Major Lackland had once been a man of note in the State—a man of extraordinary natural ability and as extraordinary learning. He had been universally trusted and honored in his day, but had finally, fallen into misfortune; while serving his third term in Congress, and while upon the point of being elevated to the Senate—which was considered the summit of earthly aggrandizement3 in those days—he had yielded to temptation, when in distress4 for money wherewith to save his estate; and sold his vote. His crime was discovered, and his fall followed instantly. Nothing could reinstate him in the confidence of the people, his ruin was irretrievable—his disgrace complete. All doors were closed against him, all men avoided him. After years of skulking5 retirement6 and dissipation, death had relieved him of his troubles at last, and his funeral followed close upon that of Mr. Hawkins. He died as he had latterly lived—wholly alone and friendless. He had no relatives—or if he had they did not acknowledge him. The coroner’s jury found certain memoranda7 upon his body and about the premises8 which revealed a fact not suspected by the villagers before-viz., that Laura was not the child of Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins.
The gossips were soon at work. They were but little hampered9 by the fact that the memoranda referred to betrayed nothing but the bare circumstance that Laura’s real parents were unknown, and stopped there. So far from being hampered by this, the gossips seemed to gain all the more freedom from it. They supplied all the missing information themselves, they filled up all the blanks. The town soon teemed10 with histories of Laura’s origin and secret history, no two versions precisely11 alike, but all elaborate, exhaustive, mysterious and interesting, and all agreeing in one vital particular—to-wit, that there was a suspicious cloud about her birth, not to say a disreputable one.
Laura began to encounter cold looks, averted12 eyes and peculiar13 nods and gestures which perplexed14 her beyond measure; but presently the pervading15 gossip found its way to her, and she understood them—then. Her pride was stung. She was astonished, and at first incredulous. She was about to ask her mother if there was any truth in these reports, but upon second thought held her peace. She soon gathered that Major Lackland’s memoranda seemed to refer to letters which had passed between himself and Judge Hawkins. She shaped her course without difficulty the day that that hint reached her.
That night she sat in her room till all was still, and then she stole into the garret and began a search. She rummaged16 long among boxes of musty papers relating to business matters of no interest to her, but at last she found several bundles of letters. One bundle was marked “private,” and in that she found what she wanted. She selected six or eight letters from the package and began to devour17 their contents, heedless of the cold.
By the dates, these letters were from five to seven years old. They were all from Major Lackland to Mr. Hawkins. The substance of them was, that some one in the east had been inquiring of Major Lackland about a lost child and its parents, and that it was conjectured18 that the child might be Laura.
Evidently some of the letters were missing, for the name of the inquirer was not mentioned; there was a casual reference to “this handsome-featured aristocratic gentleman,” as if the reader and the writer were accustomed to speak of him and knew who was meant.
In one letter the Major said he agreed with Mr. Hawkins that the inquirer seemed not altogether on the wrong track; but he also agreed that it would be best to keep quiet until more convincing developments were forthcoming.
Another letter said that “the poor soul broke completely down when he saw Laura’s picture, and declared it must be she.”
Still another said:
“He seems entirely20 alone in the world, and his heart is so wrapped up in this thing that I believe that if it proved a false hope, it would kill him; I have persuaded him to wait a little while and go west when I go.”
Another letter had this paragraph in it:
“He is better one day and worse the next, and is out of his mind a good deal of the time. Lately his case has developed a something which is a wonder to the hired nurses, but which will not be much of a marvel21 to you if you have read medical philosophy much. It is this: his lost memory returns to him when he is delirious22, and goes away again when he is himself-just as old Canada Joe used to talk the French patois23 of his boyhood in the delirium24 of typhus fever, though he could not do it when his mind was clear. Now this poor gentleman’s memory has always broken down before he reached the explosion of the steamer; he could only remember starting up the river with his wife and child, and he had an idea that there was a race, but he was not certain; he could not name the boat he was on; there was a dead blank of a month or more that supplied not an item to his recollection. It was not for me to assist him, of course. But now in his delirium it all comes out: the names of the boats, every incident of the explosion, and likewise the details of his astonishing escape—that is, up to where, just as a yawl-boat was approaching him (he was clinging to the starboard wheel of the burning wreck25 at the time), a falling timber struck him on the head. But I will write out his wonderful escape in full to-morrow or next day. Of course the physicians will not let me tell him now that our Laura is indeed his child—that must come later, when his health is thoroughly26 restored. His case is not considered dangerous at all; he will recover presently, the doctors say. But they insist that he must travel a little when he gets well—they recommend a short sea voyage, and they say he can be persuaded to try it if we continue to keep him in ignorance and promise to let him see L. as soon as he returns.”
The letter that bore the latest date of all, contained this clause:
“It is the most unaccountable thing in the world; the mystery remains27 as impenetrable as ever; I have hunted high and low for him, and inquired of everybody, but in vain; all trace of him ends at that hotel in New York; I never have seen or heard of him since, up to this day; he could hardly have sailed, for his name does not appear upon the books of any shipping28 office in New York or Boston or Baltimore. How fortunate it seems, now, that we kept this thing to ourselves; Laura still has a father in you, and it is better for her that we drop this subject here forever.”
That was all. Random29 remarks here and there, being pieced together gave Laura a vague impression of a man of fine presence, about forty-three or forty-five years of age, with dark hair and eyes, and a slight limp in his walk—it was not stated which leg was defective30. And this indistinct shadow represented her father. She made an exhaustive search for the missing letters, but found none. They had probably been burned; and she doubted not that the ones she had ferreted out would have shared the same fate if Mr. Hawkins had not been a dreamer, void of method, whose mind was perhaps in a state of conflagration31 over some bright new speculation32 when he received them.
She sat long, with the letters in her lap, thinking—and unconsciously freezing. She felt like a lost person who has traveled down a long lane in good hope of escape, and, just as the night descends33 finds his progress barred by a bridge-less river whose further shore, if it has one, is lost in the darkness. If she could only have found these letters a month sooner! That was her thought. But now the dead had carried their secrets with them. A dreary34, melancholy35 settled down upon her. An undefined sense of injury crept into her heart. She grew very miserable36.
She had just reached the romantic age—the age when there is a sad sweetness, a dismal37 comfort to a girl to find out that there is a mystery connected with her birth, which no other piece of good luck can afford. She had more than her rightful share of practical good sense, but still she was human; and to be human is to have one’s little modicum38 of romance secreted39 away in one’s composition. One never ceases to make a hero of one’s self, (in private,) during life, but only alters the style of his heroism40 from time to time as the drifting years belittle41 certain gods of his admiration42 and raise up others in their stead that seem greater.
The recent wearing days and nights of watching, and the wasting grief that had possessed43 her, combined with the profound depression that naturally came with the reaction of idleness, made Laura peculiarly susceptible44 at this time to romantic impressions. She was a heroine, now, with a mysterious father somewhere. She could not really tell whether she wanted to find him and spoil it all or not; but still all the traditions of romance pointed45 to the making the attempt as the usual and necessary course to follow; therefore she would some day begin the search when opportunity should offer.
Now a former thought struck her—she would speak to Mrs. Hawkins. And naturally enough Mrs. Hawkins appeared on the stage at that moment.
She said she knew all—she knew that Laura had discovered the secret that Mr. Hawkins, the elder children, Col. Sellers and herself had kept so long and so faithfully; and she cried and said that now that troubles had begun they would never end; her daughter’s love would wean itself away from her and her heart would break. Her grief so wrought46 upon Laura that the girl almost forgot her own troubles for the moment in her compassion47 for her mother’s distress. Finally Mrs. Hawkins said:
“Speak to me, child—do not forsake48 me. Forget all this miserable talk. Say I am your mother!—I have loved you so long, and there is no other. I am your mother, in the sight of God, and nothing shall ever take you from me!”
All barriers fell, before this appeal. Laura put her arms about her mother’s neck and said:
“You are my mother, and always shall be. We will be as we have always been; and neither this foolish talk nor any other thing shall part us or make us less to each other than we are this hour.”
There was no longer any sense of separation or estrangement49 between them. Indeed their love seemed more perfect now than it had ever been before. By and by they went down stairs and sat by the fire and talked long and earnestly about Laura’s history and the letters. But it transpired50 that Mrs. Hawkins had never known of this correspondence between her husband and Major Lackland. With his usual consideration for his wife, Mr. Hawkins had shielded her from the worry the matter would have caused her.
Laura went to bed at last with a mind that had gained largely in tranquility and had lost correspondingly in morbid51 romantic exaltation. She was pensive52, the next day, and subdued53; but that was not matter for remark, for she did not differ from the mournful friends about her in that respect. Clay and Washington were the same loving and admiring brothers now that they had always been. The great secret was new to some of the younger children, but their love suffered no change under the wonderful revelation.
It is barely possible that things might have presently settled down into their old rut and the mystery have lost the bulk of its romantic sublimity54 in Laura’s eyes, if the village gossips could have quieted down. But they could not quiet down and they did not. Day after day they called at the house, ostensibly upon visits of condolence, and they pumped away at the mother and the children without seeming to know that their questionings were in bad taste. They meant no harm they only wanted to know. Villagers always want to know.
The family fought shy of the questionings, and of course that was high testimony55 “if the Duchess was respectably born, why didn’t they come out and prove it?—why did they, stick to that poor thin story about picking her up out of a steamboat explosion?”
Under this ceaseless persecution56, Laura’s morbid self-communing was renewed. At night the day’s contribution of detraction57, innuendo58 and malicious59 conjecture19 would be canvassed60 in her mind, and then she would drift into a course of thinking. As her thoughts ran on, the indignant tears would spring to her eyes, and she would spit out fierce little ejaculations at intervals61. But finally she would grow calmer and say some comforting disdainful thing—something like this:
“But who are they?—Animals! What are their opinions to me? Let them talk—I will not stoop to be affected62 by it. I could hate——. Nonsense—nobody I care for or in any way respect is changed toward me, I fancy.”
She may have supposed she was thinking of many individuals, but it was not so—she was thinking of only one. And her heart warmed somewhat, too, the while. One day a friend overheard a conversation like this:—and naturally came and told her all about it:
“Ned, they say you don’t go there any more. How is that?”
“Well, I don’t; but I tell you it’s not because I don’t want to and it’s not because I think it is any matter who her father was or who he wasn’t, either; it’s only on account of this talk, talk, talk. I think she is a fine girl every way, and so would you if you knew her as well as I do; but you know how it is when a girl once gets talked about—it’s all up with her—the world won’t ever let her alone, after that.”
The only comment Laura made upon this revelation, was:
“Then it appears that if this trouble had not occurred I could have had the happiness of Mr. Ned Thurston’s serious attentions. He is well favored in person, and well liked, too, I believe, and comes of one of the first families of the village. He is prosperous, too, I hear; has been a doctor a year, now, and has had two patients—no, three, I think; yes, it was three. I attended their funerals. Well, other people have hoped and been disappointed; I am not alone in that. I wish you could stay to dinner, Maria—we are going to have sausages; and besides, I wanted to talk to you about Hawkeye and make you promise to come and see us when we are settled there.”
But Maria could not stay. She had come to mingle63 romantic tears with Laura’s over the lover’s defection and had found herself dealing64 with a heart that could not rise to an appreciation65 of affliction because its interest was all centred in sausages.
But as soon as Maria was gone, Laura stamped her expressive66 foot and said:
“The coward! Are all books lies? I thought he would fly to the front, and be brave and noble, and stand up for me against all the world, and defy my enemies, and wither67 these gossips with his scorn! Poor crawling thing, let him go. I do begin to despise this world!”
“If the time ever comes, and I get a chance, Oh, I’ll——”
She could not find a word that was strong enough, perhaps. By and by she said:
“Well, I am glad of it—I’m glad of it. I never cared anything for him anyway!”
And then, with small consistency68, she cried a little, and patted her foot more indignantly than ever.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
lapsed
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
lesser
|
|
| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
aggrandizement
|
|
| n.增大，强化，扩大 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
skulking
|
|
| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
retirement
|
|
| n.退休，退职 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
memoranda
|
|
| n. 备忘录, 便条 名词memorandum的复数形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
premises
|
|
| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
hampered
|
|
| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
teemed
|
|
| v.充满( teem的过去式和过去分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
averted
|
|
| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
perplexed
|
|
| adj.不知所措的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
pervading
|
|
| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
rummaged
|
|
| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的过去式和过去分词 )； 已经海关检查 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
devour
|
|
| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
conjectured
|
|
| 推测，猜测，猜想( conjecture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
conjecture
|
|
| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
marvel
|
|
| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
delirious
|
|
| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
patois
|
|
| n.方言；混合语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
delirium
|
|
| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
wreck
|
|
| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
shipping
|
|
| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
random
|
|
| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
defective
|
|
| adj.有毛病的，有问题的，有瑕疵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
conflagration
|
|
| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
speculation
|
|
| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
descends
|
|
| v.下来( descend的第三人称单数 )；下去；下降；下斜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
dismal
|
|
| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
modicum
|
|
| n.少量，一小份 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
secreted
|
|
| v.（尤指动物或植物器官）分泌( secrete的过去式和过去分词 )；隐匿，隐藏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
heroism
|
|
| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
belittle
|
|
| v.轻视，小看，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
susceptible
|
|
| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
wrought
|
|
| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
compassion
|
|
| n.同情，怜悯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
forsake
|
|
| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
estrangement
|
|
| n.疏远，失和，不和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
transpired
|
|
| （事实，秘密等）被人知道( transpire的过去式和过去分词 )； 泄露； 显露； 发生 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
morbid
|
|
| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
pensive
|
|
| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
subdued
|
|
| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
sublimity
|
|
| 崇高，庄严，气质高尚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
testimony
|
|
| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
persecution
|
|
| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
detraction
|
|
| n.减损；诽谤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
innuendo
|
|
| n.暗指，讽刺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
malicious
|
|
| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
canvassed
|
|
| v.（在政治方面）游说( canvass的过去式和过去分词 )；调查（如选举前选民的）意见；为讨论而提出（意见等）；详细检查 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
intervals
|
|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
mingle
|
|
| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
dealing
|
|
| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
appreciation
|
|
| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
expressive
|
|
| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
wither
|
|
| vt.使凋谢，使衰退，(用眼神气势等)使畏缩；vi.枯萎，衰退，消亡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
consistency
|
|
| n.一贯性，前后一致，稳定性；(液体的)浓度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |