下载辰思小说免费APP
“Iamcometoseehowyouarespendingyourholiday，”hesaid。“Not，Ihope，inthought？No，thatiswell:whileyoudrawyouwillnotfeellonely。Yousee，Imistrustyoustill，thoughyouhaveborneupwonderfullysofar。Ihavebroughtyouabookforeveningsolace，”andhelaidonthetableanewpublication—apoem:oneofthosegenuineproductionssooftenvouchsafedtothefortunatepublicofthosedays—thegoldenageofmodernliterature。Alas！thereadersofoureraarelessfavoured。Butcourage！Iwillnotpauseeithertoaccuseorrepine。Iknowpoetryisnotdead，norgeniuslost;norhasMammongainedpowerovereither，tobindorslay:theywillbothasserttheirexistence，theirpresence，theirlibertyandstrengthagainoneday。Powerfulangels，safeinheaven！theysmilewhensordidsoulstriumph，andfeebleonesweepovertheirdestruction。Poetrydestroyed？Geniusbanished？No！Mediocrity，no:donotletenvypromptyoutothethought。No;theynotonlylive，butreignandredeem:andwithouttheirdivineinfluencespreadeverywhere，youwouldbeinhell—thehellofyourownmeanness。
WhileIwaseagerlyglancingatthebrightpagesof“Marmion”（for“Marmion”itwas），St。Johnstoopedtoexaminemydrawing。Histallfiguresprangerectagainwithastart:hesaidnothing。Ilookedupathim:heshunnedmyeye。Iknewhisthoughtswell，andcouldreadhisheartplainly;atthemomentIfeltcalmerandcoolerthanhe:Ihadthentemporarilytheadvantageofhim，andIconceivedaninclinationtodohimsomegood，ifIcould。
“Withallhisfirmnessandself—control，”thoughtI，“hetaskshimselftoofar:lockseveryfeelingandpangwithin—expresses，confesses，impartsnothing。IamsureitwouldbenefithimtotalkalittleaboutthissweetRosamond，whomhethinksheoughtnottomarry:Iwillmakehimtalk。”
Isaidfirst，“Takeachair，Mr。Rivers。”Butheanswered，ashealwaysdid，thathecouldnotstay。“Verywell，”Iresponded，mentally，“standifyoulike;butyoushallnotgojustyet，Iamdetermined:solitudeisatleastasbadforyouasitisforme。I’lltryifIcannotdiscoverthesecretspringofyourconfidence，andfindanapertureinthatmarblebreastthroughwhichIcanshedonedropofthebalmofsympathy。”
“Isthisportraitlike？”Iaskedbluntly。
“Like！Likewhom？Ididnotobserveitclosely。”
“Youdid，Mr。Rivers。”
Healmoststartedatmysuddenandstrangeabruptness:helookedatmeastonished。“Oh，thatisnothingyet，”Imutteredwithin。“Idon’tmeantobebaffledbyalittlestiffnessonyourpart;I’mpreparedtogotoconsiderablelengths。”Icontinued，“Youobserveditcloselyanddistinctly;butIhavenoobjectiontoyourlookingatitagain，”andIroseandplaceditinhishand。
“Awell—executedpicture，”hesaid;“verysoft，clearcolouring;verygracefulandcorrectdrawing。”
“Yes，yes;Iknowallthat。Butwhatoftheresemblance？Whoisitlike？”
Masteringsomehesitation，heanswered，“MissOliver，Ipresume。”
“Ofcourse。Andnow，sir，torewardyoufortheaccurateguess，Iwillpromisetopaintyouacarefulandfaithfulduplicateofthisverypicture，providedyouadmitthatthegiftwouldbeacceptabletoyou。Idon’twishtothrowawaymytimeandtroubleonanofferingyouwoulddeemworthless。”
Hecontinuedtogazeatthepicture:thelongerhelooked，thefirmerheheldit，themoreheseemedtocovetit。“Itislike！”hemurmured;“theeyeiswellmanaged:thecolour，light，expression，areperfect。Itsmiles！”
“Woulditcomfort，orwoulditwoundyoutohaveasimilarpainting？Tellmethat。WhenyouareatMadagascar，orattheCape，orinIndia，woulditbeaconsolationtohavethatmementoinyourpossession？orwouldthesightofitbringrecollectionscalculatedtoenervateanddistress？”
Henowfurtivelyraisedhiseyes:heglancedatme，irresolute，disturbed:heagainsurveyedthepicture。
“ThatIshouldliketohaveitiscertain:whetheritwouldbejudiciousorwiseisanotherquestion。”
SinceIhadascertainedthatRosamondreallypreferredhim，andthatherfatherwasnotlikelytoopposethematch，I—lessexaltedinmyviewsthanSt。John—hadbeenstronglydisposedinmyownhearttoadvocatetheirunion。Itseemedtomethat，shouldhebecomethepossessorofMr。Oliver’slargefortune，hemightdoasmuchgoodwithitasifhewentandlaidhisgeniusouttowither，andhisstrengthtowaste，underatropicalsun。WiththispersuasionInowanswered—
“AsfarasIcansee，itwouldbewiserandmorejudiciousifyouweretotaketoyourselftheoriginalatonce。”
Bythistimehehadsatdown:hehadlaidthepictureonthetablebeforehim，andwithhisbrowsupportedonbothhands，hungfondlyoverit。Idiscernedhewasnowneitherangrynorshockedatmyaudacity。Isaweventhattobethusfranklyaddressedonasubjecthehaddeemedunapproachable—tohearitthusfreelyhandled—wasbeginningtobefeltbyhimasanewpleasure—anunhoped—forrelief。Reservedpeopleoftenreallyneedthefrankdiscussionoftheirsentimentsandgriefsmorethantheexpansive。Thesternest—seemingstoicishumanafterall;andto“burst”withboldnessandgood—willinto“thesilentsea”oftheirsoulsisoftentoconferonthemthefirstofobligations。
“Shelikesyou，Iamsure，”saidI，asIstoodbehindhischair，“andherfatherrespectsyou。Moreover，sheisasweetgirl—ratherthoughtless;butyouwouldhavesufficientthoughtforbothyourselfandher。Yououghttomarryher。”
“Doesshelikeme？”heasked。
“Certainly;betterthanshelikesanyoneelse。Shetalksofyoucontinually:thereisnosubjectsheenjoyssomuchortouchesuponsooften。”
“Itisverypleasanttohearthis，”hesaid—“very:goonforanotherquarterofanhour。”Andheactuallytookouthiswatchandlaidituponthetabletomeasurethetime。
“Butwhereistheuseofgoingon，”Iasked，“whenyouareprobablypreparingsomeironblowofcontradiction，orforgingafreshchaintofetteryourheart？”
“Don’timaginesuchhardthings。Fancymeyieldingandmelting，asIamdoing:humanloverisinglikeafreshlyopenedfountaininmymindandoverflowingwithsweetinundationallthefieldIhavesocarefullyandwithsuchlabourprepared—soassiduouslysownwiththeseedsofgoodintentions，ofself—denyingplans。Andnowitisdelugedwithanectarousflood—theyounggermsswamped—deliciouspoisoncankeringthem:nowIseemyselfstretchedonanottomaninthedrawing—roomatValeHallatmybrideRosamondOliver’sfeet:sheistalkingtomewithhersweetvoice—gazingdownonmewiththoseeyesyourskilfulhandhascopiedsowell—smilingatmewiththesecorallips。Sheismine—Iamhers—thispresentlifeandpassingworldsufficetome。Hush！saynothing—myheartisfullofdelight—mysensesareentranced—letthetimeImarkedpassinpeace。”
Ihumouredhim:thewatchtickedon:hebreathedfastandlow:Istoodsilent。Amidstthishushthequartetsped;hereplacedthewatch，laidthepicturedown，rose，andstoodonthehearth。
“Now，”saidhe，“thatlittlespacewasgiventodeliriumanddelusion。Irestedmytemplesonthebreastoftemptation，andputmyneckvoluntarilyunderheryokeofflowers。Itastedhercup。Thepillowwasburning:thereisanaspinthegarland:thewinehasabittertaste:herpromisesarehollow—heroffersfalse:Iseeandknowallthis。”
Igazedathiminwonder。
“Itisstrange，”pursuedhe，“thatwhileIloveRosamondOliversowildly—withalltheintensity，indeed，ofafirstpassion，theobjectofwhichisexquisitelybeautiful，graceful，fascinating—Iexperienceatthesametimeacalm，unwarpedconsciousnessthatshewouldnotmakemeagoodwife;thatsheisnotthepartnersuitedtome;thatIshoulddiscoverthiswithinayearaftermarriage;andthattotwelvemonths’rapturewouldsucceedalifetimeofregret。ThisIknow。”
“Strangeindeed！”Icouldnothelpejaculating。
“Whilesomethinginme，”hewenton，“isacutelysensibletohercharms，somethingelseisasdeeplyimpressedwithherdefects:theyaresuchthatshecouldsympathiseinnothingIaspiredto—co—operateinnothingIundertook。Rosamondasufferer，alabourer，afemaleapostle？Rosamondamissionary’swife？No！”
“Butyouneednotbeamissionary。Youmightrelinquishthatscheme。”
“Relinquish！What！myvocation？Mygreatwork？Myfoundationlaidonearthforamansioninheaven？Myhopesofbeingnumberedinthebandwhohavemergedallambitionsinthegloriousoneofbetteringtheirrace—ofcarryingknowledgeintotherealmsofignorance—ofsubstitutingpeaceforwar—freedomforbondage—religionforsuperstition—thehopeofheavenforthefearofhell？MustIrelinquishthat？Itisdearerthanthebloodinmyveins。ItiswhatIhavetolookforwardto，andtolivefor。”
Afteraconsiderablepause，Isaid—“AndMissOliver？Areherdisappointmentandsorrowofnointeresttoyou？”
“MissOliveriseversurroundedbysuitorsandflatterers:inlessthanamonth，myimagewillbeeffacedfromherheart。Shewillforgetme;andwillmarry，probably，someonewhowillmakeherfarhappierthanIshoulddo。”
“Youspeakcoollyenough;butyousufferintheconflict。Youarewastingaway。”
“No。IfIgetalittlethin，itiswithanxietyabo
