4. A SECOND VISIT TO THE COUNTESS

As Newland walked up Fifth Avenue after dinner that evening, he could see a number of carriages outside the Chiverses', where they were having a party for the Duke. He passed the Beauforts' house, and saw Julius himself come out and drive away in his carriage.

Probably on his way to that new lady friend of his,' thought Newland. All of New York knew about Beaufort's mistresses, and Miss Fanny ring was the latest in a long line.

He walked on into the narrow street where the Countess lived, surrounded by the houses of painters and writers. He and his family belonged to the part of New York society that believed in the importance of literature and art, but fashionable and well-born families rarely mixed socially with artists. Newland himself knew many artists and musicians, whom he met in the little bars and clubs which were beginning to open in the back streets, but he would never expect to meet them in a gentleman's house. He imagined that the Countess, whose house was full of books, was used to a much more open society, where writers and artists came and went freely, and that this might be one of the things she would miss from her old life.

He reached her house and was let in by the servant girl, who was smiling mysteriously. In the hall was a fur-lined coat and a silk opera-hat with the letters J.B. in gold on it; it was clear that Julius Beaufort was visiting Madame Olenska. Newland was so angry that he almost left at once. But then he remembered he had not told the Countess he wished to see her privately, so he could not blame her for opening her doors to other visitors.

In the sitting room Beaufort was standing in front of the fire, smiling down at the Countess. She was half lying on a sofa, her head supported on one hand; her sleeve had fallen away to leave her white arm visible up to the elbow. Instead of the usual close-fitting, all-covering silk dress which New York ladies wore when receiving evening visitors, she was wearing a long dress of soft red material, with black fur around the neck and down the front. The effect was certainly pleasing.

Well, well – three whole days at Skuytercliff!' Beaufort was saying in his loud voice as Newland entered. Skuytercliff was the van der Luydens' country house, just outside New York, and it seemed the Countess was invited there. 'It's a pity – you'll miss the musical evening I've planned for you on Sunday.'

She held out her hand to greet Newland, as she replied to Beaufort. 'Ah, that does tempt me! Except for the other evening at Mrs Struthers', I've not met a single artist since I've been here.'

I know one or two painters, very nice people, who I could bring to see you if you'd allow me,' said Newland daringly.

Painters in New York?' asked Beaufort with a laugh. He gave the impression there were none, since he did not buy their pictures. And Madame Olenska said to Newland, 'That would be delightful. But I was thinking of singers, actors, musicians. My husband's house was always full of them.'

Newland felt confused – how could she speak so calmly of her married life? But he was pleased to see she wanted to speak to him privately, because she made it clear to Beaufort that he must leave. And a few minutes later they were alone together.

So you care for painting, then?' she began by asking.

Oh yes, enormously. When I'm in Paris or London, I never miss a show. I try to see all the new pictures.'

My life used to be full of such things too. But now I want to throw off my old life, to become just like everybody else here.'

Newland reddened. 'You'll never be like everybody else.'

Ah, don't say that! If you knew how I hate to be different!' Her face looked dark and sad as she spoke.

He waited a moment and cleared his throat. 'I know you want – a divorce. Mr Letterblair told me. That's why I've come. You see, I'm in the firm.'

Her eyes brightened. 'You mean you can manage it for me? I can talk to you instead of to Mr Letterblair? Oh, that will be so much easier! You'll help me, won't you?'

First...' he hesitated, 'perhaps I ought to know a little more.'

She seemed surprised. 'You've read the papers? You know about my husband's mistresses? What could be worse than that? Our church allows divorce in such cases.'

That's true, but...' Newland was thinking of a letter from the Count he had read, accusing his wife of having had an affair with his secretary. How much truth was there in that? Only Ellen could tell. 'Of course, you know that if your husband chooses to fight the case, as he threatens to, he can say things...'

Yes?'

Things that... that might be – disagreeable – to you, and say them publicly – even if they aren't true.'

What harm could such accusations, even if he made them publicly, do me here in New York?'

Newland thought, 'She still knows so little about us!' He tried to explain. 'This is a very small world, compared to the one you've lived in. Our ideas about marriage and divorce are particularly old-fashioned, especially if the woman has... put herself, by some unusual behaviour, in a position where – where offensive accusations can be made against her.'

Her head bent down low, and Newland waited, hoping desperately for a little anger, or at least just a word to tell him that no accusation would be true. No word came.

A clock ticked softly in a corner, and the whole room seemed to be waiting silently with Newland.

Yes,' she whispered at last. 'That's what my family say. And you're one of them, or will be soon. Do you share their view?'

He looked away from her for a moment. How could he say, 'Yes, if what your husband says is true?'

Instead he said gently, 'Is a divorce really worth it, when there's the possibility – the certainty – of a lot of unpleasantness?'

But my freedom – isn't that worth it?'

It's my business, you know, to help you to see these things as the people who are fondest of you see them.' He was filling the silence with meaningless talk. He could do nothing else, since she would not or could not say the one word that would have cleared the air, and told him the truth.

Suddenly she stood up. 'Very well, I will do what you wish,' she said.

The blood rushed to his face, and he caught her hands in his. 'I... I do want to help you,' he said.

You do help me. Good night, my cousin. '

He bent and kissed her hands, which were cold and lifeless. When she took them away, he turned to the door, found his coat and hat in the hall, and ran out into the winter night, bursting with unspoken words.

A week later Newland was at Wallack's theatre, watching one iof that season's most popular plays. He had seen it several times, and one particular scene was his favourite. He was watching it now. In a room, two lovers said goodbye, sadly, almost wordlessly, and the man started towards the door. The woman turned away from him to the fireplace and looked down into the fire. She was wearing a long grey dress with long black ribbons falling down her back. At the door her lover turned for one last look at her; then he walked quietly back, lifted one of the ribbons, kissed it, and left the room without her hearing him or changing her position. And on this silent parting the curtain fell.

Newland thought this as fine as anything he had ever seen in the theatres of Paris and London. The silence and the dumb misery of the lovers' goodbye moved him greatly. And it reminded him – he could not have said why – of his goodbye to Madame Olenska after their conversation a week earlier.

When he had left her, he had the feeling that Count Olenski's accusation was almost certainly true. Ellen was young, she was frightened, she was desperate – what more natural than that she should be grateful to her rescuer? The pity was that, in the law's eyes and the world's, one affair with the secretary made her as wicked as her husband, with his many mistresses. And Newland had explained to her that simple, kind-hearted New York was exactly the place where she could least hope for understanding.

Having to make these facts plain to her, and watching her miserable acceptance of them, had been extremely painful to him. He was glad that he alone knew her secret, which would have horribly embarrassed her relations. And when he told her family she had decided not to ask for a divorce, they were all very grateful to him for sparing them so much unpleasantness.

These thoughts reminded him so strongly of his last talk with Madame Olenska that, as the curtain fell on the lovers' parting, his eyes filled with tears and he stood up to leave the theatre. In doing so, he saw Madame Olenska in a box with the Beauforts and some other people. He had tried to avoid meeting her socially, but now their eyes met, and as Mrs Beaufort waved to him to join them, it was impossible to refuse.

He greeted the Beauforts, but soon found himself sitting beside the Countess. She turned and spoke to him in a low voice.

Do you think,' she asked, looking towards the stage, 'the lover will send her a bunch of yellow roses tomorrow morning?'

Newland reddened and his heart jumped in surprise. He had visited her only twice and each time had sent her yellow roses, but without giving his name. She had never mentioned them before. Now the fact that she knew he had sent them, and connected them to the scene they had just watched, filled him with pleasure.

I was thinking of that too,' he said.

To his surprise she blushed, and said after a pause, 'What do you do when May is away?'

I get on with my work,' he replied, a little annoyed by the question. The Wellands always spent February in Florida, as their doctor considered the warm weather there necessary for Mr Welland's chest, and they were there now. Newland had realized there was no chance of persuading them to break the habit of a lifetime, so he had not tried. He would have liked to go with them, but he too was tied by custom and habit – no serious-minded young men took holidays in mid-winter.

He was conscious Madame Olenska was looking at him. 'I understand – that you were right about the divorce,' she said a little breathlessly. 'But sometimes – life is difficult.'

I know.'

And I wanted to tell you that I do feel you were right, and that I'm grateful to you.' She lifted her opera-glasses quickly to her eyes as she heard Beaufort coming to sit next to her.

Newland stood up, and left the box and the theatre.

The day before, he had received a letter from May, in which she had asked him to be kind to Ellen in her absence. 'She likes and admires you so much, and although she doesn't show it, she's very lonely and unhappy. You're almost the only person in New York who can talk to her about what she really cares for.'

His wise May – how he loved her for that letter! But he did not want, as an engaged man, to be too obviously the Countess's defender and companion. She could probably take care of herself better than May imagined – she had several gentlemen around her who would be only too glad to be of assistance. But even so, he never saw her without feeling that, after all, May was right. Ellen Olenska was lonely and she was unhappy.

The next morning Newland searched the flower shops for yellow roses, but found none. As a result of this search, he arrived late at the office, and noticed that his lateness made no difference at all to anyone. He was filled with sudden despair at the uselessness of his life. He was just one of the many young men in the old-fashioned law firms like Mr Letterblair's, who sat at their desks or simply read the newspapers for a certain number of hours every day. They didn't need to earn money, but it was thought that young men should have something to do, and the law, being a profession, was considered to be more suitable work for a gentleman than business. Few of them had any ambition, and over many of them the grey dullness of an empty life was already spreading.

It made Newland cold with fear to think it might be spreading over him too. 'I'll never do anything worthwhile!' he thought angrily. 'And my interest in books and paintings and music, my European travels – will I be able to keep any of that up when I'm married?' He thought about men he knew – men who in their younger days had been full of hopes and dreams, as he was now. 'And what happened to them?' he thought. 'Their lives became nothing more than one long, mindless, comfortable routine of dinners and visits and evening parties.'

From his office he sent a note to Madame Olenska, asking if he could call on her that afternoon, but he received no reply that day or the next. This unexpected silence made him unreasonably angry. On the third morning he received a note from her, and to his surprise it had been posted from Skuytercliff. It said:

I ran away the day after I saw you at the theatre, and these kind friends are allowing me to stay here as long as I like. I wanted to be quiet, and think things over. I feel so safe here. I wish you were with us. Yours sincerely, Ellen Olenska

What is she running away from?' he wondered. 'And why does she feel the need to be safe? However, she's certainly made an impression on the van der Luydens – they don't usually encourage their visitors to stay longer than a weekend.'

He felt disappointed that she was away. Then he remembered that he had an invitation from the Chiverses to spend this weekend with them at their country house, Highbank, which was not far from Skuytercliff. He wrote a hurried telegram and sent it off at once, accepting the invitation.

well-born adj. born into a very rich or important family 出身高贵的，出身名门的

musician n. someone who plays a musical instrument, especially very well or as a job 音乐家

back street a small quiet street that is away from the main part of a town 偏僻街道，后街

sleeve n. the part of a shirt, coat etc that covers the arm 袖子

close-fitting adj. close-fitting clothes are tight and show the shape of your body 紧身的

tempt v. to attract someone, or to make someone want to do something 吸引

care for like someone or something 喜欢

enormously adv. very or very much 极大地，极其

throw off to get free from something that has been limiting your freedom 摆脱

affair n. a sexual relationship outside marriage 私通

disagreeable adj. not at all enjoyable or pleasant 令人不快的

accusation n. a statement saying that someone is guilty of a crime or of doing something wrong 指责

offensive adj. very rude or insulting and likely to upset people 无礼的

lifeless adj. lacking the positive qualities that make something or someone interesting, exciting, or active 没有生气的

scene n. a part of a play in which the action happens in one place （戏剧中的）一场

wordlessly adv. without using words 无言地

fireplace n. a special place in the wall of a room, where you can make a fire 壁炉

ribbon n. a thin piece of material worn on a woman's dress or hair 丝带

dumb adj. unable to speak, because you are angry, surprised, shocked etc 说不出话的

wicked adj. evil, of bad character 邪恶的，罪恶的

lifetime n. the period of time during which someone is alive or something exists 一生

serious-minded adj. having a serious attitude or way of thinking 严肃的

breathlessly adv. in a way hard to breathe, especially because you are very tired, excited, or frightened 气喘吁吁地

assistance n. help or support 帮助

despair n. a feeling that you have no hope at all 绝望

profession n. a job that needs a high level of education and training 职业

ambition n. determination to be successful, rich, powerful etc 雄心，志向

worthwhile adj. important, valuable, useful 有价值的

mindless adj. completely stupid and without any purpose 盲目的，不用脑子的

routine n. the usual order in which you do things, or the things you regularly do 常规

telegram n. a short urgent message sent by electric current along wires, and then printed and delivered 电报

4. 对伯爵夫人的第二次拜访

那天晚上晚餐之后，纽兰沿着第五大道漫步向前，他看到几辆马车停在奇弗斯家门口，他们家此刻正在为公爵举行聚会。走过博福特家时，他看到朱利叶斯走了出来，驾着马车离开。

“很可能是准备去见他那位新结识的女性朋友。”纽兰心想。整个纽约都知道博福特交过哪些情人，他的新欢是范妮·林小姐。

他继续步行至伯爵夫人居住的那条狭窄街道，周围全都是画家和作家的房子。在纽约的社交界，他和他的家族属于注重文学和艺术的圈子。不过，出身高贵的上流社会家族却很少与艺术家进行社交往来。纽兰本人认识许多艺术家和音乐家，他在一些偏僻街道上刚开办的小酒吧和俱乐部里与他们见过面。不过，他从不会期望在绅士的家中见到他们。他想，伯爵夫人的家中堆满书籍，过去应该习惯于一个开放得多的社会。在那里，搞写作和搞艺术的人来去自由，而这也许是她所怀念的昔日生活的一部分。

他来到她家，被脸上露出神秘笑容的女佣领进了门。门厅里放着一件毛皮衬里的大衣和一顶丝质歌剧礼帽，礼帽上用金线绣着J. B.两个字母。很明显，朱利叶斯·博福特正在拜访奥兰斯卡夫人。纽兰非常生气，差一点扭头离开。但他随即想起自己之前并未告诉伯爵夫人他希望单独与她会面，因此，他不能责怪她向其他客人敞开了大门。

客厅里，博福特正站在炉火前面，低头看着伯爵夫人微笑。她倚坐在沙发上，一只手托着头；袖子滑落，露出她白皙的胳膊，一直到肘部。在纽约，女士们晚上会客时通常都穿遮盖全身的紧身丝绸衣服，她却没有跟从。她身穿一件柔软的红色面料的长裙，黑色皮毛镶边沿颈部一直延伸至胸前，效果绝对赏心悦目。

“好啊，好啊——到斯库特克利夫待上整整三天！”纽兰进去的时候，博福特正在大声说着。斯库特克利夫是范德卢顿夫妇的乡间别墅，就在纽约市郊。看来，伯爵夫人受邀前往那里。“真是遗憾——你将错过我为你安排的周日音乐晚会。”

她一边伸出手和纽兰打招呼，一边接着博福特的话题：“啊，我真想去！除了在斯特拉瑟斯太太家的那天晚上，我来这儿以后，连一位艺术家都没见过呢。”

“我认识一两位画家，人都很好。如果你愿意，我可以领他们来见你。”阿彻大胆地说。

“纽约有画家吗？”博福特笑着问。那样子就好像在说，既然他没有买他们的画，纽约就没有画家。奥兰斯卡夫人对纽兰说：“那太好了。不过我想到的是歌唱家、演员和音乐家。在我丈夫家里总能见到这些人。”

纽兰觉得困惑不已——她怎么能如此平静地说起自己的婚姻生活？不过，当她明确表示要博福特离开时，他明白了她想要和他单独谈话，为此感到高兴。几分钟之后，他们便单独呆在一起。

“这么说，你喜欢画画？”她先开口问。

“哦，是的，非常喜欢。我在巴黎和伦敦的时候，从不错过任何展览，我尽量看全所有的新作品。”

“我的生活过去也充满了这些东西，可现在，我想摆脱过去的生活，变得跟这里每个人完全一样。”

纽兰满脸通红，说道：“你永远不会跟其他人一样。”

“啊，别那样说！如果你明白我多么讨厌与众不同就好了！”她说话的时候脸色看起来阴郁而忧伤。

他略等片刻之后，清了清嗓子说：“我知道你想——离婚，莱特布莱尔先生告诉我了，这就是我来这里的原因。你知道，我在事务所工作。”

她的眼睛里露出喜色。“你是说你可以为我处理此事？我可以跟你谈，而不用跟莱特布莱尔先生谈？哦，这就轻松多了！你会帮我的，对吗？”

“首先……”他迟疑了一下，“也许我应该多了解一点。”

她看起来很惊讶。“你看过那些文件了？你知道我丈夫有情人的事？还有什么比那更糟糕呢？在这种情况下，我们的教会是允许离婚的。”

“这没错，但是……”纽兰想起了自己看到伯爵的一封来信，信中指责妻子与他的秘书有婚外情。那信里有多少是事实呢？只有埃伦自己能说清楚。“当然，你知道，如果你丈夫选择打官司，就像他威胁你说的那样，他可能讲一些……”

“怎么样？”

“讲一些……可能——令你不快的事情，公开讲出来——即便那些不是事实。”

“就算他公开对我做出那些指责，在纽约这里又能对我造成什么伤害呢？”

纽兰心想：“她仍然不了解我们！”于是他试着解释：“和你过去生活的地方比起来，这里只是一个很小的圈子。我们对结婚和离婚的观念特别守旧；尤其是女子，如果她……因为一些违背常规的行为，而使自己受到无礼的指责。”

她的头垂得很低，纽兰则等待着，急切地期望她会有些许愤怒，哪怕是只言片语，告诉他那些指责都不是事实。而她却一言不发。

钟表在角落里轻轻地嘀嗒响着，整个屋子仿佛都在和纽兰一起默默地等待着。

“是的，”她终于小声说道，“我的家人就是这样说的。你是他们当中的一员，或者不久将是。你和他们的观点一样吗？”

他把目光从她身上移开了片刻。他怎么能说：“是的，假如你丈夫说的是事实？”

他改为柔声说：“如果有可能——肯定——会带来诸多的不快，离婚还真的值得吗？”

“可是我的自由——难道就无所谓了吗？”

“你知道，我的职责是帮助你，让你知道那些最喜爱你的人怎样看待这些事情。”他用毫无意义的话语来打破沉默。既然她不肯或者不能说出一句澄清事实的话，把真相告诉他，那他也没有什么可做的了。

突然，她站起身来。“很好，我会按照你希望的去做。”她说。

他的脸涨红，他抓起她的双手说：“我……我确实想帮助你。”

“你确实帮了我。晚安，表妹夫。”

他俯身吻她的手，那双手冷冰冰的，毫无生气。她把手抻回来，他转身向门口走去，在门厅里取回他的外套和帽子，然后冲进了冬季的夜色中，让刚才没有说出口的话自胸口溢出。

一个星期之后，纽兰来到沃勒克剧院观看当季最热门的一个剧目。这部戏剧他以前看过好几次，其中一场是他的最爱。他此刻在看的就是这一场。在一个房间里，一对恋人简短地道别，声音哀伤。男人动身向门口走去，女人则转过身背朝他走向壁炉，低头看着炉火。她穿着一条灰色长裙，长长的黑丝带垂在背后。她的爱人在门口转过身，看了她最后一眼，接着又悄悄走回来，挽起一根丝带吻了一下才离开屋子。整个过程中，她没有听见他的动静，也没有改变姿势。就在这静静的分手场面中，帷幕落下了。

纽兰觉得这一场与他在巴黎或伦敦的剧院里看过的所有表演同样精彩。这对恋人告别时的沉默和不能言喻的痛苦深深打动了他。这让他回想起——他说不出是因为什么——一周前他与奥兰斯卡夫人结束谈话后的告别场面。

他离开奥兰斯基夫人时，几乎可以肯定奥兰斯基伯爵的指责是事实。埃伦年纪轻轻，既恐惧又感到绝望，对向她伸出援手的人心生感激，不是顺理成章吗？遗憾的是，在法律和世人的眼中，她与那个秘书的婚外情，和她丈夫拥有众多情人同样可恶。纽兰已经向她解释了，在单纯而善良的纽约，她休想得到丝毫谅解。

不得不向她说明这些事实，而且目睹她痛苦地加以接受，这使他极其难受。他很庆幸只有自己知道她这个原本会让其家人极为难堪的秘密。当他告知她的家人，她决定放弃离婚的诉求时，大家对他十分感激，因为他们不必去经历那些因离婚诉求而出现的不愉快事情。

思绪让他想起他与奥兰斯卡夫人的上次谈话。那历历在目的情景，令他在那对恋人分别，帷幕落下的时候，眼里蓄满泪水。他站起身要离开剧院时，发现奥兰斯卡夫人正坐在一个包厢里，和博福特夫妇及其他一些人在一起。之前，他一直避免在社交场合与她见面。不过，现在他们的目光交汇，于是博福特太太向他招手请他加入时，他无法拒绝。

他和博福特夫妇打了招呼，之后很快意识到自己坐在了伯爵夫人身旁。她转过身，小声和他说话。

“你认为明天早上，他会送她一束黄玫瑰吗？”她看着舞台问。

纽兰脸红了，他的心因为惊讶而怦怦跳。他只拜访过她两次，每次都给她送去了黄玫瑰，不过没有留下姓名。她以前从未提及过那些花。如今看来，她已经知道那些花是他送去的，而且还把它们与刚才看到的一场联系起来，这使他心中充满愉悦。

“我也正在想这件事。”他说。

令他意外的是，这回她脸红了。停顿片刻之后，她问：“梅不在的时候，你都做些什么？”

“我继续工作。”他回答说，对这个问题有些不高兴。韦兰一家总是在二月份去佛罗里达，因为他们的医生认为那里温暖的气候对韦兰先生的肺部有好处。他们这会儿就在那儿。纽兰知道自己无法说服他们放弃长久以来的习惯，所以没有尝试过。他本来想和他们同行，但碍于风俗习惯而没有这样做——认真严肃的年轻人不会在隆冬时节休假。

他觉察到奥兰斯卡夫人在看着他。“我明白——关于离婚的事，你是对的。”她略带喘息地说：“可有时候——生活很艰难。”

“我知道。”

“我当时想告诉你，我确实觉得你是对的，我很感激你。”她听到博福特走过来要坐到她身旁时，迅速把观剧镜举到眼睛上。

纽兰站起来，离开包厢，走出了剧院。

前一天，他收到了一封梅的来信。在信中，她请求他在她不在期间善待埃伦。“她非常喜欢和崇拜你。虽然她没有表现出来，但她非常孤单和不快乐。在纽约，差不多只有你能跟她谈谈她真正喜欢的东西。”

他聪慧的梅——因为这封信，他是多么爱她！然而他已订婚，故不想太着迹地伴着伯爵夫人，为她辩解。她照顾自己的能力肯定超出了梅的想象——围绕在她身边的几位男士巴不得给她提供帮助。但即便这样，他每次看见她时，都觉得梅终究是对的，埃伦·奥兰斯卡既孤单又不快乐。

第二天早上，纽兰到花店找黄玫瑰，却没有找着。他跑了几间花店，所以迟了回事务所，但他发现这对别人没有丝毫影响。他对自己生命的徒然顿时感到绝望。他只是在莱特布莱尔先生这种老派的律师事务所里众多年轻人当中的一位，每天花几个小时坐在办公桌前面，或者就只是读读报纸。他们不需要赚钱，只是人人都觉得年轻人不能无所事事。对一位绅士来说，以法律作为职业，比经商更加合适。这些年轻人鲜有人胸怀大志，空虚生活所带来的灰色沉闷，已然在他们很多人当中展现出来。

想到这种沉闷也会蔓延到自己身上，纽兰觉得不寒而栗。“我永远也做不了什么有价值的事情！”他气愤地想，“我对书籍、绘画和音乐的兴趣，还有我的欧洲之旅——在我结婚之后，这些事情还有哪一样能够继续？”他想起他认识的那些人——他们年轻时满怀希望和梦想，就像他现在一样。“可他们怎么样了呢？”他想，“他们的生活变成了日复一日的聚餐、拜访和晚会，漫长、盲目但舒适。”

他让事务所的人给奥兰斯卡夫人送去一封便函，询问可否在当日下午去拜访，但他当天以及第二天都没有收到回复。这一出人意料的沉默让他没来由的气愤。第三天上午，他才收到她的一封短信，而令他惊讶的是，信是从斯库特克利夫寄来的。信上写着：

在剧院见到你的第二天，我逃跑了。这些好心的朋友允许我留在这里，想待多久都可以。我想安静下来，把事情好好想一想。我觉得在这里很安全，真希望你能和我们在一起。埃伦·奥兰斯卡，谨启。

“她在逃避什么呢？”他为此感到疑惑，“她为什么需要安全感呢？不过，她肯定让范德卢顿夫妇很有好感——他们通常不会挽留客人待上超过一个周末。”

她的离开让他感到失望。接着，他记起自己曾收到奇弗斯夫妇的邀请，请他前往他们位于海班克的乡间别墅共度周末，那地方离斯库特克利夫不远。于是，他匆匆写了一封电报并立刻发出去，说他接受他们的邀请。