“I can hardly believe, dear Lizzie, that I have really been three years married, though that darling, golden-haired Robin1, who is trying at this moment to climb upon my knee, serves as a charming reminder2. He is like—oh, so like!—his father, only his merry laugh is Robin’s.
“You ask how the work in the fort goes on. Just to our heart’s desire. We are full of gratitude3 to Him from whom all goodness flows. The best room in the fort has been fitted up as a church; we have service there every day, and thrice on Sundays. A grand gift for our wedding-day has arrived—a harmonium, on which I shall play the hymns4. There is a nice room for the boys’ school, with a large veranda5 in which the brown urchins6 squat7 at their lessons. To enter that school is like going near a hive of bees, there is such a humming of voices.
“We—Miranda and I—have a nice girls’ school of our own in quite a different part of the fort. It is in that very gallery where I first saw poor Premi pounding away at the rice. I can scarcely recognize that unhappy young Hindu widow in the tall, graceful8, beautiful Christian9 lady who is to me as the sweetest of sisters. You write, ‘I suppose that Miss Macfinnis has quite cast off all her old Hindu ways, and is quite the English demoiselle now?’ No, not exactly. Miranda is not, I think never will be, just like one who has always trodden a drawing-room carpet; she is more like Shakespeare’s Miranda—a beautiful blossom reared under Indian skies, not in a conservatory10 at home. Miranda always by preference wears the chaddar when she is engaged in the mission work which she loves, but when we are at home her luxuriant hair is braided just like my own. She reads and converses11 well in English, but with a slight accent which to our ears makes her language more sweet. We all love her dearly, and her native pupils are ready to kiss her feet. Miranda’s influence over them is much greater than mine.
“We had an absurd little scene a few days ago; I laugh at the recollection. The bara Sahib, Mr. Thole, paid us a visit. I suspect that his curiosity drew him here, for he had never seen Premi since that strange day when, shrinking and trembling, bruised12 and bleeding, a poor oppressed Hindu widow was brought before the commissioner13, whose verdict would decide her fate. Miranda entered our sitting-room14 without knowing that a guest was there; her chaddar was off, her hands filled with flowers from the garden which Robin has made. She looked herself like a rose. The commissioner rose, with his stiff, formal politeness, and said, ‘This is, I presume, Miss Miranda Macfinnis.’ Miranda started like a frightened fawn15, dropped her flowers, and vanished out of the room. I could scarcely keep my countenance16 when I apologized for my young cousin’s unintentional rudeness. ‘A little jungly,’ said Mr. Thole, with a condescending17 smile. ‘You should send her to a school in the hills.’
“I must add that poor Miranda was very penitent18 for having treated the commissioner thus. ‘I was so startled,’ she said; ‘the unexpected sight of Mr. Thole called back such strange and terrible recollections. But I should have rather thanked him on my knees for what he did; he was one means of delivering me from bondage19 to freedom, of changing ignorance and misery20 to this light and love and joy.’
“Miranda used at first to be a little afraid of Harold’s father; but that feeling has long since passed away, and she looks upon him with the deepest reverence21, something, I fancy, resembling that with which the Panjabis regard their gurus (religious teachers). She would, I am certain, think it a privilege to wash his feet. Our father’s health is now so much broken that he cannot itinerate at all, and we often fear that his day is drawing near to its close. But what a calm, peaceful, glorious sunset is his! I always think of him when I look at the picture which hangs on our wall, representing a weary reaper22 falling asleep with his head resting on one of the golden sheaves around him. The rich warm light is falling on his face, so full of peaceful repose23. Death to our father will be but sinking to sleep.
‘Oh, how calm will that rest appear!
Oh, how sweet will the waking be!’
But I do not like to anticipate losing one so dear, so I will turn to another subject.
“I have often told you of Robin, the brother of my loved Harold, and his unfailing fund of good-humour and fun. During the last few months Robin has greatly altered: he is no longer the merry, boyish youth, but seems, almost suddenly, to have developed into the thoughtful man. Perhaps this comes of his having become a now well-known author, whose brain must be ever at work, as well as an evangelist, teacher, and general aid in the mission. My brother often sits dreamily, and scarcely hears a question when it is put to him; sometimes the colour suddenly flushes his cheek without any visible cause. Perhaps Robin overworks; sometimes I fancy—Oh, what a blot24! Mischievous25 baby has upset my ink. I shall have to punish the little rogue26 by—putting down my pen and having a romp27.”
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1 robin | |
n.知更鸟,红襟鸟 | |
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2 reminder | |
n.提醒物,纪念品;暗示,提示 | |
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3 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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4 hymns | |
n.赞美诗,圣歌,颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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5 veranda | |
n.走廊;阳台 | |
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6 urchins | |
n.顽童( urchin的名词复数 );淘气鬼;猬;海胆 | |
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7 squat | |
v.蹲坐,蹲下;n.蹲下;adj.矮胖的,粗矮的 | |
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8 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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9 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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10 conservatory | |
n.温室,音乐学院;adj.保存性的,有保存力的 | |
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11 converses | |
v.交谈,谈话( converse的第三人称单数 ) | |
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12 bruised | |
[医]青肿的,瘀紫的 | |
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13 commissioner | |
n.(政府厅、局、处等部门)专员,长官,委员 | |
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14 sitting-room | |
n.(BrE)客厅,起居室 | |
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15 fawn | |
n.未满周岁的小鹿;v.巴结,奉承 | |
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16 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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17 condescending | |
adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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18 penitent | |
adj.后悔的;n.后悔者;忏悔者 | |
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19 bondage | |
n.奴役,束缚 | |
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20 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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21 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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22 reaper | |
n.收割者,收割机 | |
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23 repose | |
v.(使)休息;n.安息 | |
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24 blot | |
vt.弄脏(用吸墨纸)吸干;n.污点,污渍 | |
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25 mischievous | |
adj.调皮的,恶作剧的,有害的,伤人的 | |
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26 rogue | |
n.流氓;v.游手好闲 | |
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27 romp | |
n.欢闹;v.嬉闹玩笑 | |
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