感谢来看的你，不期待你能看完
这只是一次作业
关于 The painted veil 的续写
如果你有兴趣，推荐你读读，毕竟毛姆不是只写过月亮与六便士
我也只是脑洞开了下，编了个结尾

The Painted Veil
A ship was far away from the horizon while everything was immersed in the morning mist. The old days when Walter was still alive were only a blur remaining in her mind.

Kitty standing on the platform of the ship with her father, cold and brackish breeze wafted through her hair. Hard to prevent the shiver that escaped her, she buttoned her collar and drawn down her veil.

“Kitty? Oh, my dear Kitty. Uh…I…No, no, no. Are you cold?” he stammered, managing a dry smile to cover his embarrassment.

“Well, a little bite cold. But, what's wrong with you, father? You look rather pale.” Kitty perceived something wired, but it was hard to tell what it was.

Long time of separation had made him difficult and even awkward to say any kind sweet words to care about his daughter, at least not as natural as other "ordinary fathers". Notwithstanding, he still accepted her. Let time heal this, he thought.

As the ship sailed further, the city where Kitty first met Walter disappeared in the hazy mist. Kitty closed her eyes, intoxicating melody from the dancing party lingering around. She opened her eyes and looked at the front, smiling with aplomb, as if lost in a distant memory…

When night fell, the classical music gradually died down, and everyone in the cabin slowed their steps. It seemed like they were all reluctant to break the precious peace and silence given by the dark night. But as for Kitty, night was the most tough time that she could scarcely bear, when loneliness and the sense of guilt crept over her spontaneously, tormenting her sensitive heart over and over again.

"Here we arrive the destination." The seaman shouted excitedly, his sonorous voice breaking Kitty's meditation. She got off the ship with her father. Strange scenery greeted them--it was a spring place.

Watching the ice melting, she sensed the whole earth was being rejuvenated from cold winter. On the shore, a variety of flowers were beginning to bloom, eager to show their beauty and breathing out fragrance. It was a splendid feast for her eyes and soul, withered grass turning green, young tender buds dotted on the branches, little furry swallows flying back home with the greeting of spring...

Everything was coming back to life. "Everything was so cheerful, so lively, so adorable," Kitty thought, "It was just like my..." She softly touched her belly, a faint smile emerging again. All she wanted to do was to cultivate her baby to a good person. She had no extravagant hopes.

Now, she had to face everything all by herself, but she was not a silly girl any more. Walter, and also her mother, had all passed away, and the great shock didn’t beat her down, but made her a stronger and more independent woman. The new life was waving at her. Things were getting better.


"Mum, guess who I met at the ball tonight!" A beautiful girl panted excitedly as she rushed into the bedroom. It was nine o' clock in the evening. She swiftly glanced at the clock, and ran to her mother, "See? I'm back on time. I promised."

"Wow, wow." Kitty looked up from the book in her hands, "What was it that made my sweetheart so excited?"

"Oh, he is the most charming boy I've ever seen, you must believe me mother! And you know what, he even asked me if I'd like to dance with him!"

Looking at the pretty girl sitting by her side, Kitty felt very proud. She remembered that years ago she was also an attracting young lady just like her daughter, stunning and elegant, captivating gentlemen's hearts in every ball. Now Doris Fane was fifteen, who was at the height of her youth and vigor. Maybe she had already reached the age to start a romantic relationship, Kitty thought, and it was about time to teach her to sharpen her eyes and carefully pick out a good man as a companion.

"Well, who was that charming boy, Doris?" Kitty smiled back, enjoying this happy moment with her daughter.

"I'm sure you will like him as much as I do! He is Michael. " Doris said complacently, "Michael Townsend. He also lived in Hong Kong for a long time, the same as you mother!"

A warm smile freezing on the face, Kitty's heart stopped abruptly. Her mind went blank for a few seconds, and then she found her voice again, "Michael Townsend... Which Michael Townsend?"

"Michael Townsend! His father has been the vice consul in Hong Kong for many years, he told me that, and they are also British, just like us!" Doris answered briskly, not knowing what her mother wanted to know.

"Townsend... Oh, Townsend..." Kitty muttered, something old and remote flooding back to her. The name was too new, too strange to her, but at the same time, too familiar and too related to her. She thought the page of her old story had already been turned over, completely, and she would never make any connection with Charlie again.

What was wrong? I don't understand, but how could it be like that? How could things happen like that? How could Townsend appear in my life again after all those years? It ended long before, didn't it? Am I wrong? Did I do anything wrong?... What should I do now? What should I tell Doris? To stay away that boy? Because he is as bad as his father Charlie Townsend, flirtatious and vain? But...how can I explain...how can I tell her the past...

Kitty felt a little bit tired. It seemed that her years of hard work in order to cut off the links with the old days only proved to be futile and stupid. Her face was pale and her eyes were drooping. This time, there was no shadow cast on the face to cover her bewilderment. Noticing Doris's puzzled expression, she felt she had nowhere to hide. A sudden gust of wind blowing the window, now how eager she wanted to have her painted veil...


Lift Not the Painted Veil Which Those Who Live
By Percy Bysshe Shelley
Lift not the painted veil which those who live
Call life: though unreal shapes be pictured there,
And it but mimic all we would believe
With colors idly spread, --behind, Lurk Fear
And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave
Their shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and drear.
I knew one who had lifted it--he sought,
For his lost heart was tender, things to love,
But found them not, alas! nor was there aught
The world contains, the which he could approve.
Through the unheeding many he did move,
A splendour among shadows, a bright blot
Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove
For truth, and like the Preacher found it not.