借镜杀人2
时间：2025-10-10 07:00:30
（单词翻译:单击）
One
Mrs. Van Rydock moved a little back from the mirror and sighed.
“Well, that’ll have to do,” she murmured.
“Think it’s all right, Jane?”
Miss Marple eyed the Lanvanelli creation appraisingly1.
“It seems to me a very beautiful gown,” she said.
“The gown’s all right,” said Mrs. Van Rydock and sighed.
“Take it off, Stephanie,” she said.
The elderly maid with the grey hair and the small pinched mouth, eased
the gown carefully up over Mrs. Van Rydock’s up-stretched arms.
Mrs. Van Rydock stood in front of the glass in her peach satin slip. She
was exquisitely2 corseted. Her still shapely legs were encased in fine nylon
ally impossible when looking at Mrs. Van Rydock, to imagine what she
would be like in a natural state. Everything that money could do had been
done for her—reinforced by diet, massage, and constant exercises.
Ruth Van Rydock looked humorously at her friend.
“Do you think most people would guess, Jane, that you and I are practic-
ally the same age?”
Miss Marple responded loyally.
“Not for a moment, I’m sure,” she said reassuringly6. “I’m afraid, you
know, that I look every minute of my age!”
Miss Marple was white-haired, with a soft pink-and-white wrinkled face
and innocent china blue eyes. She looked a very sweet old lady. Nobody
would have called Mrs. Van Rydock a sweet old lady.
“I guess you do, Jane,” said Mrs. Van Rydock. She grinned suddenly,
“And so do I. Only not in the same way. ‘Wonderful how that old hag
keeps her figure.’ That’s what they say of me. But they know I’m an old
hag all right! And, my God, do I feel like one!”
She dropped heavily onto the satin, quilted chair.
“That’s all right, Stephanie,” she said. “You can go.”
Stephanie gathered up the dress and went out.
“Good old Stephanie,” said Ruth Van Rydock. “She’s been with me for
over thirty years now. She’s the only woman who knows what I really
look like! Jane, I want to talk to you.”
Miss Marple leant forward a little. Her face took on a receptive expres-
sion. She looked, somehow, an incongruous figure in the ornate bedroom
ried a large shopping bag, and looked every inch a lady.
“I’m worried, Jane. About Carrie Louise.”
it took her a long way back.
The pensionnat in Florence. Herself, the pink and white English girl
from a Cathedral close. The two Martin girls, Americans, exciting to the
small, dainty, wistful.
“When did you see her last, Jane?”
“Oh! not for many many years. It must be twenty-five at least. Of course,
we still send cards at Christmas.”
Such an odd thing, friendship! She, young Jane Marple, and the two
persisting; occasional letters, remembrances at Christmas. Strange that
Ruth whose home—or rather homes—had been in America should be the
sister whom she had seen the more often of the two. No, perhaps not
strange. Like most Americans of her class, Ruth had been cosmopolitan15.
Every year or two she had come over to Europe, rushing from London to
Paris, on to the Riviera, and back again, and always keen to snatch a few
moments wherever she was, with her old friends. There had been many
meetings like this one. In Claridge’s, or the Savoy, or the Berkeley, or the
Dorchester. A recherché meal, affectionate reminiscences, and a hurried
and affectionate good- bye. Ruth had never had time to visit St. Mary
So it was American Ruth whom she had seen most of, whereas Carrie
Louise who lived in England, she had not now seen for over twenty years.
Odd, but quite natural, because when one lives in the same country there
is no need to arrange meetings with old friends. One assumes that, sooner
or later, one will see them without contrivance. Only, if you move in dif-
ferent spheres, that does not happen. The paths of Jane Marple and Carrie
Louise did not cross. It was as simple as that.
“Why are you worried about Carrie Louise, Ruth?” asked Miss Marple.
“In a way that’s what worries me most! I just don’t know.”
“She’s not ill?”
“She’s very delicate—always has been. I wouldn’t say she’d been any
worse than usual—considering that she’s getting on just as we all are.”
“Unhappy?”
“Oh no.”
No, it wouldn’t be that, thought Miss Marple. It would be difficult to ima-
gine Carrie Louise unhappy—and yet there were times in her life when
she must have been. Only—the picture did not come clearly. Bewildered—
yes—incredulous—yes—but violent grief—no.
Mrs. Van Rydock’s words came appositely.
“Carrie Louise,” she said, “has always lived right out of this world. She
doesn’t know what it’s like. Maybe it’s that that worries me.”
“Her circumstances,” began Miss Marple, then stopped, shaking her
head. “No,” she said.
“No, it’s she herself,” said Ruth Van Rydock. “Carrie Louise was always
the one of us who had ideals. Of course, it was the fashion when we were
young to have ideals—we all had them, it was the proper thing for young
One gets over all that nonsense. Marriage, I suppose one might say, knocks
it out of one. Still, take it by and large, I haven’t done badly out of mar-
riage.”
Miss Marple thought that Ruth was expressing it mildly. Ruth had been
married three times, each time to an extremely wealthy man, and the res-
ultant divorces had increased her bank balance without in the least sour-
ing her disposition21.
“Of course,” said Mrs. Van Rydock, “I’ve always been tough. Things don’t
get me down. I’ve not expected too much of life and certainly not expected
too much of men—and I’ve done very well out of it—and no hard feelings.
Tommy and I are still excellent friends, and Julius often asks me my opin-
ion about the market.” Her face darkened. “I believe that’s what worries
me about Carrie Louise—she’s always had a tendency, you know, to marry
cranks.”
“Cranks?”
“People with ideals. Carrie Louise was always a pushover for ideals.
There she was, as pretty as they make them, just seventeen and listening
with a family of grown- up children — all because of his philanthropic
ideas. She used to sit listening to him spellbound. Just like Desdemona and
Othello. Only fortunately there was no Iago about to mess things up—and
anyway Gulbrandsen wasn’t coloured. He was a Swede or a Norwegian or
something.”
Miss Marple nodded thoughtfully. The name of Gulbrandsen had an in-
had been the only solution to the disposal of it. The name still held signific-
ance. The Gulbrandsen Trust, the Gulbrandsen Research Fellowships, the
Gulbrandsen Administrative25 Almshouses, and best known of all the vast
educational College for the sons of working men.
“She didn’t marry him for his money, you know,” said Ruth, “I should
have if I’d married him at all. But not Carrie Louise. I don’t know what
would have happened if he hadn’t died when she was thirty-two. Thirty-
two’s a very nice age for a widow. She’s got experience, but she’s still ad-
aptable.”
The spinster listening to her, nodded gently whilst her mind reviewed,
tentatively, widows she had known in the village of St. Mary Mead.
“I was really happiest about Carrie Louise when she was married to
Johnnie Restarick. Of course, he married her for her money—or if not ex-
actly that, at any rate he wouldn’t have married her if she hadn’t had any.
Johnnie was a selfish pleasure-loving lazy hound, but that’s so much safer
than a crank. All Johnnie wanted was to live soft. He wanted Carrie Louise
to go to the best dressmakers and have yachts and cars and enjoy herself
with him. That kind of man is so very safe. Give him comfort and luxury
and he’ll purr like a cat and be absolutely charming to you. I never took
that scene designing and theatrical26 stuff of his very seriously. But Carrie
Louise was thrilled by it—saw it all as Art with a capital A and really
forced him back into those surroundings and then that dreadful
Yugoslavian woman got hold of him and just swept him off with her. He
didn’t really want to go. If Carrie Louise had waited and been sensible, he
would have come back to her.”
“Did she care very much?” asked Miss Marple.
“That’s the funny thing. I don’t really believe she did. She was absolutely
sweet about it all—but then she would be. She is sweet. Quite anxious to
divorce him so that he and that creature could get married. And offering
to give those two boys of his by his first marriage a home with her because
it would be more settled for them. So there poor Johnnie was—he had to
marry the woman and she led him an awful six months and then drove
but I think it was just temper!”
Mrs. Van Rydock paused, took up a mirror and gazed at her face search-
“And what does Carrie Louise do next but marry this man Lewis Serro-
cold. Another crank! Another man with ideals! Oh I don’t say he isn’t de-
improve everybody’s lives for them. And really, you know, nobody can do
that but yourself.”
“I wonder,” said Miss Marple.
“Only, of course, there’s a fashion in these things, just like there is in
wear in the way of skirts?) Where was I? Oh yes, fashion. Well, there’s a
fashion in philanthropy too. It used to be education in Gulbrandsen’s day.
But that’s out of date now. The State has stepped in. Everyone expects edu-
cation as a matter of right—and doesn’t think much of it when they get it!
criminals and potential criminals. Everyone’s mad about them. You
should see Lewis Serrocold’s eyes sparkle behind those thick glasses of his.
Crazy with enthusiasm! One of those men of enormous willpower who
like living on a banana and a piece of toast and put all their energies into a
cause. And Carrie Louise eats it up—just as she always did. But I don’t like
it, Jane. They’ve had meetings of the trustees and the whole place has been
turned over to this new idea. It’s a training establishment now for these
juvenile criminals, complete with psychiatrists33 and psychologists and all
the rest of it. There Lewis and Carrie Louise are, living there, surrounded
by these boys—who aren’t perhaps quite normal. And the place stiff with
occupational therapists and teachers and enthusiasts34, half of them quite
mad. Cranks, all the lot of them, and my little Carrie Louise in the middle
of it all!”
She paused—and stared helplessly at Miss Marple.
Miss Marple said in a faintly puzzled voice:
“But you haven’t told me yet, Ruth, what you are really afraid of.”
“I tell you, I don’t know! And that’s what worries me. I’ve just been down
there — for a flying visit. And I felt all along that there was something
wrong. In the atmosphere—in the house—I know I’m not mistaken. I’m
sensitive to atmosphere, always have been. Did I ever tell you how I urged
Julius to sell out of Amalgamated35 Cereals before the crash came? And
wasn’t I right? Yes, something is wrong down there. But I don’t know why
or what—if it’s these dreadful young jailbirds—or if it’s nearer home. I
can’t say what it is. There’s Lewis just living for his ideas and not noticing
anything else, and Carrie Louise, bless her, never seeing or hearing or
thinking anything except what’s a lovely sight, or a lovely sound, or a
lovely thought. It’s sweet but it isn’t practical. There is such a thing as evil
—and I want you, Jane, to go down there right away and find out just ex-
actly what’s the matter.”
“Me?” exclaimed Miss Marple. “Why me?”
“Because you’ve got a nose for that sort of thing. You always had. You’ve
always been a sweet innocent looking creature, Jane, and all the time un-
derneath nothing has ever surprised you, you always believe the worst.”
“The worst is so often true,” murmured Miss Marple.
“Why you have such a poor idea of human nature, I can’t think—living
in that sweet peaceful village of yours, so old world and pure.”
“You have never lived in a village, Ruth. The things that go on in a pure
peaceful village would probably surprise you.”
“Oh I daresay. My point is that they don’t surprise you. So you will go
down to Stonygates and find out what’s wrong, won’t you?”
“But, Ruth dear, that would be a most difficult thing to do.”
“No, it wouldn’t. I’ve thought it all out. If you won’t be absolutely mad at
me, I’ve prepared the ground already.”
Mrs. Van Rydock paused, eyed Miss Marple rather uneasily, lighted a ci-
“You’ll admit, I’m sure, that things have been difficult in this country
that is to say, Jane.”
“Oh yes, indeed. But for the kindness, the really great kindness of my
nephew Raymond, I don’t know really where I should be.”
“Never mind your nephew,” said Mrs. Van Rydock. “Carrie Louise
knows nothing about your nephew—or if she does, she knows him as a
writer and has no idea that he’s your nephew. The point, as I put it to Car-
rie Louise, is that it’s just too bad about dear Jane. Really sometimes
hardly enough to eat, and of course far too proud ever to appeal to old
friends. One couldn’t, I said, suggest money—but a nice long rest in lovely
surroundings, with an old friend and with plenty of nourishing food, and
“Now go on—be mad at me if you want to be.”
Miss Marple opened her china blue eyes in gentle surprise.
approach. I’m sure Carrie Louise responded.”
“She’s writing to you. You’ll find the letter when you get back. Honestly,
Jane, you don’t feel that I’ve taken an unpardonable liberty? You won’t
mind—”
“Going to Stonygates as an object of charity—more or less under false
and I am inclined to agree with you.”
Mrs. Van Rydock stared at her.
“But why? What have you heard?”
“I haven’t heard anything. It’s just your conviction. You’re not a fanciful
woman, Ruth.”
“No, but I haven’t anything definite to go upon.”
“I remember,” said Miss Marple thoughtfully, “one Sunday morning at
Lamble and feeling more and more worried about her. Quite sure, you
know, that something was wrong—badly wrong—and yet being quite un-
able to say why. A most disturbing feeling and very, very definite.”
“And was there something wrong?”
time, and the very next day he went for her with the coal hammer, roaring
out that she was Antichrist masquerading as his daughter. He nearly
covered after months in hospital—but it was a very near thing.”
“And you’d actually had a premonition that day in church?”
“I wouldn’t call it a premonition. It was founded on fact—these things
usually are, though one doesn’t always recognise it at the time. She was
wearing her Sunday hat the wrong way round. Very significant, really, be-
cause Grace Lamble was a most precise woman, not at all vague or absent-
minded—and the circumstances under which she would not notice which
way her hat was put on to go to church were really extremely limited. Her
father, you see, had thrown a marble paperweight at her and it had
shattered the looking glass. She had caught up her hat, put it on, and hur-
ried out of the house. Anxious to keep up appearances and for the ser-
vants not to hear anything. She put down these actions, you see, to ‘dear
hinged. Though she ought to have realised it clearly enough. He was al-
ways complaining to her of being spied upon and of enemies — all the
usual symptoms, in fact.”
Mrs. Van Rydock gazed respectfully at her friend.
“Maybe, Jane,” she said, “that St. Mary Mead of yours isn’t quite the
“Human nature, dear, is very much the same everywhere. It is more dif-
ficult to observe it closely in a city, that is all.”
“And you’ll go to Stonygates?”
“I’ll go to Stonygates. A little unfair, perhaps, on my nephew Raymond.
To let it be thought that he does not assist me, I mean. Still the dear boy is
in Mexico for six months. And by that time it should all be over.”
“What should all be over?”
“Carrie Louise’s invitation will hardly be for an indefinite stay. Three
weeks, perhaps—a month. That should be ample.”
“For you to find out what is wrong?”
“For me to find out what is wrong.”
“My, Jane,” said Mrs. Van Rydock, “you’ve got a lot of confidence in
yourself, haven’t you?”
Miss Marple looked faintly reproachful.
“You have confidence in me, Ruth. Or so you say … I can only assure you
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
appraisingly
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| adv.以品评或评价的眼光 | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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3
cosmetics
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| n.化妆品 | |
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massage
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| n.按摩，揉；vt.按摩，揉，美化，奉承，篡改数据 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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dowdy
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| adj.不整洁的；过旧的 | |
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musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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forthright
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| adj.直率的，直截了当的 [同]frank | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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diverging
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| 分开( diverge的现在分词 )； 偏离； 分歧； 分道扬镳 | |
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cosmopolitan
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| adj.世界性的，全世界的，四海为家的，全球的 | |
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mead
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| n.蜂蜜酒 | |
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tempo
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| n.(音乐的)速度；节奏，行进速度 | |
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presto
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| adv.急速地；n.急板乐段；adj.急板的 | |
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adagio
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| adj.缓慢的；n.柔板；慢板；adv.缓慢地 | |
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nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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widower
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| n.鳏夫 | |
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acumen
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| n.敏锐，聪明 | |
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colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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administrative
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| adj.行政的，管理的 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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tweezers
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| n.镊子 | |
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bug
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| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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psychiatrists
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| n.精神病专家，精神病医生( psychiatrist的名词复数 ) | |
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enthusiasts
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| n.热心人，热衷者( enthusiast的名词复数 ) | |
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amalgamated
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| v.（使）（金属）汞齐化( amalgamate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）合并；联合；结合 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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pretences
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| n.假装( pretence的名词复数 )；作假；自命；自称 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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idyllic
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| adj.质朴宜人的，田园风光的 | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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