Suddenly Andrew's words echoed again in my mind. I had barely heeded8 them before, in the great joy of my relief, but now their significance came to me. "In jail." The Professor in jail! That was the meaning of his strange disappearance10 at Woodbridge. That little brute11 of a man Shirley must have telephoned from Redfield, and when the Professor came to the Woodbridge bank to cash that check they had arrested him. That was why they had shoved me into that mahogany sitting-room12. Andrew must be behind this. The besotted old fool! My face burned with anger and humiliation13.
I never knew before what it means to be really infuriated. I could feel my brain tingle14. The Professor in jail! The gallant15, chivalrous16 little man, penned up with hoboes and sneak17 thieves suspected of being a crook18... as if I couldn't take care of myself! What did they think he was, anyway? A kidnapper19?
Instantly I decided20 I would hurry back to Port Vigor21 without delay. If Andrew had had the Professor locked up, it could only be on the charge of defrauding22 me. Certainly it couldn't be for giving him a bloody23 nose on the road from Shelby. And if I appeared to deny the charge, surely they would have to let Mr. Mifflin go.
I believe I must have been talking to myself in Peg's stall—at any rate, just at this moment the stableman appeared and looked very bewildered when he saw me, with flushed face and in obvious excitement, talking to the horse. I asked him when was the next train to Port Vigor.
"Well, ma'am," he said, "they say that all the local trains is held up till the wreck24 at Willdon's cleared away. This being Sunday, I don't think you'll get anything from here until to-morrow morning."
I reflected. It wasn't so awfully25 far back to Port Vigor. A flivver from the local garage could spin me back there in a couple of hours at the most. But somehow it seemed more fitting to go to the Professor's rescue in his own Parnassus, even if it would take longer to get there. To tell the truth, while I was angry and humiliated27 at the thought of his being put in jail by Andrew, I couldn't help, deep down within me, being rather thankful. Suppose he had been in the wreck? The Sage28 of Redfield had played the part of Providence29 after all. And if I set out right away with Parnassus, I could get to Port Vigor—well, by Monday morning anyway.
The good people of the Moose Hotel were genuinely surprised at the hurry with which I dispatched my lunch. But I gave them no explanations. Goodness knows, my head was full of other thoughts and the apple sauce might have been asbestos. You know, a woman only falls in love once in her life, and if it waits until she's darn near forty—well, it takes! You see I hadn't even been vaccinated30 against it by girlish flirtations. I began to be a governess when I was just a kid, and a governess doesn't get many chances to be skittish31. So now when it came, it hit me hard. That's when a woman finds herself—when she's in love. I don't care if she is old or fat or homely or prosy. She feels that little flutter under her ribs32 and she drops from the tree like a ripe plum. I didn't care if Roger Mifflin and I were as odd a couple as old Dr. Johnson and his wife, I only knew one thing: that when I saw that little red devil again I was going to be all his—if he'd have me. That's why the old Moose Hotel in Bath is always sacred to me. That's where I learned that life still held something fresh for me—something better than baking champlain biscuits for Andrew.
* * * * * * * * *
That Sunday was one of those mellow33, golden days that we New Englanders get in October. The year really begins in March, as every farmer knows, and by the end of September or the beginning of October the season has come to its perfect, ripened34 climax35. There are a few days when the world seems to hang still in a dreaming, sweet hush36, at the very fulness of the fruit before the decline sets in. I have no words (like Andrew) to describe it, but every autumn for years I have noticed it. I remember that sometimes at the farm I used to lean over the wood pile for a moment just before supper to watch those purple October sunsets. I would hear the sharp ting of Andrew's little typewriter bell as he was working in his study. And then I would try to swallow down within me the beauty and wistfulness of it all, and run back to mash37 the potatoes.
Peg drew Parnassus along the backward road with a merry little rumble38. I think she knew we were going back to the Professor. Bock careered mightily39 along the wayside. And I had much time for thinking. On the whole, I was glad; for I had much to ponder. An adventure that had started as a mere40 lark41 or whim42 had now become for me the very gist43 of life itself. I was fanciful, I guess, and as romantic as a young hen, but by the bones of George Eliot, I'm sorry for the woman that never has a chance to be fanciful. Mifflin was in jail; aye, but he might have been dead and—unrecognizable! My heart refused to be altogether sad. I was on my way to deliver him from durance vile44. There seemed a kinship between the season and myself, I mused45, seeing the goldenrod turning bronze and droopy along the way. Here was I, in the full fruition of womanhood, on the verge46 of my decline into autumn, and lo! by the grace of God, I had found my man, my master. He had touched me with his own fire and courage. I didn't care what happened to Andrew, or to Sabine Farm, or to anything else in the world. Here were my hearth47 and my home—Parnassus, or wherever Roger should pitch his tent. I dreamed of crossing the Brooklyn Bridge with him at dusk, watching the skyscrapers48 etched against a burning sky. I believed in calling things by their true names. Ink is ink, even if the bottle is marked "commercial fluid." I didn't try to blink the fact that I was in love. In fact, I gloried in it. As Parnassus rolled along the road, and the scarlet49 maple50 leaves eddied51 gently down in the blue October air, I made up a kind of chant which I called
Who Has Fallen into Love
O God, I thank Thee who sent this great adventure my way!
I am grateful to have come out of the barren land of
spinsterhood, seeing the glory of a love greater than myself.
I thank Thee for teaching me that mixing, and kneading, and
baking are not all that life holds for me. Even if he doesn't
love me, God, I shall always be his.
I was crooning some such babble53 as this to myself when, near Woodbridge, I came upon a big, shiny motor car stranded54 by the roadside. Several people, evidently intelligent and well-to-do, sat under a tree while their chauffeur55 fussed with a tire. I was so absorbed in my own thoughts that I think I should have gone by without paying them much heed9, but suddenly I remembered the Professor's creed—to preach the gospel of books in and out of season. Sunday or no Sunday, I thought I could best honour Mifflin by acting56 on his own principle. I pulled up by the side of the road.
I noticed the people turn to one another in a kind of surprise, and whisper something. There was an elderly man with a lean, hard-worked face; a stout57 woman, evidently his wife; and two young girls and a man in golfing clothes. Somehow the face of the older man seemed familiar. I wondered whether he were some literary friend of Andrew's whose photo I had seen.
Bock stood by the wheel with his long, curly tongue running in and out over his teeth. I hesitated a moment, thinking just how to phrase my attack, when the elderly gentleman called out:
"Where's the Professor?"
I was beginning to realize that Mifflin was indeed a public character.
"Heavens!" I said. "Do you know him, too?"
"Well, I should think so," he said. "Didn't he come to see me last spring about an appropriation58 for school libraries, and wouldn't leave till I'd promised to do what he wanted! He stayed the night with us and we talked literature till four o'clock in the morning. Where is he now? Have you taken over Parnassus?"
"Just at present," I said, "Mr. Mifflin is in the jail at Port Vigor."
The ladies gave little cries of astonishment59, and the gentleman himself (I had sized him up as a school commissioner60 or something of that sort) seemed not less surprised.
"In jail!" he said. "What on earth for? Has he sandbagged somebody for reading Nick Carter and Bertha M. Clay? That's about the only crime he'd be likely to commit."
"He's supposed to have cozened me out of four hundred dollars," I said, "and my brother has had him locked up. But as a matter of fact he wouldn't swindle a hen out of a new-laid egg. I bought Parnassus of my own free will. I'm on my way to Port Vigor now to get him out. Then I'm going to ask him to marry me—if he will. It's not leap year, either."
He looked at me, his thin, lined face working with friendliness61. He was a fine-looking man—short, gray hair brushed away from a broad, brown forehead. I noticed his rich, dark suit and the spotless collar. This was a man of breeding, evidently.
"Well, Madam," he said, "any friend of the Professor is a friend of ours." (His wife and the girls chimed in with assent62.) "If you would like a lift in our car to speed you on your errand, I'm sure Bob here would be glad to drive Parnassus into Port Vigor. Our tire will soon be mended."
The young man assented63 heartily64, but as I said before, I was bent65 on taking Parnassus back myself. I thought the sight of his own tabernacle would be the best balm for Mifflin's annoying experience. So I refused the offer, and explained the situation a little more fully26.
"Well," he said, "then let me help in any way I can." He took a card from his pocket-book and scribbled66 something on it. "When you get to Port Vigor," he said, "show this at the jail and I don't think you'll have any trouble. I happen to know the people there."
So after a hand-shake all round I went on again, much cheered by this friendly little incident. It wasn't till I was some way along the road that I thought of looking at the card he had given me. Then I realized why the man's face had been familiar. The card read quite simply:
RALEIGH STONE STAFFORD
It was the Governor of the State!
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1
vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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3
munching
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| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的现在分词 ) | |
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4
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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7
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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8
heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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9
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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10
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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11
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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12
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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13
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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14
tingle
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| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
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15
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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16
chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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17
sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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18
crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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19
kidnapper
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| n.绑架者，拐骗者 | |
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20
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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21
vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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22
defrauding
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| v.诈取，骗取( defraud的现在分词 ) | |
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23
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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24
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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25
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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26
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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27
humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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28
sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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29
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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30
vaccinated
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| [医]已接种的，种痘的，接种过疫菌的 | |
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31
skittish
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| adj.易激动的，轻佻的 | |
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32
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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33
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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34
ripened
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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36
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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37
mash
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| n.麦芽浆，糊状物，土豆泥；v.把…捣成糊状，挑逗，调情 | |
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38
rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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39
mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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40
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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41
lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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42
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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43
gist
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| n.要旨；梗概 | |
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44
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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45
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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46
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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47
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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48
skyscrapers
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| n.摩天大楼 | |
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49
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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50
maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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51
eddied
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| 起漩涡，旋转( eddy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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53
babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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54
stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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55
chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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56
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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58
appropriation
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| n.拨款，批准支出 | |
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59
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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60
commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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61
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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62
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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63
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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65
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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66
scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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67
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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