After crossing the stile at the Mill House, Mrs. Blake took the path leading back to the negro cabins. She must stop to see Aunt Jezebel, the oldest of the Colbert negroes, who had been failing for some time. Mrs. Blake was always called where there was illness. She had skill and experience in nursing; was certainly a better help to the sick than the country doctor, who had never been away to any medical school, but treated his patients from Buchan’s Family Medicine book.
On being told that Aunt Jezebel was asleep, Mrs. Blake passed the kitchen (separated from the dwelling3 by thirty feet or so), and entered the house by the back door which the servants used when they carried hot food from the kitchen to the dining-room in covered metal dishes. As she went down the long carpeted passage toward Mrs. Colbert’s bedchamber, she heard her mother’s voice in anger — anger with no heat, a cold, sneering4 contempt.
“Take it down this minute! You know how to do it right. Take it DOWN, I told you! Hairpins5 do no good. Now you’ve hurt me, stubborn!”
Then came a smacking6 sound, three times: the wooden back of a hairbrush striking someone’s cheek or arm. Mrs. Blake’s firm mouth shut closer as she knocked. The same voice asked forbiddingly:
“Who is there?”
“It’s only Rachel.”
As Mrs. Blake opened the door, her mother spoke7 coolly to a young girl crouching8 beside her chair: “You may go now. And see that you come back in a better humour.”
The girl flitted by Mrs. Blake without a sound, her face averted9 and her shoulders drawn10 together.
Mrs. Colbert in her wheel-chair was sitting at a dressing11-table before a gilt12 mirror, a white combing-cloth about her shoulders. This she threw off as her daughter entered.
“Take a chair, Rachel. You’re early.” She spoke politely, but she evidently meant “too early.”
“Yes, I’m earlier than I calculated. I stopped to see old Jezebel, but she was asleep, so I came right on in.”
Mrs. Colbert smiled. She was always amused when people behaved in character. Sooner than disturb a sick negro woman, Rachel had come in to disturb her at her dressing hour, when it was understood she did not welcome visits from anyone. How like Rachel!
For all Mrs. Blake could see, her mother’s grey-and-chestnut hair was in perfect order; combed up high from the neck and braided in a flat oval on the crown, with wavy13 wings coming down on either side of her forehead.
“You might get me a fresh cap out of the upper drawer, Rachel. I hate a frowsy head in the morning. Thank you. I can arrange it.” She pinned the small frill of ribbon and starched14 muslin over the flat oval. “Now,” she said affably, “you might turn me a little, so that I can see you.”
Her chair was carved walnut15, with a cane16 back and down-curved arms: one of the dining-room chairs, made over for her use by Mr. Whitford, the country carpenter and coffin-maker. He had cushioned it, and set it on a walnut platform with iron castors underneath17. Mrs. Blake turned it so that her mother sat in the sunlight and faced the east windows instead of the looking-glass.
“Well, I suppose it is a good thing Jezebel can sleep so much?”
Mrs. Blake shook her head. “Till can’t get her to eat anything. She’s weaker every day. She’ll not last long.”
Mrs. Colbert smiled archly at her daughter’s solemn face. “She has managed to last a good while: something into ninety years. I shouldn’t care to last that long, should you?”
“No,” Mrs. Blake admitted.
“Then I don’t think we need make long faces. She has been well taken care of in her old age and her last sickness. I mean to go out to see her; perhaps today. Rachel, I have a letter here from Sister Sarah I must read you.” Mrs. Colbert took out her glasses from a reticule attached to the arm of her chair. She read the letter from Winchester chiefly to put an end to conversation. She knew her daughter must have heard her correcting Nancy, and therefore would be glum18 and disapproving19. Never having owned any servants herself, Rachel didn’t at all know how to deal with them. Rachel had always been difficult, — rebellious20 toward the fixed21 ways which satisfied other folk. Mrs. Colbert had been heartily22 glad to get her married and out of the house at seventeen.
While the letter was being read, Mrs. Blake sat regarding her mother and thought she looked very well for a woman who had been dropsical nearly five years. True, her malady23 had taken away her colour; she was always pale now, and, in the morning, something puffy under the eyes. But the eyes themselves were clear; a lively greenish blue, with no depth. Her face was pleasant, very attractive to people who were not irked by the slight shade of placid24 self-esteem. She bore her disablement with courage; seldom referred to it, sat in her crude invalid’s chair as if it were a seat of privilege. She could stand on her feet with a good air when visitors came, could walk to the private closet behind her bedroom on the arm of her maid. Her speech, like her handwriting, was more cultivated than was common in this back-country district. Her daughter sometimes felt a kind of false pleasantness in the voice. Yet, she reflected as she listened to the letter, it was scarcely false — it was the only kind of pleasantness her mother had, — not very warm.
As Mrs. Colbert finished reading, Mrs. Blake said heartily: “That is surely a good letter. Aunt Sarah always writes a good letter.”
Mrs. Colbert took off her glasses, glancing at her daughter with a mischievous25 smile. “You are not put out because she makes fun of your Baptists a little?”
“No. She’s a right to. I’d never have joined with the Baptists if I could have got to Winchester to our own Church. But a body likes to have some place to worship. And the Baptists are good people.”
“So your father thinks. But then he never did mind to forgather with common people. I suppose that goes with a miller’s business.”
“Yes, the common folks hereabouts have got to have flour and meal, and there’s only one mill for them to come to.” Mrs. Blake’s voice was rather tart26. She wished it hadn’t been, when her mother said unexpectedly and quite graciously:
“Well, you’ve surely been a good friend to them, Rachel.”
Mrs. Blake bade her mother good-bye and hurried down the passage. At times she had to speak out for the faith that was in her; faith in the Baptists not so much as a sect27 (she still read her English Prayer Book every day), but as well-meaning men and women.
Leaving the house by the back way, she saw the laundry door open, and Nancy inside at the ironing-board. She turned from her path and went into the laundry cabin.
“Well, Nancy, how are you getting on?” She habitually28 spoke to people of Nancy’s world with a resolute29 cheerfulness which she did not always feel.
The yellow girl flashed a delighted smile, showing all her white teeth. “Purty well, mam, purty well. Oh, do set down, Miz’ Blake.” She pushed a chair with a broken back in front of her ironing-board. Her eyes brightened with eager affection, though the lids were still red from crying.
“Go on with your ironing, child. I won’t hinder you. Is that one of Mother’s caps?” pointing to a handful of damp lace which lay on the white sheet.
“Yes’m. This is one of her comp’ny ones. I likes to have ’em nice.” She shook out the ball of crumpled30 lace, blew on it, and began to run a tiny iron about in the gathers. “This is a lil’ child’s iron. I coaxed31 it of Miss Sadie Garrett. She didn’t use it for nothin’, an’ it’s mighty32 handy fur the caps.”
“Yes, I see it is. You’re a good ironer, Nancy.”
“Thank you, mam.”
Mrs. Blake sat watching Nancy’s slender, nimble hands, so flexible that one would say there were no hard bones in them at all: they seemed compressible, like a child’s. They were just a shade darker than her face. If her cheeks were pale gold, her hands were what Mrs. Blake called “old gold.” She was considering Nancy’s case as she sat there (the red marks of the hairbrush were still on the girl’s right arm), wondering how much she grieved over the way things were going. Nancy had fallen out of favour with her mistress. Everyone knew it, and no one knew why. Self-respecting negroes never complained of harsh treatment. They made a joke of it, and laughed about it among themselves, as the rough mountain boys did about the lickings they got at school. Nancy had not been trained to humility33. Until lately Mrs. Colbert had shown her marked favouritism; gave her pretty clothes to set off her pretty face, and liked to have her in attendance when she had guests or drove abroad.
“Well, child, I must be going,” Mrs. Blake said presently. She left the laundry and walked about the negro quarters to look at the multitude of green jonquil spears thrusting up in the beds before the cabins. They would soon be in bloom.
“Easter flowers” was her name for them, but the darkies called them “smoke pipes,” because the yellow blossoms were attached to the green stalk at exactly the angle which the bowl of their clay pipes made with the stem.
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1
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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2
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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3
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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hairpins
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| n.发夹( hairpin的名词复数 ) | |
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smacking
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| 活泼的，发出响声的，精力充沛的 | |
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7
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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8
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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9
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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12
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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13
wavy
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| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
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14
starched
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| adj.浆硬的，硬挺的，拘泥刻板的v.把（衣服、床单等）浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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17
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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glum
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| adj.闷闷不乐的，阴郁的 | |
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19
disapproving
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| adj.不满的，反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
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rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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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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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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24
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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tart
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| adj.酸的；尖酸的，刻薄的；n.果馅饼；淫妇 | |
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27
sect
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| n.派别，宗教，学派，派系 | |
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28
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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29
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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30
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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31
coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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32
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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33
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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