It was easy enough to laugh, and she felt secretly grateful for his nonsense. She had almost forgotten the time when she had found such banter5 on her own part a veritable shield and buckler.
"I'm stunned6 with joy, Marshall," she laughed. Then, turning to Flood, "Have my woods brought you?"
He flushed with joy that she should have remembered their talk on the Pocantico ride. "Your woods and what's in them," he told her. "I've brought down a couple of young dogs, and we thought we'd try for some shooting before the snow. That's due any day now, isn't it?"
"Yes, the season has been unusually late, they say. But, Mr. Flood, you must not try to do any shooting around here!"
"Why not?" Pendleton put in, raising his eyebrows7; he succeeded in trying to look teasing only so far as to appear malicious8. "Tame birds, Rose?"
She ignored his impudence9. "You'd get me into greater disfavor than ever," she said, speaking to Flood. "You know there are said to be illicit10 stills in these mountains; there have been some lawless things done within a year or two, and the Government is watching the people here, or so they believe. They are distrustful of everybody—my poor innocent self included."
"I hope there's nothing unpleasant?" Flood asked, looking disturbed.
"No! Oh, dear, no! But there might be, if you went about in the woods with your guns, and were known to be my friends."
"Your fears are quite groundless, my dear," said Pendleton. "We were not going to stop here, anyway, but Flood hesitates to disillusion11 you. There's no hotel in your neighborhood, you know."
"I'm so glad!" she cried, and then joined the two men in their laugh. "Oh, Marshall, you're always making me absurd! You know perfectly12 well what I mean! I had horrible visions of your being murdered in the woods; naturally, I'm not glad there's no place for you to stay! I wish I could put you up here, but——"
"Certainly!" said Flood, to her expressive13 pause. "We understand how impossible it would be. Fact is, we thought we'd run down to Oakleigh for a few days, and we found we wanted to come a bit out of the path and call on you! Hope you don't mind?"
To her surprise she realized that she was really very glad to see them. She had within the hour been declaring that she had put away the old life, yet here were these two dropped from the skies of chance, to remind her of it; and she was undeniably glad to see them!
It ended in their staying to the midday dinner, when Aunt Sue surpassed the standard of her own fried chicken and beaten biscuits, and Matt could be heard turning the ice-cream freezer all during the first part of the meal, and Tim had to be suppressed by Eleanor because he would persist in trying to describe how the chickens they were eating had hopped14 and hopped and hopped when Matt had chopped their heads off.
It was the first time Flood had met Eleanor, and it was immediately evident that she impressed him very much. His look was upon her more than upon Rosamund; he watched her every move with a light of pleasure in his eyes, and his manner toward her was exquisite15—holding something of the deference16 of a young man toward a very charming, very old lady, something of the tenderness of a physician toward a courageous17 patient, something of a courtier's manner toward a queen, a little of the look of the lover of beauty at something unexpectedly lovely. And since Eleanor was neither old nor ill nor yet a queen, it must have been her loveliness, fragile and gentle and rare, that had attracted him, since attracted he so plainly was.
He would look from Eleanor to Rosamund from time to time as if trying to convey, silently, to the woman whom he held above all others how lovely he found her friend; and Rosamund, understanding and liking18 him for it, drew Eleanor out of the little tiredness of manner that was apt to fall upon her before strangers, and Flood brought the color to Eleanor's cheeks when he noticed how Timmy had blossomed under her care. Indeed, the little boy, with the quick adaptability19 of babyhood, might have been petted and adored all his life, so complacently20 did he accept his new mother's care and ignore the comments of Flood; for the moment he was absorbed in the celery family which he had spread out before him on the tablecloth21.
"It's me an' my muvver," he said to himself, as he arrayed a short stalk and some longer ones before him, "an' it's Miss Rose, an' it's Yetta, an' it's Matt. An' vey ain't any Sue!" Tim could not be prevailed upon to accept Aunt Susan, apparently22 feeling that in order to repudiate23 the relationship which he thought her title of courtesy implied he must repudiate her entirely24.
After dinner Rosamund managed so that a rather reluctant Flood and Eleanor should be led off by Tim to inspect the chickens. Pendleton was by no means disdaining25 to pay homage26 to Yetta's black eyes, and for a while Rosamund watched the two with amusement.
It was the first opportunity Rosamund had found for measuring the girl's improvement. It was amusing to see how well Yetta had learned to imitate Eleanor's manners and her own, how seldom she lapsed27 into the speech of the streets, yet how much of her native quickness and assurance she had retained. She was never at a loss for an answer to Pendleton's banter; and Pendleton, soaring to farther and farther heights of absurdity28, was enjoying himself immensely, when Rosamund decided29 that Yetta had had enough, and sent the girl off to her lessons.
"Now what did you break it up for, Rose?" Pendleton protested, adding, "It's wonderful how jealous all you women are of me!"
"Oh, I know my worth," said he, folding his hands and looking down, with his head on one side. Apparently he never tired of playing the clown.
"Tell me about Cecilia," said Rosamund.
"Ah, dear Cecilia! She's looking very well this autumn, very well indeed. And young! And slim! I admire dear Cecilia's slimness exceedingly. It's a monument to perseverance31 and self-denial."
Rosamund understood, and smiled with him. "Her letters have sounded very happy, so I've taken it for granted that things have gone well with her," she said.
"Well, you're responsible for that, aren't you? 'Pon my word, if Cecilia had money enough—or I had—to make her contented——" He sighed. "But Cecilia's up to something. She doesn't seem to—er—to care as much for my company as she did. Why, Rose, would you believe it, she even sent down word to me the other day that she had a headache!"
"Perhaps she had," Rosamund suggested.
"Oh, no. No. If she had, she would have let me see her. I'm good for headaches. No, it wasn't that. Besides, it was the very day after Flood told her he was coming here, and asked if she had any messages for you. No. Cecilia's up to something."
He wilted32 sideways in his chair, and tried to look pensive33 and pathetic. Rosamund watched him, amused as always, and not in the least understanding what he was trying to imply.
Suddenly he leaned toward her. "And you're up to something, too, Rosy34!" he said, as if throwing the words at her. "What's your game in staying down here, anyway?"
She flushed angrily. "Marshall! You go too far, you know!"
"Oh, come along, don't get mad!" he said. "What's your little game? Are you staying up here to draw old Flood on, or is it something else? I won't tell!"
She felt herself enveloped35 in a hot wave of anger and disgust, as if the fetid breath of some foul36 creature had blown toward her. She sprang from her chair and went swiftly toward the long window, and throwing it open stepped down to the piazza37.
Pendleton followed as calmly as if nothing had been said to arouse her; but she was spared an answer, even a look, for Eleanor and Flood were coming back to the house, Flood declaring that it was time for their adieux.
Rosamund was glad; she had been unexpectedly glad to see them, but now her pleasure was gone. She felt sick at heart, and wanted to be alone. Yet her pride sustained her until they were gone; she stood on the veranda38 to wave farewell to them as if nothing had happened, one arm about Yetta's shoulders, framed against the background of the little brown house that Flood thought so inadequate39 a shelter for a creature so beloved and so rare.
Flood felt that he had been discretion40 itself. He had learned his lesson, and was now too anxious for ultimate success to risk alarming her; but every move she made, every look, every tone had been as meat and drink to his longing41.
On their way back past the Summit his mind and heart were full of her, from her first silent greeting to the last glimpse of her with her arm across the child's shoulders. How like her unerring taste, he thought, to have chosen as friend so exquisite a creature as that Mrs. Reeves; and how right Mrs. Reeves had been in all her praise of Rosamund! It had seemed to him to-day that her face had been more than ever full of dancing play of color; certainly her cheeks had flamed when she had come out of that long window to meet him.
But Pendleton broke in on his dreams. "Our Rosy was looking exceedingly blooming," said he. "Wonder what's up?"
He managed to throw something of insinuation into his tone.
Whereupon Mr. Pendleton raised his eyebrows, smiled, and proceeded to whistle the "Merry Widow Waltz," which he knew Flood detested42, for one immortal43 hour.
Later in the evening, when Tim and Yetta had been long in bed, Rosamund and Eleanor were in the sitting-room44 before the fire, the table with its yellow-shaded lamp drawn45 up between them. Since the night of Rosamund's fright the shades were kept drawn at night; now the room, in its seclusion46, was warm and cosy47 with the sense of home. Eleanor smiled over a garment of Timmy's that she was mending; she stopped, from time to time, to look into the fire, laying the work in her lap as if it were a task over which she loved to linger.
Rosamund sat back in her big chair, her eyes partly closed, deep in thought. The day had been full of crowding emotions. She mentally recalled first one and then another, trying to marshal them into some sequence of cause and event.
On the last moments between herself and John Ogilvie she dwelt least; even in memory they were too palpitating. It is only after surrender, or after loss, that a woman loves to dwell upon such moments; before, they hold too much of fear, not to call forth48 the feminine withdrawal49 of the unwon. His looks she dared recall; his pale intensity50, the flame in his eyes, the fear and anger there as she described the wicked face at the window, his look before he left her, when Pendleton's step was already on the veranda.
That brought her thoughts to Pendleton, to his insinuations and the slight leer in his look. She shuddered51 all the more because she knew that, a few months before, she would have parried his impertinence with a laugh, instead of with the scorn and anger she had not been able to hide to-day. She was at least that far from the old life, the old state of mind! She knew now how intolerable she would find the people who had seemed only commonplace before! Looking back, secure in her new life in this purer air, she could say to herself how much she hated their suspicions of everyone, their petty gossip, their searching for hidden, unworthy motives52 in every least action, their expecting the base to emerge from every innocence53, their smiling, flattering faces.
She was glad, she told herself, so glad to be away from all that—all the more glad because she could remember the time when it had not especially displeased54 her. Yet in fairness she reminded herself that Flood was different. He had been very nice, indeed, to-day—and he had liked Eleanor. It spoke55 well for him that Eleanor, too, liked him! She looked across at Eleanor's tenderly brooding face, and smiled; how suitable it would be, she thought, if Flood and Eleanor—that would relieve herself of Flood's intentions. It was the first time she had been willing to admit that she knew what they were—and intentions on Flood's part would be quite delightful56 if Eleanor were their object——
So her thoughts passed, from one thing to another, until, suddenly, as if a shot had broken her dream, her heart stood still with fear, then seemed to leap into her throat.
She and Eleanor were on their feet in an instant, hands grasping hands, startled eyes searching each other's and then turning toward the door. This time it was no stealthy presence which had crept upon the house to peer in at the window. Even while they held each other, there in their safety before the fire, something stumbled across the piazza, fell against the door, cried out, seemed to fall farther, as if at the limit of strength—and was still.
Even the negroes in the kitchen heard the noise, and came running in with scared faces.
Rosamund moved quickly and quietly to the door, silently slid back the bolt, and flung it open.
There was no lurking57 enemy to surprise. Instead, a huddled58 form lay, as if crushed, before the doorsill. Between them they managed to lift it and bear it upstairs. All the way up Eleanor, though trembling and very white, carried her full share of the burden, and kept saying over and over to Rosamund:
"It's all right, sweet! Don't be frightened! It's all right, sweet! Don't be frightened!"
They laid her on a bed and undressed her. The poor cut feet were soiled with blood and seemed frozen; the forehead beneath the pale strands60 of hair—those pathetic strands of the woman in whom pride and vanity are dead—was cut and bruised61; on her body they found larger bruises62. They bathed her, and wrapped her in clean linen63, and made her as comfortable as they could. Aunt Sue and Eleanor exchanged looks, and shook their heads. They sent Matt after the doctor. Then Timmy called out, and Eleanor went to him. Aunt Sue said something about more hot water, and descended64 to the kitchen.
Rosamund knelt beside the bed, and presently Grace fluttered back to a dim consciousness.
"Miss Rose! Miss Rose!" were her first words, uttered in a tone of fright.
"Yes, dear! I am here," said Rosamund, laying one of her cool hands on Grace's forehead.
Grace closed her eyes as if satisfied. "I had to come," she whispered. "It wasn't only for me."
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1
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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exuberant
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| adj.充满活力的；（植物）繁茂的 | |
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banter
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| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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7
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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8
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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10
illicit
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| adj.非法的，禁止的，不正当的 | |
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disillusion
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| vt.使不再抱幻想，使理想破灭 | |
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12
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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13
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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14
hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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15
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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16
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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17
courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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18
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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19
adaptability
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| n.适应性 | |
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complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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21
tablecloth
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| n.桌布，台布 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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repudiate
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| v.拒绝，拒付，拒绝履行 | |
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24
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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25
disdaining
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| 鄙视( disdain的现在分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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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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28
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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29
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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perseverance
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| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
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32
wilted
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| （使）凋谢，枯萎( wilt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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34
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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37
piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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inadequate
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| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
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40
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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41
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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42
detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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45
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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46
seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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47
cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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48
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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50
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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51
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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52
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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53
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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54
displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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55
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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56
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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57
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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58
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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59
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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60
strands
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| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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61
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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62
bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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63
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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64
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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