“You women, indeed! Max, how can you talk so vulgarly!” exclaimed Laura.
And then there was silence, for Ella Bedford entered the breakfast-room with her charges.
Strange or not, there had been something more than a few words that morning in the breakfast-room between Mrs Bray and her daughter, concerning a croquet-party to come off that afternoon upon the Elms lawn. As for Mr Bray, he had taken no part in the discussion, “shutting-up”—to use his son’s words—“like an old gingham umbrella, bai Jove!”
However, hostilities2 ceased upon the appearance of Ella with the children; and Mrs Bray, after shrieking3 for the tea-caddy, sat down to the urn4, and the morning meal commenced.
“Of course, mamma,” said Laura suddenly, “you won’t think of having the children on the lawn?”
“O, I daresay, miss!” cried Nelly, firing up. “Just as if we’re to be set aside when there’s anything going on! Charley Vining says I play croquet just twice as well as you can; and I know he’s coming to-day on purpose to see me!” she added maliciously5.
Mr Bray shook his head at her, and Ella slightly raised one finger; but as she made a rule of never correcting her charges when father or mother was present, she did not speak.
“Hold your tongue, you pert child!” exclaimed Laura, with a toss of the head. “You’ll let Miss Bedford keep them in the schoolroom, of course, mamma?”
“Indeed, I don’t see why they should not have a game as well as their sister!” shrieked6 Mrs Bray, from behind the urn; for after the hostilities of that morning mamma would not budge7 an inch.
The breakfast ended, Nelly ran round to give Mrs Bray a sounding kiss, and then danced after her sisters and their governess into the schoolroom.
“There, hooray! Beaten her!” shouted Nelly, clapping her hands. “I knew what she meant, Miss Bedford. She didn’t want you to be on the lawn and come and play; and now she’s beaten, and serve her right too! She’s afraid Charley Vining will take more notice of you than he does of her, and I shall tell him.”
“My dear Nelly!” exclaimed Ella, with a look of pain on her countenance8; when her wild young charge dropped demurely9 into a seat, and began to devour10 French irregular verbs at a tremendous rate, working at them thoroughly11 hard, and, having a very retentive12 memory, making some progress.
These were Ella’s happiest moments; for, in spite of their roughness, the three girls in her charge, one and all, evinced a liking13 for her; and save at times, when she broke out into a thorough childish fit, Nelly grew hourly more and more womanly under her care. But Ella was somewhat troubled respecting the afternoon’s meeting, and would gladly have spent the time in solitude14, for it was plain enough that she was to be present solely15 out of opposition16 to Laura; and in spite of all her efforts, it seemed that she was to grow daily more distasteful to the dark beauty, who openly showed her dislike before Ella had been in the house a week.
However, the schoolroom studies made very little progress that morning; for before long Mrs Bray entered to give orders respecting dress, sending Nelly into ecstasies17 as she cast her book aside; and at three o’clock that afternoon, as Laura swept across the lawn to meet some of the coming guests, there was a look of annoyance18 upon her countenance that was ill-concealed by the smile she wore.
“So absurd!” she had just found time to say to Mrs Bray, “bringing those children and their governess out upon the croquet-ground as if on purpose to annoy people, who are made to give way to humour their schoolroom whims19!”
Mrs Bray’s reply was a toss of the head, as she turned off to meet her hopeful son Max, who, after pains that deserved a better recompense, now made his appearance dressed for the occasion.
“Just in time, bai Jove!” he drawled; and then he started slightly, for, making a survey of the lawn, he suddenly became aware that Ella Bedford was seated within a few yards with her pupils. “O, here’s Miss Bedford!” he exclaimed; “and, let’s see, there’s Laura; and who are those with her? O, the Ellis people. They don’t play. I want to make up a set at once—want another gentleman. Why, there’s Charley Vining just coming out of the stable-yard; rode over, I suppose. Perhaps he’ll play.”
Ella shrank back, and sent an appealing look towards Mrs Bray; but as Max had said Miss Bedford was to play, there was no appeal.
“Perhaps Miss Nelly here would like to take my place?” said Ella.
“O, dear me, no, Miss Bedford! Mr Maximilian selected you as one of the set, and I should not like him to be disappointed,” said Mamma Bray.
“You’ll play, Vining?” drawled Max.
“Well, no; I don’t care about it,” said Charley good-humouredly. “I’ll make room for some one else.”
“Ya-a-as, but we haven’t enough without you,” said Max. “You might take a mallet21, you know, till some one else comes.”
“O, very good,” said Charley, who had just caught sight of Ella with a mallet in her hand. “I’m ready.”
“Then we’ll have a game at once before any one else comes. Now then, Laura, here’s Charley Vining breaking his heart because you don’t come and play on his side. I daresay, though, Miss Bedford and I can get the better of you.”
But Max Bray’s arrangement for a snug22 parti of four was upset by fresh arrivals—Hugh Lingon, looking very stout23, pink, and warm, with a couple of sisters, both stouter24, pinker, and warmer, and a very slim young curate from a neighbouring village, arriving just at the same time.
Then followed a little manoeuvring and arranging; but in spite of brother and sister playing into each other’s hands, the game commenced with Max Bray upon the same side as Laura, one of the stout Miss Lingons, and the slim curate; while Charley Vining had Ella under his wing.
Croquet is a very nice amusement: not that there is much in the game itself, which is, if anything, rather tame; but it serves as a means for bringing people together—as a vehicle for chatting, flirting25, and above all, carrying off the ennui26 so fond of making its way into social fashionable life. You can help the trusting friend so nicely through hoop27 after hoop, receiving all the while such prettily-spoken thanks and such sweet smiles; there is such a fine opportunity too, whilst assuming the leadership and directing, for enabling the young lady to properly hold her mallet for the next blow—arranging the little fingers, and pressing them inadvertently more tightly to the stick; and we have known very enthusiastic amateurs go so far as to kneel down before a lady, and raise one delicate bottine, placing it on the player’s ball, and holding it firmly while the enemy is croque’d. Apropos28 of enemies, too, how they can be punished! How a rival can be ignominiously29 driven here and there, and into all sorts of uncomfortable places—under bushes and behind trees, wired and pegged30, and treated in the most cruel manner!
And so it was at the Elms croquet-party. Looking black almost as night, Laura struck at the balls viciously—a prime new set of Jaques’s best—chipping the edge of her mallet, bruising31 the balls, and driving Ella Bedford’s “Number 1, blue,” at times right off the croquet-ground. Not that it mattered in the least; for in spite of his self-depreciation, Charley Vining was an admirable player, making long shots, and fetching up Ella’s unfortunate ball, taking it with him through hoop after hoop, till Laura’s eyes flashed, and Max declared, “bai Jove!” he never saw anything like it; when Charley would catch a glimpse of Ella’s troubled look, recollect32 himself, and perform the same acts of kindness for the plump Miss Lingon, to receive in return numberless “O, thank you’s!” and “O, how clever’s!” and “So much obliged, Mr Vining!” while “that governess,” as Laura called her, never once uttered a word of thanks. As for Hugh Lingon, he was always nowhere; and as he missed his aim again and again, he grew more and more divided in his opinions.
First he declared that the ground was not level; but seeing the good strokes made by others, he retracted33 that observation, and waited awhile.
“I don’t think my ball is quite round, Vining,” he exclaimed, after another bad stroke.
“Pooh! nonsense!” laughed Charley. “You didn’t try; it was because you didn’t want to hit Miss Bray.”
“No—no! ’Pon my word, no—’pon my word!” exclaimed Hugh, protesting as he grew more and more pink.
“Did his best, I’d swear—bai Jove, he did!” drawled Max, playing, and sending poor Lingon off the ground.
Then, after a time, Lingon had his turn once more.
“It’s not the ball, it’s this mallet—it is indeed!” he exclaimed, after an atrocious blow. “Just you look here, Vining: the handle’s all on one side.”
“Never mind! Try again, my boy,” laughed Charley; and soon after he had to bring both his lady partners up again to their hoop, sending Laura’s ball away to make room for them, and on the whole treating it rather harshly, Laura’s eyes flashing the while with vexation.
“I like croquet for some things,” said Laura’s partner, the thin curate, after vainly trying to render her a service; “I but it’s a very unchristian-like sort of game—one seems to give all one’s love to one’s friends, and to keep none for one’s enemies.”
“O, come, I say,” laughed Charley, who seemed to be in high spirits. “Here’s Mr Louther talking about love to Miss Bray!”
“Indeed, I assure you—” exclaimed the curate.
“But I distinctly heard the word,” laughed Charley.
“Was that meant for a witticism34?” sneered35 Laura.
“Wit? no!” said Charley good-humouredly. “I never go in for that sort of thing.”
“Bai Jove, Vining! why don’t you attend to the ga-a-a-me?” drawled Max, who was suffering from too much of the second Miss Lingon—a young lady who looked upon him as an Adonis.
“Not my turn,” said Charley.
“Yes, yes!” said Hugh Lingon innocently. “Miss Bedford wants you to help her along!”
“Of course,” sneered Laura. “Such impudence36!”
But Charley did not hear her words; for he was already half-way towards poor Ella, who seemed to shrink from him as he approached, and watched with a troubled breast the efforts he made upon her behalf.
“Now it’s my turn again,” said Hugh. “Now just give me your advice here, Vining. What ought I to do?”
Charley interrupted a remark he was making to Ella Bedford, and pointed20 out the most advantageous37 play, when Hugh Lingon raised his mallet, the blow fell, and—he missed.
“Now, did you ever see anything like that?” he exclaimed, appealing to the company.
“Yes, often!” laughed Charley.
“But what can be the reason?” exclaimed Lingon.
“Why, bai Jove! it’s because you’re such a muff, Lingon, bai Jove!” exclaimed Max.
“I am—I know I am!” said Lingon good-humouredly. “But, you know, I can’t help it—can’t indeed!”
The game went on with varying interest, Charley in the intervals38 trying to engage Ella in conversation; but only to find her retiring, almost distant, as from time to time she caught sight of a pair of fierce eyes bent39 upon her from beneath Laura’s frowning brows. But there was a sweetness of disposition40 beaming from Ella’s troubled countenance, and the tokens of a rare intellect in her few words—spoken to endeavour to direct him to seek for others with more conversational41 power, but with precisely42 the contrary effect—that seemed to rouse in Sir Philip Vining’s son feelings altogether new. He found himself dwelling43 upon every word, every sweet and musical tone, drinking in each troubled, trembling look, and listening with ill-concealed eagerness even for the words spoken to others.
“Bai Jove!” exclaimed Max at length, angrily to his sister, “what’s the matter with that Charley Vining?”
“Don’t ask me!” cried Laura pettishly44, as she turned from him to listen to and then to snub the slim curate, who, after ten minutes’ consideration, had worked up and delivered a compliment.
Once only did Ella trust herself to look at Charley, taking in, though, with that glance the open-countenanced, happy English face of the young man, but shrinking within herself the next instant as she seemed to feel the bold, open, but still respectfully-admiring glance directed at her.
Two other croquet sets had been made upon the great lawn; and, taking the first opportunity, Ella had given up her mallet into other hands—an act, to Laura’s great disgust, imitated by Charley Vining, who, however, found no opportunity for again approaching Ella Bedford until the hour of dinner was announced, when, the major portion of the croquet-players having departed, the remainder—the invited few—met in the drawing-room.
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收听单词发音
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1
bray
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| n.驴叫声, 喇叭声；v.驴叫 | |
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2
hostilities
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| n.战争；敌意(hostility的复数)；敌对状态；战事 | |
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3
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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urn
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| n.（有座脚的）瓮；坟墓；骨灰瓮 | |
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5
maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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8
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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9
demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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10
devour
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| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
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11
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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retentive
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| v.保留的，有记忆的；adv.有记性地，记性强地；n.保持力 | |
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13
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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14
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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17
ecstasies
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| 狂喜( ecstasy的名词复数 )； 出神； 入迷； 迷幻药 | |
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18
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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19
WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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mallet
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| n.槌棒 | |
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22
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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24
stouter
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| 粗壮的( stout的比较级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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25
flirting
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的现在分词 ) | |
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26
ennui
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| n.怠倦，无聊 | |
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hoop
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| n.（篮球）篮圈，篮 | |
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apropos
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| adv.恰好地；adj.恰当的；关于 | |
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ignominiously
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| adv.耻辱地，屈辱地，丢脸地 | |
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30
pegged
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| v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的过去式和过去分词 )；使固定在某水平 | |
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31
bruising
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| adj.殊死的；十分激烈的v.擦伤(bruise的现在分词形式) | |
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32
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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33
retracted
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| v.撤回或撤消( retract的过去式和过去分词 )；拒绝执行或遵守；缩回；拉回 | |
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34
witticism
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| n.谐语，妙语 | |
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35
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36
impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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advantageous
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| adj.有利的；有帮助的 | |
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38
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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39
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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40
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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41
conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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42
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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43
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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44
pettishly
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