“It’s just like a fairy-tale that all this should come to me,” she said to Roger North.
The cottages were finished and tenanted, their gardens stored and stocked with vegetables and fruit trees, and bright with autumn flowers, from the Thorpe garden. Even Mr. Fothersley was reconciled to their existence.
Ruth had been to no more parties; the days at home were too wonderful. She garnered6 each into her store as a precious gift. But the neighbours liked to drop in and potter round or sit on the terrace. The place was undoubtedly7 amazingly beautiful and perfect in its way. The friendliness8 and trust of all that lived and moved at Thorpe appealed even to the unreceptive. Here there were white pigeons that fluttered round your head and about your feet. Unafraid, bright-eyed tiny beautiful birds came close, so that you made real acquaintance with those creatures of the blue sky, the leaf and the 214sunlight. So timid always of their hereditary10 enemy through the ages, yet here the bolder spirits would almost feed from your hand. Their charm of swift movement, of sudden wings, seen so near, surprised and delighted. Their bright eager eyes looked at you as friends. The calves11 running with their mothers in the fields rubbed rough silken foreheads against you; and gentle velvet-nosed cart-horses came to you over the gates asking for apples. The children showed you their quaint9 treasures, their little play homes in the trees and by the river. In their wood the Michaelmas daisies, mauve and white and purple, were making a brave show, and scarlet12 poppies, bad farmers but good beauties, bordered the pale gold stubble fields. Everywhere was the fragrant13 pungent14 scent1 of autumn and the glory of fruitful old Mother Earth yielding of her wondrous15 store to those who love her and work for it.
Mr. Pithey was fond of coming, and, still undaunted, made Ruth fresh offers to buy Thorpe.
“You’ve got the pick of the soil here,” he complained. “Now I’ve not a rose in my place to touch those Rayon d’Or of yours. Second crop too! And ain’t for want of the best manure16, or choosing the right aspect. My 215man knows what he’s about too. Better than yours does, I reckon. He was head man to the Duke of Richborough, so he ought to.”
Ruth’s eyes twinkled.
“Try giving them away,” she suggested.
“Givin’ ’em away!” Mr. Pithey glared at her.
“Giving them away,” repeated Ruth firmly. “Now sit down here while I tell you all about it.”
Ruth herself was sitting on a heap of stubble by the side of the corn field, with little Moira Kent tucked close to her side.
Mr. Pithey had one of his little girls with him, and both were dressed as usual in new and expensive clothing. They looked at Ruth’s heap of stubble with evident suspicion, then the child advanced a step towards her.
“Are you going to tell us a story?”
Ruth smiled. “If you like I will,” she said.
The child’s rather commonplace pert little face broke into an answering smile. She took out a very fine lace-bordered handkerchief and spread it carefully on the ground. Then she sat down on it with her legs sticking out in front of her.
Mr. Pithey resigned himself to the inevitable17, and let his well-groomed heavy body gingerly down too. During the wet weather of July 216the little blue-faced lady had contracted pneumonia18 and very nearly died. Racked with anxiety, for family ties were dear to him, Mr. Pithey’s inflation and self-importance had failed him, and between him and Ruth a queer friendship had arisen.
So Mr. Pithey showed himself to Ruth at his best, and though perhaps it was not a very handsome best, the direct result was a row of cottages as a thank-offering.
“Once upon a time,” began Ruth, “there was a little Earth Elemental who had made the most beautiful flower in all the world, or at least it thought it was the most beautiful, so of course, for it, it was.”
“What is an Earth Elemental?” asked Elaine Pithey.
“The Earth Elementals are the fairies who help make the plants and flowers.”
“She’s a bit beyond that sort of stuff,” added Mr. Pithey, looking at the small replica21 of himself with pride.
“Some people don’t,” answered Ruth politely, watching the little blue butterflies among the pale gold stubble, with lazy eyes. Almost 217she heard echoes of elfin laughter, high and sweet.
“I’ve seen them,” Moira broke out very suddenly and to Ruth’s astonishment22. That Moira “saw” things she had little doubt, but even to her the little lady was reticent23. Something in the Puritan self-complacence had apparently24 roused her in defence of her inner world.
“What are they like then?” asked Elaine, supercilious25 still, but with an undercurrent of excitement plainly visible.
“They’re different,” said Moira. “Some are like humming-birds, only they’ve colours, not feathers, and some are like sweet-peas made of starlight. But some of them are just green and brown—very soft.”
“We took first prize for our sweet-peas at the flower show,” announced Elaine suddenly and aggressively.
“As big again as any other exhibit they were,” said Mr. Pithey, dusting the front of his white waistcoat proudly. “You may beat us in roses, but our sweet-peas are bigger, I’ll lay half a crown.”
“Why don’t I see fairies any way, if you do?” asked Elaine, returning to the attack now she had asserted her superiority. But Moira had withdrawn26 into herself, bitterly repentant27 of her revelation.
218“Have you ever looked through a microscope?” Ruth asked, putting a sheltering arm round the small figure beside her.
Elaine looked at her suspiciously.
“You mean there’s plenty I can’t see,” she said shrewdly. “But why don’t I see fairies if she does?”
Ruth smiled. “I am afraid as a rule they avoid us as much as possible. You see, we human beings mostly kill and torture and destroy all the things they love best.”
“I don’t!”
“They’re only common poppies!” said Elaine contemptuously.
Ruth took them from her, and, turning back the sheath of one of the dying buds, looked at the perfect silken lining29 of it.
“Some one took a lot of trouble over making that,” she said. “But suppose you listen to my story.” Moira’s small hot hand crept into hers, and she began again.
“There was once a little Earth Elemental who had made the most beautiful flower in the world. I think it was a crimson rose, and it had all the summer in its scent. And the little Elemental wondered if it was beautiful enough for the highest prize of all.”
219“At Battersea Flower Show?” asked Elaine.
“No. The highest prize in the world of the Elementals is to serve. And one day a child came and cut the rose very carefully with a pair of scissors, and the Elemental was sad, for it had made the flower its home and loved it very much. But the child whispered to the rose that it was going into one of the dark places which men had made in the world, with no sunshine, or summer, or joy, or beauty, to take them a message to say that God’s world was still beautiful, and the sun and stars still shone, and morning was still full of joy and evening of peace. Then the Elemental was not sorry any more, for its rose had won the highest prize.”
Elaine’s Pithian armour30 had fallen from her; out of the little pert face looked the soul of a child. She had lost her self-consciousness for the moment.
“And what became of the Elemental?” she asked.
“The Elemental did not leave its home then. It went with it. And when the rose had done its work and slipped away into the Fountain of all Beauty, the Elemental slipped away with it too.”
“Where is the Fountain of all Beauty?”
“In the Heart of God.”
220Elaine looked disappointed. “Then it’s all an alle—gory, I s’pose.”
“No, it’s quite true, or at least I believe it is. Mr. Pithey”—Ruth turned on him and her grave eyes danced—“take a big bunch of your best roses, a big bunch, mind, down to the Fairbridge Common Lodging31 House for Women, in Darley Street, and tell the Elementals where you are taking them. It will stir them up no end to give you better roses.”
“The Common Lodging House!” Mr. Pithey was plainly aghast. “Why, they’d think I was mad, and ’pon my word and honour I think you are—if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Not a bit. I get told that nearly every day.”
“I’ll tell the Elementals, Daddy, and you can take the roses, and then we’ll see,” announced Elaine, who had been pondering the matter.
Mr. Pithey regarded her with pride. “Practical that, eh?” he said. “Well, we’ll think about it. But you’ll have to come along now or we’ll be late for tea with mother. And as to the roses, I’ll beat you yet. Elementals all nonsense! Dung—good rich dung—that’s what they want. You wait till next year.”
221He shook hands warmly, and took his large presence away.
Ruth sent Moira home to tea, and wandered up the hedgerow, singing to her self, while Sarah and Selina hunted busily. On the terrace she found Roger North. He looked worn and ill and bad tempered. It was some time since he had been to see her. His wife’s jealousy32 of Ruth had culminated33 in a scene and he had a dread34 of disturbing the peace of the farm. But the silliness of the whole thing had irritated him, and he was worried about Violet on whom the strange black cloud had descended35 again more noticeably than ever. Riversley had gone to Scotland, writing him a laconic36 note, “I’m better away—this is my address if you want me.”
He drank his tea for the most part in silence, and when she had finished hers Ruth left him and went about her work. North lit his pipe and sat on smoking, while the two little dogs fought as usual for the possession of a seat in his chair, edging each other out. And presently Bertram Aurelius came staggering out of the front door and plump down on the ground before him. His red hair shone like an aureole round his head and he made queer and pleasant noises, gazing at North with friendly and evident recognition. Larry came padding softly 222up from his favourite haunts by the river and lay watching them with his wistful amber37 eyes.
“Thank God for the blessed things that don’t talk,” said North.
The deep lines on his face had smoothed out, his irritation38 subsided39, he no longer felt bad tempered.
When Ruth came back he smiled at her. “Thank you, I’m better,” he said. “When I arrived I wasn’t fit to ‘carry guts40 to a bear.’ You know Marryat’s delightful41 story, of course? And how is the farm?”
“Can’t you feel?”
She stood in the attitude of one listening. And curiously42 and strangely there came to North’s consciousness a something that all his senses seemed to cognize and contract at once. It was not a sound, it was not a vision, it was not a sensation, though it combined all three. Radiant and sweet and subtle, and white with glory, it came and went in a flash. Was it only a minute or eternity43?
“What was it?” His own voice sounded strange in his ears.
Ruth smiled. “You felt it?”
“I felt something. I believe you mesmerized44 me, you witch woman.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t make anyone 223feel that if I knew all the arts in the world. Only yourself can find that for you.”
“What was it, anyhow?”
“Where does the bad go to?”
There was a moment’s silence between them. But the world of the farm was alive with sound. The pigeons’ coo, the call of the cowman to his herd46, the chuckles47 of the baby, accompanied by the full evening chorus of birds.
“There isn’t any bad in there,” said Ruth.
“Your farm is bewitched,” said North. “I might be no older than Bertram Aurelius talking nonsense like this. Come down to earth, you foolish woman. There’s a telegraph boy coming up the drive.”
Ruth’s face clouded a little. “I have not got over the dread of telegrams,” she said. “It takes one back to those dreadful days——”
She shivered as they waited for the boy to reach them. He whistled as he came, undisturbed by much clamour from Sarah and Selina; they were old friends and he knew their ways.
Ruth tore the envelope open, read the telegram, and handed it to North. “May I come?” were its three short words, and it was signed “Violet Riversley.”
224“You will have her?” said North.
“Yes, of course.” Ruth penciled her answer on the prepaid form and handed it to the boy.
North heaved a sigh of relief. “It’s good of you. You know she has not been well.”
Ruth sat down and pointed to the other chair.
“Tell me all you know. It may help.”
North told her as well as he could. “It’s all so indefinite and intangible,” he ended. “Sometimes I wonder if her mind is affected48 in any way. From the shock Dick’s death was to her you know. That anyone should be afraid of Vi! It seems ridiculous, remembering what she was. She isn’t herself. That’s the only way I can describe it to you. Upon my word sometimes lately I’ve almost believed she’s possessed49 by a devil. But if she comes here—well, I don’t know why—but I think she will get all right.”
Ruth did not answer at first. She sat thinking, with her elbows on her knees, her face hidden between her hands.
That sense of danger to the farm had swept over her again. A warning as of something impending50, brooding; looming51 up like a great cloud on the edge of her blue beautiful sky. Something strange and terrible was coming, coming into her life and the life of the farm. And she could not avert52 it, or refuse to meet 225it. Whatever it was it had to be met and fought. Would it be conquered? For it was strong, terribly strong, and it was helped by many. And while the moment lasted, Ruth felt small and frightened and curiously alone.
“What is the matter?” asked Roger North. His voice was anxious, and when she looked up she met his eyes full of that pure and honest friendship which is so good a thing, and so rare, between man and woman. Just so might he often have looked at Dick Carey.
She put out her hand to meet his, as a man might do on a bargain. “We will do our best,” she said.
And she knew that WE was strong.
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1
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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3
luscious
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| adj.美味的；芬芳的；肉感的，引与性欲的 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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lavishly
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| adv.慷慨地，大方地 | |
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garnered
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| v.收集并（通常）贮藏（某物），取得，获得( garner的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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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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hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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12
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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pungent
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| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
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wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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manure
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| n.粪，肥，肥粒；vt.施肥 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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pneumonia
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| n.肺炎 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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primly
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| adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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replica
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| n.复制品 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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supercilious
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| adj.目中无人的，高傲的；adv.高傲地；n.高傲 | |
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withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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repentant
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| adj.对…感到悔恨的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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culminated
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| v.达到极点( culminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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laconic
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| adj.简洁的；精练的 | |
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amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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40
guts
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| v.狼吞虎咽，贪婪地吃，飞碟游戏（比赛双方每组5人，相距15码，互相掷接飞碟）；毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的第三人称单数 )；取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 )；内脏；消化道的下段；肠 | |
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41
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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42
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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43
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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44
mesmerized
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| v.使入迷( mesmerize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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unity
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| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
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46
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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47
chuckles
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的名词复数 ) | |
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48
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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49
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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50
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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51
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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52
avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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