Chapter 26 twenty six

Mrs. Driffield very kindly offered to drive me back to Blackshire in her car, but I preferred to walk back.I promised to dine again at Fern Hall the next day, and at the same time I promised to tell Edward that I had seen so often.I will write down some of the things I still remember from those two periods in Driffield.I walked along the winding road without meeting a soul, wondering what I should say next day.Don't we often hear that style is the art of abridgement?If that were the case, I could have made a beautiful article of what I had to say, and it seems a pity that Roy should only use it as material.I giggled at the thought that if I wanted to, I could deliver a piece of news that would shock them all.Everything they want to know about Edward.Driffield and the circumstances of his previous marriage could be told by any one; but I intend to keep the matter a secret.They thought Rosie was dead, and they were wrong; Rosie was alive and well.

That time I went to New York for one of my plays, and my agent's press representative worked very hard to spread the news of my arrival in New York so that everyone knew about it.One day I received a letter, the handwriting on it was very familiar, but I couldn't remember whose it was from.The characters are big, round and powerful, but it can be seen that the person who wrote them has not received much education.The handwriting was so familiar that I couldn't help being annoyed that I couldn't remember whose handwriting it was.In fact, it would be reasonable to open the letter at once; but I looked at the envelope and thought hard.Some of the handwriting made me shiver with fright, and some letters were so annoying to me that I didn't even bother to open them after a week.But when I finally tore open the envelope in my hand, the contents inside gave me a strange feeling.The letter begins abruptly:

I just read about you in New York and would love to see you again.I don't live in New York now, but I live in Yonkers [Note: A city in New York State, USA. 】Not far from New York, if you have a car, you can get there in less than half an hour.I think you must be very busy, so please book a date.Although we have been separated for many years, I hope you have not forgotten your old friend. Rossi.Igulden (formerly Driffield) I looked at the address, and it was Albemarle, obviously a hotel or apartment building, followed by the street name and the place name of Yonkers.I couldn't help shivering, as if someone was walking on my grave. 】.I've sometimes thought of Rosie in those old days, but lately I've thought to myself that she must be dead, and for a moment I've been puzzled by her last name.How is it Igulden and not Kemp?It occurred to me afterwards that they must have taken this false surname when they fled from England, which is also a Kentish surname.At first I was tempted to find an excuse not to see her; with people I hadn't seen for a long time, I was always less inclined to see her again.But I suddenly felt very curious and wanted to see how she was doing now and hear what happened to her later.I was going to Dob's Ferry for the weekend and had to go through Yonkers on the way, so I wrote back and told her I was going to see her Saturday afternoon around four o'clock.

Albemarle is a sprawling, relatively new apartment complex that seems to be populated by well-to-do people.The doorman was a uniformed black man who gave my name on the phone, and another black man took the elevator to take me upstairs, and I was extremely nervous.It was also a black maid who opened the door for me. Come in, she said, Mrs Iggleton is waiting for you. I introduced a living-dining room with a carved oak square table at one end, a cupboard and four handles of Grand Rapids. 】The manufacturer of the chair would definitely think it was a chair produced in the era of King James I.But at the other end stood a set of Louis XV furniture, all gilded and upholstered in pale blue brocade; round it were many small tables, also gilded and richly carved, on which stood Gilded Sèvres [Note: A city in northern France. vases, and bronze statues of nude women, with friezes deftly covering, as if blown by a gust of wind, those parts which decency should conceal; There was a lamp in it.The record player in the room was the most luxurious I have ever seen in a shop window. It was gilded all over and looked like a sedan chair, with Watteau painted on the outside. 】style courtiers and their wives.

I waited about five minutes, and a door opened, and Rosie came out briskly.She held out both hands to me. Oh, that's incredible, she said, I don't want to think how many years we've been gone.please wait a while.She went to the door and called out: "Jessie, tea is ready."The water has to be boiled well.Then she came back and said: You don't know how hard it was for me to teach this girl how to make tea. Rosie was at least seventy years old and covered in diamantee [Note: French, jeweled. ], wearing a very beautiful green chiffon sleeveless dress with a square neckline and a short hem that fit like a tight glove.From her figure, I guess she was wearing a rubber corset underneath.Her nails were painted bright red and her eyebrows were trimmed.She had gained weight and had a double chin; although she had powdered her bare chest, her skin was still flushed, and so was her face.But she looked healthy and energetic.Her hair is still very thick, but the color is almost white, cut very short and permed.When she was younger she had soft, naturally curly hair, and now these stiff perm waves that make her look like she just came out of the barbershop seem to be the biggest change that has happened to her.The only thing that has not changed is her smile, which still has the same childish, naughty and cute look as before.Her teeth had never been very good, they were neither neat nor good-looking, but now she had a set of neat, white and shiny dentures.These are clearly the most beautiful dentures money can buy.

The negro maid brought a fine and rich tea, with mince pies, sandwiches, biscuits, sweets, and little knives and forks and napkins.Everything is neatly arranged. Eating tea is a habit I can never give up.Rosie picked up a piping hot buttered scone and said, really, this is the best meal of my day, but I know I shouldn't have it.My doctor keeps saying to me: Mrs Iggleton, if you eat six or seven biscuits every day with your tea, you can't lose weight.She smiled at me, and I suddenly had the vague feeling that Rosie, despite her wavy hair, white powder, and fat body, was the same as ever.But let me say this: you enjoy a little of what you like, and it will do you good.

I've always found it easy to talk to Rosie.After a while, we were chatting as if we hadn't seen each other for just a few weeks. Are you surprised to receive my letter?I added Driffield so you know who wrote it.We changed the surname Igulden when we came to America.Something unpleasant happened to George when he left Blacktown, as you may have heard.So he thinks in a new country it's better to start over with a new surname, you know what I mean. I nodded vaguely. Poor George, he died ten years ago. I'm so sorry to hear that. Well, he's old too, past seventy, but you'd never guess his age from his appearance.His passing hit me hard.He was so considerate to me that no woman would want a better husband.Between our marriage and his death, we never had a fight.Another consolation is that the property he left allows me to live comfortably.

I'm glad to know that. Yeah, he's doing a great job here.He was in construction, which he had always loved, and he knew the Tammany people very well.He always said the biggest mistake in his life was not coming here twenty years earlier.He fell in love with this country from the day he set foot on this land.He has drive, and that's what's needed here.He's someone who thrives in that environment. Have you never been back to England? No, I never wanted to go back.George would talk about it sometimes, you know, just go back and take a trip back then, but we never really got around to it.Now that he is dead, I have no such intentions.I think that when I get used to New York and return to London, I will definitely feel lifeless on the one hand, but also have a lot of emotions on the other hand.We used to live in New York all the time.I only moved here after he died.

Why did you pick Yonkers? Oh I've always loved this place.I used to tell George that when we retire we'll live in Yonkers.I think this place is a bit like England.Like Maidstone or Guildford or something like that. I smiled, but I understood what she meant.For all its blaring trams and beeping cars, movie theaters and illuminated signs, Yonkers' main street twists and turns and looks faintly like a jazzed English town. Of course, sometimes I'd like to know what happened to all those people in Heilong Town, most of them are dead now, I think.Probably they thought I wasn't alive anymore.

I haven't been there for thirty years either. At that time, I didn't know that the rumor of Rossi's death had spread to Heishan Town.Someone probably took George.The news of Kemp's death was brought back, and it was misrepresented as Rossi. I don't think anyone here knows you're Edward.Driffield's first wife? of course not.Hey, if I knew, those reporters would be buzzing around my apartment like a swarm of bees.You know, sometimes I go over to people's houses to play bridge, and they talk about Ted's book, and I can hardly stop laughing.In America, they love his books very much.I never thought the books were that good.

You've never been much of a fan of novels, have you? I used to like history more, but now I don't seem to have much time to read; I like Sunday best.I think the Sunday newspaper here is very good.There are no such newspapers in England.And of course, I played bridge a lot.I especially love to play contract bridge. I remember when I first met Rosie as a kid and was impressed by her superior skill at whist.I thought she was a bridge player of the sort I was familiar with, quick, bold, and accurate; a capable companion, but a dangerous opponent. When Ted died, you would have been surprised to see the noise here.They thought he was great, but it never occurred to me that he was such a big man.The newspapers were full of articles about him, with his picture and that of the Fern house.Ted used to always say that someday he would live in this house.Why on earth did he marry that hospital nurse?I always thought he would be with Patton.Mrs Trafford married.They never had kids, did they? No. Ted would love to have children.It was a big blow to him when I said after the birth of my first child that there would be no more. I didn't know you ever had a baby.I said in surprise. Of course it happened.That's why Ted and I got married.But it was very difficult for me to give birth to this child. The doctor said that I could not have another child.If she had lived, poor little one, I don't think I would have eloped with George.She was six years old when she died, a lovely little girl, very pretty. You never mentioned her. No, I can't stand talking about her.She had meningitis and we took her to the hospital.They put her in a single room and let us stay with her.I will never forget her pain.She kept screaming and screaming, and no one could do anything about it. Rosie choked up and couldn't speak. Was it the scene of death described by Driffield in "The Fate of Life"? Yes, that is the scene.I've always thought Ted was really weird.He couldn't bear to mention it like me, but he wrote it all in the book; he didn't miss anything; he even wrote some details that I didn't notice at the time, and I remembered it after reading it .You'd think Ted was really ruthless, but he wasn't, and he was just as miserable as I was.When we came home together at night, he would cry like a baby.What a weirdo, right? It was the novel "The Fate of Life" which at the time aroused an exceptionally strong disapproval; and it was the death of the child, and the episode narrated afterward, which attracted Driffield's most vicious invective.I still vividly remember that description, which was so tragic that there was no trace of sentimentality in it; it did not elicit tears from the reader, but it aroused the reader's anger that a young child should be so cruelly treated. pain.You feel that such things can only be explained by God on Judgment Day.That passage is very powerful.But if this plot is derived from real life, is the subsequent plot also real?It was this latter description that shocked the public in the 1890s, and was condemned by critics as not only indecent but also unbelievable.In Life's Mistakes the couple (whose names I have forgotten) come home from the hospital for tea after the death of their child; they are poor, living in a rented house on a subsistence income.It was late then, around seven o'clock.They were exhausted after a week of constant tension and anxiety, and their spirits were utterly devastated by grief.They had nothing to say to each other, and sat opposite each other in dejected silence.Several hours passed.Then the wife got up suddenly and went into the bedroom to put on her hat. I want to go out for a walk.she says. All right. They live near Victoria Station.She went down Buckingham Palace Street, through the park.She reached Piccadilly and walked slowly towards Piccadilly Circus.A man saw her eyes looking at him, stopped and turned around. Good evening.He said. Good evening.She stopped and smiled. How about going for a drink with me?he asked. It's fine if I go. They went into a tavern in a side street off Piccadilly, where there were a lot of whores, and the men came up to talk to them, and they had a beer together.She chatted and laughed with this stranger, and made up a ridiculous story about herself to tell him.Then he asked her if he could go home with her; she said no, he couldn't, but they could book a hotel.They got into a carriage and drove to Bloomsbury, where they took a room in a hotel for the night.The next morning she took a bus to Trafalgar Square and walked through the park; when she got home her husband was sitting down to breakfast.After breakfast, they went back to the hospital to arrange the child's funeral.Rosie, can you tell me one thing?I asked, are the things that happened after the death of the child in the book true? She looked at me hesitantly for a moment, and then her still charming smile appeared on her lips. Alas, that was many years ago, and it doesn't matter if you talk about it.Tell you I don't care either.What he wrote was not entirely true.He's just guessing.I was still amazed at how much he guessed, though, and I never told him anything about that night. Rosie picked up a cigarette and tapped the end thoughtfully on the table, but she did not light it. As he says in the book, we come home from the hospital.We walked back; I didn't think I could sit still in the cab, I felt like everything in me was dead.I have been crying to death, I can't cry anymore, I'm so tired.Ted tried to comfort me, but I said: God, don't say anything.He didn't say anything after that.At that time, we rented a flat on the third floor of an apartment building on Warhol Bridge Road, with only a living room and a bedroom, so we had to take the poor child to the hospital; Ted was unable to care for her, and the landlady said she did not wish to keep the sick child in the house, and Ted said she could get better care in the hospital.The landlady was not a bad person, a former prostitute, and Ted would chat with her for hours.That day when she heard we were back, she went upstairs to inquire. How is the girl tonight?she asked. she died.Ted said. I can't say anything.Then the landlady brought us tea.I didn't want to eat anything, but Ted made me eat some ham.Then I sat by the window.I didn't look back when the landlady came up to clear away the glasses, I didn't want anyone to talk to me.Ted was reading a book, or at least pretended to, but he didn't turn the pages.I saw his tears dripping on the book.I kept looking out the window.It was the end of June, on the 28th, and the day was already very long.Our house was near the corner of the street, and I watched the people going in and out of the hotel, the trams coming and going.I felt as though the days would never end, and then suddenly I realized it was dark.All the lights were on, and the streets were incredibly crowded.I feel exhausted and my legs are as heavy as lead. Why don't you light the lamp?I said to Ted. Would you like to light a lamp?He said. Sitting in a dark room is no good.I said. He lit his lamp and began to smoke his pipe.I know a puff will do him good.But I sat there, looking out the window at the street, and I didn't know what was wrong with me, except that if I kept sitting in the room like this I was going to lose my mind.I want to go somewhere with lights and people.I want to leave Ted.No, not so much to leave him, but to leave everything Ted was thinking and feeling.We only have two rooms.I went into the bedroom and the baby's cot was still there, but I didn't want to look at it.I put on my hat and veil, changed my clothes, and then I went back to Ted. I want to go out for a while.I said. Ted looked up at me.I think he must have noticed that I had a new dress on, and perhaps a certain tone of voice made him understand that I didn't want him to accompany me. All right.He said. In the book he imagined me walking through the park, which I didn't.When I got to Victoria Station, I took a cab to Charing Cross [Note: An irregular square in London. ], only cost one shilling.Then I walked down Riverside Street.Before I go out, I think about what to do.do you remember harryRetford?He was playing at the Adelphi Theatre, where he was the number two comedic character.I went to the back door of the theater and put my name in.I have always liked Harry.Retford.I think he's a bit of a bohemian, and he's good at tricks with money, but he can make you laugh; and despite his faults, he's a rare good guy.do you know?Later he served in the Boer War [Note: 1899-1902 British and South African Boers' war. ] was beaten to death. have no idea.All I know is that he disappeared and never saw his name on show posters.I thought he went into business or changed his career. No, he went as soon as the war started.He was killed at Ladysmith.I waited a while that night and he came down.I said: Harry, let's go have a drink tonight.How about going to the Romano's for a late-night snack?Very good.He said, wait for me here, and I will come down after the play is over after I take off my makeup.I felt better when I saw him; the other day he was playing a horse-racing peddler, and I couldn't help seeing him on stage in a plaid suit and a bowler hat with a red nose. laugh.I waited until the play was over, and then he came down, and we walked together to the Romano's. are you hungry?he ask me. Very hungry.I said.I feel very hungry. Let's go for the best meal to-day, he said, whatever the cost.I told Bill.Terry: I'm taking my best girl to supper, and I'm borrowing a few quid from him. Let's drink champagne.I said. For a woman whose husband died [Note: The original text is widow, which means champagne in slang. 】Three cheers.He said. I don't know if you've been to Hotel Romano before.It's very interesting there.You can meet all the theatrical people and the race people there, and the dancers from the Gaiety go there too.What a great place.And the Roman boss.Harry knew him, he came to our table as soon as we entered; he used to talk to people in funny, broken English.I guess he was putting it on because he knew people would laugh at it.If any of his acquaintances had run out of money, he always lent him a five-pound note. How is the baby?Harry asked. Better.I said. I don't want to tell him the truth.You know how funny men are; there are things they don't understand.I knew Harry would think it was unreasonable for me to come out to have supper with the poor boy when he knew he was lying dead in the hospital.He'll say he's feeling really bad and stuff like that, but that's not what I need; I just want to have a good laugh. Rosie now lit the cigarette she had been holding in her hand. You know sometimes when a woman is having a baby, her husband can't stand it anymore; and runs off to find another woman.And when the wife finds out later, which is funny how she always does, she keeps making noise.She said she was suffering and her man was doing that, and alas, that was too much.I always advise such women not to be stupid.It didn't mean her husband didn't love her, or that he wasn't terribly distressed, it didn't mean anything at all, it was just nerves.If he hadn't been so distressed, it would never have occurred to him to do such a thing.I know this feeling well, because that's how I felt at the time. After we had supper Harry said, hey, how's it going? what aboutI said. Dancing wasn't popular back then, so there wasn't much to go after supper. How about going over to my place to see my photo album?Harry asked. It's okay if you go.I said. At that time Harry had a very small flat in Charing Cross Road, just two rooms, a bathroom and a kitchenette, and we took a carriage to him, and I spent the night in his flat. When I got home the next morning, breakfast was already on the table.Ted just started eating.I made up my mind that if he said anything, I'd get mad at him.I don't care what happens.I used to earn money to support myself, and I'm ready to start again.I wish I could pack up and leave him immediately.But when I entered the room, he just looked up at me. You came at just the right time.He said, I was going to eat your sausage too. I sat down and poured him a cup of tea.He continued to read his newspaper and after breakfast, we went to the hospital together.He never asked where I was that night.I don't know what he thinks.He was very considerate to me during that time.I feel very sad.Somehow I feel like I just can't forget about it.Ted went out of his way to make me feel better. What do you think after reading his book?I asked. Oh, I was really taken aback to see how well he knew what happened that night.What I can't figure out is that he wrote all of this out.Everyone would think that this is the last thing he wants to put in the book.You writers are eccentrics. Then the phone rang and Rosie picked up the receiver and listened. Yo, Mr. Vanich, thank you for calling me!Oh, I'm fine, thank you.Well, you can say so if you like, beautiful and good.When you get to my age, you'll love any compliment. Then she chatted with the other party, and I felt that there was a frivolous coquettish flavor in her tone.I didn't pay attention to their conversation. The phone call seemed to drag on for a long time, so I began to think about the life of a writer.That was a lot of trouble.At first, he must suffer poverty and the indifference of the world; when he has achieved something, he must face any unexpected situation with a cheerful face.His success depends on a moody public.He is at the mercy of all the following: journalists to interview him, photographers to take pictures of him, editors to submit articles, tax collectors to pay income taxes, dignitaries to lunch, association secretaries to lectures ; Some women want to marry him, some women want to divorce him; young people want his autograph, actors ask to play roles in his plays, strangers ask him to borrow money, emotional ladies ask for money His opinions on marriage, earnest young men asking him to advise them on their writing, agents, publishers, managers, people who bored him, admirers, critics, and his own conscience.But he can get a kind of compensation.Whenever there is something on his mind, whether it is some unsettling thought, mourning over the death of a friend, unrequited love, hurt pride, or betrayal of a friend he once treated kindly Anger, after all, whenever a passion or a thought bewilders him, he has only to put it in black and white, use it as the subject of a story, or the embellishment of an essay, and forget it at last.He is the only one who is free. Rosie put down the receiver, turned to me and said: This is one of my boyfriends.I was going to play bridge tonight and he called to say he was coming to pick me up in his car.Of course he's an Italian, but he's a nice guy.He used to own a big grocery store in the center of New York, but now he's retired. Have you ever considered getting married again, Rosie? No.She smiled, it's not that no one proposed to me.But I am having a good time now.Here's how I thought about it: I don't want to marry an old man, but it would be absurd to marry a young man at my age.I've had a good time in my life, and it's going to end like this. How did you get along with George.Kemp eloped together? Oh, I've always liked him.You know, I've known Ted since I didn't know him.Of course it never occurred to me then that I would have the opportunity to marry him.Firstly because he is married, and secondly he has to consider his status.But then one day he came to me and said everything was screwed up, he was broke, a warrant would be issued for his arrest in a few days, and he was going to America, and asked if I would go with him.What should I do at this time?He has always looked very dignified, lives in his own house, and rides in his own carriage, but at that time he may have no money on him. I can't let him go to America like this alone.I am not afraid of work. Sometimes I feel like he's the only one you really like.I said. Your words make sense to me. I don't know what you fancy about him? Rosie turned to a picture on the wall that I hadn't seen before somehow.It was an enlarged photograph of Lord George in an engraved and gilt frame.It looked as if it had been taken shortly after he had arrived in America, perhaps when they were married.It was a large bust.He was wearing a knee-length frock coat, buttoned tightly, and a tall satin hat was tilted smartly on his head. There was a large rose in the buttonhole, and he wore a bag under his left arm. A silver-tipped walking stick, holding a large cigar with a plume of smoke in his right hand.He sported a bushy mustache with waxed tips, reckless eyes, a haughty pomp, and a horseshoe-shaped diamond brooch in his tie.He looked like a hotel owner in his best clothes for the Derby [Note: Held every June. 】. I can tell you, said Rossi, because he's always been such a perfect gentleman.