Jernyngham spent much of his time at the muskeg, encouraging the men who searched it and often assisting in the work. The whole morass5 was being systematically6 turned over with the spade, but no further discoveries had been made. In addition to this, Jernyngham rode to and fro about the prairie, talking to the farmers whom he met on the trail or found at work in the fields. They were all 93 sorry for him, but there was something deterrent7 in his sternness and his formal English manner, and they were less communicative than they might have been. This was why he failed to learn that the Colstons had stayed at Prescott’s homestead, though, for that matter, the fact was not generally known. The man could not rest; tormented8 by regrets for his past harshness, he was bent9 on making the only amend10 he could by hunting down the slayer11 of his son. His whole mind was fixed12 on the task, and he brooded over it in a manner that aroused his daughter’s concern. She dreaded13 the effect a continuance of the strain might have.
Gertrude, however, was relieved of a more pressing anxiety. Though her father steadfastly14 refused to entertain it, she shared Prescott’s belief that her brother was not dead. For one thing, Cyril was not the man to come badly to grief; he had done many reckless things and somehow escaped the worst results. Illogical as the idea was, she felt that his luck was good. It was a comforting reflection and she was sensible of a growing confidence in the farmer, who encouraged her to cling to it.
One afternoon she left the house and strolled across the harvest fields, which had greatly changed in appearance since she had first seen them. The oats were all stooked and stood in silvery sheaves, ready for the thrasher; the great stretch of wheat had melted down to a narrow oblong, round which the binders16 were working. Gertrude stopped to watch them. The plodding17 horses, the bent figures of the men, the play of light on falling grain, and the revolving18 arms of the machines fixed her eyes; the rustle19 of sheaves, the crackle of stubble, and the musical tinkle20 of metal, fell pleasantly on her ears. The mornings 94 and evenings were cold now, but the days were hot and bright, and the scene was steeped in vivid hues21: ocher, lemon, and coppery red below, dazzling blue above.
Prescott drove the leading binder15 and when it drew nearer she followed his movements with careful scrutiny22. She admitted that the man aroused her interest. He was wonderfully virile23, sanguine24, and hopeful, with a trace of what she thought of as the primitive25 strain; which tended toward physical perfection; his vigor26 and muscular symmetry had their effect on her. Though her father was a man of means and influence, her circle of acquaintances had been restricted by the narrowness of his views; and the men with whom she had been brought into contact were, for the most part, distinguished27 rather by unexceptional morals and sound opinions than by bodily grace and original thought.
By disposition28 as well as training Gertrude was a formalist and a prude, but she was human and she unconsciously obeyed a law of nature which ordains29 the union of the dissimilar. This was why, having met only men of her own kind hitherto, she had escaped the touch of passion and now felt drawn30 toward one who greatly differed from her.
After a while Prescott stopped his binder and opened a box attached to it. He closed it sharply, as if annoyed, called to one of the men gathering31 up the sheaves, and then walked toward the house.
“Run out of twine32; I’ll have to get some,” he explained to Gertrude.
“You look tired,” she said, stopping him. “You have been working very hard.”
“I don’t feel quite as bright as usual,” he confessed. “It’s the heat, I think, but I’ve turned out at four o’clock every morning since harvest began.” 95
“Then why not take a few minutes’ rest? I’ll make you a cup of tea; I was going in to get some ready. It’s an English custom.”
He indicated his attire33.
“I’d be glad, but I haven’t time to make myself presentable.”
“I’ll excuse that.” Gertrude smiled and added with unusual boldness: “You don’t seem to know that your dress is really most artistic34. It suits you.”
He bowed to her.
“I’m flattered. This costume was adopted with a view to economy and comfort. The worst of a man’s wearing smart clothes is that whenever he wants to do anything useful he has to take them off.”
“Is that a great trouble?”
“It takes a lot of valuable time,” he answered with a smile.
They turned toward the house, and after getting the twine he joined her in a cool, shadowy room. Gertrude was watching a silver spirit-lamp; near which two dainty cups and plates were laid out.
“That’s a very pretty outfit,” he remarked. “Is it English?”
“No; I bought it at a big store in Winnipeg—on Portage Avenue, I think.”
“I know the place. So they’re selling this kind of thing there! It’s significant. A few years ago they’d have got nobody to buy such truck.” He picked up a cup and held it to the light after examining the chaste35 color, design, and stamp. “Anyway, it’s English; the genuine article. I believe the biscuit can’t be imitated.”
Gertrude had not expected him to understand artistic china. 96
“I’ve read about these things,” he explained with a good-humored laugh; “and I’ve a way of remembering. We have time in winter, and one is glad to study anything that comes along. Still, I’ll allow that I found five-cent cans quite good enough when I first came out.”
This was not a point of much importance, but it fixed Gertrude’s attention. She was in the habit of roughly sorting people into different groups; there were, for example, those who appreciated beautiful things and had been endowed with them as a reward of merit, and those of coarser nature on whom they would be wasted, which was, no doubt, why they had none. Yet here was a man with artistic taste, who was nevertheless engaged in hard manual labor36 and had drunk contentedly37 out of common cans. It did not fit in with her theories.
“I suppose this country has its influence on one?” she said, searching for an explanation.
“That’s so; the influence is strong and good, on the whole.”
She considered this, quietly studying him. It was the first time she had entertained at table a man in outdoor working attire; Prescott, out of deference38 to his guests, had made some preparation for the meals they shared. Still, the simple dress became him; he was, as she vaguely39 thought of it, admirable, in a way. His hands and wrists were well-shaped, though scarred and roughened by the rasp of the hot straw. The warmth of the sun seemed to cling to his brown face; a joyous40 vitality41 emanated42 from him, and he had mental gifts. She felt lightly thrilled by his propinquity.
“But everything out here is still very crude,” she said.
“That’s where our strength lies; we’re a new people, raised on virgin43 soil out in the rushing winds. We haven’t 97 simmered down yet; we’re charged with unexhausted energies, which show themselves in novel ways. In our cities you’ll find semibarbarous rawness side by side with splendor44 and art, and complicated machines run by men who haven’t much regard for the fastidious niceties of civilization, though they’re unexcelled in their engineering skill. We undertake big works in an unconsidered manner that would scare your cautious English minds, make wild blunders, and go ahead without counting the damage. We come down pretty hard often, but it never brings us to a stop.”
He saw that she did not grasp all he meant to convey, and he leaned back in his chair with a laugh.
“This is the kind of fool talk you would expect from a boastful Westerner, isn’t it?”
“No,” she replied somewhat formally; “that isn’t what I thought. I find everything I see and hear interesting, but there’s much I can’t understand. One has to feel for its meaning.”
“It’s a very proper attitude,” he rejoined with amusement. “So long as you don’t bring over a ready-made standard to measure our shortcomings by, we’ll explain all we can. In fact, it’s a thing we’re fond of doing.” Then his tone grew grave. “But I haven’t seen your father since this morning. Is he at the muskeg?”
“Yes. I’m getting anxious about him; the trouble is preying45 on his mind. Grief, of course, is a natural feeling, but he thinks of nothing except revenge. He’s growing haggard and losing his judgment46. I’m almost afraid to think what may happen if he finds anything that looks like a clue. The shock has shaken him terribly.”
“And you?”
“I feel half guilty because I’ve been so calm since I 98 came here, but I can’t believe the worst. You have reassured47 me.” She paused and added softly: “And I’m very grateful.”
“I’m glad.” Prescott’s tone was sympathetic. “But I can imagine what your father feels. From a few things he has told me, he seems to have led a smooth, well-ordered life; no doubt he made too much of the trouble your brother caused him.”
“Yes; I think so now.”
“Perhaps he half-consciously formed an idea that things would always go tranquilly48 with him, and when it came without warning the shock of Cyril’s disappearance49 was too strong. And yet I firmly believe he’s mistaken in his fears.”
Gertrude made a sign of agreement.
“Nothing I can say calms him. One can only wait.”
“And that’s always hard,” Prescott said gently.
She roused him to strong compassion50. She had, he thought, no great depth of character, but her development had been checked by many restraints. Her father had curbed51 each natural impulse, until the little originality52 in her withered53 and died; she had grown up cold and colorless, with narrow views, and petty, if quite blameless, aims. Prescott, however, was wrong in crediting Jernyngham with too great a success. Gertrude’s nature had not been utterly54 repressed and stunted55, and now, in time of stress, it was expanding.
Romance had come late to her, but she was dimly conscious of it at last. Her senses were stirring and she felt a half-guilty pleasure at seeing the bronzed rancher’s eyes bent on her tenderly. To think of him except as her host for a few weeks was, of course, folly56; but there was a fascination57 in the gentleness he showed her. She 99 was beginning to understand and sympathize with Cyril’s rash daring and contempt for restraints. She felt tempted58 to follow her impulses; her frigid59 reserve was melting.
“Will you have more tea?” she asked, shrinking back to safe ground.
“Thank you,” he said, holding out the dainty cup.
“Hot water? It’s rather strong.”
“Before I had a housekeeper60 we made it black and drank it by the kettleful.”
“But the effect on your nerves!”
“Nerves?” he laughed. “We don’t cultivate them in this country. Mine make no trouble.”
“You’re to be envied,” she said, and looked up sharply at a sound of footsteps as her father came in.
His clothes were dusty and creased61; the neatness which had characterized him on his arrival had gone. His face had grown brown, but it was haggard, hotly flushed, and beaded with perspiration62; his lips were tightly set, his eyes had an ominous63 glitter. Throwing down a riding quirt he carried, he sat down; resting his arms on the table, in an attitude of blank dejection.
“Nothing yet,” he said listlessly. “It’s hard to bear.”
“There’s a suggestion I want to make.” Prescott spoke64 quietly. “The offer of a reward here has led to nothing; send another round to the Alberta and British Columbia papers, with a description of your son, saying you’ll pay a hundred dollars for trustworthy information about him. I believe it will bring you good news.”
Jernyngham turned to him in keen impatience65.
“It would be useless—my son is dead! The police have proved that beyond a doubt, and I cannot understand why you should persist in denying it!” His eyes 100 grew hard with sudden suspicion. “It looks as if you had some motive66.”
“I’m afraid you’re hardly just,” Gertrude broke in. “Mr. Prescott only wishes to lessen67 your anxiety, but he’s convinced of what he says.”
It was a rare thing for her to oppose him, but Jernyngham was too preoccupied68 to be surprised at her boldness, and he made a gesture of deprecation.
“You must forgive me, Mr. Prescott—my daughter’s right. But to offer me assurances that must prove false is rank cruelty. I have faced the worst; I’m not strong enough to bear a second blow, which is what must follow if I listen to you. As it is, the strain is merciless.”
His voice and bearing showed it. Indeed, one could have imagined that it would have been better had he yielded a little more, but his eyes expressed a grim, vengeful determination. He was not the man to weaken, he would hold out until he broke down; but his daughter and Prescott were filled with fears for him.
“I’m sorry,” said the rancher. “Has Curtis thought of anything new?”
“No,” Jernyngham answered harshly. “The police can entertain only one idea at a time; they can read the meaning of footprints and there their ability ends. They have no power of organization; I can’t force them to make investigations69 on a proper scale, and I’m helpless until harvest’s over. Then, when men can be hired, I’ll have every bluff70 and ravine in the country searched. If I spend the rest of my life here, I’ll find the guilty man!”
He said nothing further, and there was a strained silence while he sat, leaning forward limply, with bent head, and a thin hand clenched71 hard upon the table. Rousing himself by and by, he took the cup of tea Gertrude passed 101 to him, and set it down without drinking. It made a sharp clatter72, but he left it setting near him as if he had forgotten it. Unable to bear the sight of his distress73, Prescott went quietly out, and when he was leaving the house Gertrude joined him.
“Perhaps I should have stayed with him, but I was afraid to speak,” she said. “Besides, there was nothing to be said.”
“This can’t go on,” Prescott declared. “It’s too much for him. I can’t leave here until the harvest’s over, and then the grain ought to be hauled in, but I’ve thought of making a tour of inquiry74 along the new railroad and round the Alberta ranches75 and the mines in British Columbia.”
Gertrude looked grateful.
“It would be a great relief to feel that something was being done. But—” she added hesitatingly, “your time is valuable and there would be expense. I have some means, Mr. Prescott, and though I dare not speak to my father about it, you must draw on me.”
“We’ll talk about it later. I wish I could go now, but that’s impossible, and there’s no use in suggesting that Mr. Jernyngham should send somebody else. Besides, I believe I’d have the best chance of picking up the right trail. You won’t mind my saying that I’m very sorry for you?”
Her eyes grew soft and her whole expression gentle. It was an attractive face Prescott looked into.
“I value your sympathy,” she said softly. “Indeed, I can’t tell you what a comfort you have been. But you will undertake this search as soon as possible, won’t you?”
“Yes,” Prescott replied firmly; “you can count on that. If I’ve made things easier for you, I’m very glad.”
Then he turned away and hurried back to the binder.
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1
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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implicated
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| adj.密切关联的；牵涉其中的 | |
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painstaking
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| adj.苦干的；艰苦的，费力的，刻苦的 | |
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morass
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| n.沼泽，困境 | |
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systematically
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| adv.有系统地 | |
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deterrent
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| n.阻碍物，制止物；adj.威慑的，遏制的 | |
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tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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amend
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| vt.修改，修订，改进；n.[pl.]赔罪，赔偿 | |
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slayer
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| n. 杀人者，凶手 | |
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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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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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binder
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| n.包扎物，包扎工具；[法]临时契约；粘合剂；装订工 | |
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binders
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| n.（司机行话）刹车器；（书籍的）装订机( binder的名词复数 )；（购买不动产时包括预付订金在内的）保证书；割捆机；活页封面 | |
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plodding
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| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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virile
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| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
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sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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ordains
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的第三人称单数 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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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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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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twine
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| v.搓，织，编饰；（使）缠绕 | |
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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emanated
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的过去式和过去分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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45
preying
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| v.掠食( prey的现在分词 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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50
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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51
curbed
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| v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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53
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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54
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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frigid
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| adj.寒冷的，凛冽的；冷淡的；拘禁的 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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creased
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的过去式和过去分词 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹； 皱皱巴巴 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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64
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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65
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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66
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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67
lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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68
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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69
investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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70
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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71
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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72
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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73
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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74
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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75
ranches
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| 大农场， （兼种果树，养鸡等的）大牧场( ranch的名词复数 ) | |
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