She couldn't, however, succeed for so very many minutes in deferring18 her exposure. "Why didn't you wait, dearest? Ah, why didn't you wait?"—if that inconsequent appeal kept rising to her lips to be cut short before it was spoken, this was only because at first the humility20 of gratitude21 helped her to gain time, enabled her to present herself very honestly as too overcome to be clear. She kissed her companion's hands, she did homage22 at her feet, she murmured soft snatches of praise, and yet in the midst of it all was conscious that what she really showed most was the wan3 despair at her heart. She saw Mrs. Gereth's glimpse of this despair suddenly widen, heard the quick chill of her voice pierce through the false courage of endearments23. "Do you mean to tell me at such an hour as this that you've really lost him?"
The tone of the question made the idea a possibility for which Fleda had nothing from this moment but terror. "I don't know, Mrs. Gereth; how can I say?" she asked. "I've not seen him for so long; as I told you just now, I don't even know where he is. That's by no fault of his," she hurried on: "he would have been with me every day if I had consented. But I made him understand, the last time, that I'll receive him again only when he's able to show me that his release has been complete and definite. Oh, he can't yet, don't you see, and that's why he hasn't been back. It's far better than his coming only that we should both be miserable24. When he does come he'll be in a better position. He'll be tremendously moved by the splendid thing you've done. I know you wish me to feel that you've done it as much for me as for Owen, but your having done it for me is just what will delight him most! When he hears of it," said Fleda, in desperate optimism, "when he hears of it—" There indeed, regretting her advance, she quite broke down. She was wholly powerless to say what Owen would do when he heard of it. "I don't know what he won't make of you and how he won't hug you!" she had to content herself with lamely25 declaring. She had drawn26 Mrs. Gereth to a sofa with a vague instinct of pacifying27 her and still, after all, gaining time; but it was a position in which her great duped benefactress, portentously28 patient again during this demonstration29, looked far from inviting30 a "hug." Fleda found herself tricking out the situation with artificial flowers, trying to talk even herself into the fancy that Owen, whose name she now made simple and sweet, might come in upon them at any moment. She felt an immense need to be understood and justified31; she averted33 her face in dread34 from all that she might have to be forgiven. She pressed on her companion's arm as if to keep her quiet till she should really know, and then, after a minute, she poured out the clear essence of what in happier days had been her "secret." "You mustn't think I don't adore him when I've told him so to his face. I love him so that I'd die for him—I love him so that it's horrible. Don't look at me therefore as if I had not been kind, as if I had not been as tender as if he were dying and my tenderness were what would save him. Look at me as if you believe me, as if you feel what I've been through. Darling Mrs. Gereth, I could kiss the ground he walks on. I haven't a rag of pride; I used to have, but it's gone. I used to have a secret, but every one knows it now, and any one who looks at me can say, I think, what's the matter with me. It's not so very fine, my secret, and the less one really says about it the better; but I want you to have it from me because I was stiff before. I want you to see for yourself that I've been brought as low as a girl can very well be. It serves me right," Fleda laughed, "if I was ever proud and horrid35 to you! I don't know what you wanted me, in those days at Ricks, to do, but I don't think you can have wanted much more than what I've done. The other day at Maggie's I did things that made me, afterwards, think of you! I don't know what girls may do; but if he doesn't know that there isn't an inch of me that isn't his—!" Fleda sighed as if she couldn't express it; she piled it up, as she would have said; holding Mrs. Gereth with dilated36 eyes, she seemed to sound her for the effect of these words. "It's idiotic37," she wearily smiled; "it's so strange that I'm almost angry for it, and the strangest part of all is that it isn't even happiness. It's anguish—it was from the first; from the first there was a bitterness and a kind of dread. But I owe you every word of the truth. You don't do him justice, either: he's a dear, I assure you he's a dear. I'd trust him to the last breath; I don't think you really know him. He's ever so much cleverer than he makes a show of; he's remarkable38 in his own shy way. You told me at Ricks that you wanted me to let myself go, and I've 'gone' quite far enough to discover as much as that, as well as all sorts of other delightful39 things about him. You'll tell me I make myself out worse than I am," said the girl, feeling more and more in her companion's attitude a quality that treated her speech as a desperate rigmarole and even perhaps as a piece of cold immodesty. She wanted to make herself out "bad"—it was a part of her justification40; but it suddenly occurred to her that such a picture of her extravagance imputed a want of gallantry to the young man. "I don't care for anything you think," she declared, "because Owen, don't you know, sees me as I am. He's so kind that it makes up for everything!"
This attempt at gayety was futile41; the silence with which, for a minute, her adversary42 greeted her troubled plea brought home to her afresh that she was on the bare defensive43. "Is it a part of his kindness never to come near you?" Mrs. Gereth inquired at last. "Is it a part of his kindness to leave you without an inkling of where he is?" She rose again from where Fleda had kept her down; she seemed to tower there in the majesty44 of her gathered wrong. "Is it a part of his kindness that, after I've toiled45 as I've done for six days, and with my own weak hands, which I haven't spared, to denude46 myself, in your interest, to that point that I've nothing left, as I may say, but what I have on my back—is it a part of his kindness that you're not even able to produce him for me?"
There was a high contempt in this which was for Owen quite as much, and in the light of which Fleda felt that her effort at plausibility47 had been mere groveling. She rose from the sofa with an humiliated48 sense of rising from ineffectual knees. That discomfort49, however, lived but an instant: it was swept away in a rush of loyalty50 to the absent. She herself could bear his mother's scorn; but to avert32 it from his sweet innocence51 she broke out with a quickness that was like the raising of an arm. "Don't blame him—don't blame him: he'd do anything on earth for me! It was I," said Fleda, eagerly, "who sent him back to her; I made him go; I pushed him out of the house; I declined to have anything to say to him except on another footing."
"The one I've already made so clear to you: my having it in black and white, as you may say, from her that she freely gives him up."
"Then you think he lies when he tells you that he has recovered his liberty?"
Fleda hesitated a moment; after which she exclaimed with a certain hard pride: "He's enough in love with me for anything!"
"For anything, apparently53, except to act like a man and impose his reason and his will on your incredible folly54. For anything except to put an end, as any man worthy55 of the name would have put it, to your systematic56, to your idiotic perversity57. What are you, after all, my dear, I should like to know, that a gentleman who offers you what Owen offers should have to meet such wonderful exactions, to take such extraordinary precautions about your sweet little scruples58?" Her resentment59 rose to a strange insolence60 which Fleda took full in the face and which, for the moment at least, had the horrible force to present to her vengefully a showy side of the truth. It gave her a blinding glimpse of lost alternatives. "I don't know what to think of him," Mrs. Gereth went on; "I don't know what to call him: I'm so ashamed of him that I can scarcely speak of him even to you. But indeed I'm so ashamed of you both together that I scarcely know in common decency62 where to look." She paused to give Fleda the full benefit of this remarkable statement; then she exclaimed: "Any one but a jackass would have tucked you under his arm and marched you off to the Registrar63!"
Fleda wondered; with her free imagination she could wonder even while her cheek stung from a slap. "To the Registrar?"
"That would have been the sane64, sound, immediate65 course to adopt. With a grain of gumption66 you'd both instantly have felt it. I should have found a way to take you, you know, if I'd been what Owen's supposed to be. I should have got the business over first; the rest could come when you liked! Good God, girl, your place was to stand before me as a woman honestly married. One doesn't know what one has hold of in touching67 you, and you must excuse my saying that you're literally68 unpleasant to me to meet as you are. Then at least we could have talked, and Owen, if he had the ghost of a sense of humor, could have snapped his fingers at your refinements69."
This stirring speech affected70 our young lady as if it had been the shake of a tambourine71 borne towards her from a gypsy dance: her head seemed to go round and she felt a sudden passion in her feet. The emotion, however, was but meagrely expressed in the flatness with which she heard herself presently say: "I'll go to the Registrar now."
"Now?" Magnificent was the sound Mrs. Gereth threw into this monosyllable. "And pray who's to take you?" Fleda gave a colorless smile, and her companion continued: "Do you literally mean that you can't put your hand upon him?" Fleda's wan grimace72 appeared to irritate her; she made a short, imperious gesture. "Find him for me, you fool—find him for me!"
"What do you want of him," Fleda sadly asked, "feeling as you do to both of us?"
"Never mind how I feel, and never mind what I say when I'm furious!" Mrs. Gereth still more incisively73 added. "Of course I cling to you, you wretches74, or I shouldn't suffer as I do. What I want of him is to see that he takes you; what I want of him is to go with you myself to the place." She looked round the room as if, in feverish75 haste, for a mantle76 to catch up; she bustled77 to the window as if to spy out a cab: she would allow half an hour for the job. Already in her bonnet78, she had snatched from the sofa a garment for the street: she jerked it on as she came back. "Find him, find him," she repeated; "come straight out with me, to try, at least, to get at him!"
"How can I get at him? He'll come when he's ready," Fleda replied.
Mrs. Gereth turned on her sharply. "Ready for what? Ready to see me ruined without a reason or a reward?"
Fleda was silent; the worst of it all was that there was something unspoken between them. Neither of them dared to utter it, but the influence of it was in the girl's tone when she returned at last, with great gentleness: "Don't be harsh to me—I'm very unhappy." The words produced a visible impression on Mrs. Gereth, who held her face averted and sent off through the window a gaze that kept pace with the long caravan79 of her treasures. Fleda knew she was watching it wind up the avenue of Poynton—Fleda participated indeed fully61 in the vision; so that after a little the most consoling thing seemed to her to add: "I don't see why in the world you take so for granted that he's, as you say, 'lost.'"
Mrs. Gereth continued to stare out of the window, and her stillness denoted some success in controlling herself. "If he's not lost, why are you unhappy?"
"No, Fleda, I don't understand you," said Mrs. Gereth, finally facing her again. "I don't understand you at all, and it's as if you and Owen were of quite another race and another flesh. You make me feel very old-fashioned and simple and bad. But you must take me as I am, since you take so much else with me!" She spoke19 now with the drop of her resentment, with a dry and weary calm. "It would have been better for me if I had never known you," she pursued, "and certainly better if I hadn't taken such an extraordinary fancy to you. But that too was inevitable81: everything, I suppose, is inevitable. It was all my own doing—you didn't run after me: I pounced82 on you and caught you up. You're a stiff little beggar, in spite of your pretty manners: yes, you're hideously84 misleading. I hope you feel how handsome it is of me to recognize the independence of your character. It was your clever sympathy that did it—your extraordinary feeling for those accursed vanities. You were sharper about them than any one I had ever known, and that was a thing I simply couldn't resist. Well," the poor lady concluded after a pause, "you see where it has landed us!"
"If you'll go for him yourself, I'll wait here," said Fleda.
Mrs. Gereth, holding her mantle together, appeared for a while to consider.
"To his club, do you mean?"
"Isn't it there, when he's in town, that he has a room? He has at present no other London address," Fleda said: "it's there one writes to him."
"How do I know, with my wretched relations with him?" Mrs. Gereth asked.
"Mine have not been quite so bad as that," Fleda desperately85 smiled. Then she added: "His silence, her silence, our hearing nothing at all—what are these but the very things on which, at Poynton and at Ricks, you rested your assurance that everything is at an end between them?"
Mrs. Gereth looked dark and void. "Yes, but I hadn't heard from you then that you could invent nothing better than, as you call it, to send him back to her."
"Ah, but, on the other hand, you've learned from them what you didn't know—you've learned by Mrs. Brigstock's visit that he cares for me." Fleda found herself in the position of availing herself of optimistic arguments that she formerly86 had repudiated87; her refutation of her companion had completely changed its ground.
She was in a fever of ingenuity88 and painfully conscious, on behalf of her success, that her fever was visible. She could herself see the reflection of it glitter in Mrs. Gereth's sombre eyes.
"You plunge89 me in stupefaction," that lady answered, "and at the same time you terrify me. Your account of Owen is inconceivable, and yet I don't know what to hold on by. He cares for you, it does appear, and yet in the same breath you inform me that nothing is more possible than that he's spending these days at Waterbath. Excuse me if I'm so dull as not to see my way in such darkness. If he's at Waterbath he doesn't care for you. If he cares for you he's not at Waterbath."
"Then where is he?" poor Fleda helplessly wailed90. She caught herself up, however; she did her best to be brave and clear. Before Mrs. Gereth could reply, with due obviousness, that this was a question for her not to ask, but to answer, she found an air of assurance to say: "You simplify far too much. You always did and you always will. The tangle91 of life is much more intricate than you've ever, I think, felt it to be. You slash92 into it," cried Fleda finely, "with a great pair of shears93, you nip at it as if you were one of the Fates! If Owen's at Waterbath he's there to wind everything up."
Mrs. Gereth shook her head with slow austerity. "You don't believe a word you're saying. I've frightened you, as you've frightened me: you're whistling in the dark to keep up our courage. I do simplify, doubtless, if to simplify is to fail to comprehend the insanity94 of a passion that bewilders a young blockhead with bugaboo barriers, with hideous83 and monstrous95 sacrifices. I can only repeat that you're beyond me. Your perversity's a thing to howl over. However," the poor woman continued with a break in her voice, a long hesitation96 and then the dry triumph of her will, "I'll never mention it to you again! Owen I can just make out; for Owen is a blockhead. Owen's a blockhead," she repeated with a quiet, tragic97 finality, looking straight into Fleda's eyes. "I don't know why you dress up so the fact that he's disgustingly weak."
Fleda hesitated; at last, before her companion's, she lowered her look. "Because I love him. It's because he's weak that he needs me," she added.
"That was why his father, whom he exactly resembles, needed me. And I didn't fail his father," said Mrs. Gereth. She gave Fleda a moment to appreciate the remark; after which she pursued: "Mona Brigstock isn't weak; she's stronger than you!"
"I never thought she was weak," Fleda answered. She looked vaguely98 round the room with a new purpose: she had lost sight of her umbrella.
"I did tell you to let yourself go, but it's clear enough that you really haven't," Mrs. Gereth declared. "If Mona has got him—"
Fleda had accomplished99 her search; her interlocutress paused. "If Mona has got him?" the girl inquired, tightening100 the umbrella.
"Well," said Mrs. Gereth profoundly, "it will be clear enough that Mona has."
"Has let herself go?"
"Has let herself go." Mrs. Gereth spoke as if she saw it in every detail.
Fleda felt the tone and finished her preparation; then she went and opened the door. "We'll look for him together," she said to her friend, who stood a moment taking in her face. "They may know something about him at the Colonel's."
"We'll go there." Mrs. Gereth had picked up her gloves and her purse. "But the first thing," she went on, "will be to wire to Poynton."
"Why not to Waterbath at once?" Fleda asked.
Her companion hesitated. "In your name?"
"In my name. I noticed a place at the corner."
While Fleda held the door open Mrs. Gereth drew on her gloves. "Forgive me," she presently said. "Kiss me," she added.
Fleda, on the threshold, kissed her; then they went out.
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收听单词发音
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1
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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imputed
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| v.把（错误等）归咎于( impute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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concessions
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| n.（尤指由政府或雇主给予的）特许权( concession的名词复数 )；承认；减价；（在某地的）特许经营权 | |
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replenishment
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| n.补充(货物) | |
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precipitate
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| adj.突如其来的；vt.使突然发生；n.沉淀物 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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restitution
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| n.赔偿；恢复原状 | |
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deferring
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| v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的现在分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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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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humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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endearments
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| n.表示爱慕的话语，亲热的表示( endearment的名词复数 ) | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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lamely
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| 一瘸一拐地，不完全地 | |
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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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pacifying
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| 使（某人）安静( pacify的现在分词 )； 息怒； 抚慰； 在（有战争的地区、国家等）实现和平 | |
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portentously
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demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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denude
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| v.剥夺；使赤裸 | |
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plausibility
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| n. 似有道理, 能言善辩 | |
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humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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ravage
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| vt.使...荒废，破坏...；n.破坏，掠夺，荒废 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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54
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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perversity
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| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
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scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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registrar
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| n.记录员，登记员；(大学的)注册主任 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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gumption
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| n.才干 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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refinements
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| n.（生活）风雅；精炼( refinement的名词复数 )；改良品；细微的改良；优雅或高贵的动作 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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tambourine
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| n.铃鼓，手鼓 | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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incisively
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| adv.敏锐地，激烈地 | |
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wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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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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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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caravan
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| n.大蓬车；活动房屋 | |
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torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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pounced
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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repudiated
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| v.（正式地）否认( repudiate的过去式和过去分词 )；拒绝接受；拒绝与…往来；拒不履行（法律义务） | |
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ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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slash
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| vi.大幅度削减；vt.猛砍，尖锐抨击，大幅减少；n.猛砍，斜线，长切口，衣衩 | |
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shears
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| n.大剪刀 | |
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insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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