the lifted veil(揭起的面纱)-第7章
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itself imperatively on our contemplation； and we begin to weep； less under
the sense of our suffering than at the thought of it。 I felt a sort of pitying
anguish over the pathos of my own lot： the lot of a being finely
organized for pain； but with hardly any fibres that responded to pleasure
to whom the idea of future evil robbed the present of its joy； and for whom
the idea of future good did not still the uneasiness of a present yearning or
a present dread。 I went dumbly through that stage of the poet's suffering；
in which he feels the delicious pang of utterance； and makes an image of
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his sorrows。
I was left entirely without remonstrance concerning this dreamy
wayward life： I knew my father's thought about me： 〃That lad will
never be good for anything in life： he may waste his years in an
insignificant way on the income that falls to him： I shall not trouble
myself about a career for him。〃
One mild morning in the beginning of November； it happened that I
was standing outside the portico patting lazy old Caesar； a Newfoundland
almost blind with age； the only dog that ever took any notice of mefor
the very dogs shunned me； and fawned on the happier people about me
when the groom brought up my brother's horse which was to carry him to
the hunt； and my brother himself appeared at the door； florid； broad…
chested； and self…complacent； feeling what a good…natured fellow he was
not to behave insolently to us all on the strength of his great advantages。
〃Latimer； old boy；〃 he said to me in a tone of compassionate cordiality；
〃what a pity it is you don't have a run with the hounds now and then！
The finest thing in the world for low spirits！〃
〃Low spirits！〃 I thought bitterly； as he rode away； 〃that is the sort of
phrase with which coarse； narrow natures like yours think to describe
experience of which you can know no more than your horse knows。 It is
to such as you that the good of this world falls： ready dulness； healthy
selfishness； good…tempered conceit these are the keys to happiness。〃
The quick thought came； that my selfishness was even stronger than
hisit was only a suffering selfishness instead of an enjoying one。 But
then； again； my exasperating insight into Alfred's self… complacent soul；
his freedom from all the doubts and fears； the unsatisfied yearnings； the
exquisite tortures of sensitiveness； that had made the web of my life；
seemed to absolve me from all bonds towards him。 This man needed no
pity； no love； those fine influences would have been as little felt by him as
the delicate white mist is felt by the rock it caresses。 There was no evil
in store for HIM： if he was not to marry Bertha； it would be because he
had found a lot pleasanter to himself。
Mr。 Filmore's house lay not more than half a mile beyond our own
gates； and whenever I knew my brother was gone in another direction； I
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went there for the chance of finding Bertha at home。 Later on in the day I
walked thither。 By a rare accident she was alone； and we walked out in
the grounds together； for she seldom went on foot beyond the trimly…swept
gravel…walks。 I remember what a beautiful sylph she looked to me as the
low November sun shone on her blond hair； and she tripped along teasing
me with her usual light banter； to which I listened half fondly； half
moodily； it was all the sign Bertha's mysterious inner self ever made to me。
To… day perhaps； the moodiness predominated； for I had not yet shaken off
the access of jealous hate which my brother had raised in me by his
parting patronage。 Suddenly I interrupted and startled her by saying；
almost fiercely； 〃Bertha； how can you love Alfred？〃
She looked at me with surprise for a moment； but soon her light smile
came again； and she answered sarcastically； 〃Why do you suppose I love
him？〃
〃How can you ask that； Bertha？〃
〃What！ your wisdom thinks I must love the man I'm going to marry？
The most unpleasant thing in the world。 I should quarrel with him； I
should be jealous of him； our menage would be conducted in a very ill…
bred manner。 A little quiet contempt contributes greatly to the elegance
of life。〃
〃Bertha； that is not your real feeling。 Why do you delight in trying to
deceive me by inventing such cynical speeches？〃
〃I need never take the trouble of invention in order to deceive you； my
small Tasso〃 （that was the mocking name she usually gave me）。 〃The
easiest way to deceive a poet is to tell him the truth。〃
She was testing the validity of her epigram in a daring way； and for a
moment the shadow of my visionthe Bertha whose soul was no secret to
mepassed between me and the radiant girl； the playful sylph whose
feelings were a fascinating mystery。 I suppose I must have shuddered； or
betrayed in some other way my momentary chill of horror。
〃Tasso！〃 she said； seizing my wrist； and peeping round into my face；
〃are you really beginning to discern what a heartless girl I am？ Why； you
are not half the poet I thought you were； you are actually capable of
believing the truth about me。〃
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The shadow passed from between us； and was no longer the object
nearest to me。 The girl whose light fingers grasped me； whose elfish
charming face looked into minewho； I thought； was betraying an interest
in my feelings that she would not have directly avowed；this warm
breathing presence again possessed my senses and imagination like a
returning siren melody which had been overpowered for an instant by the
roar of threatening waves。 It was a moment as delicious to me as the
waking up to a consciousness of youth after a dream of middle age。 I
forgot everything but my passion； and said with swimming eyes …
〃Bertha； shall you love me when we are first married？ I wouldn't
mind if you really loved me only for a little while。〃
Her look of astonishment； as she loosed my hand and started away
from me； recalled me to a sense of my strange； my criminal indiscretion。
〃Forgive me；〃 I said； hurriedly； as soon as I could speak again； 〃I did
not know what I was saying。〃
〃Ah； Tasso's mad fit has come on； I see；〃 she answered quietly； for she
had recovered herself sooner than I had。 〃Let him go home and keep his
head cool。 I must go in； for the sun is setting。〃
I left herfull of indignation against myself。 I had let slip words
which； if she reflected on them； might rouse in her a suspicion of my
abnormal mental conditiona suspicion which of all things I dreaded。
And besides that； I was ashamed of the apparent baseness I had committed
in uttering them to my brother's betrothed wife。 I wandered home slowly；
entering our park through a private gate instead of by the lodges。 As I
approached the house； I saw a man dashing off at full speed from the
stable…yard across the park。 Had any accident happened at home？ No；
perhaps it was only one of my father's peremptory business errands that
required this headlong haste。
Nevertheless I quickened my pace without any distinct motive； and
was soon at the house。 I will not dwell on the scene I found there。 My
brother was deadhad been pitched from his horse； and killed on the spot
by a concussion of the brain。
I went up to the room where he lay； and where my father was seated
beside him with a look of rigid despair。 I had shunned my father more
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than any one since our return home； for the radical antipathy between our
natures made my insight into his inner self a constant affliction to me。
But now； as I went up to him； and stood beside him in sad silence； I felt
the presence of a new element that blended us as we had never been blent
before。 My father had been one of the most successful men in the
money…getting world： he had had no sentimental sufferings； no illness。
The heaviest trouble that had befallen him was the death of his first wife。
But he married my mother soon after； and I remember he seemed exactly
the same； to my keen childish observation； the week after her death as
before。 But now； at last； a sorrow had comethe sorrow of old age；
which suffers the more from the crushing of its pride and its hopes； in
proportion as the pride and hope are narrow and prosaic。 His son was to
have been married soonwould probably have stood for the borough at the
next election。 That son's existence was the best motive that could be
alleged for making new purchases of land every year to round off the
estate。 It is a dreary thing onto live on doing the same things year after
year； without knowing why we do them。 Perhaps the tragedy of
disappointed youth and passion is less piteous than the tragedy of
disappointed age and worldliness。
As I saw into the desolation of my father's heart； I felt a movement of
deep pity towards him； which was the beginning of a new affectionan
affection that grew and strengthened in spite of the strange bitterness with
which he regarded me in the first month or two after my brother's death。
If it had not been for the softening influence of my compas
