Mrs. Strickland had the gift of sympathy.

It is a charming faculty (能力), but one often abused by those who are conscious of its possession: for there is something ghoulish (丑惡的) in the avidity (欲望) with which they will pounce upon the misfortune of their friends so that they may exercise their dexterity (機(jī)敏). {3}

It gushes forth like an oil-well, and the sympathetic (指富有同情心的那類人) pour out their sympathy with an abandon (狂熱) that is sometimes embarrassing to their victims.

There are bosoms (胸懷) on which so many tears have been shed that I cannot bedew them with mine. Mrs. Strickland used her advantage with tact (老練).

You felt that you obliged (施恩惠) her by accepting her sympathy. When, in the enthusiasm of my youth, I remarked on this to Rose Waterford, she said:

"Milk is very nice, especially with a drop of brandy in it, but the domestic cow is only too glad to be rid of it. A swollen (腫脹的) udder (牛、羊等的乳房) is very uncomfortable."

Rose Waterford had a blistering tongue. No one could say such bitter things; on the other hand, no one could do more charming ones.

There was another thing I liked in Mrs. Strickland. She managed her surroundings with elegance (高雅).

Her flat was always neat and cheerful, gay with flowers, and the chintzes (印花棉布) in the drawing-room, notwithstanding (盡管) their severe design, were bright and pretty.

The meals in the artistic little dining-room were pleasant; the table looked nice, the two maids (女仆) were trim and comely (清秀的); the food was well cooked.

It was impossible not to see that Mrs. Strickland was an excellent housekeeper. And you felt sure that she was an admirable mother.

There were photographs in the drawing-room of her son and daughter.

The son -- his name was Robert -- was a boy of sixteen at Rugby; and you saw him in flannels (法蘭絨衣服) and a cricket (板球) cap, and again in a tail-coat and a stand-up collar.

He had his mother's candid brow (眉毛) and fine, reflective eyes. He looked clean, healthy, and normal.

"I don't know that he's very clever," she said one day, when I was looking at the photograph, "but I know he's good. He has a charming character."

The daughter was fourteen. Her hair, thick and dark like her mother's, fell over her shoulders in fine profusion, and she had the same kindly expression and sedate (安靜的), untroubled eyes.

"They're both of them the image of you," I said.

"Yes; I think they are more like me than their father."

"Why have you never let me meet him?" I asked.

"Would you like to?" She smiled, her smile was really very sweet, and she blushed a little; it was singular that a woman of that age should flush so readily.

Perhaps her naivete (天真爛漫) was her greatest charm.

"You know, he's not at all literary," she said. "He's a perfect philistine (俗氣的人)."

She said this not disparagingly (以貶抑的口吻), but affectionately rather, as though, by acknowledging the worst about him, she wished to protect him from the aspersions (詆毀) of her friends. {4}