書蟲6級(jí)《巴徹斯特教堂尖塔》6. 兩個(gè)戀愛中的男人

6. Two men in love

Still feeling triumphant over his defeat of Mrs Proudie, Mr Slope made the next move in the game, by writing the following letter to Mrs Bold. It was the beginning of what he hoped would be a long and tender correspondence.

My dear Mrs Bold,

You will understand that I cannot at present write to your father. I hope the day will soon come when he may trust and respect me as I admire and respect him. But I cannot deny myself the pleasure of informing you that Mr Q. has today, in my presence, resigned any claim he had to the warden's post, which the bishop now intends to offer your father.

Will you kindly ask Mr Harding to call on the bishop on Wednesday or Thursday between ten and one? Perhaps I should say no more – but still I wish you could make your father understand that no conditions will be attached to the post. I, for one, am persuaded that no man could perform his duty more satisfactorily than he did, or than he will do again.

You will see at once that this letter is confidential. But equally, of course, it is for your father's eyes as well, if you wish to show it to him.

I hope my darling little friend Johnny is as strong as ever – dear little boy! Does he still continue to pull down those beautiful long silken curls of yours?

Your friends in Barchester miss you badly, and envy you your stay among the flowers and fields in this unpleasantly hot weather.

Believe me, my dear Mrs Bold, I am yours most sincerely,

Obadiah Slope

This would not have been a bad letter, except for one thing. Gentlemen do not write to ladies about their silken curls, unless they know them very well, but Mr Slope could not be expected to know this. Having finished his letter, he took it to Mrs Bold's house, and left instructions for it to be sent on to Plumstead.

Then he went to visit Signora Neroni. This was, he knew, extremely unwise. Not only was her husband living, so he, Slope, could not court her honestly, but in addition, she had nothing to recommend her as a clergyman's wife; she had no fortune and she was a helpless, hopeless cripple. He knew that by visiting her he might ruin his reputation and his chances with Mrs Bold, but he could not help himself. Passion, for the first time in his life, was too strong for him.

The signora, on the other hand, cared no more for Mr Slope than for the twenty others who had admired her before him. She was like a female spider, who could not live without catching flies – this exercise of power was the one excitement of her life – and Mr Slope was the finest fly that Barchester could offer.

Mr Slope was shown into the sitting room, where she lay in all her beauty on the sofa. He rushed to her side and took her small delicate hand in his large red one, to kiss it tenderly.

Signora, you are lovelier than the heroines of ancient times!' he cried, with what he thought was his most winning smile.

That is not very flattering, Mr Slope,' said she. 'Most of them were rather foolish, and gave up all for love. Remember, Mr Slope, whatever you do, never mix love and business.'

Mr Slope was speechless. Had she guessed his intention to court Mrs Bold, and would she now punish him for it?

Which is it to be, Mr Slope?' she asked sternly. 'Love or money? Take my advice – never mind love. There's no long-lasting happiness in it. But in wealth, houses, land, yes, in them there is something to be kept and enjoyed for many years.'

Oh, no,' said Mr Slope, feeling he must protest, 'this world's wealth will make no one happy. We must hope for happiness in heaven, signora!'

Nonsense! You don't believe that!' And she watched in fascination as her fly struggled to escape.

Mr Slope had no idea how to answer her, but he did his best. 'You like to shock, signora, but your heart is true.'

My heart! I do not have one. But that does not matter to you, because the courtship you are planning will result in something more solid than such a ghostly love as mine –'

Your love would satisfy the dreams of a king,' said he, not quite sure what his words meant.

You mean an archbishop.' Poor man! She was very cruel to him. 'Now, am I to understand you say you love me?'

He had never said so, but he could not possibly deny his love, so down he went on his knees and swore he loved her, and would love her until the end of time.

And now another question – when are you to be married to my dear friend, Eleanor Bold?'

There was nothing he could say, except, 'Oh signora, how can you insult my feelings for you? My heart is all your own!'

And so the game went on. Mr Slope knew he was insulted, scorned, laughed at, yet he could not tear himself away. He had looked for joy in loving this lovely creature, and found only bitterness. He loved furiously, madly, and passionately, but he had never played the game of love. The signora did not love at all, but she knew every move in the game.

Finally, she offered him her hand again, and he covered it with kisses. 'Come, forgive me, Mr Slope,' she said with her sweetest smile. 'Shall we be friends again?'

Oh Madeline, tell me that you love me – do you love me?'

But at that moment Mrs Stanhope entered the room, and soon afterwards Mr Slope said goodbye and left the house, his heart full of confused emotions.

That afternoon the archdeacon and Mr Harding, who were in Barchester on business, collected Eleanor's post from her house, to take back to her. As soon as Dr Grantly saw Mr Slope's letter, he recognized his enemy's handwriting on the envelope. He was very angry indeed, and handed it to Mr Harding with the tips of his fingers, as if it contained poison. The poor father had to give it to Eleanor when they arrived at Plumstead.

Eleanor opened the letter as she was getting dressed for dinner. She was so delighted to find that her father could now become warden again that she did not realize the information should not have come to her from an unmarried young clergyman. As she read on, she was offended by her boy being called Mr Slope's darling, and when she came to the mention of her silken curls, she gave a shudder of disgust. But on the whole she was grateful to Mr Slope for wishing to help her father.

At dinner, however, the whole party looked stern and silent. Dr Grantly had betrayed his sister-in-law by whispering into Mr Arabin's ear before the meal, 'I very much fear Eleanor is to marry Mr Slope!' Mr Arabin had been horrified to hear it, and was now as sorrowful and unsociable as the Grantlys. Eleanor, unaware that Mr Slope's letter had already been much discussed, felt that she had been judged guilty of something, but had no idea what.

After dinner, the ladies went into the sitting room, while the gentlemen stayed at table with their final glass of wine. Dr Grantly had asked his wife to speak to Eleanor about her correspondence with Mr Slope, and so, rather unwillingly, Susan asked her younger sister about the letter. Eleanor, feeling she was being treated like a child, refused to tell Susan what the letter was about, or to show it to her; she became angrier and angrier at her sister's continual questioning. Finally Susan said, with great formality, 'Well, Eleanor, it is my duty to tell you that the archdeacon thinks such a correspondence is disgraceful, and that he cannot allow it to go on in his house.'

Eleanor's eyes flashed fire as she jumped up from her seat. 'You may tell the archdeacon that wherever I am, I shall receive letters from whom I please. If Dr Grantly has used the word "disgraceful", I think he has been ungentlemanly and inhospitable. I shall show the letter to Father, but to no one else.' And she ran upstairs to her bedroom and her baby.

Half an hour later Mr Harding crept up to her room and knocked at the door. Eleanor welcomed him in, and kissed him, and told him she could not put up with the archdeacon's pride and unkindness any longer. She showed him Mr Slope's letter, thinking her father would see immediately what an innocent, well-meaning letter it was. But poor Mr Harding could only see the 'darling little friend' and the 'silken curls', and felt sure Dr Grantly's suspicions were correct. It was almost a love-letter, and it meant that Eleanor must be planning to marry the hated Slope. The foolish, weak, loving father did not say one word to her. If he had, Eleanor would have expressed her disgust at the idea of marriage to the chaplain, Mr Harding would have been delighted, the Grantlys would have apologized, and Mr Arabin – Mr Arabin would have dreamt of Eleanor and woken next morning with ideas of love and plans for marriage.

But all this was not to be. Mr Harding folded the letter, gave it back to her, kissed her, said, 'God bless you, my child!' and crept slowly away to his own room.

Immediately there was another knock at Eleanor's door, and a servant brought a message from the archdeacon, asking if Mrs Bold would mind coming to Dr Grantly's study for two minutes. Eleanor did mind; she was tired and unhappy, but she was not a coward. So she tied on her cap and went downstairs with a beating heart.

The archdeacon started his speech to Eleanor by explaining that he wanted to give her some brotherly advice. She replied coldly that if she needed any advice, she had her father to ask. This made Dr Grantly hesitate, but he went on to ask about Mr Slope's letter. He was quite surprised when Eleanor held it out for him to look at. After reading it, he felt convinced, like Mr Harding, that Eleanor would soon be married to Mr Slope.

Do you think, Eleanor, this is a suitable letter for you to receive from Mr Slope?'

I do,' said she angrily, perhaps forgetting the unpleasant matter of the silken curls. 'You think he is a messenger from the devil, just because you disagree with him! I think he is doing a great deal for my father and I am grateful to him.'

This was too much for the archdeacon, who burst out, 'Eleanor, is it worthwhile to break away from all those who love you, for the sake of Mr Slope?'

I don't intend to break away from anybody, Dr Grantly.'

Eleanor, I must speak out! Mr Slope is altogether beneath you. I beg you, think of this before it is too late!'

Too late! What do you mean? I don't understand.'

Ask Susan, or your father, or Mr Arabin –'

You haven't spoken to Mr Arabin about this!'

Certainly I have, and he agrees with me and Susan that it is impossible you should be received at Plumstead as Mrs Slope.'

Dr Grantly would never forget the look on Eleanor's face as he said that name. For a moment she could find no words to express her anger and disgust.

How dare you!' she said at last, and hurried out of the room. When she reached her bedroom, she threw herself on her bed and sobbed as if her heart would break.

She decided to leave Plumstead the following day. She could not stay under the archdeacon's roof a moment longer than necessary, and it was arranged that the carriage would take her back to Barchester after lunch.

Meanwhile Mr Arabin's every waking thought was of Eleanor. As soon as he had heard that another man was carrying off this sweet prize, he began to be very fond of her himself. In fact, he was in love with her, although he did not know it yet, and he rode back from St Ewold's to Plumstead just before lunch, hoping for an opportunity to see her before she left.

He found her alone in the sitting room. She had spent a sleepless night and a miserable morning, and was not at all pleased to see Mr Arabin, whom she blamed for supporting the archdeacon in his unjust attacks on Mr Slope.

I am sorry our pleasant time together is over so soon, Mrs Bold –' he began nervously.

It is a pity, certainly, that people do so much to destroy the pleasantness of their days,' she said, interrupting him. 'You should practise what the Church teaches us, Mr Arabin.'

Undoubtedly I should. Have you any special reason for telling me this, Mrs Bold?'

You advised Dr Grantly concerning my – friendship – with Mr Slope,' she replied in a terribly calm voice. 'Just because I have treated that gentleman with politeness, you and Dr Grantly assume I am to marry him – something no reasonable person would consider possible. Your accusation is simply designed to make me hate this enemy of yours, that's all.'

She turned her back on him and walked out into the garden. Mr Arabin was left in the room, counting the squares in the pattern of the carpet. He was dreadfully unhappy at the hard words he had received, and yet happy, wonderfully happy, at the thought that, after all, the woman whom he so much admired was not to become the wife of the man whom he so much disliked. At last he was aware that he was in love. Forty years had passed over his head, and so far woman's beauty had never given him an uneasy moment. His present moment was very uneasy.

But only a few minutes later he went out into the garden to court her as well as he could. He found her under a large tree.

I hope we are not to part as enemies?' said he.

I hope we are not to part as enemies?' said Mr Arabin.

I try not to have enemies,' said Eleanor, 'but people must be respected if they are to be friends.' She was very angry with him for considering her judgement to be so poor and her character to be so weak that she could possibly marry Mr Slope.

And am I not respected?'

You did not respect me if you spoke of me as that man's future wife. I was deceived; I believed you thought well of me.'

Thought well of you!' he cried. 'I must use stronger words than those. I respect and admire you, as I have never respected or admired any woman.'

And he walked beside her, struggling to express his feelings. Eleanor was determined to give him no assistance. Poor Mr Arabin! The words in his heart were, 'Since you do not love that other man, and are not to be his wife, can you love me, will you be my wife?' But with all his experience of public speaking in colleges, churches, and cathedrals, now, when he most needed to speak persuasively, the words would not come.

And yet Eleanor understood him as completely as if he had declared his passion like a practised lover. She felt a sort of joy in knowing that his heart belonged to her, but he had offended her deeply and she could not bring herself to abandon revenge just yet. She was flattered, but not ready to accept his courtship.

Answer me this one question,' said Mr Arabin suddenly, stepping forward and turning to face his companion. 'You do not love Mr Slope? You do not intend to be his wife?'

This made Eleanor angry all over again, just at the moment when she had been feeling softer towards him. 'I shall answer no such question,' she said sharply, 'and what's more, I must tell you that you have no right to ask it. Good morning!'

And she walked proudly away from him, back into the house, where she had lunch with her father and sister. Half an hour later she was in the carriage, leaving Plumstead without seeing Mr Arabin again.

His walk was long and sad, among the dark trees at the end of the garden. To his ears, her last words meant the end of their friendship. He knew so little of women! He could not understand that Eleanor might be furious with him and yet love him.