。”
“哦，那没什么；我可以向你保证希西别墅事件对我说起来其实无所谓；我愿意花任何代价和她们一起去。”
“你母亲能在这么短时间里让你再度离开吗？你回到家里几乎还不到三个月呢！”
“她一定得让我离开！”露西说，情绪愈来愈激动了。“干脆一句话，我一定得离开。我非离开不可。”她歇斯底里地用手指梳弄头发。“你难道不明白我非离开不可吗？当时我没有认识到——实在理所当然，我特别想观光——君士坦丁堡。”
“你意思是说自从解除婚约以来觉得——”
“是的，是的。我知道你会理解的。”
毕比先生实在并不太理解。霍尼彻奇小姐为什么不能安居在她家庭的怀抱中呢？塞西尔显然采取了保持尊严的方式，今后不会来使她烦恼了。于是他突然明白过来是她本人的家庭可能在使她烦恼。他向她暗示这一点，她热切地接受了这一暗示。
“是啊，当然啰；到君士坦丁堡去，直到他们对这个设想习惯了，一切也都平静了下来。”
“我怕这曾是一件麻烦的事，”他温和地说。
“不，一点也不麻烦。塞西尔非常友好，真的；只是一你既然已听到了一些风声，我还是把全部事实告诉你吧——那是因为他太专断了。我发现他不让我按照我自己的意愿行事。他想在一些方面改造我，可是在这些方面我怎么也不可能改造好。塞西尔不愿意让一个女人作出自己的决定——事实上，他是不敢。我在胡诌一些什么呀！不过就是这一类的事情。”
“这也是我自己观察维斯先生所得到的印象；也是我对你的全面了解所给我的印象。我真的非常同情你，也非常同意你的看法。我已同意到这种程度，你一定得让我提出一点小小的批评：难道你值得为此匆匆地赶到希腊去吗？”
“可是我总得去一个地方呀！”她嚷道。“整个早晨我都在担心，而这封信来得正好！”她紧握双拳，敲打着膝盖，再次说：“我一定得走！想想我将和妈妈在一起过的时光，还有今年春天她花在我身上的所有的钱。你们全把我捧得太高了。但愿你们对我不要那么好。”这时，巴特利特小姐进来了，露西便比先前更紧张了。“我一定得离开，走得远远地。我一定得弄清楚自己的心思，知道自己想到哪里去。”
“一起走吧；喝茶去，喝茶去，喝茶去，”毕比先生一面说，一面把他的客人们强行推出大门。由于他过分匆忙地赶她们走，帽子也忘了拿。等他回来取帽子时，他听到莫扎特奏鸣曲的叮叮冬冬的琴声，感到又惊讶又宽慰。
“她又在弹琴了，”他对巴特利特小姐说。
“露西什么时候都能弹，”这是她酸溜溜的回答。
“感谢老天她能这样排遣自己。很明显她十分烦恼，当然，她是应该如此的。我知道了全部经过。婚期已经很近，她一定有过非常剧烈的思想斗争才能鼓足勇气这样讲出来。”
巴特利特小姐扭动了一下身躯，他做好准备同她讨论一番。他从来猜不透巴特利特小姐的心思。他在佛罗伦萨时曾对自己这样说过，“她很可能会显示出深藏在内心的冷漠，而也许并不含有什么深意。”不过她是如此地缺乏同情心，因而她一定是可靠的。这些都是他的设想，因此毫不犹豫地想同她讨论露西。很幸运，明妮正在采集羊齿植物。
讨论伊始，巴特利特小姐就说：“我们还是不要谈论这件事吧。”
“我不太明白。”
“最要紧的是不要让流言蜚语在夏街流传。眼下对维斯先生被打发走这事说三道四是要置人于死地的呀！”
毕比先生扬了扬眉毛。置人于死地这句话语气很重——毫无疑问，太重了。这根本不是什么悲剧。他说：“当然，霍尼彻奇小姐将在她认为适当的时刻，用她自己的方式来宣布这件事。弗雷迪告诉我只是因为他知道露西不会介意的。”
“这个我知道，”巴特利特小姐彬彬有礼地说，“不过弗雷迪甚至对你也不应该讲。一个人再小心也不会过分。”
“确实如此。”
“我真心祈求绝对保守秘密。偶然同一位饶舌的朋友说上一句，就会——”
“一点也不错。”他对这些神经质的老小姐以及她们喜欢把有些话看得过分重已很习惯了。一位教区长生活在由一些小秘密、悄悄话和告诫交织成的网里，他对这些愈不注意，人就愈聪明。他会转换话题，毕比先生这时就这么做，兴致勃勃地说：“你最近收到过贝尔托利尼公寓那些人的信吗？我相信你和拉维希小姐一直保持着通信联系。真怪，我们这些住过那家公寓的人原本都是萍水相逢，却卷入了彼此的生活。两个、三个、四个、六个——不，八个；我忘了艾默森父子了——或多或少地保持着联系。我们真应该送给房东太太一封表扬信。”
巴特利特小姐并不赞同这一计划。于是他们默默地走上山去，只有在教区长说出一些羊齿植物的名称时才打破了沉默。他们在山顶上停了步。自从他一小时前站在那里以来，天空比先前狂放得多了，给大地平添了几分悲壮肃穆，这在萨里郡是极为罕见的。灰蒙蒙的云块正在白色云雾前疾驰，后者徐徐延伸、撕裂、碎成小片，最后，透过几层乌云闪现出一丝丝正在消失的蓝天。夏天正在退却．风在吼叫，树木在呻吟，然而这些声响和天空中那些大规模的动荡相比显得微不足道。天气正在变化，说变就变，天要塌下来，而与其说这是超自然的力量给这种危急关头配备了天使的炮队的齐射股的隆隆雷声，还不如说是合宜的配合。毕比先生的眼睛盯着风角，露西正坐在那里弹练莫扎特的曲子。他的嘴角没有笑意，他再一次转换话题说：“不会下雨，但是天要黑下来，所以还是赶快走吧。昨夜天黑得真可怕。”
他们到达蜂窝旅舍时已快五点了。这家讨人喜欢的旅舍有一个阳台，年轻人和不大懂得好歹的人都喜欢坐在那里，而年纪比较大的客人却找一间可人心意的、地上铺着沙的房间，舒舒服服地坐在桌子旁边喝茶。毕比先生发现要是让巴特利特小姐坐在外边，她会感到冷的，但要是让明妮坐在里面，她又会感到没有劲，因此他建议兵分两路。他们将从窗口把食物递给明妮。就这样，他顺便可以讨论讨论露西的命运。
“我一直在想，巴特利特小姐，”他说，“除非你非常反对，我还是想重新谈论我们那个话题。”她鞠了一躬。“我一点儿不想谈过去。对过去我知道得很少，而且也不太关心。我完全可以肯定这件事全亏得令表妹。她的行为正确而高尚。她说我们把她捧得太高了，这完全符合她温良谦让的本性。可是将来呢？说正经的，你对出游希腊的计划是怎么想的？”他又抽出那封信。“我不知道你是否听到我们的谈话，可是露西想参加两位艾伦小姐的疯狂的计划。这是完全——我也说不清楚——这是不对的。”
巴特利特小姐默默地读了信，把信放下，似乎有点犹豫，接着又重新读了一遍。
“我本人实在看不出这样做有什么道理。”
使他惊讶的是她的回答：“这一点我可不能同意。我从中看出这样做可以使露西得到解救。”
“真的吗？那又为什么？”
“她想离开风角。”
“我知道——不过这太奇怪了，太不像她了，太——我想说的是一太自私了。”
“这很自然，毫无疑问——经历了这些痛苦的场面——她想换换环境。”
在一些问题上男人的智力往往有失误，显然这就是其中之一。毕比先生嚷道，“她本人也是这样说的，既然另外一位女士与她的看法一致，我必须承认我已经有几分被说服了。也许她必须改换一下环境。我没有姐妹和——因此我不太理解这种事情。不过她为什么要跑到希腊那么远的地方去呢？”
“这一点你问得好，”巴特利特小姐回答，显然很感兴趣，并且几乎完全抛弃了她那躲躲闪闪的态度。“为什么去希腊？（你要什么，明妮亲爱的——果酱吗？）为什么不去顿桥井？唉，毕比先生啊！今天早晨我和亲爱的露西有一次长时间的、但非常令人失望的会晤。我帮不了她的忙。我也不想多谈。恐怕我已经谈得太多了。我不想谈——露西几乎感到愤懑的问题。我不想谈。我要求她陪我在顿桥井住上半年，她拒绝了。”
毕比先生用刀拨弄一块面包的碎片。
“不过我的感受无关紧要。我完全清楚我使得露西感到不舒服。我们那次旅行是一次失败。她要离开佛罗伦萨，可是等我们到了罗马，她又不想待在罗马了，而且我自始至终都感到我在浪费她母亲的钱--”
“不过我们还是谈谈将来吧，”毕比先生打断她。“我需要听听你的意见。”
“很好，”夏绿蒂说，突然哽住了，这对毕比先生说来是件新鲜事，但是露西对此却很熟悉。“至少我愿意帮助她去希腊。你呢？”
毕比先生在考虑。
“这是绝对必要的，”她继续说，把面纱放下来，隔着纱幕同他低声说话，声音里充满了激情，非常强烈，使毕比先生不觉吃惊。“我是明白的——我是明白的。”这时天暗下来了，他感到这个古怪的女人确实是个知情人。“她一刻也不应该留在此地，而且直到她离开我们都必须保密。我相信仆人们一点也不知情。以后嘛——不过我可能已经说得太多了。只是有一点，单靠露西和我来对付霍尼彻奇太太是无能为力的。如果你肯帮忙，我们也许会成功。不然的话——”
“不然的话——？”
“不然的话，”她重复了一遍，似乎这个词能起决定性作用似的。
“好吧，我愿意帮助她，”教区长说，嘴抿得紧紧地。“来吧，我们现在就回去，把整个事情了结掉。”
巴特利特小姐说了一大通漂亮的感谢话。她向他表示感谢时，旅店的招牌——一个蜜蜂分布得很均匀的蜂窝——被室外的风吹得吱吱作响。毕比先生不太了解情况；可是话得说回来，他并不希望了解清楚，也不匆匆作出结论，认为露西“另有所恋”，这是一个比较粗俗的人会乐于这样想的。他只是感到巴特利特小姐知道那姑娘希望能从某种隐隐约约的影响下解脱出来，而那种影响很可能是个血肉之躯。正因为这种影响是隐隐约约的，才促使他采取侠义的行动。他信奉独身主义，平时很少流露，以宽厚和有教养的外表将它巧妙地掩盖起来，此时却露头了，像某种娇嫩的花朵那样突然开放了。“结婚固然是好，可是能克制而不结婚是更好。”（译注：参见《圣经·哥林多前书》第7章第38节：“这样看来，叫自己的女儿出嫁是好，不叫她出嫁更是好……”）这是他的信条，因此每逢听到婚约解除的消息，他总不免觉得有点高兴。拿露西的情况来说，由于他讨厌塞西尔，因而心中分外高兴；并且他愿意更进一步——把她放在脱离危险的地方，直到她能坚定她那保持童贞的决心。他的这种感情是很微妙而绝不是教条主义的，他从来也没有向卷入这场纠纷的任何人透露过。然而这种感情是存在的，而且只有这种感情才能解释他后来的行动以及对其他人的行动的影响。他在旅舍里和巴特利特小姐订立的协议将不仅帮助露西，而且帮助宗教。
他们急匆匆地在一片灰暗与黑暗中赶回家。他谈到了一些无关紧要的话题：艾默森父子需要一个管家；仆人们；意大利仆人；关于意大利的小说；目的性明确的小说；文学能影响生活吗？风角的灯光闪烁着。花园里，霍尼彻奇太太仍旧在抢救她的那些花枝，弗雷迪在一旁帮忙。
“天太暗了，”她无可奈何地说。“都是拖拖拉拉造成的。我们早该知道天气不久就要变；可现在露西又要去希腊。我真不知道这个世界会变成什么样子。”
“霍尼彻奇太太，”他说，“她一定得去希腊。进屋去吧，我们来好好谈谈。首先，她和维斯分手，你是不是介意？”
“毕比先生，我感到很欣慰——就是欣慰二字。”
“我也是，”弗雷迪说。
“好，现在进屋去吧。”
他们在餐厅里谈了半小时。
露西一个人绝对不可能使希腊之行得以进行。这次出游既花钱又充满戏剧性——这两点她母亲都十分厌恶。夏绿蒂也不可能成功。那一天的光荣属于毕比先生。正是由于他通情达理和圆滑机智，加上他作为神职人员的影响——因为一位神职人员只要不是傻瓜，就能对霍尼彻奇太太产生很大的影响——使得她屈从于她们的意向。
“我实在不明白为什么一定要到希腊去，”她说，“不过既然你认为非去不可，我想大概去去也无妨。这里面的道理一定是我所无法理解的。露西！我们来告诉她吧。露西！”
“她在弹琴，”毕比先生说。他打开了房门，听到一首歌的歌词：“看着那如花美眷，休要动情——”（译注：这支歌曾在英国作家司各特的小说《拉默摩的新娘》中出现过，由女主人公露西·阿什顿唱出，据说是由著名歌曲《甜蜜的家庭）的作者亨利·毕晓普所创作的）“我倒不知道霍尼彻奇小姐还会唱歌。”“君王兴兵动干戈，要稳坐不心惊，对着晶莹的美酒，且莫开怀畅饮——”
“这是塞西尔给她的一首歌。姑娘们真怪啊！”
“怎么啦？”露西突然中止了弹唱，嚷了起来。
“没什么，亲爱的，”霍尼彻奇太太和蔼地说。她走进客厅，毕比先生听见她吻了吻露西说：“我很抱歉，关于希腊之行，我的态度很粗暴，不过这是因为这问题紧接着大丽花倒下而来的缘故。”
一个相当生硬的声音回答道：“谢谢你，妈妈；这一点也没有关系。”
“还有你说得对——去希腊没什么不好；要是两位艾伦小姐要你一起去，你可以去。”
“噢，这太好了！噢，谢谢你！”
毕比先生跟着走进来。露西仍然坐在钢琴前，双手按在琴键上。她很高兴，可是他曾期望她会显得更加高兴。她的母亲弯身向着她。弗雷迪斜躺在地上，他的头靠着她的身子，嘴里衔着一只没有点燃的烟斗，露西刚才就是唱给他听的。说也奇怪，这一群像非常美。毕比先生爱好旧日的艺术，这时想起了一个他喜欢的主题，“神圣的谈话”（译注：“神圣的谈话”，原指描绘圣母（一般和圣婴同坐在宝座上）和一群随侍在侧的圣徒的场面。作者在此处引申其意），画面上一些相亲相爱的人聚在一起，谈论高尚的事物——这一主题既不刺激官能，也不耸人听闻，因此被今日的艺术界所忽视。既然露西家里有的是这么好的朋友，她为什么要出嫁或者出游呢？“对着晶莹的美酒，且莫开怀畅饮，众耳恭听时，不要出声。”她继续唱道。
“毕比先生来了。”
“毕比先生知道我是不拘小节的。”
“这首歌很美，也富有哲理，”他说。“继续唱吧。”
“并不怎么好，”她无精打采地说。“我记不起为什么——是和声还是什么的关系。”
“我猜想是因为它没有书卷气。这首歌真美。”
“曲调还可以，”弗雷迪说，“不过歌词糟糕透了。你为什么要认输？”
“你说的尽是蠢话！”他姐姐说。“神圣的谈话”给打断了。毕竟没有理由非让露西谈谈希腊之行，或者因为他说服了她的母亲，非让她向他表示感谢
收听单词发音 |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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buttresses
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| n.扶壁，扶垛( buttress的名词复数 )v.用扶壁支撑，加固( buttress的第三人称单数 ) | |
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dispositions
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| 安排( disposition的名词复数 )； 倾向； （财产、金钱的）处置； 气质 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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turret
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| n.塔楼，角塔 | |
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rhinoceros
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| n.犀牛 | |
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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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sedulously
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| ad.孜孜不倦地 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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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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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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bowler
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| n.打保龄球的人，（板球的）投（球）手 | |
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windings
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| （道路、河流等）蜿蜒的，弯曲的( winding的名词复数 )； 缠绕( wind的现在分词 )； 卷绕； 转动（把手） | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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snare
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| n.陷阱，诱惑，圈套；（去除息肉或者肿瘤的）勒除器；响弦，小军鼓；vt.以陷阱捕获，诱惑 | |
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propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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prop
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| vt.支撑；n.支柱，支撑物；支持者，靠山 | |
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decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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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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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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30
suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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31
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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32
frieze
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| n.(墙上的)横饰带，雕带 | |
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33
pretentious
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| adj.自命不凡的，自负的，炫耀的 | |
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34
tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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35
sonata
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| n.奏鸣曲 | |
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36
blustering
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| adj.狂风大作的，狂暴的v.外强中干的威吓( bluster的现在分词 )；咆哮；（风）呼啸；狂吹 | |
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37
impeded
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| 阻碍，妨碍，阻止( impede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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39
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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40
gales
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| 龙猫 | |
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41
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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42
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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43
cactus
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| n.仙人掌 | |
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adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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enunciated
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| v.（清晰地）发音( enunciate的过去式和过去分词 )；确切地说明 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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49
sonatas
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| n.奏鸣曲( sonata的名词复数 ) | |
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50
ruse
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| n.诡计，计策；诡计 | |
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51
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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52
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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complaisant
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| adj.顺从的，讨好的 | |
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54
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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58
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bustled
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| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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wriggle
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| v./n.蠕动，扭动；蜿蜒 | |
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fathomed
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| 理解…的真意( fathom的过去式和过去分词 )； 彻底了解； 弄清真相 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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implore
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| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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shredded
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| shred的过去式和过去分词 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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insufficient
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| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
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artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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82
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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83
crumb
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| n.饼屑，面包屑，小量 | |
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84
abruptness
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| n. 突然，唐突 | |
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85
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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86
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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87
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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88
celibacy
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| n.独身(主义) | |
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89
reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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90
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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91
tolerance
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| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
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intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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93
entanglement
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| n.纠缠，牵累 | |
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94
conversed
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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95
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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96
glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wrestled
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| v.（与某人）搏斗( wrestle的过去式和过去分词 )；扭成一团；扭打；（与…）摔跤 | |
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98
loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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99
tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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100
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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101
glistens
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的第三人称单数 ) | |
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102
sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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103
acquiesce
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| vi.默许，顺从，同意 | |
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104
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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105
beacon
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| n.烽火，（警告用的）闪火灯，灯塔 | |
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