On the broad piazza11 of one of the quaint12 old-fashioned houses, behind a needless screen of climbing woodbine, two girls are whiling away the afternoon. One of them is lounging in a lassy rocking-chair, while the other sits more primly13 and is industriously14 sewing.
"I suppose you 'll be glad enough to see George when he comes to-night to take you back to the city? I'm afraid you find it pretty dull here," said the latter, with an intonation15 of uneasy responsibility sufficiently16 attesting17 that the brilliant-looking girl opposite was a guest.
That young lady, when addressed, was indulging in a luxurious18 country yawn, an operation by no means to be hurried, but to be fully19 and lazily enjoyed in all its several and long-drawn stages, and as thus practiced a wonderfully calming and soporific relaxation20 wholly unknown to the fretted21 denizens22 of cities, whose yawn is one of irritation23 and not of rest. "I do so enjoy your Plainfield yawns, Lucy," she said when she had quite finished. "Were you saying that it was a little dull? Well, perhaps it is, but then the trees and things seem to be' enjoying themselves so hugely that it would be selfish to make a fuss, even if it is n't exactly my kind of fun."
"Your kind of fun is due by the six-o'clock stage, I believe."
The other laughed and said, "I wish you would n't make another allusion24 to George. I think of him so much that I 'm ashamed, as it is. I 'm sure this is a very aggravating25 place for an engaged girl to be at. One gets so dreadfully sentimental26 with nothing to take up the mind, especially with such monstrous27 moons as you have. I got fairly frightened of the one last night. It drew me out through my eyes like a big plaster."
"Mabel French!"
"I don't care; it did. That was just the feeling."
There was no hurry about talking, for the rich, mellow28 summer silence had a body to it that prevented pauses from seeming empty, and it might have been half an hour afterward29 that Mabel suddenly leaned forward, putting her face close to the vine-trellis, and cried in a low voice, "Who's that? Po tell me! They're the very first persons who have gone by this afternoon, I do believe."
A pretty phaeton was slowly passing, containing an elderly gentleman and lady.
"Oh, that is only Lawyer Morgan and old Miss Rood," replied Lucy, just glancing up, and then down again. "They go out driving once a week regularly, and always at about this time in the afternoon."
"They look like afternoon sort of people," said Mabel. "But why does n't Lawyer Morgan take out his wife?"
"He has n't got any. Miss Rood comes nearest to that. Oh, no, you needn't open your eyes; there's not a properer old maid in town, or old bachelor either, for that matter."
"Are they relatives?"
"No, indeed."
"How long has this Platonic30 romance been going on, pray?"
"Oh, ever since they were young,—forty years, perhaps. I only know by tradition, you see. It began ages before my day. They say she was very pretty once. Old Aunty Perkins remembers that she was quite the belle31 of the village as a girl. It seems strange, does n't it?"
"Tell me the whole story," said Mabel, turning round so as to face Lucy as the phaeton passed out of sight.
"There's not much to tell. Mr. Morgan has always lived here, and so has Miss Rood. He lives alone with a housekeeper32 in that fine house at the end of the street, and she entirely33 alone in that little white house over there among the apple-trees. All the people who knew them when they were young are dead, gone away, or moved off. They are relics34 of a past generation, and are really about as much shut up to each other for sympathy as an old married couple."
"Well, why on earth are n't they married?"
"People hereabouts got tired of asking that full thirty years ago," replied Lucy, with a little shrug35. "Even the gossips long since wore out the subject, and I believe we have all of us forgotten that there is anything peculiar36 about their relations. He calls on her two or three times a week, and takes her out driving on pleasant days; escorts her to places of amusement or social gatherings37 when either of them cares to go, which is n't often; and wherever they are, people take it for granted they will pair off together. He is never seen with any other lady."
"It's very strange," said Mabel thoughtfully, "and I'm sure it's very romantic. Queer old couple! I wonder how they really feel toward each other, and whether they would n't like to be married?"
Awhile after she suddenly demanded, "Don't you think Miss Rood looks like me?"
Lucy laughed at first, but upon closer inspection38 of the fair questioner admitted that there might be some such resemblance as the shriveled apples brought up from the cellar in spring bear to the plump, rosy-cheeked beauties that went down in October.
If Mr. Morgan and Miss Rood, as they rode past, had chanced to overhear Mabel's question why they had not married, it would have affected39 them very differently. He would have been startled by the novelty of an idea that had not occurred to him in twenty years, but the blush on her cheek would have been one of painful consciousness.
As boy and girl they had been each other's chosen companion, and as young man and maiden40 their childish preference had bloomed into a reciprocal love. Thanks to the freedom and simplicity41 of village life, they enjoyed as lovers a constant and easy familiarity and daily association almost as complete in sympathy of mind and heart as anything marriage could offer. There were none of the usual obstacles to incite42 them to matrimony. They were never even formally engaged, so wholly did they take it for granted that they should marry. It was so much a matter of course that there was no hurry at all about it; and besides, so long as they had it to look forward to, the foreground of life was illuminated43 for them: it was still morning. Mr. Morgan was constitutionally of a dreamy and unpractical turn, a creature of habits and a victim of ruts; and as years rolled on he became more and more satisfied with these half-friendly, half-loverlike relations. He never found the time when it seemed an object to marry, and now, for very many years, the idea had not even occurred to him as possible; and so far was he from the least suspicion that Miss Rood's experience had not been precisely44 similar to his own, that he often congratulated himself on the fortunate coincidence.
Time cures much, and many years ago Miss Hood45 had recovered from the first bitterness of discovering that his love had become insensibly transformed into a very tender but perfectly46 peaceful friendship. No one but him had ever touched her heart, and she had no interest in life besides him. Since she was not to be his wife, she was glad to be his lifelong, tender, self-sacrificing friend. So she raked the ashes over the fire in her heart, and left him to suppose that it had gone out as in his. Nor was she without compensation in their friendship. It was with a delightful47 thrill that she felt how fully in mind and heart he leaned and depended upon her, and the unusual and romantic character of their relations in some degree consoled her for the disappointment of womanly aspirations48 by a feeling of distinction. She was not like other women: her lot was set apart and peculiar. She looked down upon her sex. The conventionality of women's lives renders their vanity peculiarly susceptible49 to a suggestion that their destiny is in any respect unique, —a fact that has served the turn of many a seducer50 before now. To-day, after returning from his drive with Miss Rood, Mr. Morgan had walked in his garden, and as the evening breeze arose, it bore to his nostrils51 that first indescribable flavor of autumn which warns us that the soul of Summer has departed from her yet glowing body. He was very sensitive to these changes of the year, and, obeying an impulse that had been familiar to him in all unusual moods his life long, he left the house after tea and turned his steps down the street. As he stopped at Miss Rood's gate, Lucy, Mabel, and George Hammond were under the apple-trees in the garden opposite.

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1
grassy
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adj.盖满草的;长满草的 | |
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2
dwellings
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n.住处,处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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isolated
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adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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4
voluptuousness
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n.风骚,体态丰满 | |
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5
latching
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n.闭塞;闭锁;关闭;闭塞装置v.理解( latch的现在分词 );纠缠;用碰锁锁上(门等);附着(在某物上) | |
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drowsy
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adj.昏昏欲睡的,令人发困的 | |
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punctuation
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n.标点符号,标点法 | |
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8
refreshing
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adj.使精神振作的,使人清爽的,使人喜欢的 | |
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vista
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n.远景,深景,展望,回想 | |
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parched
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adj.焦干的;极渴的;v.(使)焦干 | |
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11
piazza
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n.广场;走廊 | |
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quaint
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adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
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13
primly
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adv.循规蹈矩地,整洁地 | |
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industriously
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intonation
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n.语调,声调;发声 | |
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sufficiently
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adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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17
attesting
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v.证明( attest的现在分词 );证实;声称…属实;使宣誓 | |
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18
luxurious
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adj.精美而昂贵的;豪华的 | |
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fully
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adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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20
relaxation
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n.松弛,放松;休息;消遣;娱乐 | |
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21
fretted
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焦躁的,附有弦马的,腐蚀的 | |
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22
denizens
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n.居民,住户( denizen的名词复数 ) | |
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23
irritation
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n.激怒,恼怒,生气 | |
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24
allusion
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n.暗示,间接提示 | |
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aggravating
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adj.恼人的,讨厌的 | |
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26
sentimental
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adj.多愁善感的,感伤的 | |
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monstrous
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adj.巨大的;恐怖的;可耻的,丢脸的 | |
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28
mellow
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adj.柔和的;熟透的;v.变柔和;(使)成熟 | |
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afterward
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adv.后来;以后 | |
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platonic
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adj.精神的;柏拉图(哲学)的 | |
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belle
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n.靓女 | |
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32
housekeeper
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n.管理家务的主妇,女管家 | |
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33
entirely
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ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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34
relics
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[pl.]n.遗物,遗迹,遗产;遗体,尸骸 | |
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35
shrug
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v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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36
peculiar
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adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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37
gatherings
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聚集( gathering的名词复数 ); 收集; 采集; 搜集 | |
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38
inspection
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n.检查,审查,检阅 | |
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affected
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adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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40
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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41
simplicity
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n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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42
incite
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v.引起,激动,煽动 | |
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illuminated
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adj.被照明的;受启迪的 | |
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precisely
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adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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45
hood
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n.头巾,兜帽,覆盖;v.罩上,以头巾覆盖 | |
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46
perfectly
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adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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47
delightful
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adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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48
aspirations
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强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 ); 志向; 发送气音; 发 h 音 | |
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49
susceptible
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adj.过敏的,敏感的;易动感情的,易受感动的 | |
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50
seducer
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n.诱惑者,骗子,玩弄女性的人 | |
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51
nostrils
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鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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