Philip woke early next morning. His sleep had been restless; but when he stretched his legs and looked at the sunshine that slid through the Venetian blinds, making patterns on the floor, he sighed with satisfaction. He was delighted with himself. He began to think of Miss Wilkinson. She had asked him to call her Emily, but, he knew not why, he could not; he always thought of her as Miss Wilkinson. Since she chid him for so addressing her, he avoided using her name at all. During his childhood he had often heard a sister of Aunt Louisa, the widow of a naval officer, spoken of as Aunt Emily. It made him uncomfortable to call Miss Wilkinson by that name, nor could he think of any that would have suited her better.
She had begun as Miss Wilkinson, and it seemed inseparable from his impression of her. He frowned a little: somehow or other he saw her now at her worst; he could not forget his dismay when she turned round and he saw her in her camisole and the short petticoat; he remembered the slight roughness of her skin and the sharp, long lines on the side of the neck. His triumph was short-lived. He reckoned out her age again, and he did not see how she could be less than forty. It made the affair ridiculous. She was plain and old. His quick fancy showed her to him, wrinkled, haggard, made-up, in those frocks which were too showy for her position and too young for her years. He shuddered ; he felt suddenly that he never wanted to see her again; he could not bear the thought of kissing her. He was horrified with himself. Was that love?
He took as long as he could over dressing in order to put back the moment of seeing her, and when at last he went into the dining-room it was with a sinking heart. Prayers were over, and they were sitting down at breakfast.
He looked at her and gave a little gasp of relief. She was sitting with her back to the window. She was really quite nice. He wondered why he had thought such things about her. His self-satisfaction returned to him.
He was taken aback by the change in her. She told him in a voice thrilling with emotion immediately after breakfast that she loved him; and when a little later they went into the drawing-room for his singing lesson and she sat down on the music-stool she put up her face in the middle of a scale and said:‘Embrasse-moi.’
But he was pleased and happy and flattered. She was evidently frightfully gone on him. As he limped along the high street of Blackstable he looked with a tinge of superciliousness at the people he passed. He knew a good many to nod to, and as he gave them a smile of recognition he thought to himself, if they only knew! He did want someone to know very badly.
He thought he would write to Hayward, and in his mind composed the letter. He would talk of the garden and the roses, and the little French governess, like an exotic flower amongst them, scented and perverse : he would say she was French, because—well, she had lived in France so long that she almost was, and besides it would be shabby to give the whole thing away too exactly, don’t you know; and he would tell Hayward how he had seen her first in her pretty muslin dress and of the flower she had given him. He made a delicate idyl of it: the sunshine and the sea gave it passion and magic, and the stars added poetry, and the old vicarage garden was a fit and exquisite setting. There was something Meredithian about it: it was not quite Lucy Feverel and not quite Clara Middleton; but it was inexpressibly charming.
Philip’s heart beat quickly. He was so delighted with his fancies that he began thinking of them again as soon as he crawled back, dripping and cold, into his bathing-machine. He thought of the object of his affections. She had the most adorable little nose and large brown eyes—he would describe her to Hayward—and masses of soft brown hair, the sort of hair it was delicious to bury your face in, and a skin which was like ivory and sunshine, and her cheek was like a red, red rose. How old was she? Eighteen perhaps, and he called her Musette. Her laughter was like a rippling brook , and her voice was so soft, so low, it was the sweetest music he had ever heard.
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23
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"你出神想啥啊?"
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23
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‘What are you thinking about?’
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24
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菲利普蓦地收住脚步。他正在回家的路上慢腾腾地走着。
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24
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Philip stopped suddenly. He was walking slowly home.
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25
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"我在四分之一英里以外的地方就开始向你招手了,瞧你这副神不守舍的德行。"
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25
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‘I’ve been waving at you for the last quarter of a mile. You ARE absent-minded.’
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26
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威尔金森小姐站在他面前,取笑他那副吃惊的神情。
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26
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Miss Wilkinson was standing in front of him, laughing at his surprise.
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27
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"我想我得来接你哩。"
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27
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‘I thought I’d come and meet you.’
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28
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"你想得真周到,"他说。
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28
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‘That’s awfully nice of you,’ he said.
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29
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"让你吓了一跳,是吗?"
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29
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‘Did I startle you?’
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30
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"有那么一点,"他承认说。
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30
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‘You did a bit,’ he admitted.
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31
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他到底还是给海沃德写了封长达八页的信。
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31
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He wrote his letter to Hayward all the same. There were eight pages of it.
The fortnight that remained passed quickly, and though each evening, when they went into the garden after supper, Miss Wilkinson remarked that one day more had gone, Philip was in too cheerful spirits to let the thought depress him. One night Miss Wilkinson suggested that it would be delightful if she could exchange her situation in Berlin for one in London. Then they could see one another constantly. Philip said it would be very jolly, but the prospect aroused no enthusiasm in him; he was looking forward to a wonderful life in London, and he preferred not to be hampered . He spoke a little too freely of all he meant to do, and allowed Miss Wilkinson to see that already he was longing to be off.
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33
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"你要是爱我,就不会用这种口气说话了,"她哭着说。
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33
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‘You wouldn’t talk like that if you loved me,’ she cried.
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34
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他猛吃一惊,闭口不言语了。
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34
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He was taken aback and remained silent.
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35
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"我多傻啊,"她咕哝着。
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35
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‘What a fool I’ve been,’ she muttered.
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36
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他万万没料到她竟哭了起来。他心肠很软,平时就怕看到别人伤心落泪。
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36
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To his surprise he saw that she was crying. He had a tender heart, and hated to see anyone miserable .
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37
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"哦,真抱歉。我哪儿对不起你啦?别哭呀。"
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37
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‘Oh, I’m awfully sorry. What have I done? Don’t cry.’
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38
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"哦,菲利普,别把我丢了。你不明白,你对我有多重要,我一生多么不幸,是你让我感受到人生的幸福。"
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38
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‘Oh, Philip, don’t leave me. You don’t know what you mean to me. I have such a wretched life, and you’ve made me so happy.’
He kissed her silently. There really was anguish in her tone, and he was frightened. It had never occurred to him that she meant what she said quite, quite seriously.
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40
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"我实在很抱歉。你知道我很喜欢你。我巴不得你上伦敦来呢。"
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40
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‘I’m awfully sorry. You know I’m frightfully fond of you. I wish you would come to London.’
Some devil within him prompted him to start a violent flirtation with them both, and as he was the only young man there, they were quite willing to meet him half-way. It happened that they played tennis quite well and Philip was tired of pat-ball with Miss Wilkinson (she had only begun to play when she came to Blackstable), so when he arranged the sets after tea he suggested that Miss Wilkinson should play against the curate’s wife, with the curate as her partner; and he would play later with the new-comers. He sat down by the elder Miss O’Connor and said to her in an undertone:
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45
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"我们先把那些个窝囊废打发掉,随后我们痛痛快快地打上一盘。"
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‘We’ll get the duffers out of the way first, and then we’ll have a jolly set afterwards.’