The Craig's next-door neighbour, Camilla Lent, came out on her back veranda7 and looked down with a sleepy nod of recognition and good-morning, stretching her pretty arms luxuriously8 in the sunshine.
"You look very sweet down there, Ailsa, in your pink gingham apron9 and garden gloves."
"And you look very sweet up there, Camilla, in your muslin frock and satin skin! And every time you yawn you resemble a plump, white magnolia bud opening just enough to show the pink inside!"
"It's mean to call me plump!" returned Camilla reproachfully. "Anyway, anybody would yawn with the Captain keeping the entire household awake all night. I vow10, I haven't slept one wink11 since that wretched news from Charleston. He thinks he's a battery of horse artillery12 now; that's the very latest development; and I shed tears and the chandeliers shed prisms every time he manoeuvres."
"The dear old thing," said Mrs. Paige, smiling as she moved among the shrubs13. For a full minute her sensitive lips remained tenderly curved as she stood considering the agricultural problems before her. Then she settled down again, naively—like a child on its haunches—and continued to mix nourishment14 for the roses.
Camilla, lounging sideways on her own veranda window sill, rested her head against the frame, alternately blinking down at the pretty widow through sleepy eyes, and patting her lips to control the persistent15 yawns that tormented16 her.
"I had a horrid18 dream, too," she said, "about the 'Seven Sisters.' I was Pluto19 to your Diavoline, and Philip Berkley was a phantom20 that grinned at everybody and rattled21 the bones; and I waked in a dreadful fright to hear uncle's spurred boots overhead, and that horrid noisy old sabre of his banging the best furniture.
"Then this morning just before sunrise he came into my bedroom, hair and moustache on end, and in full uniform, and attempted to read the Declaration of Independence to me—or maybe it was the Constitution—I don't remember—but I began to cry, and that always sends him off."
Ailsa's quick laugh and the tenderness of her expression were her only comments upon the doings of Josiah Lent, lately captain, United States dragoons.
Camilla yawned again, rose, and, arranging her spreading white skirts, seated herself on her veranda steps in full sunshine.
"We did have a nice party, didn't we, Ailsa?" she said, leaning a little sideways so that she could see over the fence and down into the Craig's backyard garden.
"I had such a good time," responded Ailsa, looking up radiantly.
"So did I. Billy Cortlandt is the most divine dancer. Isn't
Evelyn Estcourt pretty?"
"She is growing up to be very beautiful some day. Stephen paid her a great deal of attention. Did you notice it?"
"Really? I didn't notice it," replied Camilla without enthusiasm. "But," she added, "I did notice you and Phil Berkley on the stairs. It didn't take you long, did it?"
Ailsa's colour rose a trifle.
"We exchanged scarcely a dozen words," she observed sedately22.
Camilla laughed.
"It didn't take you long," she repeated, "either of you. It was the swiftest case of fascination23 that I ever saw."
"You are absurd, Camilla."
"But isn't he perfectly24 fascinating? I think he is the most romantic-looking creature I ever saw. However," she added, folding her slender hands in resignation, "there is nothing else to him. He's accustomed to being adored; there's no heart left in him. I think it's dead."
Mrs. Paige stood looking up at her, trowel hanging loosely in her gloved hand.
"Did anything—kill it?" she asked carelessly.
"I don't think it ever lived very long. Anyway there is something missing in the man; something blank in him. A girl's time is wasted in wondering what is going on behind those adorable eyes of his. Because there is nothing going on—it's all on the surface—the charm, the man's engaging ways and manners—all surface. . . . I thought I'd better tell you, Ailsa."
"There was no necessity," said Ailsa calmly. "We scarcely exchanged a dozen words."
As she spoke25 she became aware of a shape behind the veranda windows, a man's upright figure passing and repassing. And now, at the open window, it suddenly emerged into full sunlight, a spare, sinewy26, active gentleman of fifty, hair and moustache thickly white, a deep seam furrowing27 his forehead from the left ear to the roots of the hair above the right temple.
The most engaging of smiles parted the young widow's lips.
"Good morning, Captain Lent," she cried gaily28. "You have neglected me dreadfully of late."
The Captain came to a rigid29 salute30.
"April eleventh, eighteen-sixty-one!" he said with clean-cut precision. "Good morning, Mrs. Paige! How does your garden blow? Blow—blow ye wintry winds! Ahem! How have the roses wintered—the rose of yesterday?"
"Oh, I don't know, sir. I am afraid my sister's roses have not wintered very well. I'm really a little worried about them."
"I am worried about nothing in Heaven, on Earth, or in Hell," said the Captain briskly. "God's will is doing night and day, Mrs. Paige. Has your brother-in-law gone to business?"
"Oh, yes. He and Stephen went at eight this morning."
"Is your sister-in-law well. God bless her!" shouted the Captain.
"Uncle, you mustn't shout," remonstrated31 Camilla gently.
"I'm only exercising my voice,"—and to Ailsa:
"I neglect nothing, mental, physical, spiritual, that may be of the slightest advantage to my country in the hour when every respiration32, every pulse beat, every waking thought shall belong to the Government which I again shall have the honour of serving."
He bowed stiffly from the waist, to Ailsa, to his niece, turned right about, and marched off into the house, his white moustache bristling33, his hair on end.
"Oh, dear," sighed Camilla patiently, "isn't it disheartening?"
"He is a dear," said Ailsa. "I adore him."
"Yes—if he'd only sleep at night. I am very selfish I suppose to complain; he is so happy and so interested these days—only—I am wondering—if there ever should be a war—would it break his poor old heart if he couldn't go? They'll never let him, you know."
Ailsa looked up, troubled:
"You mean—because!" she said in a low voice.
"Well I don't consider him anything more than delightfully34 eccentric."
"Neither do I. But all this is worrying me ill. His heart is so entirely35 wrapped up in it; he writes a letter to Washington every day, and nobody ever replies. Ailsa, it almost terrifies me to think what might happen—and he be left out!"
"Nothing will happen. The world is too civilised, dear."
"But the papers talk about nothing else! And uncle takes every paper in New York and Brooklyn, and he wants to have the editor of the Herald36 arrested, and he is very anxious to hang the entire staff of the Daily News. It's all well enough to stand there laughing, but I believe there'll be a war, and then my troubles will begin!"
Ailsa, down on her knees again, dabbled37 thoughtfully in the soil, exploring the masses of matted spider-wort for new shoots.
Camilla looked on, resignedly, her fingers playing with the loosened masses of her glossy38 black hair. Each was following in silence the idle drift of thought which led Camilla back to her birthday party.
"Twenty!" she said still more resignedly—"four years younger than you are, Ailsa Paige! Oh dear—and here I am, absolutely unmarried. That is not a very maidenly39 thought, I suppose, is it Ailsa?"
"You always were a romantic child," observed Ailsa, digging vigorously in the track of a vanishing May beetle40. But when she disinterred him her heart failed her and she let him scramble41 away.
"There! He'll probably chew up everything," she said. "What a sentimental42 goose I am!"
"The first trace of real sentiment I ever saw you display," began
Camilla reflectively, "was the night of my party."
Ailsa dug with energy. "That is absurd! And not even funny."
"You were sentimental!"
"I—well there is no use in answering you," concluded Ailsa.
"No, there isn't. I've seen women look at men, and men look back again—the way he did!"
"Dear, please don't say such things!"
"I'm going to say 'em," insisted Camilla with malicious43 satisfaction. "You've jeered44 at me because I'm tender-hearted about men. Now my chance has come!"
Ailsa began patiently: "There were scarcely a dozen words spoken——"
Camilla, delighted, shook her dark curls.
"You've said that before," she laughed. "Oh, you pretty minx!—you and your dozen words!"
Ailsa Paige arose in wrath45 and stretched out a warning arm among her leafless roses; but Camilla placed both hands on the fence top and leaned swiftly down from the veranda steps,
"Forgive me, dear," she said penitently46. "I was only trying to torment17 you. Kiss me and make up. I know you too well to believe that you could care for a man of that kind."
Ailsa's face was very serious, but she lifted herself on tiptoe and they exchanged an amicable47 salute across the fence.
After a moment she said: "What did you mean by 'a man of that kind'?"
Camilla's shrug48 was expressive49. "There are stories about him."
Ailsa looked thoughtfully into space. "Well you won't say such things to me again, about any man—will you, dear?"
"You never minded them before. You used to laugh."
"But this time," said Ailsa Paige, "it is not the least bit funny.
We scarcely exchanged——"
She checked herself, flushing with annoyance50. Camilla, leaning on the garden fence, had suddenly buried her face in both arms. In feminine plumpness, when young, there is usually something left of the schoolgirl giggler51.
The pretty girl below remained disdainfully indifferent. She dug, she clipped, she explored, inhaling52, with little thrills, the faint mounting odour of forest loam53 and sappy stems.
"I really must go back to New York and start my own garden," she said, not noticing Camilla's mischief54. "London Terrace will be green in another week."
"How long do you stay with the Craigs, Ailsa?"
"Until the workmen finish painting my house and installing the new plumbing55. Colonel Arran is good enough to look after it."
Camilla, her light head always ringing with gossip, watched Ailsa curiously56.
"It's odd," she observed, "that Colonel Arran and the Craigs never exchange civilities."
"Mrs. Craig doesn't like him," said Ailsa simply.
"You do, don't you?"
"Naturally. He was my guardian57."
"My uncle likes him. To me he has a hard face."
"He has a sad face," said Ailsa Paige.
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1
florist
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| n.花商；种花者 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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judiciously
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| adv.明断地，明智而审慎地 | |
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thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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iris
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| n.虹膜，彩虹 | |
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rummage
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| v./n.翻寻，仔细检查 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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luxuriously
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| adv.奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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18
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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Pluto
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| n.冥王星 | |
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phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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sedately
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| adv.镇静地，安详地 | |
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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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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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25
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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26
sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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27
furrowing
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| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的现在分词 ) | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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30
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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31
remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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32
respiration
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| n.呼吸作用；一次呼吸；植物光合作用 | |
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33
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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34
delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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37
dabbled
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| v.涉猎( dabble的过去式和过去分词 )；涉足；浅尝；少量投资 | |
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38
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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maidenly
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| adj. 像处女的, 谨慎的, 稳静的 | |
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40
beetle
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| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
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41
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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42
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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43
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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44
jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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46
penitently
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amicable
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| adj.和平的，友好的；友善的 | |
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48
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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50
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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51
giggler
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52
inhaling
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| v.吸入( inhale的现在分词 ) | |
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53
loam
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| n.沃土 | |
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54
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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55
plumbing
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| n.水管装置；水暖工的工作；管道工程v.用铅锤测量（plumb的现在分词）；探究 | |
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56
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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57
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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