The dim type still tells how the altar in this church was decorated with flowers and ferns, who played the wedding march and who performed the ceremony. The bride was the beautiful and accomplished4 daughter of the late Sam Adams and Mrs. Mary Adams.
“Late” is the adjective you get, instead of the plain civilian5 title of “Mister” you had while you were in the flesh. It depends whether this exchange implies demotion or immortal6 inflation. But there can be no doubt about the significance of “Sam” in this connection. Mr. Adams was a[95] carpenter, and a good one, but he never received credit in this present world for the concluding, dignifying7 syllables8 of his Christian9 name.
In this same paragraph it tells how the bride was dressed, who her attendants were and what they wore. And simmers down in the last sentence to a description of the gowns worn by the respective mothers of the bride and groom10. The word “exeunt” does not occur, of course; but that lick-and-a-promise praise of their toilettes really implies that this is the last prominent appearance of these worthy11 women.
The concluding paragraph is devoted12 to the groom. And it is evident that the writer saved his most obsequious13 words for this final flare14 of flattery. The groom was the son of “our distinguished15 fellow townsman, Mr. George William Cutter”—a “university man”; some reference was made to his “sterling qualities” and bright future. He had recently “accepted” a position in the First National Bank where he had already “made an enviable record”—cordial finger pointing to “bright future.” “The young couple left on the noon train for a wedding tour in the East. Upon their return they will take up their residence in their new home on Wiggs Street.”
You and I may both believe that either one of[96] us could have written a better account of this wedding, imparted more dignity to the occasion, as undoubtedly16 a real artist might paint a more pleasing portrait of you or me. But for a naively17 truthful18 likeness19, we both know that a country-town photographer surpasses the artist when it comes to portraying20 the warped21 noses of our countenances22, the worried eye and the mouths we really have. This is why we avoid his brutal23 veracity24 when we can afford the expense. Neither one of us cares to leave the very scriptures25 of our faces to appall26 posterity27.
In the same manner, I contend there is always an artless charm, a sweet and scandalous candor28 in what appears in a country newspaper, which is more refreshing29 and informing than the elegance30 of our best writers in the use of words. For example, does not the Sentinel’s account furnish a clearer picture and even a more intimate interpretation31 of this bride and groom and the whole scene, than you could possibly receive of a fashionable wedding from the social columns of a big city paper? Personally, I have frequently been offended by the cool, bragging32 insolence33 of these announcements of city weddings, as if all we were entitled to know is that they can afford the pomp and circumstance; nothing about their “bright future,”[97] or the bride’s “accomplishments,” or the groom’s “sterling qualities” to bid for our interest and good will. Why swagger in print about being married? It is not a thing to boast about, but to be humble34 about, and to entreat35 the prayers of all Christian people, that they may behave themselves, keep their vows36 and do the square thing by each other and society.
George and Helen returned to Shannon and their new home on Wiggs Street the last of October.
Helen was far more beautiful than she had ever been, with that sedate37 air young wives acquire before they are becalmed by the stupefying monotony of love, peace and duty. The lines in George’s handsome young face were firmer. He had that look of resolution men of his type show, before it is confirmed into the next look of arrogance38 and success.
When Helen and George became engaged in August the Carrol house was simply an old gray farmhouse39, overtaken years ago by the spreading skirts of Shannon, but never assimilated. This was due to the fact that when Wiggs Street was lengthened40, it must be made straight whatever happened. The old house was left far to one side on a wide lawn. No one lived in it. Altheas and[98] roses bloomed among the weeds, like gentle folk who have lost their station in life and make common lot with the mean and the poor. Grass grew between the bricks of the walk which led to the front door. There was a hedge of bulbous-bodied boxwood on either side of this walk. The windows of the old house looked out on this green and growing desolation with the vacant stare they always have in an empty house.
But since the end of August carpenters, plasterers and painters had swarmed41 over it and through it. Laborers42 had cleaned and cleared and pruned43. At last came van loads of carpets, furniture and draperies. These had been smoothed, placed and hung inside. Now it looked like the same old house that had suddenly come into a modest fortune, gone to town and bought itself a lot of nice things to wear. Not a gable had been changed, but the new roof had been painted green. The walls were so white that they glistened44. The windows were so clean that they looked like the bright eyes of a lady with her veil lifted.
On the evening of her first day in this house, Helen stood on the veranda45 waiting for George, watching the elm leaves sweeping46 past, a golden shower in the November wind. She had been very busy all day, not that there was anything to[99] do, because everything had been done. But she had been going over her possessions, feeling the fullness and vastness of her estate. She had silver, yes, and fine linen47. Her furniture was good, golden oak, every piece. Her rugs were florescent, very cheerful.
She needed more furniture; the rooms looked sparsely48 settled, especially the parlor49. A bookcase would help, and a few pictures on the walls, but all in good time. She would be contented50, ask for nothing else. She meant to be a thrifty51, helpful wife, do her own work, take care of George. She was simply speechlessly happy. So it was just as well she had no one to talk to. She wished to be alone except for George, to concentrate upon all this joy. It seemed too good to be true. She had this house, to be sweetened into a home, and all these things; above and transcending52 everything, she had George. She was absolutely sure of him. Is there anything more certain than sunshine when the sun shines?
This day was a criterion of all her days. She was very busy. She expected to find time for her music, and to read a little. She must keep up with what was going on for George’s sake, so that she would be an intelligent companion for him. But she never found time; besides, George[100] cared less than she had supposed for music, and he was strangely indifferent to intelligent conversation, seeing what an intelligent man he was.
Sometimes she returned a few calls, merely from a sense of duty. She was never lonely. Sometimes her mother came to lunch and spent the afternoon. On Sundays they went to church and had dinner with George’s father and mother. As the months passed, Mrs. Cutter frequently asked her how she “felt.” She always felt well and told her so. She did not notice that Mrs. Cutter took little pleasure in her abounding54 health. The spring and summer passed. She was very busy in her garden among the flowers.
One day Mrs. Adams warned her against taking so much violent exercise.
Mrs. Adams said nothing. She merely measured her daughter this way and that with a sort of tape-line gaze.
“A married woman never knows when she is perfectly well. It is your duty to be careful,” was the reply.
Helen flushed and remained silent. She felt[101] that her mother was staring at her inquisitively57 through this silence as she had sometimes seen her peep through the drawn58 curtains before a window to satisfy her curiosity or her anxiety.
When at last Mrs. Adams took her departure, Helen went in, closed the door of her room and sat down on the side of her bed.
I do not know how it is with men, but there are thoughts a woman cannot think if the door is open, even if there is not another soul in the house. Helen was now engaged in this sort of secret-prayer contemplation of herself, a slim, pretty figure, sitting with her knees crossed, hands folded, lips parted, eyes fixed59 in a long blue gaze upon the clean white walls of this room.
So that was it! She was the object of—anticipation60 which had not been—rewarded. The color in her cheeks deepened. She recalled this question, that remark, made by George’s mother. She understood the curious look of suspense61 with which Mrs. Cutter frequently regarded her. She wished to remind her of a duty she owed the Cutter family. The meaning of it all was perfectly clear to her now. As if it was anybody’s business! She was indignant by this time. She began to shake one foot. Her eyes flew this way and that, like the wings of a distracted bird. She[102] was really arguing fiercely with George’s mother, saying the things which we never dare to say in fact. She flounced, bobbing up and down on the springs beneath her, set her impatient foot down, closed her lips firmly and looked really fierce. Evidently she was getting the better of this argument, chiefly, no doubt, because Mrs. Cutter was not there.
Suddenly she lifted her left hand, counted the fingers and in turn used up all the fingers of her right hand in this triumphant62 enumeration63. Yes, she had been married exactly ten months. Not a year yet. Why was everybody in such a hurry, even her mother?
Then something happened. She became very still, as you do sometimes when the future, which always keeps its bright back to you, suddenly turns around and permits you to behold64 the face of the years to come. The color faded from her cheeks; her eyes widened into a look of terror. She gave a gasp65 and buried her face in the pillow.
Oh, God, oh, her Father in heaven, suppose it should always be like this! Suppose she lived to be an old woman and never had a child. Doing just the same things over, alone in the house. Nothing to look forward to all day except George’s return at the end of it. And nothing[103] for him to expect except herself coming from the kitchen to welcome him and hurrying back again, lest something burned or boiled over if she delayed a moment. What would she be in her husband’s house if she did not become a mother to his children?
She sprang to her feet and tore off the pink apron66 she was wearing over her summer frock. “I shall be a servant, nothing else,” she cried, tidying her hair before the mirror. “I shall grow old and gray; my skin will be yellow and, if I don’t—if we do not have children, I shall begin presently to look like a good servant, the kind that never gives notice, but just stays on and dies in the family. Oh!”
She flew back to the bed, cast herself upon it and wept aloud to the ceiling.
An audience makes hypocrites of us all. The very mirror in your room will do it. The best acting67 is always done in secret. If you could see that little mouse of a woman whom you never suspect of having more than the timid sniff68 of an emotion, charging up and down the room in her nightdress, tearing her hair and raving69 with her eyes, making no sound lest you should hear her, you would be astonished. And she might be no less amazed if she could see you carrying[104] on like a proud female Cicero, delivering the mere53 gestures of an eloquent70 oration71. No acting we ever see on the stage equals the histrionic ability of the least talented woman when it comes to these bed-chamber theatricals72 of her secret emotions.
Helen was calmer when George returned from the bank an hour later. She met him as usual. But the sight of him unnerved her. She flung herself upon his breast and clung to him, as if a strong wind was blowing which might sweep her away from him forever.
“Helen! My heart, what is the matter?” he exclaimed.
“Are you ill?” he said, turning her face so that it lay upon his breast, chin quivering, eyes closed.
No, she was not ill, she said. The white lids lifted. She regarded him sorrowfully. “Only I want to ask you something. I must know,” she whispered.
“Ask anything; only don’t cry. I can’t stand it,” kissing her.
“George,” she began after a pause.
“Yes, my life,” in grave suspense.
“Am I a good wife?”
Good heaven! What a question. Of course[105] she was, the best and loveliest wife a man ever had.
“But aren’t you—have you been disappointed in me?”
“You surpass my happiest dreams of happiness,” he assured her hastily. Now was everything all right?
Apparently74 not. She had gone off into another paroxysm of sobs75. He stood with this storm of loveliness clasped to his breast amazed and horrified76. What was the matter with Helen? He had left her calm and happy at noon. He found her now in torrential tears. She must be ill.
He lifted her tenderly in his arms, strode down the hall to their room and deposited her on the bed.
“You will always love me, whatever happens?” she insisted, clinging to his hand.
He sat down beside her. He filled his lungs; he expanded himself. He must meet this emergency. “Helen, I could not live without loving you,” he exclaimed in a deep and powerful voice.
He was speechless. When you are caught up without a moment’s notice and made to swear to every article of undying love, what else can you[106] do? But she lay wilted78, deadly pale, her eyes fixed upon him dolorously79, as if he might be going to slay80 her with the next word. Therefore—
He did not finish thinking what he was about to think. A sort of shock passed through him, he caught his breath, looked off, the faintest shade of embarrassment81 in this look addressed to the ceiling, but not painful. On the contrary you might have inferred that this was a pleasurable confusion. He was instantly calmed, no longer disturbed about Helen. He stared at her politely as at an unknown but highly satisfactory phenomenon. He had no experience in a case like this, but he had instincts. Every young husband is a father, at least by anticipation. His impression was that she must be soothed82, kept quiet.
He bent83 and kissed her gravely, as you kiss the Bible when you take an oath. “Don’t worry, my sweet; you will come around all right,” he told her.
She turned her face away, closed her eyes in tearful despair. He had not answered her question. He had evaded84 with soft words. This would never do. She was beginning to weep again. He said he would go to the phone and call her mother.
[107]“Don’t call mother. She has been here all afternoon,” she cried.
So, then Mrs. Adams knew. Well, he didn’t care if the whole world knew. “Helen, you must not let go like this. You will hurt yourself,” he said with a note of authority.
Her ears heard him; her eyes caught him. For one moment she lay still and sobless. Then she sat up, hair streaming over her shoulders, cheeks reddening. “You too!” she cried. “Oh, you have all had the same thought in your minds. And it isn’t so,” she informed him.
“Well, if nothing is the matter, what is the matter?” he demanded after a pause in the voice of a man sliding from the top of a climax85.
“That is,” covering her face with her hands. “Your mother, my mother, you, too, all of you have been expecting something that may never happen. And I did not know, did not realize until this day the meaning of these hints, these questions, this solicitude86. It was not for me. I do not deserve it, you understand. I am not that way.” Oh! her Heavenly Father, she knew what was before her now if she never had a child. She would not be the same to him!
“Of course you will, you silly darling,” he[108] laughed, gathering87 her in his arms. “The fact is, I am immensely relieved.”
In this wise they took a new lease on their happiness. Helen’s skies cleared. It was good to be free and well and just a girl “a while longer,” as George put it. Still this was a form of probation88. That phrase, “a while longer,” was the involuntary admission he made of his ultimate expectations. For his own part, he declared it was much better for him to make some headway in the bank before they could really afford the expensive luxury of having children. Still he felt a bit let down at the contemplation for the first time of the bare possibility of his wife not bearing these children for him.
Thus the first year of their married life ended and the next one began. In the main you can see that every sign for the future was propitious89. These two young people had the right mind toward each other; no modern decadence90, no desire to sidestep Nature or fail in their duty. Their instincts were normal, their hopes honorable.
How is it then that, with all good intentions, they both missed their cue? It is not for me to say. My task is to tell this story and leave each reader to judge for himself where the blame lay.[109] No doubt there will be many decisions. I have often wondered if even three judges who passed on the same case without knowing each other’s decision, would not each of them render a different judgment91. But in regard to this matter, I may be permitted to remark in passing that most of us miss our cue in the business of living, whether we are escorted by the best intentions or a few valorous vices92. And my theory is that if we live long enough, we shall hear the Prompter in time to make a good ending. If we do not, there is a considerable stretch of eternity93 before us where no doubt adjustments may be made with a wider mind.
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1
industriously
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cultivation
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| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
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cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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dignifying
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| 使显得威严( dignify的现在分词 )； 使高贵； 使显赫； 夸大 | |
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syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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obsequious
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| adj.谄媚的，奉承的，顺从的 | |
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flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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naively
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| adv. 天真地 | |
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truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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portraying
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| v.画像( portray的现在分词 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
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warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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countenances
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| n.面容( countenance的名词复数 )；表情；镇静；道义支持 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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veracity
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| n.诚实 | |
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scriptures
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| 经文，圣典( scripture的名词复数 )； 经典 | |
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appall
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| vt.使惊骇，使大吃一惊 | |
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posterity
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| n.后裔，子孙，后代 | |
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candor
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| n.坦白，率真 | |
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refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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bragging
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| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的现在分词 )；大话 | |
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insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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entreat
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| v.恳求，恳请 | |
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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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laborers
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| n.体力劳动者，工人( laborer的名词复数 )；（熟练工人的）辅助工 | |
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pruned
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| v.修剪（树木等）( prune的过去式和过去分词 )；精简某事物，除去某事物多余的部分 | |
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glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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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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sparsely
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| adv.稀疏地；稀少地；不足地；贫乏地 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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thrifty
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| adj.节俭的；兴旺的；健壮的 | |
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transcending
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| 超出或超越（经验、信念、描写能力等）的范围( transcend的现在分词 )； 优于或胜过… | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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abounding
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| adj.丰富的，大量的v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的现在分词 ) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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inquisitively
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| 过分好奇地； 好问地 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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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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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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enumeration
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| n.计数，列举；细目；详表；点查 | |
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64
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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65
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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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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68
sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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oration
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| n.演说，致辞，叙述法 | |
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72
theatricals
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| n.（业余性的）戏剧演出，舞台表演艺术；职业演员；戏剧的( theatrical的名词复数 )；剧场的；炫耀的；戏剧性的 | |
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73
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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75
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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76
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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77
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wilted
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| （使）凋谢，枯萎( wilt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dolorously
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| adj. 悲伤的；痛苦的；悲哀的；阴沉的 | |
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80
slay
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| v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮 | |
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81
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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82
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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83
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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84
evaded
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| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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85
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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86
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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87
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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88
probation
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| n.缓刑(期)，(以观后效的)察看；试用(期) | |
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89
propitious
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| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
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90
decadence
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| n.衰落，颓废 | |
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91
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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