This was the arrival at the Sassacua Hotel of two young gentlemen from the west.
It is the fashion in New England to give Indian names to the public houses, not that the late lamented1 savage2 knew how to keep a hotel, but that his warlike name may impress the traveler who humbly3 craves4 shelter there, and make him grateful to the noble and gentlemanly clerk if he is allowed to depart with his scalp safe.
The two young gentlemen were neither students for the Fallkill Seminary, nor lecturers on physiology5, nor yet life assurance solicitors6, three suppositions that almost exhausted7 the guessing power of the people at the hotel in respect to the names of “Philip Sterling8 and Henry Brierly, Missouri,” on the register. They were handsome enough fellows, that was evident, browned by out-door exposure, and with a free and lordly way about them that almost awed9 the hotel clerk himself. Indeed, he very soon set down Mr. Brierly as a gentleman of large fortune, with enormous interests on his shoulders. Harry10 had a way of casually11 mentioning western investments, through lines, the freighting business, and the route through the Indian territory to Lower California, which was calculated to give an importance to his lightest word.
“You’ve a pleasant town here, sir, and the most comfortable looking hotel I’ve seen out of New York,” said Harry to the clerk; “we shall stay here a few days if you can give us a roomy suite12 of apartments.”
Harry usually had the best of everything, wherever he went, as such fellows always do have in this accommodating world. Philip would have been quite content with less expensive quarters, but there was no resisting Harry’s generosity13 in such matters.
Railroad surveying and real-estate operations were at a standstill during the winter in Missouri, and the young men had taken advantage of the lull14 to come east, Philip to see if there was any disposition15 in his friends, the railway contractors16, to give him a share in the Salt Lick union Pacific Extension, and Harry to open out to his uncle the prospects17 of the new city at Stone’s Landing, and to procure18 congressional appropriations20 for the harbor and for making Goose Run navigable. Harry had with him a map of that noble stream and of the harbor, with a perfect net-work of railroads centering in it, pictures of wharves21, crowded with steamboats, and of huge grain-elevators on the bank, all of which grew out of the combined imaginations of Col. Sellers and Mr. Brierly. The Colonel had entire confidence in Harry’s influence with Wall street, and with congressmen, to bring about the consummation of their scheme, and he waited his return in the empty house at Hawkeye, feeding his pinched family upon the most gorgeous expectations with a reckless prodigality22.
“Don’t let ’em into the thing more than is necessary,” says the Colonel to Harry; “give ’em a small interest; a lot apiece in the suburbs of the Landing ought to do a congressman23, but I reckon you’ll have to mortgage a part of the city itself to the brokers24.”
Harry did not find that eagerness to lend money on Stone’s Landing in Wall street which Col. Sellers had expected, (it had seen too many such maps as he exhibited), although his uncle and some of the brokers looked with more favor on the appropriation19 for improving the navigation of Columbus River, and were not disinclined to form a company for that purpose. An appropriation was a tangible25 thing, if you could get hold of it, and it made little difference what it was appropriated for, so long as you got hold of it.
Pending26 these weighty negotiations27, Philip has persuaded Harry to take a little run up to Fallkill, a not difficult task, for that young man would at any time have turned his back upon all the land in the West at sight of a new and pretty face, and he had, it must be confessed, a facility in love making which made it not at all an interference with the more serious business of life. He could not, to be sure, conceive how Philip could be interested in a young lady who was studying medicine, but he had no objection to going, for he did not doubt that there were other girls in Fallkill who were worth a week’s attention.
The young men were received at the house of the Montagues with the hospitality which never failed there.
“We are glad to see you again,” exclaimed the Squire28 heartily29, “you are welcome Mr. Brierly, any friend of Phil’s is welcome at our house.”
“It’s more like home to me, than any place except my own home,” cried Philip, as he looked about the cheerful house and went through a general hand-shaking.
“It’s a long time, though, since you have been here to say so,” Alice said, with her father’s frankness of manner; “and I suspect we owe the visit now to your sudden interest in the Fallkill Seminary.”
Philip’s color came, as it had an awkward way of doing in his tell-tale face, but before he could stammer30 a reply, Harry came in with,
“That accounts for Phil’s wish to build a Seminary at Stone’s Landing, our place in Missouri, when Col. Sellers insisted it should be a University. Phil appears to have a weakness for Seminaries.”
“It would have been better for your friend Sellers,” retorted Philip, “if he had had a weakness for district schools. Col. Sellers, Miss Alice, is a great friend of Harry’s, who is always trying to build a house by beginning at the top.”
“I suppose it’s as easy to build a University on paper as a Seminary, and it looks better,” was Harry’s reflection; at which the Squire laughed, and said he quite agreed with him. The old gentleman understood Stone’s Landing a good deal better than he would have done after an hour’s talk with either of it’s expectant proprietors31.
At this moment, and while Philip was trying to frame a question that he found it exceedingly difficult to put into words, the door opened quietly, and Ruth entered. Taking in the group with a quick glance, her eye lighted up, and with a merry smile she advanced and shook hands with Philip. She was so unconstrained and sincerely cordial, that it made that hero of the west feel somehow young, and very ill at ease.
For months and months he had thought of this meeting and pictured it to himself a hundred times, but he had never imagined it would be like this. He should meet Ruth unexpectedly, as she was walking alone from the school, perhaps, or entering the room where he was waiting for her, and she would cry “Oh! Phil,” and then check herself, and perhaps blush, and Philip calm but eager and enthusiastic, would reassure32 her by his warm manner, and he would take her hand impressively, and she would look up timidly, and, after his long absence, perhaps he would be permitted to— Good heavens, how many times he had come to this point, and wondered if it could happen so. Well, well; he had never supposed that he should be the one embarrassed, and above all by a sincere and cordial welcome.
“We heard you were at the Sassacus House,” were Ruth’s first words; “and this I suppose is your friend?”
“I beg your pardon,” Philip at length blundered out, “this is Mr. Brierly of whom I have written you.”
And Ruth welcomed Harry with a friendliness33 that Philip thought was due to his friend, to be sure, but which seemed to him too level with her reception of himself, but which Harry received as his due from the other sex.
Questions were asked about the journey and about the West, and the conversation became a general one, until Philip at length found himself talking with the Squire in relation to land and railroads and things he couldn’t keep his mind on especially as he heard Ruth and Harry in an animated34 discourse35, and caught the words “New York,” and “opera,” and “reception,” and knew that Harry was giving his imagination full range in the world of fashion.
Harry knew all about the opera, green room and all (at least he said so) and knew a good many of the operas and could make very entertaining stories of their plots, telling how the soprano came in here, and the basso here, humming the beginning of their airs—tum-ti-tum-ti-ti—suggesting the profound dissatisfaction of the basso recitative—down-among-the-dead-men—and touching37 off the whole with an airy grace quite captivating; though he couldn’t have sung a single air through to save himself, and he hadn’t an ear to know whether it was sung correctly. All the same he doted on the opera, and kept a box there, into which he lounged occasionally to hear a favorite scene and meet his society friends.
If Ruth was ever in the city he should be happy to place his box at the disposal of Ruth and her friends. Needless to say that she was delighted with the offer.
When she told Philip of it, that discreet38 young fellow only smiled, and said that he hoped she would be fortunate enough to be in New York some evening when Harry had not already given the use of his private box to some other friend.
The Squire pressed the visitors to let him send for their trunks and urged them to stay at his house, and Alice joined in the invitation, but Philip had reasons for declining. They staid to supper however, and in the evening Philip had a long talk apart with Ruth, a delightful39 hour to him, in which she spoke40 freely of herself as of old, of her studies at Philadelphia and of her plans, and she entered into his adventures and prospects in the West with a genuine and almost sisterly interest; an interest, however, which did not exactly satisfy Philip—it was too general and not personal enough to suit him. And with all her freedom in speaking of her own hopes, Philip could not, detect any reference to himself in them; whereas he never undertook anything that he did not think of Ruth in connection with it, he never made a plan that had not reference to her, and he never thought of anything as complete if she could not share it. Fortune, reputation these had no value to him except in Ruth’s eyes, and there were times when it seemed to him that if Ruth was not on this earth, he should plunge41 off into some remote wilderness42 and live in a purposeless seclusion43.
“I hoped,” said Philip; “to get a little start in connection with this new railroad, and make a little money, so that I could come east and engage in something more suited to my tastes. I shouldn’t like to live in the West. Would you?
“It never occurred to me whether I would or not,” was the unembarrassed reply. “One of our graduates went to Chicago, and has a nice practice there. I don’t know where I shall go. It would mortify44 mother dreadfully to have me driving about Philadelphia in a doctor’s gig.”
Philip laughed at the idea of it. “And does it seem as necessary to you to do it as it did before you came to Fallkill?”
It was a home question, and went deeper than Philip knew, for Ruth at once thought of practicing her profession among the young gentlemen and ladies of her acquaintance in the village; but she was reluctant to admit to herself that her notions of a career had undergone any change.
“Oh, I don’t think I should come to Fallkill to practice, but I must do something when I am through school; and why not medicine?”
Philip would like to have explained why not, but the explanation would be of no use if it were not already obvious to Ruth.
Harry was equally in his element whether instructing Squire Montague about the investment of capital in Missouri, the improvement of Columbus River, the project he and some gentlemen in New York had for making a shorter Pacific connection with the Mississippi than the present one; or diverting Mrs. Montague with his experience in cooking in camp; or drawing for Miss Alice an amusing picture of the social contrasts of New England and the border where he had been. Harry was a very entertaining fellow, having his imagination to help his memory, and telling his stories as if he believed them—as perhaps he did. Alice was greatly amused with Harry and listened so seriously to his romancing that he exceeded his usual limits. Chance allusions45 to his bachelor establishment in town and the place of his family on the Hudson, could not have been made by a millionaire, more naturally.
“I should think,” queried46 Alice, “you would rather stay in New York than to try the rough life at the West you have been speaking of.”
“Oh, adventure,” says Harry, “I get tired of New York. And besides I got involved in some operations that I had to see through. Parties in New York only last week wanted me to go down into Arizona in a big diamond interest. I told them, no, no speculation47 for me. I’ve got my interests in Missouri; and I wouldn’t leave Philip, as long as he stays there.”
When the young gentlemen were on their way back to the hotel, Mr. Philip, who was not in very good humor, broke out,
“What the deuce, Harry, did you go on in that style to the Montagues for?”
“Go on?” cried Harry. “Why shouldn’t I try to make a pleasant evening? And besides, ain’t I going to do those things? What difference does it make about the mood and tense of a mere48 verb? Didn’t uncle tell me only last Saturday, that I might as well go down to Arizona and hunt for diamonds? A fellow might as well make a good impression as a poor one.”
“Nonsense. You’ll get to believing your own romancing by and by.”
“Well, you’ll see. When Sellers and I get that appropriation, I’ll show you an establishment in town and another on the Hudson and a box at the opera.”
“Yes, it will be like Col. Sellers’ plantation49 at Hawkeye. Did you ever see that?”
“Now, don’t be cross, Phil. She’s just superb, that little woman. You never told me.”
“Well, Mrs. Montague, if you must know.” And Harry stopped to light a cigar, and then puffed51 on in silence. The little quarrel didn’t last over night, for Harry never appeared to cherish any ill-will half a second, and Philip was too sensible to continue a row about nothing; and he had invited Harry to come with him.
The young gentlemen stayed in Fallkill a week, and were every day at the Montagues, and took part in the winter gaieties of the village. There were parties here and there to which the friends of Ruth and the Montagues were of course invited, and Harry in the generosity of his nature, gave in return a little supper at the hotel, very simple indeed, with dancing in the hall, and some refreshments52 passed round. And Philip found the whole thing in the bill when he came to pay it.
Before the week was over Philip thought he had a new light on the character of Ruth. Her absorption in the small gaieties of the society there surprised him. He had few opportunities for serious conversation with her. There was always some butterfly or another flitting about, and when Philip showed by his manner that he was not pleased, Ruth laughed merrily enough and rallied him on his soberness—she declared he was getting to be grim and unsocial. He talked indeed more with Alice than with Ruth, and scarcely concealed53 from her the trouble that was in his mind. It needed, in fact, no word from him, for she saw clearly enough what was going forward, and knew her sex well enough to know there was no remedy for it but time.
“Ruth is a dear girl, Philip, and has as much firmness of purpose as ever, but don’t you see she has just discovered that she is fond of society? Don’t you let her see you are selfish about it, is my advice.”
The last evening they were to spend in Fallkill, they were at the Montagues, and Philip hoped that he would find Ruth in a different mood. But she was never more gay, and there was a spice of mischief54 in her eye and in her laugh. “Confound it,” said Philip to himself, “she’s in a perfect twitter.”
He would have liked to quarrel with her, and fling himself out of the house in tragedy style, going perhaps so far as to blindly wander off miles into the country and bathe his throbbing55 brow in the chilling rain of the stars, as people do in novels; but he had no opportunity. For Ruth was as serenely56 unconscious of mischief as women can be at times, and fascinated him more than ever with her little demurenesses and half-confidences. She even said “Thee” to him once in reproach for a cutting speech he began. And the sweet little word made his heart beat like a trip-hammer, for never in all her life had she said “thee” to him before.
Was she fascinated with Harry’s careless ‘bon homie’ and gay assurance? Both chatted away in high spirits, and made the evening whirl along in the most mirthful manner. Ruth sang for Harry, and that young gentleman turned the leaves for her at the piano, and put in a bass36 note now and then where he thought it would tell.
Yes, it was a merry evening, and Philip was heartily glad when it was over, and the long leave-taking with the family was through with.
“Farewell Philip. Good night Mr. Brierly,” Ruth’s clear voice sounded after them as they went down the walk.
And she spoke Harry’s name last, thought Philip.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
lamented
|
|
| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
humbly
|
|
| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
craves
|
|
| 渴望，热望( crave的第三人称单数 )； 恳求，请求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
physiology
|
|
| n.生理学，生理机能 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
solicitors
|
|
| 初级律师( solicitor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
sterling
|
|
| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
awed
|
|
| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
harry
|
|
| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
casually
|
|
| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
suite
|
|
| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
generosity
|
|
| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
lull
|
|
| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
disposition
|
|
| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
contractors
|
|
| n.（建筑、监造中的）承包人( contractor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
prospects
|
|
| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
procure
|
|
| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
appropriation
|
|
| n.拨款，批准支出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
appropriations
|
|
| n.挪用（appropriation的复数形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
wharves
|
|
| n.码头，停泊处( wharf的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
prodigality
|
|
| n.浪费，挥霍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
Congressman
|
|
| n.（美）国会议员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
brokers
|
|
| n.（股票、外币等）经纪人( broker的名词复数 )；中间人；代理商；（订合同的）中人v.做掮客（或中人等）( broker的第三人称单数 )；作为权力经纪人进行谈判；以中间人等身份安排… | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
tangible
|
|
| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
pending
|
|
| prep.直到，等待…期间；adj.待定的；迫近的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
negotiations
|
|
| 协商( negotiation的名词复数 )； 谈判； 完成（难事）； 通过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
squire
|
|
| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
stammer
|
|
| n.结巴，口吃；v.结结巴巴地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
proprietors
|
|
| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
reassure
|
|
| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
friendliness
|
|
| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
animated
|
|
| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
discourse
|
|
| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
bass
|
|
| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
discreet
|
|
| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
plunge
|
|
| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
wilderness
|
|
| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
seclusion
|
|
| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
mortify
|
|
| v.克制，禁欲，使受辱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
allusions
|
|
| 暗指，间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
queried
|
|
| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
speculation
|
|
| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
plantation
|
|
| n.种植园，大农场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
growled
|
|
| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
puffed
|
|
| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
refreshments
|
|
| n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
mischief
|
|
| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
throbbing
|
|
| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
serenely
|
|
| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |