書蟲5級(jí)《純真年代》2. 紐蘭存有疑慮

2. NEWLAND HAS DOUBTS

The next evening old Mr Sillerton Jackson came to have dinner with the Archers. Newland's mother, Adeline Archer, had long been a widow, and did not often go into society, but she liked to be well informed about what was going on. Her old friend Sillerton Jackson used to study people's lives with a collector's patience and a scientist's attention to detail. So whenever anything happened that Mrs Archer wished to know about, she asked Mr Jackson to dinner.

In a perfect world, Mr Jackson would have hoped for Mrs Archer's food to be a little better. But after all, you couldn't have everything. If you had dinner with the Mansons or the Lovell Mingotts, who cared about eating and clothes and money, you ate the finest food and drank the best wines. On the other hand, if you were invited by the Archers or the van der Luydens, who had no time for the coarser kinds of pleasure, you could talk about the Swiss Alps and the most recent books. So when a friendly command came from Mrs Archer, Mr Jackson, who liked to find the best in every situation, would say to his sister Sophy, 'I over-ate last time I went to Mrs Mingott's – it'll do me good to eat a bit less at Adeline's.'

Mrs Archer and her unmarried daughter Janey lived on the ground floor of the family house, while Newland had the whole of the first floor to himself. Mother and daughter spent all their time together, reading or sewing in their beautifully furnished sitting room, or occasionally travelling, in search of the scenery or works of art they both admired so much. The long habit of living together in such closeness had given them similar interests, the same vocabulary, and even the same way of beginning a sentence with 'Mother thinks' or 'Janey thinks', when each of them wanted to give an opinion that was, in fact, their own.

They looked almost like sisters, both tall, pale, and a little round-shouldered, with long noses and sweet smiles. As the years passed, however, Mrs Archer's black silks were stretched more tightly round her thickening waist, while Miss Archer's brown and purple dresses hung more loosely on her virgin figure.

Mother and daughter loved each other deeply, and admired and respected Newland. This admiration secretly pleased him, and he loved them for it; he considered it a good thing for a man to be respected and obeyed in his own house.

Newland had his own reasons for staying at home that evening. He knew old Jackson would talk about Ellen Olenska, and of course Mrs Archer and Janey wanted to hear what he had to tell. All three would be a little embarrassed by Newland's presence, now that his future connection to the Mingott family had been announced, and the young man waited with amused curiosity to see what effect this would have on their conversation.

Mrs Archer began indirectly, by talking about Mrs Struthers, a guest whom New York society had been surprised to see at the Beauforts' ball. 'It's a pity she was invited,' she said gently, 'but Julius Beaufort insisted, I hear.'

Beaufort will never understand what is and is not acceptable,' said Mr Jackson, cautiously inspecting the fish, and wondering for the thousandth time why Mrs Archer's cook always burnt it.

Oh, of course Beaufort is not a gentleman,' said Mrs Archer. 'And Mrs Struthers is...' She looked briefly at Janey and paused. There were facts that were not suitable for an unmarried woman to know – or at least, to discuss in public.

Mrs Struthers is a woman who once lived as a—' Mr Jackson, catching sight of Janey, whose eyes were wide with interest, stopped, then went on, 'Until Lemuel Struthers came along, and – in the end – married her.' He left a little pause before and after the words 'in the end', and the pauses were full of meaning.

Oh well, so many people behave badly nowadays, it doesn't matter,' said Mrs Archer carelessly. In fact, the ladies were not interested in Mrs Struthers, and Mrs Archer chose the moment to ask what she and Janey really wanted to know.' And Newland's new cousin – Countess Olenska? Was she at the ball too?'

Adeline Archer had been very glad to hear of her son's engagement. Young men could do such unexpected, foolish things, and some women would do anything to trap a husband. But Newland had made an excellent choice – May Welland was one of the wealthiest and most beautiful girls in New York, and from a highly respected family. Mrs Archer felt that now she could relax, confident that her only son would live in safe and blameless domesticity for the rest of his life.

However, she thought it was a little unfortunate that his engagement meant he would be related to Madame Olenska, who seemed to have forgotten, if indeed she had ever understood, the importance of following society's rules at all times.

Mr Jackson leaned back in his chair. 'No, she was not at the ball,' he said heavily and deliberately.

Perhaps the Beauforts don't know her,' Janey suggested, looking innocent, though she knew very well that was not true.

Mrs Beaufort may not, but Beaufort certainly does,' replied Mr Jackson. 'Madame Olenska was seen walking up Fifth Avenue this afternoon with him by the whole of New York.'

Oh dear!' cried Mrs Archer. 'How could she!'

Janey said, greatly daring, 'I heard she had on a dark blue dress at the opera, perfectly plain and flat – like a night-dress.'

Janey!' said her mother, shocked, and Janey Archer blushed. 'Anyway,' continued Mrs Archer, 'she showed better taste in not going to the ball.'

I don't think it was a question of good taste,' said Newland, wanting to annoy his mother a little. 'May said Ellen intended to go, and then decided her dress wasn't good enough.'

Mrs Archer smiled, pleased to learn her guess was correct. 'Poor Ellen! We must remember how strangely she was brought up by Medora Manson. What can you expect of a girl who was allowed to wear black silk at her very first evening ball?'

Newland suddenly became argumentative. 'She's "poor Ellen" certainly, because she had the bad luck to make a miserable marriage, but I don't see what she has to be ashamed of.'

People do say that she...' began Mr Jackson, and stopped, looking at Janey again.

Oh, I know!' cried Newland. 'They say the secretary helped her to get away from her cruel husband, who kept her more or less a prisoner. Well, what's wrong with that? Which man wouldn't offer his help in a case like that?'

Which man wouldn't offer his help in a case like that?' cried Newland.

I hear she intends to get a divorce,' said Janey bravely.

I hope she will!' cried Newland.

The word 'divorce' fell like a bomb in the calm purity of the Archer dining room. Mrs Archer gave her son a meaningful look, and the young man, conscious of the bad taste of discussing such personal matters in front of the servants, quickly changed the subject.

After dinner, as was the custom, the ladies went up to the sitting room, while Newland took his guest to the library. As Mr Jackson sat down in a comfortable armchair and happily lit one of Newland's excellent cigars, he said, 'You think the secretary just helped her to get away, my dear Newland? Well, he was still helping her a year later then, because someone met them living in Switzerland together.'

Newland reddened. 'Living together? Well, why not? Why shouldn't she start a new life? I hate the idea that a woman of her age should bury herself alive if her husband chooses to live with other women.' He turned away angrily to light his cigar. 'Women ought to be free, as free as we are,' he added, too irritated to realize the full meaning of his discovery.

Mr Sillerton Jackson stretched his feet closer to the fire and whistled in amusement. 'Really, Newland?' he said, with a smile. 'Well, it seems Count Olenski shares your view, because I don't think he's lifted a finger to get his wife back.'

That evening, after Mr Jackson's departure, Newland sat at his desk in the library, looking at the large photograph of May Welland which she had given him. With a new sense of fear he looked at the serious eyes and smiling, innocent mouth of the young creature who would soon be his responsibility. She was the terrifying product of the society he belonged to and believed in – a young girl who knew nothing and expected everything. Suddenly she seemed like a stranger, and he began to realize that marriage was not the safe harbour he had been taught to expect, but a voyage into unexplored seas.

The arrival of the Countess Olenska had disturbed him, and made him unsure of what was right, for the first time in his well-ordered life. Naturally, he would be a far kinder and more sensitive husband to May than Count Olenski had been to Ellen. But clearly, things could still go wrong in his marriage to May. What could he and she really know of each other, since it was his duty to hide his past from her, and her duty, as a marriageable girl, to have no past to hide? What if they should tire of each other, or annoy each other? He thought about his friends' marriages, and saw none that offered the loving friendship which he had been hoping for with May.

He was sincerely in love, and he knew that doubts were common in young men who were going to be married. He blamed Countess Olenska. Here he was, recently engaged – a moment for pure thoughts and cloudless hopes – and involved in a scandal which could bring all the kinds of problem he would much rather avoid.

A few days later the scandal worsened. The Lovell Mingotts, led iby old Mrs Manson Mingott, had sent out cards inviting a number of guests to a dinner. The invitations were headed with the words, 'To meet the Countess Olenska'. Forty-eight hours later, the unbelievable had happened: everyone except the Beauforts and Sillerton Jackson had refused the Mingotts' invitation. It was clear that New York society had decided not to meet the Countess Olenska.

When Newland heard of this, he was extremely angry, and persuaded his mother to ask her influential cousin, Louisa van der Luyden, for her support.

The New York of Newland Archer's day was broadly made up of three groups of people. At the bottom were the respectable, ordinary families like the Leffertses or the Jacksons. Above them were the wealthy people of good family like the Mingotts and the Archers. And right at the top were just three families, the Dagonets, the lannings, and the van der Luydens, all of whom were related to high-born European families.

Mrs Archer and Newland drove straight to the van der Luydens' large dark house in Madison Avenue. Here Louisa received them in her high-ceilinged sitting room full of solid, old-fashioned furniture, and listened politely to Mrs Archer's story. Her usual answer to any request for help was, 'I shall first have to talk this over with my husband,' but this time she rang for a servant and told him, 'If Mr van der Luyden has finished reading the newspaper, please ask him to be kind enough to come.'

In a few minutes Henry van der Luyden entered the room. He greeted Mrs Archer and congratulated Newland on his engagement. Then he listened quietly as Mrs Archer repeated what she had told his wife. There was a silence while the two almost royal figures considered the situation, the weight of social responsibility lying heavily on their thin, elderly shoulders. Newland and his mother waited respectfully.

Finally Henry van der Luyden spoke. 'As long as a member of a well-known family is supported by that family, their decision should be considered final. I had no idea that people were starting to behave so badly.' He looked at his wife, who bent her head in agreement. 'Newland, you may be aware that Louisa's English cousin, the Duke of St Austrey, is coming to stay with us for a few days. We are inviting a few friends to dinner here, to meet him, and I am sure Louisa will be as glad as I am if Countess Olenska will let us include her among our guests.'

Thank you so much, Henry—' Mrs Archer began.

There is nothing to thank me for, dear Adeline. This kind of thing must not happen in New York, and shall not, as long as I can prevent it.' And he guided his guests towards the door.

Two hours later everyone knew that the most respected couple in New York had invited Madame Olenska to dinner the following week, to meet their relation, the Duke of St Austrey.

It was generally agreed in New York that Countess Olenska had 'lost her looks'. She had been a brilliantly pretty child, who was adopted by her aunt, Medora Manson, after both her parents died young. Poor Medora married three unsuitable husbands, one after the other, and was widowed three times. However, she brought up Ellen as well as she could. They travelled constantly, and it was while travelling in Europe that Ellen met and married Count Olenski. When the marriage ended in disaster, she had returned to her relations in New York, to rest and to forget.

When Newland saw her enter the van der Luydens' dining room on the evening of the dinner, he disagreed at once with the general opinion of her appearance. She was paler and thinner than when she was younger, but there was a mysterious beauty about her – a sureness in the way she carried her head, an unspoken experience of suffering that lay behind those intelligent eyes. She was the youngest woman present, but the smooth soft faces of the older women seemed almost childlike compared with hers. It frightened Newland to think what had happened to her, to give her eyes like that.

When the men joined the ladies after dinner, the Duke went straight up to the Countess and they talked together like old friends. It was clear she had met him on her travels in Europe. At the end of their conversation, instead of waiting for another gentleman to come and talk to her, which was the custom in New York, she got up and came to sit beside Newland.

May is a dear girl – so handsome and intelligent,' she said, smiling at him. 'Are you very much in love with her?'

Newland reddened, laughing. 'As much as a man can be.'

How delightful! And you discovered each other yourselves – it wasn't arranged for you in any way?'

Newland looked at her in disbelief, and asked with a smile. 'Have you forgotten that in our country we don't allow our marriages to be arranged for us?'

She blushed, and at once he was sorry for his careless remark.

Yes, I'd forgotten. You must forgive me if I sometimes make these mistakes. Things were so different, so bad, where I've come from.' She looked down and he saw that her lips trembled.

I'm so sorry,' he said quickly, 'but you are among friends here, you know.'

Yes, I know. Wherever I go, I have that feeling. That's why I came home. I want to forget everything in my recent past, to become a complete American again, like the Mingotts and the Wellands. Ah, here's May arriving, and you will want to hurry away to her,' she added, but without moving. Her eyes turned back from the door to rest on the young man's face.

The after-dinner guests were now entering the room, and Newland saw May with her mother. 'Oh, she's surrounded by people. She's being introduced to the Duke just now,' he said.

Then stay with me a little longer,' Madame Olenska said in a low voice, just touching his knee with her finger. It was the lightest touch, but to him it was as exciting as a kiss.

Yes, let me stay,' he whispered. But just then Mr van der Luyden came up, with a guest who wanted to meet the Countess, so Newland had to give up his seat.

Madame Olenska held out her hand to him, to say goodbye. 'Tomorrow, then, after five – I shall expect you,' she said.

Tomorrow...' Newland heard himself repeating, although they had made no arrangement during their conversation.

As he moved away, he saw, waiting to meet the Countess, a number of the couples who had refused to meet her at the Lovell Mingotts', and it proved to him yet again the great influence that the van der Luydens had on New York society.