“Who knows but we shall meet him somewhere?” thought Harold, knowing that Ted3’s trip was also to be through the English Lakes; “and if we do, I’ll give him another piece of my mind, for he’s been more than rude to Aunt Lou and Uncle Fritz, never putting himself out the least bit for them. Oh, if Ted were only a different sort of fellow! He ought to be the sixth one in this party instead of Mr. Farwell. But, heigho! it would be a shame to let Ted spoil this trip for me, and I’m not going to think of him again—that is, if I can help it—unless we happen to meet.”
Harold was indulging in this meditation7 as he stood waiting by the break for the rest of the party, for thinking comes very easy when one has nothing to do; but wise are the folk, big or little, who, like Harold, resolve to banish8 uncomfortable thoughts from the mind when convinced that thinking is not in the least likely to better them.
Of course, as you may imagine, there was one little heart sadly rebellious9 and envious10 over the setting out of this happy party. “Not quite big enough to fill up,” was the chief excuse given; but the little Knight11 of the Garter knew full well that he was considered too small every way to be for one moment taken into the calculation. Oh, what would he not have given if only his arrival in this world might have been timed in closer proximity12 to Harold’s and Marie-Celeste’s—it was such an insupportable thing to be seven long years behind! But, all the same, his time would come, and his little envious heart secretly cherished the revengeful hope that he, in turn, might have the grim satisfaction of informing other young hopefuls that their extreme youth and diminutive13 proportions excluded them from participating in this or that pleasure to which his riper age entitled him, all of which unknightly and most unchristian sentiments we trust will be put to rout14 when he comes to years of discretion15. But this aside about Albert has been merely by way of parenthesis17 while the party from the Little Castle are mounting the steps to the break, and stowing themselves away in their places. Uncle Fritz, who had spent all his boyhood on a New England farm near Franconia, and taken many a trip on a White Mountain coach by the side of an indulgent driver, had early mastered the secret of competent four-in-hand driving, and was therefore first to take his seat on the driver’s almost perpendicular19 cushion. Next to him sat Harold, who could also manage the four-in-hand whenever Uncle Fritz thought best to resign in his favor, and next to Harold, Marie-Celeste, grateful for the arrangement that accorded to her a seat on the outside edge. On the middle seat Aunt Lou sat alone in solemn grandeur20, but only until they could cover the little distance to the White Hart Inn to take aboard Mr. Farwell, and then wheel round to Canon Allyn’s for Dorothy.
Dorothy Allyn was standing21 in the doorway22 ready and expectant, and looking as pretty as a picture in a gray costume and a hat with a wide-rolling brim, that in her case was vastly becoming. Albert’s disconsolate23 face was pressed close to a window-pane, which was as near as he cared to come to such a joyous24 company. Marie-Celeste declared she could almost see the lump in the poor little fellow’s throat, and the recollection of the utter hopelessness of the teary brown eyes lingered rather sadly for a while in the memory of all of the party.
But who could long be grave at the outset of so promising25 an expedition! The idea of a leisurely26 driving trip through the lovely Lake Country, stopping here and there, as the spirit moved them, at the comfortable little inns and hotels that abound27 in the region, had been such a supremely28 delightful idea, even in mere16 anticipation30, that now that they were actually off enthusiasm knew no bounds, and mirth was literally31 unconfined. Not that any very remarkable32 things were said, but one can laugh very easily, you know, and at almost nothing, when one’s heart is light as a feather and the “goose hangs high,” as the queer old saying has it.
And yet for all that, to all those happy hearts there might have been added one extra touch still of lightness. Mr. Farwell was no doubt a most desirable addition, and all were delighted that he could come; but the place belonged by rights to Ted—wilful, wandering, selfish Ted, who might have added so much to their pleasure if he had not chosen to turn his back upon them all and prefer any company in the world, apparently33, to that of kith and kin6 and old friends at Windsor. The thought and half hope that they might meet him somewhere on the trip was in every mind but one. Dorothy knew better. Dorothy knew a great deal, in fact, for her brother Harry34 had made one surreptitious visit home; that is, he had arrived by night and left again by night, and no one outside of his own family had been a bit the wiser. And during that visit Harry, under pledge of perfect secrecy35 on the part of his mother and Dorothy, had told them everything.
“You see, the reason why I want you to keep so dark about it all,” Harry had explained, “is because of Ted. I believe the fellow’s just as ashamed of this last year at Oxford36 as I am, but you know, Dorothy, as well as I do (as, alas37! Dorothy did know to her sorrow), that Ted’s awfully38 touchy39 and sensitive, and it takes a very little thing to turn him one way or the other. Well, now, let Harold, who is pretty well out of the notion of Ted already, come to hear of this last scrape, and, youngster as he is, I believe he’d throw him over; and Ted, you know, wouldn’t stand any nonsense of that sort and would tell Harold ‘to go his own way and welcome,’ and who knows what the upshot of that would be! If Ted does not feel he must make an effort to lead a different sort of life for Harold’s sake, he may come to the conclusion that the thing’s not worth trying. You see, you can’t feel sure about a fellow’s good resolutions till you have had a chance to test them, and Ted’s haven’t had to stand any strain as yet.”
Now, to know all this was naturally a great comfort to Harry’s mother and sister, for they had of course been not a little anxious on Harry’s own account at the way things seemed to be going; but there was one thing they were content not to know for a while—for the reason that Harry strongly urged it—and that was where he and Ted were staying. There need be no difficulty on this account about their writing, because letters could be forwarded promptly40 from Oxford, whereas if they were able to say where Harry was, then Ted would have to be accounted for, too, and there was no telling where that would end. Now, this narration41 is simply by way of telling you how Dorothy had come to know that there was no sort of use in hoping to come across the two seniors, who, like themselves, were supposed to be enjoying all the delights of driving through the English Lake Country.
It had been decided42 that Oxford was to be the first stopping-place of the driving party, and quite a stop it was to be. Mr. and Mrs. Harris and Mr. Farwell had never been there, and they planned to spend at least two days prowling about the dear old colleges. But Marie-Celeste and Harold had a scheme on foot in comparison with which all the colleges put together could not offer the least attraction. They were to be permitted to go down early Saturday morning to Nuneham, take Chris and Donald by surprise, and spend the whole day with them.
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Why, that plan in itself was worth all the rest of the trip; and when Mr. Harris, to whom the idea had first occurred, suggested it, Marie-Celeste had put her two arms round her father’s neck, declaring “he was just a darling and yet, when you come to think of it, he was the very same old curmudgeon43 of a papa, and not one whit18 altered either, who had been so soundly berated44 for insisting that it would be better for Donald to have some easy work to do than to idle away the whole summer.”
Ah, well! the little Queen had deeply repented45 that sorry episode; and endeavoring ourselves to forget it, let us agree never again so much as to allude46 to it.
So down to Nuneham they went bright and early Saturday morning, and, feeling fine as a lark47, or as two larks48, to speak more correctly, they preferred doing the walking themselves over the mile and a half out from Nuneham to engaging a most unpromising horse attached to a little carry-all to do it for them. They would at least seem to be getting over the ground at a faster rate, and be able to work off considerable superfluous49 energy into the bargain. And it was really marvellous how soon they reached their destination. Far too excited to converse50 by the way, every breath was reserved for the exertion51 of walking, and so it happened that they made almost the best time on record. And when they reached the cottage, or rather the little lane that runs down between the hedgerows, who did they see at once but Chris himself, busy at work in the garden, and Donald, hoe in hand, close beside him, cutting vigorously at the weeds round some hop-vines, and both working away with such a will and such a farmer-like air that it looked as though both had mistaken their calling. But working with a will sometimes means nothing more than determination to do one’s duty; and from what we happen to know, Chris would much have preferred setting cheerily forth52 on his round in Uncle Sam’s far-away city, and Donald was probably dreaming of the blue boundless53 sea and the steamer ploughing its way in the teeth of a driving nor’easter. But wherever their thoughts may have been, they instantly both stopped thinking, for first they heard the familiar bugle-call of the steamer ring out on the air in the clearest sort of a whistle; and then—could they believe their eyes?—there stood Marie-Celeste and Harold right before them on the other side of the hawthorn54.
“Well, I never!” cried Chris, and in one bound was over the hedgerow.
“My eyes!” was Donald’s surprised exclamation55, and then he took to his heels and ran to the cottage as fast as his legs could carry him.
“Mr. Harris,” he panted, with what little breath his run had left him, “your brother has come—he’s just out in the lane there with Marie-Celeste, and they’ll both be right in here in a minute.”
“What stuff you are talking, Donald,” for Ted could not believe his ears.
“It’s the truth, sir, and you’ve only a minute, unless you want to see him but it was so very plain that Ted didn’t want to see him, that Donald, who more fully2 took in the need for haste, pressed Ted’s hat and cane56 into his hand, and then throwing open one of the shutters57 of the back windows of his room, helped him to make the best possible time getting through it. It was rather heroic treatment for a convalescent, who was barely equal as yet to even commonplace modes of proceeding58, but there was nothing else to be done if the secret was still to be kept.
“Go down to the big apple-tree in the corner of the meadow,” directed Donald, half under his breath, “and, look here! you had better take this with you,” dragging a steamer rug from the couch, and flinging it out after him, “and I’ll come down just as soon as ever I can and let you know how things are going and then Donald drew the shutters noiselessly to and sped back to the lane at as tight a run as he had left it. All this was accomplished59 in less time than it takes to tell it, and Donald found the children still chatting with Chris in the lane. Chris, having instantly surmised60 the object of Donald’s disappearance61, determined62 that he should have all the time needed; and nothing was easier, under conditions that called naturally for so many explanations, than to engage the children in such an absorbing conversation on the spot as to make no move toward the cottage; but the ring of Donald’s feet on the path was the signal that it was safe to lead the way in that direction.
“Well, you are glad to see a fellow,” said Harold, “to take to your heels and run in that fashion the moment you spied us.”
“There was something I suddenly remembered that I had to see to that very minute,” stammered63 Donald, shaking bands with Marie-Celeste and Harold at one and the same moment; “but you may just believe I’m glad to see you and the warmth of Donald’s welcome fully atoned64 for the few moments of unexplained delay.
“Did you tell Granny they had come, Donald?” asked Chris, his face fairly beaming at the thought of being able to actually introduce Marie-Celeste to the dear old grandmother.
“No; I stopped for nothing more than I just had to,” said Donald honestly; but Mrs. Hartley, who had been busy in the kitchen wing of the little cottage, and had not heard the commotion65 in Ted’s room, but had happened to catch sight of Donald’s flying heels, had come out to see what the matter was.
“Why, you don’t tell me this is Marie-Celeste?” she said, putting one hand on Marie-Celeste’s shoulder and looking gladly down at the sunny, upturned face. “Why, do you know,” she said, shaking hands with Harold as she spoke66, “you have succeeded, I am sure, in giving Chris the very best surprise in all his life.”
“That they have, Granny,” said Chris warmly; “and they’re not going back till late this afternoon, and we’re going to make a beautiful day of it.”
And a beautiful day of it they made; and early in the afternoon Marie-Celeste made something beautiful besides, quite on her own account—nothing else than the discovery which gives its name to this chapter, and which happened to be a beautiful discovery, because it was the means of making somebody take new heart and see things in general in a newer and truer light.
They had been together the entire morning—all the little household, with the exception of the gentleman who, Donald had explained, had met with the accident, and who had gone off for the day. Donald had previously67 whispered to Mrs. Hartley that Ted was down under the big apple-tree, not feeling much like talking or caring to meet their unexpected company. You see, Donald, having been taken so unreservedly into Ted’s confidence, had turned into a thorough diplomat68, and had determined to aid and abet69 his plans in every possible way. Indeed, from what he himself knew of Harold’s intense nature, he felt very sure that it would be far wiser and safer that he should never know of all that had happened—not, at any rate, unless Ted, having had a chance to prove the strength of his new resolutions, chose some day himself to tell him. Harold was so proud and Ted was so proud they simply mustn’t come together yet awhile if it could in any way be helped. But we must not let this little aside about Donald’s attitude toward the whole affair take another moment of our thoughts, for more important and vastly more interesting matters are awaiting our attention.
Of course it goes without saying with those of us who have come to know Mrs. Hartley, that as regal a little dinner was served for the guests from Royal Windsor as the larder70 of the cottage could afford; but to Martha was due all the praise of actual performance. Mrs. Hartley simply took her knitting, and sat the entire morning right in the midst of the little party just outside the cottage-door.
“You must manage somehow,” she had said seriously to Martha; “I must see all I can of Chris’s little Marie-Celeste to-day, for you know it is hardly likely, Martha, that I shall ever see her again.”
“I’m quite sure I can manage, Mrs. Hartley,” the little maid said proudly, confident that her long apprenticeship71 had made her fully equal to the occasion, and inwardly rejoicing in the full sense of responsibility.
At the exact hour agreed upon as the best time for dinner, the little maid, turned cook and waitress, announced the meal as ready, and her reward came in the children’s demonstrative approval. “Never tasted anything so delicious” was on their lips repeatedly; and Marie-Celeste having told, to the supreme29 delight of all who listened, the story of her visit to the Queen, even went so far as to declare that she was enjoying it more than the luncheon72 in the Castle. Mrs. Hartley said, “Oh, my dear!” in a most deprecating way; but there was no gainsaying73 the evident sincerity74 of the declaration.
“Perhaps it’s because I feel a little more at home in a cottage,” Marie-Celeste explained; “and then, besides,” looking affectionately toward Chris, “it’s so fine to be with old friends, you know;” and Chris shook his head and glanced toward his grandmother as much as to say, “Well, now, Granny dear, did you ever see such a darling?”
“Granny dear” shook her head as much as to say, “No, Chris, I never did;” and Marie-Celeste, daintily preoccupied75 with a drum-stick, was fortunately none the wiser for this exchange of open admiration76.
At the conclusion of dinner Chris took the boys off to a neighboring farm to show them some wonderful Jersey77 cattle that were expected to take the prize at a coming county fair; but Marie-Celeste, preferring Mrs. Hartley’s society, decided to remain at home. No sooner were they gone, however, than Mrs. Hartley, arriving at the decision that she knew better than Mr. Harris himself what was best for him, and that it would doubtless do him good to meet this bright little girl, entered immediately into a bit of diplomacy78 on her own account.
“Marie-Celeste,” she said, “will you do a little favor for me? Will you run and ask Martha if one of the cup-custards was left over from dinner?”
“Martha says yes, Mrs. Hartley.”
“Well, then, will you ask her to give it to you on a little tray, and a piece of sponge-cake besides, well powdered with sugar?”
“Here it is, Mrs. Hartley,” carefully bringing the laden79 tray, and looking every whit as pretty as the picture of La Chocolatière, and not unlike her in her pose and gentle dignity.
“And now do you think you could carry it to somebody way down under the apple-tree that you can just see the top of from here?”
“Surely I could,” her pretty face glowing with the pleasure of the errand, “but I should like to know who the somebody is.”
“Of course you would. Well, it’s the gentleman, Mr. Morris, who met with the accident, and who’s been staying with us these six weeks.”
“Oh, all right, then,” and Marie-Celeste tripped away, at the same time taking care not to stumble, to the apple-tree down in the meadow. But since this chapter is growing rather long, and you have already surmised what it was that Marie-Celeste discovered, it may be as well to stop a moment, draw a long breath, and take another chapter to tell about it.
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1
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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ted
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| vt.翻晒，撒，撒开 | |
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grooms
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| n.新郎( groom的名词复数 )；马夫v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的第三人称单数 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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banish
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| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
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rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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parenthesis
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| n.圆括号，插入语，插曲，间歇，停歇 | |
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whit
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| n.一点，丝毫 | |
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perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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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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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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abound
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| vi.大量存在；(in，with)充满，富于 | |
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supremely
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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touchy
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| adj.易怒的；棘手的 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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narration
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| n.讲述，叙述；故事；记叙体 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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curmudgeon
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| n. 脾气暴躁之人，守财奴，吝啬鬼 | |
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berated
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| v.严厉责备，痛斥( berate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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larks
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| n.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的名词复数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的第三人称单数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
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superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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hawthorn
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| 山楂 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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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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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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60
surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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61
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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63
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
atoned
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| v.补偿，赎（罪）( atone的过去式和过去分词 )；补偿，弥补，赎回 | |
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65
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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66
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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67
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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68
diplomat
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| n.外交官，外交家；能交际的人，圆滑的人 | |
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abet
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| v.教唆，鼓励帮助 | |
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70
larder
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| n.食物贮藏室，食品橱 | |
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71
apprenticeship
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| n.学徒身份；学徒期 | |
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72
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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73
gainsaying
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| v.否认，反驳( gainsay的现在分词 ) | |
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74
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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75
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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76
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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77
jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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78
diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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