“In the name of wonder, what has come to you now? Are you ill? Have you hurt yourself with that picture?” asked Zack, startled by the incomprehensible change which he beheld2 in his friend’s face and manner.
“Come out,” said Mat. Young Thorpe looked at him in amazement3; even the sound of his voice had altered!
“What’s wrong?” asked Zack. No answer. They went quickly along the passage and down to the garden gate, in silence. As soon as they had got into one of the lonely bye-roads of the new suburb, Mat stopped short; and, turning full on his companion, said: “Who is she?” The sudden eagerness with which he spoke4, so strangely at variance5 with his usual deliberation of tone and manner, made those three common words almost startling to hear.
“She? Who do you mean?” inquired young Thorpe.
“I mean that young woman they were all staring at.”
For a moment, Zack contemplated6 the anxiety visible in his friend’s face, with an expression of blank astonishment7; then burst into one of his loudest, heartiest8, and longest fits of laughter. “Oh, by Jove, I wouldn’t have missed this for fifty pounds. Here’s old Rough and Tough smitten9 with the tender passion, like all the rest of us! Blush, you brazen10 old beggar, blush! You’ve fallen in love with Madonna at first sight!”
“Damn your laughing! Tell me who she is.”
“Tell you who she is? That’s exactly what I can’t do.”
“Why not? What do you mean? Does she belong to painter-man?”
“Oh, fie, Mat! You mustn’t talk of a young lady belonging to anybody, as if she was a piece of furniture, or money in the Three per Cents, or something of that sort. Confound it man, don’t shake me in that way! You’ll pull my arm off. Let me have my laugh, and I’ll tell you every thing.”
“Tell it then; and be quick about it.”
“Well, first of all, she is not Blyth’s daughter—though some scandal-mongering people have said she is—”
“Nor yet his wife?”
“Nor yet his wife. What a question! He adopted her, as they call it, years ago, when she was a child. But who she is, or where he picked her up, or what is her name, Blyth never has told anybody, and never will. She’s the dearest, kindest, prettiest little soul that ever lived; and that’s all I know about her. It’s a short story, old boy; but surprisingly romantic—isn’t it?”
Mat did not immediately answer. He paid the most breathless attention to the few words of information which Zack had given him—repeated them over again to himself—reflected for a moment—then said—
“Why won’t the painter-man tell any body who she is?”
“How should I know? It’s a whim11 of his. And, I’ll tell you what, here’s a piece of serious advice for you:—If you want to go there again, and make her acquaintance, don’t you ask Blyth who she is, or let him fancy you want to know. He’s touchy12 on that point—I can’t say why; but he is. Every man has a raw place about him somewhere: that’s Blyth’s raw place, and if you hit him on it, you won’t get inside of his house again in a hurry, I can tell you.”
Still, Mat’s attention fastened greedily on every word—still, his eyes fixed13 eagerly on his informant’s face—still, he repeated to himself what Zack was telling him.
“By the bye, I suppose you saw the poor dear little soul is deaf and dumb,” young Thorpe continued. “She’s been so from a child. Some accident; a fall, I believe. But it don’t affect her spirits a bit. She’s as happy as the day is long—that’s one comfort.”
“Deaf and dumb! So like her, it was a’most as awful as seeing the dead come to life again. She had Mary’s turn with her head; Mary’s—poor creature! poor creature!” He whispered those words to himself, under his breath, his face turned aside, his eyes wandering over the ground at his feet, with a faint, troubled, vacantly anxious expression.
“Come! come! don’t be getting into the dolefuls already,” cried Zack, administering an exhilarating thump14 on the back to his friend. “Cheer up! We’re all in love with her; you’re rowing in the same boat with Bullivant, and Gimble, and me, and lots more; and you’ll get used to it in time, like the rest of us. I’ll act the generous rival with you, brother Mat! You shall have all the benefit of my advice gratis15; and shall lay siege to our little beauty in regular form. I don’t think your own experience among the wild Indians will help you much, over here. How do you mean to make love to her? Did you ever make love to a Squaw?”
“She isn’t his wife; and she isn’t his daughter; he won’t say where he picked her up, or who she is.” Repeating these words to himself in a quick, quiet whisper, Mat did not appear to be listening to a single word that young Thorpe said. His mind was running now on one of the answers that he had wrested16 from Joanna Grice, at Dibbledean—the answer which had informed him that Mary’s child had been born alive!
“Wake up, Mat! You shall have your fair chance with the lady, along with the rest of us; and I’ll undertake to qualify you on the spot for civilized17 courtship,” continued Zack, pitilessly carrying on his joke. “In the first place, always remember that you mustn’t go beyond admiration18 at a respectful distance, to begin with. At the second interview, you may make amorous19 faces at close quarters—what you call looking unutterable things, you know. At the third, you may get bold, and try her with a little present. Lots of people have done that, before you. Gimble tried it, and Bullivant wanted to; but Blyth wouldn’t let him; and I mean to give her—oh, by the bye, I have another important caution for you.” Here he indulged himself in a fresh burst of laughter, excited by the remembrance of his interview with Mrs. Peckover, in Mr. Blyth’s hall. “Remember that the whole round of presents is open for you to choose from, except one; and that one is a Hair Bracelet20.”
Zack’s laughter came to an abrupt21 termination. Mat had raised his head suddenly, and was now staring him full in the face again, with a bright, searching look—an expression in which suspicious amazement and doubting curiosity were very strangely mingled22 together.
“You’re not angry with me for cracking a few respectable old jokes?” said Zack. “Have I said anything?—Stop! yes, I have, though I didn’t mean it. You looked up at me in that savage23 manner, when I warned you not to give her a Hair Bracelet. Surely you don’t think me brute24 enough to make fun of your not having any hair on your own head to give anybody? Surely you have a better opinion of me than that? I give you my word of honor, I never thought of you, or your head, or that infernal scalping business, when I said what I did. It was true—it happened to me.”
“How did it happen?” said. Mat, with eager, angry curiosity.
“Only in this way. I wanted to give her a Hair Bracelet myself—my hair and Blyth’s, and so on. And an addle-headed old woman who seems to know Madonna (that’s a name we give her) as well as Blyth himself, and keeps what she knows just as close, got me into a corner, and talked nonsense about the whole thing, as old women will.”
“What did she say?” asked Mat, more eager, more angry, and more curious than ever.
“She talked nonsense, I tell you. She said a Hair Bracelet would be unlucky to Madonna; and then told me Madonna had one already; and then wouldn’t let me ask Blyth whether it was true, because I should get her into dreadful trouble if I said anything to him about it; besides a good deal more which you wouldn’t care to be bothered with. But I have told you enough—haven’t I?—to show I was not thinking of you, when I said that just now by way of a joke. Come, shake hands, old fellow. You’re not offended with me, now I have explained everything?”
Mat gave his hand, but he put it out like a man groping in the dark. His mind was full of that memorable25 letter about a Hair Bracelet, which he had found in the box given to him by Joanna Grice.
“A Hair Bracelet?” he said, vacantly.
“Don’t be sulky!” cried Zack, clapping him on the shoulder.
“A Hair Bracelet is unlucky to the young woman—and she’s got one already” (he was weighing attentively26 the lightest word that Zack had spoken to him). “What’s it like?” he asked aloud, turning suddenly to young Thorpe.
“What’s what like?”
“A Hair Bracelet.”
“Still harping27 on that, after all my explanations! Like? Why it’s hair plaited up, and made to fasten round the wrist, with gold at each end to clasp it by. What are you stopping for again? I’ll tell you what, Mat, I can make every allowance for a man in your love-struck situation; but if I didn’t know how you had been spending the morning, I should say you were drunk.”
They had been walking along quickly, while Mat asked what a Hair Bracelet was like. But no sooner had Zack told him than he came to a dead pause—started and changed color—opened his lips to speak—then checked himself, and remained silent. The information which he had just received had recalled to him a certain object that he had seen in the drawer of Mr. Blyth’s bureau; and the resemblance between the two had at once flashed upon him. The importance which this discovery assumed in his eyes, in connection with what he had already heard, may be easily estimated, when it is remembered that his barbarian28 life had kept him totally ignorant that a Hair Bracelet is in England one of the commonest ornaments29 of woman’s wear.
“Are we going to stop here all day?” asked Zack. “If you’re turning from sulky to sentimental31 again, I shall go back to Blyth’s, and pave the way for you with Madonna, old boy!” He turned gaily32 in the direction of Valentine’s house, as he said those words.
Mat did not offer to detain him; did not say a word at parting. He passed his hand wearily over his eyes as Zack left him. “I’m sober,” he said vacantly to himself; “I’m not dreaming; I’m not light-headed, though I feel a’most like it. I saw that young woman as plain as I see them houses in front of me now; and by God, if she had been Mary’s ghost, she couldn’t have been more like her!”
He stopped. His hand fell to his side; then fastened mechanically on the railings of a house near him. His rough, misshapen fingers trembled round the iron. Recollections that had slumbered33 for years and years past, were awakening34 again awfully35 to life within him. Through the obscurity and oblivion of long absence, through the changeless darkness of the tomb, there was shining out now, vivid and solemn on his memory, the image—as she had been in her youth-time—of the dead woman whose name was “Mary.” And it was only the sight of that young girl, of that poor, shy, gentle, deaf and dumb creature, that had wrought36 the miracle!
He tried to shake himself clear of the influences which were now at work on him. He moved forward a step or two, and looked up. Zack?—where was Zack?
Away, at the other end of the solitary37 suburban38 street, just visible sauntering along and swinging his stick in his hand.
Without knowing why he did so, Mat turned instantly and walked after him, calling to him to come back. The third summons reached him: he stopped, hesitated, made comic gesticulations with his stick in the air—then began to retrace39 his steps.
The effort of walking and calling after him, had turned Mat’s thoughts in another direction. They now occupied themselves again with the hints that Zack had dropped of some incomprehensible connection between a Hair Bracelet, and the young girl who was called by the strange name of “Madonna.” With the remembrance of this, there came back also the recollection of the letter about a bracelet, and its enclosure of hair, which he had examined in the lonely cattle-shed at Dibbledean, and which still lay in the little box bearing on it the name of “Mary Grice.”
“Well!” cried Zack, speaking as he came on. “Well, Cupid! what do you want with me now?”
Mat did not immediately answer. His thoughts were still traveling back cautiously over the ground which they had already explored. Once more, he was pondering on that little circle of plaited hair, having gold at each end, and looking just big enough to go round a woman’s wrist, which he had seen in the drawer of Mr. Blyth’s bureau. And once again, the identity between this object and the ornament30 which young Thorpe had described as being the thing called a Hair Bracelet, began surely and more surely to establish itself in his mind.
“Now then, don’t keep me waiting,” continued Zack, laughing again as he came nearer; “clap your hand on your heart, and give me your tender message for the future Mrs. Marksman.”
It was on the tip of Mat’s tongue to emulate40 the communicativeness of young Thorpe, and to speak unreservedly of what he had seen in the drawer of the bureau—but he suddenly restrained the words just as they were dropping from his lips. At the same moment his eyes began to lose their vacant perturbed41 look, and to brighten again with something of craft and cunning, added to their customary watchful42 expression.
“What’s the young woman’s real name?” he asked carelessly, just as Zack was beginning to banter43 him for the third time.
“Is that all you called me back for? Her real name’s Mary.”
Mat had made his inquiry44 with the air of a man whose thoughts were far away from his words, and who only spoke because he felt obliged to say something. Zack’s reply to his question startled him into instant and anxious attention.
“Mary!” he repeated in a tone of surprise. “What else, besides Mary?”
“How should I know? Didn’t I try and beat it into your muddled45 old head, half-an-hour ago, that Blyth won’t tell his friends anything about her?” There was another pause. The secrecy46 in which Mr. Blyth chose to conceal47 Madonna’s history, and the sequestered48 place in the innermost drawer of his bureau where he kept the Hair Bracelet, began vaguely49 to connect themselves together in Mat’s mind. A curious smile hovered50 about his lips, and the cunning look brightened in his eyes. “The Painter-Man won’t tell anything about her, won’t he? Perhaps that thing in his drawer will.” He muttered the words to himself, putting his hands in his pockets, and mechanically kicking away a stone which happened to lie at his feet on the pavement.
“What are you grumbling51 about now?” asked Zack. “Do you think I’m going to stop here all day for the pleasure of hearing you talk to yourself?” As he spoke, he vivaciously52 rapped his friend on the shoulder with his stick. “Trust me to pave the way for you with Madonna!” he called out mischievously53, as he turned back in the direction of Mr. Blyth’s house.
“Trust me to have another look at your friend’s Hair Bracelet,” said Mat quietly to himself. “I’ll handle it this time, before I’m many days older.”
He nodded over his shoulder at Zack, and walked away quickly in the direction of Kirk Street.
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收听单词发音
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1
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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2
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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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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variance
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| n.矛盾，不同 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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heartiest
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| 亲切的( hearty的最高级 )； 热诚的； 健壮的； 精神饱满的 | |
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smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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touchy
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| adj.易怒的；棘手的 | |
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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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thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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gratis
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| adj.免费的 | |
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wrested
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| （用力）拧( wrest的过去式和过去分词 )； 费力取得； （从…）攫取； （ 从… ） 强行取去… | |
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civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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harping
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| n.反复述说 | |
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barbarian
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| n.野蛮人；adj.野蛮(人)的；未开化的 | |
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ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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31
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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32
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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33
slumbered
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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38
suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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39
retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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40
emulate
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| v.努力赶上或超越，与…竞争；效仿 | |
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41
perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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43
banter
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| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
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44
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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45
muddled
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| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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46
secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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47
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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48
sequestered
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| adj.扣押的；隐退的；幽静的；偏僻的v.使隔绝，使隔离( sequester的过去式和过去分词 )；扣押 | |
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49
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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50
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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51
grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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52
vivaciously
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| adv.快活地；活泼地；愉快地 | |
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mischievously
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| adv.有害地；淘气地 | |
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