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flavour; and the big green “sweet apples” that children usually thought the best of all. Emily considered that day wasted whose low descending14 sun had not beheld15 her munching16 one of Lofty John’s big green sweets.
In the back of her mind Emily knew quite well that she should not be going to Lofty John’s at all. To be sure, she had never been forbidden to go—simply because it had never occurred to her aunts that an inmate17 of New Moon could so forget the beloved old family feud18 between the houses of Murray and Sullivan belonging to two generations back. It was an inheritance that any proper Murray would live up to as a matter of course. But when Emily was off with that wild little Ishmaelite of an Ilse, traditions lost their power under the allurement19 of Lofty John’s “reds” and “scabs.”
She wandered rather lonesomely into his workshop one September evening at twilight20. She had been alone since she came from school; her aunts and Cousin Jimmy had gone to Shrewsbury, promising21 to be back by sunset. Ilse was away also, her father, prodded22 thereto by Mrs. Simms, having taken her to Charlottetown to get her a winter coat. Emily liked being alone very well at first. She felt quite important over being in charge of New Moon. She ate the supper Aunt Laura had left on the cook-house dresser for her and she went into the dairy and skimmed six lovely big pans of milk. She had no business at all to do this but she had always hankered to do it and this was too good a chance to be missed. She did it beautifully and nobody ever knew—each aunt supposing the other had done it—and so she was never scolded for it. This does not point any particular moral, of course; in a proper yarn23 Emily should either have been found out and punished for disobedience or been driven by an uneasy conscience to confess; but I am sorry—or ought to be—to have to state that Emily’s conscience never worried her about the matter at all. Still, she was
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doomed24 to suffer enough that night from an entirely25 different cause, to balance all her little peccadillos.
By the time the cream was skimmed and poured into the big stone crock and well stirred—Emily didn’t forget that, either—it was after sunset and still nobody had come home. Emily didn’t like the idea of going alone into the big, dusky, echoing house; so she hied her to Lofty John’s shop, which she found unoccupied, though the plane halted midway on a board indicated that Lofty John had been working there quite recently and would probably return. Emily sat down on a round section of a huge log and looked around to see what she could get to eat. There was a row of “reds” and “scabs” clean across the side of the shop but no “sweet” among them; and Emily felt that what she needed just then was a “sweet” and nothing else.
Then she spied one—a huge one—the biggest “sweet” Emily had ever seen, all by itself on one of the steps of the stair leading up to the loft10. She climbed up, possessed herself of it and ate it out of hand. She was gnawing26 happily at the core when Lofty John came in. He nodded to her with a seemingly careless glance around.
“Just been in to get my supper,” he said. “The wife’s away so I had to get it myself.”
He fell to planing in silence. Emily sat on the stairs, counting the seeds of the big “sweet”—you told your fortunes by the seeds—listening to the Wind Woman whistling elfishly through a knot hole in the loft, and composing a “Deskripshun of Lofty John’s Carpenter Shop By Lantern Light,” to be written later on a letter-bill. She was lost in a mental hunt for an accurate phrase to picture the absurd elongated27 shadow of Lofty John’s nose on the opposite wall when Lofty John whirled about, so suddenly that the shadow of his nose shot upward like a huge spear to the ceiling, and demanded in a startled voice,
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“What’s become av that big sweet apple that was on that stair?”
“Why—I—I et it,” stammered28 Emily.
Lofty John dropped his plane, threw up his hands, and looked at Emily with a horrified30 face.
“The saints preserve us, child! Ye never et that apple—don’t tell me ye’ve gone and et that apple!”
“Yes, I did,” said Emily uncomfortably. “I didn’t think it was any harm—I—”
“Harm! Listen to her, will you? That apple was poisoned for the rats! They’ve been plaguing me life out here and I had me mind made up to finish their fun. And now you’ve et the apple—it would kill a dozen av ye in a brace31 of shakes.”
Lofty John saw a white face and a gingham apron32 flash through the workshop and out into the dark. Emily’s first wild impulse was to get home at once—before she dropped dead. She tore across the field through the bush and the garden and dashed into the house. It was still silent and dark—nobody was home yet. Emily gave a bitter little shriek33 of despair—when they came they would find her stiff and cold, black in the face likely, everything in this dear world ended for her forever, all because she had eaten an apple which she thought she was perfectly34 welcome to eat. It wasn’t fair—she didn’t want to die.
But she must. She only hoped desperately35 that some one would come before she was dead. It would be so terrible to die there all alone in that great, big, empty New Moon. She dared not try to go anywhere for help. It was too dark now and she would likely drop dead on the way. To die out there—alone—in the dark—oh, that would be too dreadful. It did not occur to her that anything could be done for her; she thought if you once swallowed poison that was the end of you.
With hands shaking in panic she got a candle lighted. It wasn’t quite so bad then—you could face things in the
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light. And Emily, pale, terrified, alone, was already deciding that this must be faced bravely. She must not shame the Starrs and the Murrays. She clenched36 her cold hands and tried to stop trembling. How long would it be before she died, she wondered. Lofty John had said the apple would kill her in a “brace of shakes.” What did that mean? How long was a brace of shakes? Would it hurt her to die? She had a vague idea that poison did hurt you awfully37. Oh; and just a little while ago she had been so happy! She had thought she was going to live for years and write great poems and be famous like Mrs. Hemans. She had had a fight with Ilse the night before and hadn’t made it up yet—never could make it up now. And Ilse would feel so terribly. She must write her a note and forgive her. Was there time for that much? Oh, how cold her hands were! Perhaps that meant she was dying already. She had heard or read that your hands turned cold when you were dying. She wondered if her face was turning black. She grasped her candle and hurried up the stairs to the spare-room. There was a looking-glass there—the only one in the house hung low enough for her to see her reflection if she tipped the bottom of it back. Ordinarily Emily would have been frightened to death at the mere29 thought of going into that spare-room by dim, flickering38 candlelight. But the one great terror had swallowed up all lesser39 ones. She looked at her reflection, amid the sleek40, black flow of her hair, in the upward-striking light on the dark background of the shadowy room. Oh, she was pale as the dead already. Yes, that was a dying face—there could be no doubt of it.
Something rose up in Emily and took possession of her—some inheritance from the good old stock behind her. She ceased to tremble—she accepted her fate—with bitter regret, but calmly.
“I don’t want to die but since I have to I’ll die as becomes a Murray,” she said. She had read a similar sentence
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in a book and it came pat to the moment. And now she must hurry. That letter to Ilse must be written. Emily went to Aunt Elizabeth’s room first, to assure herself that her right-hand top bureau drawer was quite tidy; then she flitted up the garret stairs to her dormer corner. The great place was full of lurking41, pouncing42 shadows that crowded about the little island of faint candlelight, but they had no terrors for Emily now.
“And to think I was feeling so bad to-day because my petticoat was bunchy,” she thought, as she got one of her dear letter-bills—the last she would ever write on. There was no need to write to Father—she would see him soon—but Ilse must have her letter—dear, loving, jolly, hot-tempered Ilse, who, just the day before had shrieked43 insulting epithets44 after her and who would be haunted by remorse45 all her life for it.
“Dearest Ilse,” wrote Emily, her hand shaking a little but her lips firmly set. “I am going to die. I have been poisoned by an apple Lofty John had put for rats. I will never see you again, but I am writing this to tell you I love you and you are not to feel bad because you called me a skunk46 and a bloodthirsty mink47 yesterday. I forgive you, so do not worry over it. And I am sorry I told you that you were beneath contemt because I didn’t mean a word of it. I leave you all my share of the broken dishes in our playhouse and please tell Teddy good-bye for me. He will never be able to teach me how to put worms on a fish-hook now. I promised him I would learn because I did not want him to think I was a coward but I am glad I did not for I know what the worm feels like now. I do not feel sick yet but I dont know what the simptoms of poisoning are and Lofty John said there was enough to kill a dozen of me so I cant48 have long to live. If Aunt Elizabeth is willing you can have my necklace of Venetian beads49. It is the only valuble possession I have. Don’t let anybody do anything to Lofty John because he did not mean to poison me and it
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was all my own fault for being so greedy. Perhaps people will think he did it on purpose because I am a Protestant but I feel sure he did not and please tell him not to be hawnted by remorse. I think I feel a pain in my stomach now so I guess that the end draws ni. Fare well and remember her who died so young.
“Your own devoted50,
“Emily.”
As Emily folded up her letter-bill she heard the sound of wheels in the yard below. A moment later Elizabeth and Laura Murray were confronted in the kitchen by a tragic-faced little creature, grasping a guttering51 candle in one hand and a red letter-bill in the other.
“Emily, what is the matter?” cried Aunt Laura.
“I’m dying,” said Emily solemnly. “I et an apple Lofty John had poisoned for rats. I have only a few minutes to live, Aunt Laura.”
Laura Murray dropped down on the black bench with her hand at her heart. Elizabeth turned as pale as Emily herself.
“Emily, is this some play-acting of yours?” she demanded sternly.
“No,” cried Emily, quite indignantly. “It’s the truth. Do you suppose a dying person would be play-acting? And oh, Aunt Elizabeth, please will you give this letter to Ilse—and please forgive me for being naughty—though I wasn’t always naughty when you thought I was—and don’t let any one see me after I’m dead if I turn black—especially Rhoda Stuart.”
By this time Aunt Elizabeth was herself again.
“How long ago is it since you ate that apple, Emily?”
“About an hour.”
“If you’d eaten a poisoned apple an hour ago you’d be dead or sick by now—”
“Oh,” cried Emily transformed in a second. A wild, sweet hope sprang up in her heart—was there a chance
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for her after all? Then she added despairingly, “But I felt another pain in my stomach just as I came downstairs.”
“Laura,” said Aunt Elizabeth, “take this child out to the cook-house and give her a good dose of mustard and water at once. It will do no harm and may do some good, if there’s anything in this yarn of hers. I’m going down to the doctor’s—he may be back—but I’ll see Lofty John on the way.”
Aunt Elizabeth went out—and Aunt Elizabeth went out very quickly—if it had been any one else it might have been said she ran. As for Emily—well, Aunt Laura gave her that emetic52 in short order and two minutes later Emily had no doubt at all that she was dying then and there—and the sooner the better. When Aunt Elizabeth returned Emily was lying on the sofa in the kitchen, as white as the pillow under her head, and as limp as a faded lily.
“Wasn’t the doctor home?” cried Aunt Laura desperately.
“I don’t know—there’s no need of the doctor. I didn’t think there was from the first. It was just one of Lofty John’s jokes. He thought he’d give Emily a fright—just for fun—his idea of fun. March you off to bed, Miss Emily. You deserve all you’ve got for going over there to Lofty John’s at all and I don’t pity you a particle. I haven’t had such a turn for years.”
“I did have a pain in my stomach,” wailed53 Emily, in whom fright and mustard-and-water combined had temporarily extinguished all spirit.
“Any one who eats apples from dawn to dark must expect a few pains in her stomach. You won’t have any more to-night, I reckon—the mustard will remedy that. Take your candle and go.”
“Well,” said Emily, getting unsteadily to her feet, “I hate that dod-gasted Lofty John.”
“Emily!” said both aunts together.
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“He deserves it,” said Emily vindictively54.
“Oh, Emily—that dreadful word you used!” Aunt Laura seemed curiously55 upset about something.
“Why, what’s the matter with dod-gasted?” said Emily, quite mystified. “Cousin Jimmy uses it often, when things vex56 him. He used it to-day—he said that dod-gasted heifer had broken out of the graveyard57 pasture again.”
“Emily,” said Aunt Elizabeth, with the air of one impaling58 herself on the easiest horn of a dilemma59, “your Cousin Jimmy is a man—and men sometimes use expressions, in the heat of anger, that are not proper for little girls.”
“But what is the matter with dod-gasted?” persisted Emily. “It isn’t a swear word, is it? And if it isn’t, why can’t I use it?”
“It isn’t a—a ladylike word,” said Aunt Laura.
“Well, then, I won’t use it any more,” said Emily resignedly, “but Lofty John is dod-gasted.”
Aunt Laura laughed so much after Emily had gone upstairs that Aunt Elizabeth told her a woman of her age should have more sense.
“Elizabeth, you know it was funny,” protested Laura.
Emily being safely out of sight, Elizabeth permitted herself a somewhat grim smile.
“I told Lofty John a few plain truths—he’ll not go telling children they’re poisoned again in a hurry. I left him fairly dancing with rage.”
Worn out, Emily fell asleep as soon as she was in bed; but an hour later she awakened60. Aunt Elizabeth had not yet come to bed so the blind was still up and Emily saw a dear, friendly star winking61 down at her. Far away the sea moaned alluringly62. Oh, it was nice just to be alone and to be alive. Life tasted good to her again—“tasted like more,” as Cousin Jimmy said. She could have a chance to write more letter-bills, and poetry—Emily already saw a yard of verses entitled “Thoughts
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of One Doomed to Sudden Death”—and play with Ilse and Teddy—scour the barns with Saucy63 Sal, watch Aunt Laura skim cream in the dairy and help cousin Jimmy garden,—read books in Emily’s Bower64 and trot65 along the To-day Road—but not visit Lofty John’s workshop. She determined66 that she would never have anything to do with Lofty John again after his diabolical67 cruelty. She felt so indignant with him for frightening her—after they had been such good friends, too—that she could not go to sleep until she had composed an account of her death by poison, of Lofty John being tried for her murder and condemned68 to death, and of his being hanged on a gibbet as lofty as himself, Emily being present at the dreadful scene, in spite of the fact that she was dead by his act. When she had finally cut him down and buried him with obloquy—the tears streaming down her face out of sympathy for Mrs. Lofty John—she forgave him. Very likely he was not dod-gasted after all.
She wrote it all down on a letter-bill in the garret the next day.
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1
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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bumper
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| n.(汽车上的)保险杠；adj.特大的，丰盛的 | |
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seedlings
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| n.刚出芽的幼苗( seedling的名词复数 ) | |
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taboo
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| n.禁忌，禁止接近，禁止使用；adj.禁忌的；v.禁忌，禁制，禁止 | |
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prohibition
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| n.禁止；禁令，禁律 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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crab
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| n.螃蟹，偏航，脾气乖戾的人，酸苹果；vi.捕蟹，偏航，发牢骚；vt.使偏航，发脾气 | |
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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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glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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15
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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munching
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| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的现在分词 ) | |
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inmate
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| n.被收容者；(房屋等的)居住人；住院人 | |
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feud
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| n.长期不和；世仇；v.长期争斗；世代结仇 | |
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allurement
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| n.诱惑物 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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prodded
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| v.刺，戳( prod的过去式和过去分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
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yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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elongated
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| v.延长，加长( elongate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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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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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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40
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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42
pouncing
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的现在分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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epithets
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| n.（表示性质、特征等的）词语( epithet的名词复数 ) | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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46
skunk
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| n.臭鼬，黄鼠狼；v.使惨败，使得零分；烂醉如泥 | |
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mink
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| n.貂，貂皮 | |
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cant
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| n.斜穿，黑话，猛扔 | |
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beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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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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51
guttering
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| n.用于建排水系统的材料；沟状切除术；开沟 | |
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52
emetic
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| n.催吐剂；adj.催吐的 | |
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53
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
vindictively
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| adv.恶毒地；报复地 | |
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55
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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56
vex
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| vt.使烦恼，使苦恼 | |
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57
graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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58
impaling
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| 钉在尖桩上( impale的现在分词 ) | |
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dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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60
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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61
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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alluringly
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| 诱人地，妩媚地 | |
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63
saucy
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| adj.无礼的；俊俏的；活泼的 | |
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64
bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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65
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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