Everyone was very kind to me. Dazed as I was, I appreciated that. I felt nooverwhelming grief. Papa had never loved me. I knew that well enough. Ifhe had, I might have loved him in return. No, there had not been lovebetween us, but we had belonged together, and I had looked after him,and had secretly admired his learning and his uncompromising devotionto science. And it hurt me that Papa should have died just when the in-terest of life was at its height for him. I should have felt happier if I couldhave buried him in a cave, with paintings of reindeer1 and flint imple-ments, but the force of public opinion constrained2 a neat tomb (withmarble slab) in our hideous3 local churchyard. The vicar’s consolations,though well-meant, did not console me in the least.
It took some time to dawn upon me that the thing I had always longedfor—freedom—was at last mine. I was an orphan4, and practically penni-less, but free. At the same time I realized the extraordinary kindness of allthese good people. The vicar did his best to persuade me that his wife wasin urgent need of a companion help. Our tiny local library suddenly madeup its mind to have an assistant librarian. Finally, the doctor called uponme, and after making various ridiculous excuses for failing to send aproper bill, he hummed and hawed a good deal and suddenly suggested Ishould marry him.
I was very much astonished. The doctor was nearer forty than thirtyand a round, tubby little man. He was not at all like the hero of “The Perilsof Pamela,” and even less like the stern and silent Rhodesian. I reflected aminute and then asked why he wanted to marry me. That seemed tofluster him a good deal, and he murmured that a wife was a great help toa general practitioner5. The position seemed even more unromantic thanbefore, and yet something in me urged towards its acceptance. Safety, thatwas what I was being offered. Safety—and a Comfortable Home. Thinkingit over now, I believe I did the little man an injustice6. He was honestly inlove with me, but a mistaken delicacy7 prevented him from pressing hissuit on those lines. Anyway, my love of romance rebelled.
“It’s extremely kind of you,” I said. “But it’s impossible. I could nevermarry a man unless I loved him madly.”
“You don’t think—?”
“No, I don’t,” I said firmly.
He sighed.
“But, my dear child, what do you propose to do?”
“Have adventures and see the world,” I replied, without the least hesita-tion.
“Miss Anne, you are very much a child still. You don’t understand—”
“The practical difficulties? Yes, I do, doctor. I’m not a sentimental8 school-girl—I’m a hardheaded mercenary shrew! You’d know it if you marriedme!”
“I wish you would reconsider—”
“I can’t.”
He sighed again.
“I have another proposal to make. An aunt of mine who lives in Wales isin want of a young lady to help her. How would that suit you?”
“No, doctor, I’m going to London. If things happen anywhere, they hap-pen in London. I shall keep my eyes open and, you’ll see, something willturn up! You’ll hear of me next in China or Timbuctoo.”
My next visitor was Mr. Flemming, Papa’s London solicitor9. He camedown specially10 from town to see me. An ardent11 anthropologist12 himself, hewas a great admirer of Papa’s work. He was a tall, spare man with a thinface and grey hair. He rose to meet me as I entered the room and takingboth my hands in his, patted them affectionately.
“My poor child,” he said. “My poor, poor child.”
Without conscious hypocrisy13, I found myself assuming the demeanourof a bereaved14 orphan. He hypnotized me into it. He was benignant, kindand fatherly—and without the least doubt he regarded me as a perfectfool of a girl left adrift to face an unkind world. From the first I felt that itwas quite useless to try to convince him of the contrary. As things turnedout, perhaps it was just as well I didn’t.
“My dear child, do you think you can listen to me whilst I try to make afew things clear to you?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Your father, as you know, was a very great man. Posterity15 will appreci-ate him. But he was not a good man of business.”
I knew that quite as well, if not better than Mr. Flemming, but I re-strained myself from saying so. He continued: “I do not suppose you un-derstand much of these matters. I will try to explain as clearly as I can.”
He explained at unnecessary length. The upshot seemed to be that I wasleft to face life with the sum of ?87 17s. 4d. It seemed a strangely unsatisfy-ing amount. I waited in some trepidation16 for what was coming next. Ifeared that Mr. Flemming would be sure to have an aunt in Scotland whowas in want of a bright young companion. Apparently17, however, hehadn’t.
“The question is,” he went on, “the future. I understand you have no liv-ing relatives?”
“I’m alone in the world,” I said, and was struck anew by my likeness18 to afilm heroine.
“You have friends?”
“Everyone has been very kind to me,” I said gratefully.
“Who would not be kind to one so young and charming?” said Mr. Flem-ming gallantly19. “Well, well, my dear, we must see what can be done.” Hehesitated a minute, and then said: “Supposing—how would it be if youcame to us for a time?”
I jumped at the chance. London! The place for things to happen.
“It’s awfully20 kind of you,” I said. “Might I really? Just while I’m lookingaround. I must start out to earn my living, you know?”
“Yes, yes, my dear child. I quite understand. We will look round forsomething—suitable.”
I felt instictively that Mr. Flemming’s ideas of “something suitable” andmine were likely to be widely divergent, but it was certainly not the mo-ment to air my views.
“That is settled then. Why not return with me today?”
“Oh, thank you, but will Mrs. Flemming—”
“My wife will be delighted to welcome you.”
I wonder if husbands know as much about their wives as they thinkthey do. If I had a husband, I should hate him to bring home orphanswithout consulting me first.
“We will send her a wire from the station,” continued the lawyer.
My few personal belongings21 were soon packed. I contemplated22 my hatsadly before putting it on. It had originally been what I call a “Mary” hat,meaning by that the kind of hat a housemaid ought to wear on her day out—but doesn’t! A limp thing of black straw with a suitably depressed23 brim.
With the inspiration of genius, I had kicked it once, punched it twice, den-ted in the crown and affixed24 to it a thing like a cubist’s dream of a jazz car-rot. The result had been distinctly chic25. The carrot I had already removed,of course, and now I proceeded to undo26 the rest of my handiwork. The“Mary” hat resumed its former status with an additional battered27 appear-ance which made it even more depressing than formerly28. I might as welllook as much like the popular conception of an orphan as possible. I wasjust a shade nervous of Mrs. Flemming’s reception, but hoped my appear-ance might have a sufficiently29 disarming30 effect.
Mr. Flemming was nervous too. I realized that as we went up the stairsof the tall house in a quiet Kensington square. Mrs. Flemming greeted mepleasantly enough. She was a stout31, placid32 woman of the “good wife andmother” type. She took me up to a spotless chintz-hung bedroom, hoped Ihad everything I wanted, informed me that tea would be ready in about aquarter of an hour, and left me to my own devices.
I heard her voice slightly raised, as she entered the drawing room belowon the first floor.
“Well, Henry, why on earth—” I lost the rest, but the acerbity33 of the tonewas evident. And a few minutes later another phrase floated up to me, inan even more acid voice: “I agree with you! She is certainly very good-look-ing.”
It is really a very hard life. Men will not be nice to you if you are notgood-looking, and women will not be nice to you if you are.
With a deep sigh I proceeded to do things with my hair. I have nice hair.
It is black—a real black, not dark brown—and it grows well back from myforehead and down over the ears. With a ruthless hand I dragged it up-wards. As ears, my ears are quite all right, but there is no doubt about it,ears are démodé nowadays. They are quite like the “Queen of Spain’s legs”
in Professor Peterson’s young day. When I had finished I looked almostunbelievably like the kind of orphan that walks out in a queue with a littlebonnet and red cloak.
I noticed when I went down that Mrs. Flemming’s eyes rested on my ex-posed ears with quite a kindly34 glance. Mr. Flemming seemed puzzled. Ihad no doubt that he was saying to himself, “What has the child done toherself ?”
On the whole the rest of the day passed off well. It was settled that I wasto start at once to look for something to do.
When I went to bed, I stared earnestly at my face in the glass. Was Ireally good-looking? Honestly I couldn’t say I thought so! I hadn’t got astraight Grecian nose, or a rosebud35 mouth, or any of the things you oughtto have. It is true that a curate once told me that my eyes were like “im-prisoned sunshine in a dark, dark wood”—but curates always know somany quotations36, and fire them off at random37. I’d much prefer to have Ir-ish blue eyes than dark green ones with yellow flecks38! Still, green is a goodcolour for adventuresses.
I wound a black garment tightly round me, leaving my arms andshoulders bare. Then I brushed back my hair and pulled it well down overmy ears again. I put a lot of powder on my face, so that the skin seemedeven whiter than usual. I fished about until I found some lip salve, and Iput oceans of it on my lips. Then I did under my eyes with burnt cork39. Fi-nally I draped a red ribbon over my bare shoulder, stuck a scarlet40 featherin my hair, and placed a cigarette in one corner of my mouth. The wholeeffect pleased me very much.
“Anna the Adventuress,” I said aloud, nodding at my reflection. “Annathe Adventuress. Episode I, ‘The House in Kensington!’ ”
Girls are foolish things.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
reindeer
|
|
| n.驯鹿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
constrained
|
|
| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
orphan
|
|
| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
practitioner
|
|
| n.实践者，从事者；(医生或律师等)开业者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
injustice
|
|
| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
delicacy
|
|
| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
solicitor
|
|
| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
specially
|
|
| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
ardent
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
anthropologist
|
|
| n.人类学家，人类学者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
hypocrisy
|
|
| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
bereaved
|
|
| adj.刚刚丧失亲人的v.使失去（希望、生命等）( bereave的过去式和过去分词)；（尤指死亡）使丧失（亲人、朋友等）；使孤寂；抢走（财物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
posterity
|
|
| n.后裔，子孙，后代 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
trepidation
|
|
| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
likeness
|
|
| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
gallantly
|
|
| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
awfully
|
|
| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
belongings
|
|
| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
contemplated
|
|
| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
depressed
|
|
| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
affixed
|
|
| adj.[医]附着的，附着的v.附加( affix的过去式和过去分词 )；粘贴；加以；盖（印章） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
chic
|
|
| n./adj.别致(的)，时髦(的)，讲究的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
undo
|
|
| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
battered
|
|
| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
formerly
|
|
| adv.从前，以前 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
disarming
|
|
| adj.消除敌意的，使人消气的v.裁军( disarm的现在分词 )；使息怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
placid
|
|
| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
acerbity
|
|
| n.涩，酸，刻薄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
rosebud
|
|
| n.蔷薇花蕾，妙龄少女 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
quotations
|
|
| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
random
|
|
| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
flecks
|
|
| n.斑点，小点( fleck的名词复数 )；癍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
cork
|
|
| n.软木，软木塞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
scarlet
|
|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |