Chapter 2
At two o'clock, I dined again with Miss Halcombe. Miss Fairlie, I was told, was not hungry, but she wished to meet me afterwards out at the summerhouse. Thus, Miss Halcombe and I chatted alone. She had not found anything significant so far in the letters, but said she would be looking them over for the rest of the day.
After lunch, we went out to the summerhouse. Inside stood a woman looking out at the surrounding fields and hills, and absently turning over the leaves of a little sketchbook that lay at her side. This was Miss Fairlie.
She had a light, youthful figure, clothed in a simple dress. Her hair was a faint and pale brown. The eyebrows were rather darker than the hair; and the eyes were of that soft, transparent blue, so often sung by the poets, but so seldom seen in real life.
Although she was exceedingly charming and beautiful, I found something wanting in her appearance. Where it was, and what it was, I could not say. It was not until later on in the evening that I discovered the source of this feeling.
It was just after dinner, and we were together sitting in the drawing room. Miss Fairlie was playing the piano for me, and Miss Halcombe was searching through her mother's letters by the last quiet rays of the evening light.
After about a half-hour Miss Halcombe's voice suddenly interrupted the sounds of Mozart.
“Mr. Hartright, listen to this letter. It seems to have been written around eleven or twelve years ago. At that time Mr. and Mrs. Fairlie, and Laura, had been living for years in this house. I was away, completing my education at a school in Paris.”
Miss Fairlie, meanwhile, had risen from the piano and walked out onto the balcony.
The letter read as follows:
“My dear Philip, I have something really interesting to tell you about a new student of mine. As you know, old Mrs. Kempe has fallen terribly ill, and her sister's come to care for her. This sister's name is Mrs. Catherick. Well, four days ago Mrs. Catherick came here to see me, and brought her only child with her, a sweet little girl about a year older than our darling Laura. She asked if her daughter might join my classes at school, at least until Mrs. Kempe passes on. I consented at once. The poor little thing's intellect is not as developed as it ought to be. Her clothes are a bit shabby, so I arranged, yesterday, that some of our darling Laura's old, white dresses and white hats should be altered for Anne (that is the girl's name). When I gave these to her today, her gratefulness was unbelievable. She kissed my hand suddenly, and said, ‘Oh! Thank you! I'll always wear white as long as I live. It'll help me to remember you when I go away.'”
Miss Halcombe paused, and looked at me across the piano.
“Did the woman whom you met in the highroad seem to be about the age of twenty-two or three? ”
“Yes. And dressed completely in white...”
While the answer was passing my lips Miss Fairlie glided into view on the terrace. She stood, a white figure, alone in the moonlight. Suddenly, I could not believe my eyes! She was the living image, at that distance and under those circumstances, of the woman in white! And then it became clear that“something wanting” I had felt was my own recognition of the likeness between the fugitive from the asylum and my pupil at Limmeridge House.
“My mother says further down in the letter, ” continued Miss Halcombe, “that she was surprised by the likeness between this girl and Laura.”
“Indeed! ” I said, my voice shaking with agitation. “They are very much the same! ”
summerhouse /ˈsʌməhaʊs/ n.凉亭；亭子
significant /sɪɡˈnɪfɪkənt/ adj.有意义的；重大的
sketchbook/ˈsketʃbʊk/n． 写生簿；素描书
faint/feɪnt/adj． 微弱的，暗淡的，模糊的
eyebrow/ˈaɪb raʊ/n．眉毛
transparent /t ræn sˈpærən t/adj． 透明的；显然的，明晰的
exceedingly /ɪkˈsi:dɪŋlɪ/ adv.非常；极其
consent/kənˈsent/vi．同意，赞成，答应
intellect/ˈɪntɪlekt/n．智力
alter/ˈɔ:ltə/vt．改变；转交
glide/ɡ laɪd/v i．滑行；悄悄地走
terrace/ˈterəs/n．露台，阳台
recognition /ˌrekəɡˈnɪʃən/ n.承认；识别
agitation/ˌædʒɪˈt eɪʃən/n． 激动，兴奋