But he little knew the firmness of the young woman he had to deal with. She was one of those soft natures whose power of adhesiveness5 to an acquired idea seems to be one of the special attributes of that softness. To go to a ball with this mysterious personage of romance was her ardent6 desire and aim; and none the less in that she trembled with fear and excitement at her position in so aiming. She felt the deepest awe7, tenderness, and humility8 towards the Baron of the strange name; and yet she was prepared to stick to her point.
Thus it was that the afternoon of the eventful day found Margery trudging9 her way up the slopes from the vale to the place of appointment. She walked to the music of innumerable birds, which increased as she drew away from the open meads towards the groves10.
She had overcome all difficulties. After thinking out the question of telling or not telling her father, she had decided11 that to tell him was to be forbidden to go. Her contrivance therefore was this: to leave home this evening on a visit to her invalid12 grandmother, who lived not far from the Baron’s house; but not to arrive at her grandmother’s till breakfast-time next morning. Who would suspect an intercalated experience of twelve hours with the Baron at a ball? That this piece of deception13 was indefensible she afterwards owned readily enough; but she did not stop to think of it then.
It was sunset within Chillington Wood by the time she reached Three-Walks-End — the converging14 point of radiating trackways, now floored with a carpet of matted grass, which had never known other scythes15 than the teeth of rabbits and hares. The twitter overhead had ceased, except from a few braver and larger birds, including the cuckoo, who did not fear night at this pleasant time of year. Nobody seemed to be on the spot when she first drew near, but no sooner did Margery stand at the intersection16 of the roads than a slight crashing became audible, and her patron appeared. He was so transfigured in dress that she scarcely knew him. Under a light great-coat, which was flung open, instead of his ordinary clothes he wore a suit of thin black cloth, an open waistcoat with a frill all down his shirt-front, a white tie, shining boots, no thicker than a glove, a coat that made him look like a bird, and a hat that seemed as if it would open and shut like an accordion17.
‘I am dressed for the ball — nothing worse,’ he said, drily smiling. ‘So will you be soon.’
‘Why did you choose this place for our meeting, sir?’ she asked, looking around and acquiring confidence.
‘Why did I choose it? Well, because in riding past one day I observed a large hollow tree close by here, and it occurred to me when I was last with you that this would be useful for our purpose. Have you told your father?’
‘I have not yet told him, sir.’
‘That’s very bad of you, Margery. How have you arranged it, then?’
She briefly18 related her plan, on which he made no comment, but, taking her by the hand as if she were a little child, he led her through the undergrowth to a spot where the trees were older, and standing19 at wider distances. Among them was the tree he had spoken of — an elm; huge, hollow, distorted, and headless, with a rift20 in its side.
‘Now go inside,’ he said, ‘before it gets any darker. You will find there everything you want. At any rate, if you do not you must do without it. I’ll keep watch; and don’t be longer than you can help to be.’
‘What am I to do, sir?’ asked the puzzled maiden21.
‘Go inside, and you will see. When you are ready wave your handkerchief at that hole.’
She stooped into the opening. The cavity within the tree formed a lofty circular apartment, four or five feet in diameter, to which daylight entered at the top, and also through a round hole about six feet from the ground, marking the spot at which a limb had been amputated in the tree’s prime. The decayed wood of cinnamon-brown, forming the inner surface of the tree, and the warm evening glow, reflected in at the top, suffused22 the cavity with a faint mellow23 radiance.
But Margery had hardly given herself time to heed24 these things. Her eye had been caught by objects of quite another quality. A large white oblong paper box lay against the inside of the tree; over it, on a splinter, hung a small oval looking-glass.
Margery seized the idea in a moment. She pressed through the rift into the tree, lifted the cover of the box, and, behold25, there was disclosed within a lovely white apparition26 in a somewhat flattened27 state. It was the ball-dress.
This marvel28 of art was, briefly, a sort of heavenly cobweb. It was a gossamer29 texture30 of precious manufacture, artistically31 festooned in a dozen flounces or more.
Margery lifted it, and could hardly refrain from kissing it. Had any one told her before this moment that such a dress could exist, she would have said, ‘No; it’s impossible!’ She drew back, went forward, flushed, laughed, raised her hands. To say that the maker32 of that dress had been an individual of talent was simply understatement: he was a genius, and she sunned herself in the rays of his creation.
She then remembered that her friend without had told her to make haste, and she spasmodically proceeded to array herself. In removing the dress she found satin slippers33, gloves, a handkerchief nearly all lace, a fan, and even flowers for the hair. ‘O, how could he think of it!’ she said, clasping her hands and almost crying with agitation34. ‘And the glass — how good of him!’
Everything was so well prepared, that to clothe herself in these garments was a matter of ease. In a quarter of an hour she was ready, even to shoes and gloves. But what led her more than anything else into admiration35 of the Baron’s foresight36 was the discovery that there were half-a-dozen pairs each of shoes and gloves, of varying sizes, out of which she selected a fit.
Margery glanced at herself in the mirror, or at as much as she could see of herself: the image presented was superb. Then she hastily rolled up her old dress, put it in the box, and thrust the latter on a ledge37 as high as she could reach. Standing on tiptoe, she waved the handkerchief through the upper aperture38, and bent39 to the rift to go out.
But what a trouble stared her in the face. The dress was so airy, so fantastical, and so extensive, that to get out in her new clothes by the rift which had admitted her in her old ones was an impossibility. She heard the Baron’s steps crackling over the dead sticks and leaves.
‘O, sir!’ she began in despair.
‘What — can’t you dress yourself?’ he inquired from the back of the trunk.
‘Yes; but I can’t get out of this dreadful tree!’
He came round to the opening, stooped, and looked in. ‘It is obvious that you cannot,’ he said, taking in her compass at a glance; and adding to himself; ‘Charming! who would have thought that clothes could do so much! — Wait a minute, my little maid: I have it!’ he said more loudly.
With all his might he kicked at the sides of the rift, and by that means broke away several pieces of the rotten touchwood. But, being thinly armed about the feet, he abandoned that process, and went for a fallen branch which lay near. By using the large end as a lever, he tore away pieces of the wooden shell which enshrouded Margery and all her loveliness, till the aperture was large enough for her to pass without tearing her dress. She breathed her relief: the silly girl had begun to fear that she would not get to the ball after all.
He carefully wrapped round her a cloak he had brought with him: it was hooded41, and of a length which covered her to the heels.
‘The carriage is waiting down the other path,’ he said, and gave her his arm. A short trudge42 over the soft dry leaves brought them to the place indicated.
There stood the brougham, the horses, the coachman, all as still as if they were growing on the spot, like the trees. Margery’s eyes rose with some timidity to the coachman’s figure.
‘You need not mind him,’ said the Baron. ‘He is a foreigner, and heeds43 nothing.’
In the space of a short minute she was handed inside; the Baron buttoned up his overcoat, and surprised her by mounting with the coachman. The carriage moved off silently over the long grass of the vista44, the shadows deepening to black as they proceeded. Darker and darker grew the night as they rolled on; the neighbourhood familiar to Margery was soon left behind, and she had not the remotest idea of the direction they were taking. The stars blinked out, the coachman lit his lamps, and they bowled on again.
In the course of an hour and a half they arrived at a small town, where they pulled up at the chief inn, and changed horses; all being done so readily that their advent45 had plainly been expected. The journey was resumed immediately. Her companion never descended46 to speak to her; whenever she looked out there he sat upright on his perch47, with the mien48 of a person who had a difficult duty to perform, and who meant to perform it properly at all costs. But Margery could not help feeling a certain dread40 at her situation — almost, indeed, a wish that she had not come. Once or twice she thought, ‘Suppose he is a wicked man, who is taking me off to a foreign country, and will never bring me home again.’
But her characteristic persistence49 in an original idea sustained her against these misgivings50 except at odd moments. One incident in particular had given her confidence in her escort: she had seen a tear in his eye when she expressed her sorrow for his troubles. He may have divined that her thoughts would take an uneasy turn, for when they stopped for a moment in ascending51 a hill he came to the window. ‘Are you tired, Margery?’ he asked kindly52.
‘No, sir.’
‘Are you afraid?’
‘N— no, sir. But it is a long way.’
‘We are almost there,’ he answered. ‘And now, Margery,’ he said in a lower tone, ‘I must tell you a secret. I have obtained this invitation in a peculiar53 way. I thought it best for your sake not to come in my own name, and this is how I have managed. A man in this county, for whom I have lately done a service, one whom I can trust, and who is personally as unknown here as you and I, has (privately) transferred his card of invitation to me. So that we go under his name. I explain this that you may not say anything imprudent by accident. Keep your ears open and be cautious.’ Having said this the Baron retreated again to his place.
‘Then he is a wicked man after all!’ she said to herself; ‘for he is going under a false name.’ But she soon had the temerity54 not to mind it: wickedness of that sort was the one ingredient required just now to finish him off as a hero in her eyes.
They descended a hill, passed a lodge55, then up an avenue; and presently there beamed upon them the light from other carriages, drawn56 up in a file, which moved on by degrees; and at last they halted before a large arched doorway57, round which a group of people stood.
‘We are among the latest arrivals, on account of the distance,’ said the Baron, reappearing. ‘But never mind; there are three hours at least for your enjoyment58.’
The steps were promptly59 flung down, and they alighted. The steam from the flanks of their swarthy steeds, as they seemed to her, ascended60 to the parapet of the porch, and from their nostrils61 the hot breath jetted forth62 like smoke out of volcanoes, attracting the attention of all.
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1
baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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adhesiveness
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| 粘[附着，胶粘]性，粘附[胶粘]度 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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8
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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9
trudging
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的现在分词形式） | |
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10
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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11
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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12
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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13
deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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14
converging
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| adj.收敛[缩]的，会聚的，趋同的v.（线条、运动的物体等）会于一点( converge的现在分词 )；（趋于）相似或相同；人或车辆汇集；聚集 | |
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15
scythes
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| n.（长柄）大镰刀( scythe的名词复数 )v.（长柄）大镰刀( scythe的第三人称单数 ) | |
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16
intersection
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| n.交集，十字路口，交叉点；[计算机] 交集 | |
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17
accordion
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| n.手风琴；adj.可折叠的 | |
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18
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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19
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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rift
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| n.裂口，隙缝，切口；v.裂开，割开，渗入 | |
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21
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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22
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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24
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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25
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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26
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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28
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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29
gossamer
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| n.薄纱，游丝 | |
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30
texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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artistically
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| adv.艺术性地 | |
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32
maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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33
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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34
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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35
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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36
foresight
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| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
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37
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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38
aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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39
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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40
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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41
hooded
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| adj.戴头巾的；有罩盖的；颈部因肋骨运动而膨胀的 | |
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42
trudge
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| v.步履艰难地走；n.跋涉，费力艰难的步行 | |
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43
heeds
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| n.留心，注意，听从( heed的名词复数 )v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的第三人称单数 ) | |
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44
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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45
advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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46
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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47
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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48
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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49
persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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50
misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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51
ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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52
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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53
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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54
temerity
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| n.鲁莽，冒失 | |
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55
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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56
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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57
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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58
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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60
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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62
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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