贵妇人画像The Portrait of a Lady-55

from hope and regret, that she recalled to herself one of those Etruscan figures couched upon thereceptacle of their ashes. There was nothing to regret now--that was all over. Not only the time ofher folly, but the time of her repentance was far. The only thing to regret was that Madame Merlehad been so--well, so unimaginable. Just here her intelligence dropped, from literal inability to saywhat it was that Madame Merle had been. Whatever it was it was for Madame Merle herself toregret it; and doubtless she would do so in America, where she had announced she was going. Itconcerned Isabel no more; she only had an impression that she should never again see MadameMerle. This impression carried her into the future, of which from time to time she had a mutilatedglimpse. She saw herself, in the distant years, still in the attitude of a woman who had her life tolive, and these intimations contradicted the spirit of the present hour. It might be desirable to getquite away, really away, further away than little grey-green England, but this privilege wasevidently to be denied her. Deep in her soul--deeper than any appetite for renunciation--was thesense that life would be her business for a long time to come. And at moments there wassomething inspiring, almost enlivening, in the conviction. It was a proof of strength--it was a proofshe should some day be happy again. It couldn't be she was to live only to suffer; she was stillyoung, after all, and a great many things might happen to her yet. To live only to suffer--only tofeel the injury of life repeated and enlarged--it seemed to her she was too valuable, too capable, forthat. Then she wondered if it were vain and stupid to think so well of herself. When had it evenbeen a guarantee to be valuable? Wasn't all history full of the destruction of precious things?Wasn't it much more probable that if one were fine one would suffer? It involved then perhaps anadmission that one had a certain grossness; but Isabel recognised, as it passed before her eyes, thequick vague shadow of a long future. She should never escape; she should last to the end. Then themiddle years wrapped her about again and the grey curtain of her indifference closed her in.Henrietta kissed her, as Henrietta usually kissed, as if she were afraid she should be caught doingit; and then Isabel stood there in the crowd, looking about her, looking for her servant. She askednothing; she wished to wait. She had a sudden perception that she should be helped. She rejoicedHenrietta had come; there was something terrible in an arrival in London. The dusky, smoky, far-arching vault of the station, the strange, livid light, the dense, dark, pushing crowd, filled her witha nervous fear and made her put her arm into her friend's. She remembered she had once likedthese things; they seemed part of a mighty spectacle in which there was something that touchedher. She remembered how she walked away from Euston, in the winter dusk, in the crowded第 371 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网streets, five years before. She could not have done that to-day, and the incident came before her asthe deed of another person."It's too beautiful that you should have come," said Henrietta, looking at her as if she thoughtIsabel might be prepared to challenge the proposition. "If you hadn't--if you hadn't; well, I don'tknow," remarked Miss Stackpole, hinting ominously at her powers of disapproval.Isabel looked about without seeing her maid. Her eyes rested on another figure, however, whichshe felt she had seen before; and in a moment she recognised the genial countenance of Mr.Bantling. He stood a little apart, and it was not in the power of the multitude that pressed abouthim to make him yield an inch of the ground he had taken--that of abstracting himself discreetlywhile the two ladies performed their embraces."There's Mr. Bantling," said Isabel, gently, irrelevantly, scarcely caring much now whether sheshould find her maid or not."Oh yes, he goes everywhere with me. Come here, Mr. Bantling!" Henrietta exclaimed.Whereupon the gallant bachelor advanced with a smile--a smile tempered, however, by the gravityof the occasion. "Isn't it lovely she has come?" Henrietta asked. "He knows all about it," she added;"we had quite a discussion. He said you wouldn't, I said you would.""I thought you always agreed," Isabel smiled in return. She felt she could smile now; she had seenin an instant, in Mr. Bantling's brave eyes, that he had good news for her. They seemed to say hewished her to remember he was an old friend of her cousin--that he understood, that it was allright. Isabel gave him her hand; she thought of him, extravagantly, as a beautiful blameless knight."Oh, I always agree," said Mr. Bantling. "But she doesn't, you know.""Didn't I tell you that a maid was a nuisance?" Henrietta enquired. "Your young lady has probablyremained at Calais.""I don't care," said Isabel, looking at Mr. Bantling, whom she had never found so interesting."Stay with her while I go and see," Henrietta commanded, leaving the two for a moment together.They stood there at first in silence, and then Mr. Bantling asked Isabel how it had been on theChannel."Very fine. No, I believe it was very rough," she said, to her companion's obvious surprise. Afterwhich she added: "You've been to Gardencourt, I know.""Now how do you know that?""I can't tell you--except that you look like a person who has been to Gardencourt.""Do you think I look awfully sad? It's awfully sad there, you know.""I don't believe you ever look awfully sad. You look awfully kind," said Isabel with a breadth thatcost her no effort. It seemed to her she should never again feel a superficial embarrassment.Poor Mr. Bantling, however, was still in this inferior stage. He blushed a good deal and laughed,he assured her that he was often very blue, and that when he was blue he was awfully fierce. "Youcan ask Miss Stackpole, you know. I was at Gardencourt two days ago.""Did you see my cousin?"第 372 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网"Only for a little. But he had been seeing people; Warburton had been there the day before. Ralphwas just the same as usual, except that he was in bed and that he looks tremendously ill and that hecan't speak," Mr. Bantling pursued. "He was awfully jolly and funny all the same. He was just asclever as ever. It's awfully wretched."Even in the crowded, noisy station this simple picture was vivid. "Was that late in the day?""Yes; I went on purpose. We thought you'd like to know.""I'm greatly obliged to you. Can I go down tonight?""Ah, I don't think SHE'LL let you go," said Mr. Bantling. "She wants you to stop with her. I madeTouchett's man promise to telegraph me to-day, and I found the telegram an hour ago at my club.'Quiet and easy,' that's what it says, and it's dated two o'clock. So you see you can wait till tomorrow.You must be awfully tired.""Yes, I'm awfully tired. And I thank you again.""Oh," said Mr. Bantling, "We were certain you would like the last news." On which Isabel vaguelynoted that he and Henrietta seemed after all to agree. Miss Stackpole came back with Isabel's maid,whom she had caught in the act of proving her utility. This excellent person, instead of losingherself in the crowd, had simply attended to her mistress's luggage, so that the latter was now atliberty to leave the station. "You know you're not to think of going to the country to-night,"Henrietta remarked to her. "It doesn't matter whether there's a train or not. You're to come straightto me in Wimpole Street. There isn't a corner to be had in London, but I've got you one all thesame. It isn't a Roman palace, but it will do for a night.""I'll do whatever you wish," Isabel said."You'll come and answer a few questions; that's what I wish.""She doesn't say anything about dinner, does she, Mrs. Osmond?" Mr. Bantling enquired jocosely.Henrietta fixed him a moment with her speculative gaze. "I see you're in a great hurry to get yourown. You'll be at the Paddington Station to-morrow morning at ten.""Don't come for my sake, Mr. Bantling," said Isabel."He'll come for mine," Henrietta declared as she ushered her friend into a cab. And later, in a largedusky parlour in Wimpole Street--to do her justice there had been dinner enough--she asked thosequestions to which she had alluded at the station. "Did your husband make you a scene about yourcoming?" That was Miss Stackpole's first enquiry."No; I can't say he made a scene.""He didn't object then?""Yes, he objected very much. But it was not what you'd call a scene.""What was it then?""It was a very quiet conversation."Henrietta for a moment regarded her guest. "It must have been hellish," she then remarked. AndIsabel didn't deny that it had been hellish. But she confined herself to answering Henrietta'squestions, which was easy, as they were tolerably definite. For the present she offered her no new第 373 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网information. "Well," said Miss Stackpole at last, "I've only one criticism to make. I don't see whyyou promised little Miss Osmond to go back.""I'm not sure I myself see now," Isabel replied. "But I did then.""If you've forgotten your reason perhaps you won't return."Isabel waited a moment. "Perhaps I shall find another.""You'll certainly never find a good one.""In default of a better my having promised will do," Isabel suggested."Yes; that's why I hate it.""Don't speak of it now. I've a little time. Coming away was a complication, but what will goingback be?""You must remember, after all, that he won't make you a scene!" said Henrietta with muchintention."He will, though," Isabel answered gravely. "It won't be the scene of a moment; it will be a sceneof the rest of my life."For some minutes the two women sat and considered this remainder, and then Miss Stackpole, tochange the subject, as Isabel had requested, announced abruptly: "I've been to stay with LadyPensil!""Ah, the invitation came at last!""Yes; it took five years. But this time she wanted to see me.""Naturally enough.""It was more natural than I think you know," said Henrietta, who fixed her eyes on a distant point.And then she added, turning suddenly: "Isabel Archer, I beg your pardon. You don't know why?Because I criticised you, and yet I've gone further than you. Mr. Osmond, at least, was born on theother side!"It was a moment before Isabel grasped her meaning; this sense was so modestly, or at least soingeniously, veiled. Isabel's mind was not possessed at present with the comicality of things; butshe greeted with a quick laugh the image that her companion had raised. She immediatelyrecovered herself, however, and with the right excess of intensity, "Henrietta Stackpole," sheasked, "are you going to give up your country?""Yes, my poor Isabel, I am. I won't pretend to deny it; I look the fact: in the face. I'm going tomarry Mr. Bantling and locate right here in London.""It seems very strange," said Isabel, smiling now."Well yes, I suppose it does. I've come to it little by little. I think I know what I'm doing; but Idon't know as I can explain.""One can't explain one's marriage," Isabel answered. "And yours doesn't need to be explained. Mr.Bantling isn't a riddle.""No, he isn't a bad pun--or even a high flight of American humour. He has a beautiful nature,"Henrietta went on. "I've studied him for many years and I see right through him. He's as clear as第 374 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网the style of a good prospectus. He's not intellectual, but he appreciates intellect. On the other handhe doesn't exaggerate its claims. I sometimes think we do in the United States.""Ah," said Isabel, "you're changed indeed! It's the first time I've ever heard you say anythingagainst your native land.""I only say that we're too infatuated with mere brain-power; that, after all, isn't a vulgar fault. But IAM changed; a woman has to change a good deal to marry.""I hope you'll be very happy. You will at last--over here--see something of the inner life."Henrietta gave a little significant sigh. "That's the key to the mystery, I believe. I couldn't endure tobe kept off. Now I've as good a right as any one!" she added with artless elation. Isabel was dulydiverted, but there was a certain melancholy in her view. Henrietta, after all, had confessed herselfhuman and feminine, Henrietta whom she had hitherto regarded as a light keen flame, adisembodied voice. It was a disappointment to find she had personal susceptibilities, that she wassubject to common passions, and that her intimacy with Mr. Bantling had not been completelyoriginal. There was a want of originality in her marrying him--there was even a kind of stupidity;and for a moment, to Isabel's sense, the dreariness of the world took on a deeper tinge. A little laterindeed she reflected that Mr. Bantling himself at least was original. But she didn't see howHenrietta could give up her country. She herself had relaxed her hold of it, but it had never beenher country as it had been Henrietta's. She presently asked her if she had enjoyed her visit to LadyPensil."Oh yes," said Henrietta, "she didn't know what to make of me.""And was that very enjoyable?""Very much so, because she's supposed to be a master mind. She thinks she knows everything; butshe doesn't understand a woman of my modern type. It would be so much easier for her if I wereonly a little better or a little worse. She's so puzzled; I believe she thinks it's my duty to go and dosomething immoral. She thinks it's immoral that I should marry her brother; but, after all, that isn'timmoral enough. And she'll never understand my mixture--never!""She's not so intelligent as her brother then," said Isabel. "He appears to have understood.""Oh no, he hasn't!" cried Miss Stackpole with decision. "I really believe that's what he wants tomarry me for--just to find out the mystery and the proportions of it. That's a fixed idea--a kind offascination.""It's very good in you to humour it.""Oh well," said Henrietta, "I've something to find out too!" And Isabel saw that she had notrenounced an allegiance, but planned an attack. She was at last about to grapple in earnest withEngland.Isabel also perceived, however, on the morrow, at the Paddington Station, where she found herself,at ten o'clock, in the company both of Miss Stackpole and Mr. Bantling, that the gentleman borehis perplexities lightly. If he had not found out everything he had found out at least the greatpoint--that Miss Stackpole would not be wanting in initiative. It was evident that in the selection ofa wife he had been on his guard against this deficiency."Henrietta has told me, and I'm very glad," Isabel said as she gave him her hand.第 375 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网"I dare say you think it awfully odd," Mr. Bantling replied, resting on his neat umbrella."Yes, I think it awfully odd.""You can't think it so awfully odd as I do. But I've always rather liked striking out a line," said Mr.Bantling serenely.CHAPTER LIVIsabel's arrival at Gardencourt on this second occasion was even quieter than it had been on thefirst. Ralph Touchett kept but a small household, and to the new servants Mrs. Osmond was astranger; so that instead of being conducted to her own apartment she was coldly shown into thedrawing-room and left to wait while her name was carried up to her aunt. She waited a long time;Mrs. Touchett appeared in no hurry to come to her. She grew impatient at last; she grew nervousand scared--as scared as if the objects about her had begun to show for conscious things, watchingher trouble with grotesque grimaces. The day was dark and cold; the dusk was thick in the cornersof the wide brown rooms. The house was perfectly still--with a stillness that Isabel remembered; ithad filled all the place for days before the death of her uncle. She left the drawing-room andwandered about--strolled into the library and along the gallery of pictures, where, in the deepsilence, her footstep made an echo. Nothing was changed; she recognised everything she had seenyears before; it might have been only yesterday she had stood there. She envied the security ofvaluable "pieces" which change by no hair's breadth, only grow in value, while their owners loseinch by inch youth, happiness, beauty; and she became aware that she was walking about as heraunt had done on the day she had come to see her in Albany. She was changed enough since then-thathad been the beginning. It suddenly struck her that if her Aunt Lydia had not come that day injust that way and found her alone, everything might have been different. She might have hadanother life and she might have been a woman more blest. She stopped in the gallery in front of asmall picture--a charming and precious Bonington--upon which her eyes rested a long time. Butshe was not looking at the picture; she was wondering whether if her aunt had not come that day inAlbany she would have married Caspar Goodwood.Mrs. Touchett appeared at last, just after Isabel had returned to the big uninhabited drawing-room.She looked a good deal older, but her eye was as bright as ever and her head as erect; her thin lipsseemed a repository of latent meanings. She wore a little grey dress of the most undecoratedfashion, and Isabel wondered, as she had wondered the first time, if her remarkable kinswomanresembled more a queen-regent or the matron of a gaol. Her lips felt very thin indeed on Isabel'shot cheek."I've kept you waiting because I've been sitting with Ralph," Mrs. Touchett said. "The nurse hadgone to luncheon and I had taken her place. He has a man who's supposed to look after him, butthe man's good for nothing; he's always looking out of the window--as if there were anything tosee! I didn't wish to move, because Ralph seemed to be sleeping and I was afraid the sound woulddisturb him. I waited till the nurse came back. I remembered you knew the house.""I find I know it better even than I thought; I've been walking everywhere," Isabel answered. Andthen she asked if Ralph slept much.第 376 页 共 391 页原版英语阅读网"He lies with his eyes closed; he doesn't move. But I'm not sure that it's always sleep.""Will he see me? Can he speak to me?"Mrs. Touchett declined the office of saying. "You can try him," was the limit of her extravagance.And then she offered to conduct Isabel to her room. "I thought they had taken you there; but it's notmy house, it's Ralph's; and I don't know what they do. They must at least have taken your luggage;I don't suppose you've brought much. Not that I care, however. I believe they've given you thesame room you had before; when Ralph heard you were coming he said you must have that one.""Did he say anything else?""Ah, my dear, he doesn't chatter as he used!" cried Mrs. Touchett as she preceded her niece up thestaircase.It was the same room, and something told Isabel it had not been slept in since she occupied it. Herluggage was there and was not voluminous; Mrs. Touchett sat down a moment with her eyes uponit. "Is there really no hope?" our young woman asked as she stood before her."None whatever. There never has been. It has not been a successful life.""No--it has only been a beautiful one." Isabel found herself already contradicting her aunt; she wasirritated by her dryness."I don't know what you mean by that; there's no beauty without health. That is a very odd dress totravel in."Isabel glanced at her garment. "I left Rome at an hour's notice; I took the first that came.""Your sisters, in America, wished to know how you dress. That seemed to be their principalinterest. I wasn't able to tell them --but they seemed to have the right idea: that you never wearanything less than black brocade.""They think I'm more brilliant than I am; I'm afraid to tell them the truth," said Isabel. "Lily wroteme you had dined with her.""She invited me four times, and I went once. After the second time she should have let me alone.The dinner was very good; it must have been expensive. Her husband has a very bad manner. Did Ienjoy my visit to America? Why should I have enjoyed it? I didn't go for my pleasure."These were interesting items, but Mrs. Touchett soon left her niece, whom she was to meet in halfan hour at the midday meal. For this repast the two ladies faced each other at an abbreviated table