There were, in all, ten of us at the table. Sir William beamed upon us from the end nearest the windows, with Daisy on his left hand and the London dame1 on the other--in the place of distinction to which she was, I suppose, entitled. Below Lady Berenicia sat Mr. Stewart, Sir John, and Walter Butler. I was on the left side below Mr. Cross. These details come back to me as if they were of yesterday, when I think of that dinner.
I could not see Daisy from where I sat, but all through the meal I watched the effect she was producing upon those opposite us. To do her justice, Lady Berenicia seemed to have no alloy2 of jealousy3 in the delight with which she regarded the result of her handiwork. Mr. Stewart could not keep his fond eyes off the girl; they fairly glowed with satisfied pride and affection. Both Sir John and Walter gave more attention to our beautiful maiden4 than they did to their plates, and both faces told an open tale of admiration5, each after its kind.
There was plenty of gay talk at the head of the table--merry chatter6 of which I recall nothing, save vaguely7 that it was about the triumph of art over unadorned nature at which we were assisting.
Mr. Cross and I bore our small part in the celebration in silence for a time. Then we fell to talking quietly of the journey upon which we were so soon to embark8; but our minds were not on the subject, and after a little its discussion lapsed9. All at once he said, as if speaking the thoughts which tied my tongue:
"To my mind the young woman is not improved by these furbelows and fal-lals my wife has put upon her. What wit or reason is there in a homely10, sensible little maiden like this--a pretty flower growing, as God designed it to, in modest sweetness on its own soil--being garnished11 out in the stale foppery of the last London season?"
"But it is only a masquerade, sir," I pleaded--as much to my own judgment12 as to his--"and it does make her very beautiful, does it not?"
"She was beautiful before," he replied, in the same low tones. "Can a few trumpery13 laces and ribbons, a foolish patch, a little powder, affect what is real about a woman, think you? And do any but empty heads value unreal things?"
"True enough, sir; but this is nothing more than harmless pleasantry. Women are that way. See how pleased she is--how full of smiles and happiness she seems. It's a dull sort of life here in the woods. Poor Daisy, she sees so little of gayety, it would be cruel to begrudge14 her this innocent pleasure."
"Innocent--yes, no doubt; but, do you know, she will never be the same girl again. She will never feel quite the same pretty little Mistress Daisy, in her woollen gown and her puttical kerchief. She will never get the taste of this triumph out of her mouth. You do not know women, young man, as I do. I have studied the sex in a very celebrated15 and costly16 school. Mark my words, ideas have been put into her head that will never come out."
I tried to believe that this was not so. "Ah," I said, "to know other women is not to know our Daisy. Why, she is good sense itself--so prudent17 and modest and thoughtful that she makes the other girls roundabout seem all hoydens or simpletons. She has read the most serious books--never anything else. Her heart is as good as her mind is rich. Never fear, Mr. Cross! not all the silks in China or velvets in Genoa could turn her dear head."
He smiled, somewhat compassionately18 I thought, and made no answer.
Was I so firm in my faith, after all? The doubt rose in my thoughts, and would not down, as the gallant19 talk flowed and bubbled around me. Would this Daisy be quite the same next day, or next week, singing to us at the old harpsichord21 in the twilight22, with the glare of the blaze on the hearth23 making red gold of that hair, plaited once more in simple braids? I tried with all my might to call up this sweet familiar figure before my mental vision: it would not freely come.
She was laughing now, with a clear ripple24 of joyousness25, at some passing quip between our host and sharp-tongued Lady Berenicia, both of whom employed pretty liberally their Irish knack26 of saying witty27, biting things. The sound came strangely to my ears, as if it were some other than Daisy laughing.
I was still in this brown study when Sir William called the health of the ladies, with some jocose28 words of compliment to them, congratulation to ourselves. I rose mechanically after the other gentlemen, glass in hand, to hear Mr. Stewart make pleasant and courtly acknowledgment, and to see the two women pass out in a great rustling29 of draperies and hoops30, with Walter Butler holding open the door and bowing profoundly. The faint scent31 of powder left on the air annoyed me, as something stifling32 those thoughts of the good little adopted sister, whom I had brought to the Hall and lost there, which I would fain dwell upon.
We sat over our Madeira and pipes longer than usual. Candles were brought in by Sir William's young body-servant Pontiac, for there was a full moon, and we might thus prolong our stay after nightfall. The talk was chiefly about our coming trip--a very serious undertaking33. Sir William and Mr. Butler had adventures of their own early trading days to recall, and they gave us great stores of advice drawn34 from experience, and ranging from choice of shirts and spirits to needful diplomacy35 with the Algonquins and Sakis.
Then the company drank the health of Mr. Cross, and were good enough to couple mine with it. A comical little yellow boy danced for us before the hearth--an admiring wall of black faces and rolling white eyeballs filling up the open door meanwhile. Walter Butler sang a pretty song--everybody, negroes and all, swelling36 the chorus. Rum was brought in, and mixed in hot glasses, with spice, molasses, and scalding water from the kettle on the crane. So evening deepened to night; but I never for a moment, not even when they drank my health, shook off the sense of unrest born of Daisy's masquerade.
It was Molly Brant herself, nobly erect37 and handsome in her dark, sinister38 way, who came to us with word that the moon was up over the pine-ridged hills, and that Mistress Daisy was attired39 for the homeward ride, and waiting.
Of all the pictures in Memory's portfolio40, none is more distinct than this of the departure that evening from the Hall. A dozen negroes were about the steps, two or three mounted ready to escort us home, others bearing horn lanterns which the moonlight darkened into inutility, still others pulling the restive41 horses about on the gravel42. Mr. Stewart swung himself into the saddle, and Daisy stepped out to mount behind him. She wore her own garments once more, but there was just a trace of powder on the hair under the hood43, and the patch was still on her chin. I moved forward to lift her to the pillion as I had done hundreds of times before, but she did not see me. Instead, I was almost pushed away by the rush of Sir John and young Butler to her side, both eager to assist. It was the knight44, flushed and a little unsteady with wine, who won the privilege, and held Daisy's foot. I climbed into my saddle moodily45, getting offence out of even this.
So we rode away, pursued down the path to the lilacs by shouts of "Good-night! Safe home!" Looking back to lift my hat for the last adieu, I saw the honest old baronet, bareheaded in the clear moonlight, waving his hand from the lowest step, with Lady Berenicia and the others standing46 above him, outlined upon the illumined doorway47, and the negroes grouped on either side, obscurely gesticulating in the shadows of the broad, dark front of the Hall, which glowed against the white sky.
As I recall the scene, it seems to me that then and there I said farewell, not alone to pleasant friends, but to the Daisy of my childhood and youth.
The Hall slaves rode well ahead in the narrow road; we could just hear faintly the harmony of the tune48 they were humming in concert, as one hears the murmur49 of an ?olian harp20. As a guard, they were of course ridiculous: the veriest suspicion of peril50 would have sent them all galloping51 helter-skelter, with frantic52 shrieks53 of fright. But the road was perfectly54 safe, and these merry fellows were to defend us from loneliness, not danger.
I did indeed rest my free hand on the pistol in my holster as I jogged along close behind the old gray horse and his double burden; but the act was more an unconscious reflection of my saturnine55 mood, I fear, than a recognition of need. There was every reason why I should dwell with delight upon the prospect56 opening before me--upon the idea of the great journey so close at hand; but I scarcely thought of it at all, and I was not happy. The moon threw a jaundiced light over my mind, and in its discolored glare I saw things wrongly, and with gratuitous57 pain to myself.
In fact, my brooding was the creature of the last few hours, born of a childish pique58. But as I rode gloomily silent behind my companions, it seemed as if I had long suffered a growing separation from them. "Three is a clumsy number," I said to myself, "in family affection not less than in love; there was never any triad of friends since the world began, no matter how fond their ties, in which two did not build a little interior court of thoughts and sympathies from which the third was shut out. These two people whom I hold dearer than everything else on earth--this good gentleman to whom I owe all, this sweet girl who has grown up from babyhood in my heart--would scout59 the idea that there was any line of division running through our household. They do not see it--cannot see it. Yet they have a whole world of ideas and sentiments in common, a whole world of communion, which I may never enter."
This was what, in sulky, inchoate60 fashion, I said to myself, under the spur of the jealous spirits which sometimes get rein61 over the thoughts of the best of us. And it was all because the London woman had tricked out our Daisy, for but a little hour or two, in the presentment of a court lady!
Conversation went briskly forward, meanwhile, from the stout62 back of the gray horse.
"Did you note, papa, how white and soft her hands were?" said Daisy. "Mine were so red beside them! It is working in the garden, I believe, although Mary Johnson always wore gloves when she was out among the flowers and vegetables, and her hands were red, too. And Lady Berenicia was so surprised to learn that I had never read any of the romances which they write now in England! She says ladies in London, and in the provinces too, do not deem themselves fit to converse63 unless they keep abreast64 of all these. She has some of them in her chests, and there are others in the Hall, she has found, and I am to read them, and welcome."
"You are old enough now, my girl," replied Mr. Stewart. "They seem to me to be trivial enough things, but no doubt they have their use. I would not have you seem as inferior to other ladies in knowledge of the matters they talk of, as they are inferior to you in honest information."
"How interested she was when I told her of the serious books I read, and of my daily occupations--moulding the candles, brewing65 the beer, carding wool, making butter, and then caring for the garden! She had never seen celery in trenches66, she said, and would not know beans from gourds67 if she saw them growing. It seems that in England ladies have nothing to do with their gardens--when, indeed, they have any at all--save to pluck a rose now and then, or give tea to their gentlemen under the shrubbery when it is fine. And I told her of our quilting and spinning bees, and the coasting on clear winter evenings, and of watching the blacks on Pinkster night, and the picnics in the woods, and she vowed68 London had no pleasures like them. She was jesting though, I think. Oh, shall we ever go to London, papa?"
"By all means, let us go," chuckled69 Mr. Stewart. "You would see something there she never saw--my grizzled old head upon Temple Bar. Shall we be off to-morrow? My neck tingles70 with anticipation71."
"Old tease!" laughed Daisy, patting his shoulder. "You know there have been no heads put there since long before I was born. Never flatter yourself that they would begin again now with yours. They've forgotten there was ever such a body as you."
"Faith! the world doesn't go round so fast as you young people think. Only to-day I read in the London mail that two months ago one of the polls that had been there since '46 fell down; but if it was Fletcher's or Townley's no one can tell--like enough not even they themselves by this time. So there's a vacant spike72 now for mine. No, child--I doubt these old bones will ever get across the sea again. But who knows?--it may be your fortune to go some time."
"Lady Berenicia says I must come to the Hall often, papa, while she is there," said the girl, returning to the subject which bewitched her; "and you must fetch me, of course. She admires you greatly; she says gentlemen in London have quite lost the fine manner that you keep up here, with your bow and your compliments. You must practise them on me now. We are to keep each other company as much as possible, she and I, while her husband and Douw go off together. You should have seen her mimic73 them--the two solemn, long-faced men boring each other in the depths of the wilderness74."
The talk had at last got around to me. Daisy laughed gayly at recollection of the London woman's jesting. Surely never a more innocent, less malicious75 laugh came from a maiden's merry lips, but it fell sourly on my ears.
"It is easy for people to be clever who do not scruple76 to be disagreeable," I said, without much relevancy.
"What is this, Douw?" Mr. Stewart turned half-way in his saddle and glanced inquiry77 back at me. "What is wrong with you? You were as glum78 all the evening long as a Tuscarora. Isn't the trip with Mr. Cross to your liking79?"
"Oh, ay! I shall be glad to go."
It was on my perverse80 tongue's end to add the peevish81 thought that nobody would specially82 miss me, but I held it back.
"He has had a perfect Dutch fit on to-day," said Daisy, with good-natured sisterly frankness; "for all the world such as old Hon Yost Polhemus has when his yeast83 goes bitter. Whenever I looked down the table to him, at dinner, he was scowling84 across at poor Walter Butler or Sir John, as if he would presently eat them both. He was the only one who failed to tell me I looked well in the--the citified costume."
"Rather say I was the only one whose opinion you did not care for."
She was too sweet-tempered to take umbrage85 at my morose86 rejoinder, and went on with her mock-serious catalogue of my crimes:
"And what do you think, papa? Who should it be but our patient, equable Master Douw that was near quarrelling with Walter Butler, out by the lilacs, this very morning--and in the presence of ladies, too."
"No one ever saw me quarrel, 'ladies' or anybody else," I replied.
"Faith! then I did myself," Mr. Stewart laughingly called out. "And it was before a lady too--or the small beginnings of one. I saw him with my own eyes, Daisy, get knocked into the ashes by a young man, and jump up and run at him with both fists out--and all on your account, too, my lady; and then--"
"Oh, I am reminded!"
It was Daisy who cried out, and with visible excitement. Then she clapped her hand to her mouth with a pretty gesture; then she said:
"Or no! I will not tell you yet. It is so famous a secret, it must come out little by little. Tell me, papa, did you know that this Mr. Cross up at the Hall--Lady Berenicia's husband--is a cousin to the old Major who brought me to you, out of the rout87 at Kouarie?" "Is that your secret, miss? I knew it hours ago."
"How wise! And perhaps you knew that the Major became a Colonel, and then a General, and died last winter, poor man."
"Alas88, yes, poor Tony! I heard that too from his cousin. Heigh-ho! We all walk that way."
Daisy bent89 forward to kiss the old man. "Not you, for many a long year, papa. And now tell me, did not this Major--my Major, though I do not remember him--take up a patent of land here, or hereabouts, through Sir William, while he was on this side of the water?"
"Why, we should be on his land now," said Mr. Stewart, reining90 up the horse.
We sat thus in the moonlight while he pointed91 out to us, as nearly as he knew them, the confines of the Cross patent. To the left of us, over a tract92 covered thick with low, gnarled undergrowth, the estate stretched beyond the brow of the hill, distant a mile or more. On our right, masked by a dense93 tangle94 of fir-boughs, lay a ravine, also a part of the property. We could hear, as we passed there, the gurgle of the water running at the gulf's bottom, on its way to the great leap over the rock wall, farther down, of which I have already written.
"Yes, this was what Tony Cross took up. I doubt he ever saw it. Why do you ask, girl?"
"Now for my secret," said Daisy. "The Major's elder son, Digby, inherits the English house and lands. The other son, Philip--the boy you fought with, Douw--is given this American land, and money to clear and settle it. He sailed with the others--he is in New York--he is coming here to live!"
"We'll make him welcome," cried Mr. Stewart, heartily95.
"I hope his temper is bettered since last he was here," was the civillest comment I could screw my tongue to.
Clouds dimmed the radiance of the moon, threatening darkness, and we quickened our pace. There was no further talk on the homeward ride.
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1
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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alloy
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| n.合金，(金属的)成色 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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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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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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7
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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embark
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| vi.乘船，着手，从事，上飞机 | |
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lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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garnished
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| v.给（上餐桌的食物）加装饰( garnish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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trumpery
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| n.无价值的杂物；adj.（物品）中看不中用的 | |
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begrudge
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| vt.吝啬，羡慕 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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compassionately
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| adv.表示怜悯地，有同情心地 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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harpsichord
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| n.键琴（钢琴前身） | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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joyousness
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| 快乐，使人喜悦 | |
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knack
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| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
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witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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jocose
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| adj.开玩笑的，滑稽的 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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hoops
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| n.箍( hoop的名词复数 )；（篮球）篮圈；（旧时儿童玩的）大环子；（两端埋在地里的）小铁弓 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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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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diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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swelling
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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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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portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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restive
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| adj.不安宁的，不安静的 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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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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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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saturnine
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| adj.忧郁的，沉默寡言的，阴沉的，感染铅毒的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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gratuitous
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| adj.无偿的，免费的；无缘无故的，不必要的 | |
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pique
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| v.伤害…的自尊心，使生气 n.不满，生气 | |
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scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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inchoate
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| adj.才开始的，初期的 | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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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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abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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66
trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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gourds
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| n.葫芦( gourd的名词复数 ) | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tingles
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| n.刺痛感( tingle的名词复数 )v.有刺痛感( tingle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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spike
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| n.长钉，钉鞋；v.以大钉钉牢，使...失效 | |
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mimic
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| v.模仿，戏弄；n.模仿他人言行的人 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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glum
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| adj.闷闷不乐的，阴郁的 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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peevish
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| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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yeast
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| n.酵母；酵母片；泡沫；v.发酵；起泡沫 | |
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scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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umbrage
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| n.不快；树荫 | |
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morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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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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reining
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的现在分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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