It was a pretty room, freshly papered and painted, as were many rooms in Brookville since the sale of the old Bolton properties. Nearly every one had scrimped and saved and gone without so long that the sudden influx3 of money into empty pockets had acted like wine in a hungry stomach. Henry Daggett had thrice replenished4 his stock of wall papers; window shades and curtaining by the yard had been in constant demand for weeks; bright colored chintzes and gay flowered cretonnes were apparently5 a prime necessity in many households. As for paper hangers7 and painters, few awaited their unhurried movements. It was easy for anybody with energy and common sense to wield8 a paintbrush; and old paper could be scraped off and fresh strips applied9 by a simple application of flour paste and the fundamental laws of physics. One improvement clamors loudly for another, and money was still coming in from the most unexpected sources, so new furniture was bought to take the place of unprized chairs and tables long ago salvaged10 from the Bolton wreck11. And since Mrs. Deacon Whittle's dream parlor12, with its marble-tops and plush-upholstered furniture, had become a solid reality, other parlors13 burgeoned14 forth15 in multi-colored magnificence. Scraggy old shrubs16 were trimmed; grass was cut in unkempt dooryards; flowers were planted—and all because of the lavish17 display of such improvements at Bolton House, as “that queer Orr girl” persisted in calling it; thereby18 flying in the face of public opinion and local prejudice in a way which soured the milk of human kindness before the cream of gratitude19 could rise.
Everybody agreed that there was something mysterious, if not entirely20 unnatural21 in the conduct of the young woman. Nobody likes unsolved riddles22 for long. The moment or century of suspense23 may prove interesting—even exciting; but human intelligence resents the Sphynx.
Ellen Dix was intensely human. She was, moreover, jealous—or supposed she was, which often amounts to the same thing. And because of this she was looking over the dresses, hanging on pegs24 along her closet wall, with a demurely25 puckered26 brow. The pink muslin was becoming, but old-fashioned; the pale yellow trimmed with black velvet27 might get soiled with the dust, and she wasn't sure it would wash. She finally selected a white dress of a new and becoming style, attired28 in which she presently stood before her mirror adjusting a plain Panama hat, trimmed simply with a black ribbon. Not for nothing had Ellen used her handsome dark eyes. She set the hat over her black hair at exactly the right angle, skewering29 it securely in place with two silver pins, also severely30 simple in their style and quite unlike the glittering rhinestone31 variety offered for sale in Henry Daggett's general store.
“I'm going out for a while, mother,” she said, as she passed the room where Mrs. Dix was placidly32 sewing carpet rags out of materials prodigiously33 increased of late, since both women had been able to afford several new dresses.
“Going to Fanny's?” inquired Mrs. Dix.... “Seems to me you're starting out pretty early, dear, in all this heat. If you'll wait till sundown, I'll go with you. I haven't seen their parlor since they got the new curtains up.”
“I'm not going to Fanny's, right off,” said Ellen evasively. “Maybe I'll stop on the way back, though. 'Tisn't very hot; it's clouded up some.”
“Better taken an umbrella,” her mother sent after her. “We might get a thunder storm along towards four o'clock. My shoulder's been paining me all the morning.”
But Ellen had already passed out of hearing, her fresh skirts held well away from the dusty wayside weeds.
She was going, with intentions undefined, to see Lydia Orr. Perhaps (she was thinking) she might see Jim Dodge34. Anyway, she wanted to go to Bolton House. She would find out for herself wherein lay the curious fascination35 of which Fanny had spoken. She was surprised at Fanny for so easily giving in about the furniture. Secretly, she considered herself to be possibly a bit shrewder than Fanny. In reality she was not as easily influenced, and slower at forming conclusions. She possessed37 a mind of more scope.
Ellen walked along, setting her pointed38 feet down very carefully so as not to raise the dust and soil her nice skirts. She was a dainty creature. When she reached the hedge which marked the beginning of the Bolton estate, she started, not violently, that was not her way, but anybody is more startled at the sudden glimpse of a figure at complete rest, almost rigidity39, than of a figure in motion. Had the old man whom Ellen saw been walking along toward her, she would not have started at all. She might have glanced at him with passing curiosity, since he was a stranger in Brookville, then that would have been the end of it. But this old man, standing40 as firmly fixed41 as a statue against the hedge, startled the girl. He was rather a handsome old man, but there was something peculiar42 about him. For one thing he was better dressed than old men in Brookville generally were. He wore a light Palm Beach cloth suit, possibly too young for him, also a Panama hat. He did not look altogether tidy. He did not wear his up-to-date clothes very well. He had a rumpled43 appearance. He was very pale almost with the paleness of wax. He did not stand strongly, but rested his weight first on one foot, then on the other. Ellen recovered her composure, but as she was passing, he spoke36 suddenly. His tone was eager and pitiful. “Why Ann Eliza Dix,” he said. “How do you do? You are not going to pass without speaking to me?”
“My name is Dix, but not Ann Eliza,” said Ellen politely; “my name is Ellen.”
“You are Cephas Dix's sister, Ann Eliza,” insisted the old man. His eyes looked suddenly tearful. “I know I am right,” he said. “You are Ann Eliza Dix.”
The girl felt a sudden pity. Her Aunt Ann Eliza Dix had been lying in her grave for ten years, but she could not contradict the poor man. “Of course,” she said. “How do you do?”
The old man's face lit up. “I knew I was right,” he said. “I forget, you see, sometimes, but this time I was sure. How are you, Ann Eliza?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“How is Cephas?”
“He is well, too.”
“And your father?”
Ellen shivered a little. It was rather bewildering. This strange old man must mean her grandfather, who had died before her Aunt Ann Eliza. She replied faintly that he was well, and hoped, with a qualm of ghastly mirth, that she was speaking the truth. Ellen's grandfather had not been exactly a godly man, and the family seldom mentioned him.
“He means well, Ann Eliza, if sometimes you don't exactly like the way he does,” said the living old man, excusing the dead one for the faults of his life.
“I know he does,” said Ellen. The desire to laugh grew upon her.
She was relieved when the stranger changed the subject. She felt that she would become hysterical44 if this forcible resurrection of her dead relatives continued.
“Do you like an automobile45?” asked the old man.
“I don't know, I never had one.”
The stranger looked at her confidingly46. “My daughter has one,” he said, “and I know she bought it for me, and she has me taken out in it, but I am afraid. It goes too fast. I can't get over being afraid. But you won't tell her, will you, Ann Eliza?”
“Of course I won't.”
Ellen continued to gaze at him, but she did not speak.
“Let me see, what is your name, my dear?” the man went on. He was leaning on his stick, and Ellen noticed that he trembled slightly, as though with weakness. He breathed hard. The veinous hands folded on top of the stick were almost as white as his ears.
“My name is Ellen Dix,” she said.
“Dix—Dix?” repeated the man. “Why, I know that name, certainly, of course! You must be the daughter of Cephas Dix. Odd name, Cephas, eh?”
Ellen nodded, her eyes still busy with the details of the stranger's appearance. She was sure she had never seen him before, yet he knew her father's name.
“My father has been dead a long time,” she said; “ever since I was a little girl.”
The man appeared singularly disquieted47 by this intelligence. “I hadn't heard that,” he said. “Dead—a long time? Well!”
He scowled48, flourishing his stick as if to pass on; then settled to his former posture49, his pale hands folded on its handsome gold top.
“Cephas Dix wasn't an old man,” he muttered, as if talking to himself. “Not old. He should be hale and hearty50, living in this good country air. Wonderful air this, my dear.”
And he drew a deep breath, his wandering gaze returning swiftly to the girl's face.
“I was just walking out,” he said, nodding briskly. “Great treat to be able to walk out. I shall walk out whenever I like. Don't care for automobiles—get you over the road too fast. No, no; I won't go out in the automobile, unless I feel like it! No, I won't; and there's an end of it!”
He brought his stick down heavily in the dust, as if emphasizing this statement.
“Guess your father left you pretty well off, eh, my dear?” he went on presently. “Glad to see you looking so fresh and neat. Always like to see a pretty girl well dressed.”
The man's eyes, extraordinarily51 bright and keen, roved nimbly over her face and figure.
“No, he did not,” replied Ellen. “My father used to be rich,” she went on. “I've heard mother tell about it hundreds of times. We had horses and a carriage and plenty of money; but when the bank went to pieces my father lost everything. Then he died.”
The man was peering at her from under his shaggy gray brows.
“But not because the bank failed? Surely not because he lost his money? That sort of thing doesn't kill a man, my dear. No, no!”
“It did,” declared Ellen firmly.
The man at once seemed to grow smaller; to huddle52 together in his clothes. He muttered something unintelligible53, then turned squarely about, so that Ellen could see only his hunched54 back and the glistening55 white hair cut close behind his waxen ears.
The girl walked thoughtfully on, but when she paused to look back she saw that he had resumed his slow walk in the opposite direction, his stick describing odd flourishes in the air, as before.
When she reached Bolton House she was ushered56 into a beautiful parlor by a prim6 maid in a frilled cap and apron57. The maid presented to her attention a small silver tray, and Ellen, blushing uncomfortably because she had no card, asked for Miss Orr.
Soon the frilled maid reappeared. “I'm sorry, Miss,” she said, “I thought Miss Lydia was at home, but I can't find her anywheres about.”
She eyed Ellen's trim figure doubtfully. “If there was any message—”
“No,” said Ellen. “I only came to call.”
“I'm real sorry, Miss,” repeated the maid. “Miss Lydia'll be sorry, too. Who shall I say, please?”
“Miss Dix,” replied Ellen. She walked past the maid, who held the door wide for her exit. Then she paused. A surprising sight met her eyes. Lydia Orr, hatless, flushed as if by rapid flight, was just reaching the steps, convoying the strange old man Ellen had met on the road a short time before.
The maid at her back gave a little cry. Ellen stood staring. So this was the person Jim Dodge had gone to fetch from somewhere!
“But it isn't too warm for me to be walking out to take the air,” she heard, in the heavy mumble58 of the man's voice. “I don't like being watched, Lydia; and I won't stand it, either. I might as well be—”
Lydia interrupted him with a sharp exclamation59. She had caught sight of Ellen Dix standing under the deep portico60, the scared face of the maid looking over her shoulder.
Ellen's face crimsoned61 slowly. All at once she felt unaccountably sorry and ashamed. She wished she had not come. She felt that she wanted nothing so much as to hurry swiftly away.
But Lydia Orr, still holding the strange old man by the arm, was already coming up the steps.
“I'll not go in the automobile, child,” he repeated, with an obstinate62 flourish of his stick. “I don't like to ride so fast. I want to see things. I want—”
He stopped short, his mouth gaping63, his eyes staring at Ellen.
“That girl!” he almost shouted. “She told me—I don't want her here.... Go away, girl, you make my head hurt!”
Lydia flashed a beseeching64 look at Ellen, as she led the old man past.
“Please come in,” she said; “I shall be at liberty in just a moment.... Come, father!”
Ellen hesitated.
“Perhaps I'd better not, today,” she murmured, and slowly descended65 the steps.
The discreet66 maid closed the door behind her.
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收听单词发音
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1
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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influx
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| n.流入，注入 | |
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replenished
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| 补充( replenish的过去式和过去分词 )； 重新装满 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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7
hangers
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| n.衣架( hanger的名词复数 )；挂耳 | |
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8
wield
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| vt.行使，运用，支配；挥，使用(武器等) | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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10
salvaged
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| （从火灾、海难等中）抢救（某物）( salvage的过去式和过去分词 )； 回收利用（某物） | |
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11
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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12
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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parlors
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| 客厅( parlor的名词复数 )； 起居室； （旅馆中的）休息室； （通常用来构成合成词）店 | |
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14
burgeoned
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| v.发芽，抽枝( burgeon的过去式和过去分词 )；迅速发展；发（芽），抽（枝） | |
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15
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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17
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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18
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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20
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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22
riddles
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| n.谜（语）( riddle的名词复数 )；猜不透的难题，难解之谜 | |
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23
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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24
pegs
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| n.衣夹( peg的名词复数 )；挂钉；系帐篷的桩；弦钮v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的第三人称单数 )；使固定在某水平 | |
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demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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26
puckered
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| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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28
attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
skewering
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| v.（用串肉扦或类似物）串起，刺穿( skewer的现在分词 ) | |
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30
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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31
rhinestone
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| n.水晶石，莱茵石 | |
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32
placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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prodigiously
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| adv.异常地，惊人地，巨大地 | |
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34
dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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35
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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36
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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37
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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38
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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39
rigidity
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| adj.钢性，坚硬 | |
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40
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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41
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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42
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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43
rumpled
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| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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45
automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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46
confidingly
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| adv.信任地 | |
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47
disquieted
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| v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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50
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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51
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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52
huddle
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| vi.挤作一团；蜷缩；vt.聚集；n.挤在一起的人 | |
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53
unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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54
hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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55
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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56
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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57
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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58
mumble
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| n./v.喃喃而语，咕哝 | |
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59
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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60
portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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61
crimsoned
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| 变为深红色（crimson的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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62
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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63
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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64
beseeching
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| adj.恳求似的v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
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65
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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66
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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