Although the hour was still so early, the little town displayed about as much life as it ever did. There were women with baskets on their arms, examining produce displayed in the few shops where supplies were procurable4. There were carefree resorters already about, enjoying a freshness which must soon evaporate under the scourge5 of the mounting sun. The main street boasted a good many quaint6 little curio shops, which somehow managed to do a living business. A typical drowsy7 Northern Michigan small town—not much of a town, yet of course infinitely8 better than no town at all.
Louise, as she walked down the one business street of the place, scarcely looked to right or left. She knew every nook and angle of the town—at least so she believed. Having come up now so many summers, wasn't it reasonable to suppose that one would eventually exhaust all the slender resources of a[Pg 91] place like this? And yet, had her eyes been really open she would perhaps have been amazed to behold9 spread about her a wealth of life undreamed of. Something rich and new in Frankfort? Yes, possibly even here. For those individuals in aprons10, weighing out sugar and measuring potatoes so humbly11, are not, as a matter of fact, mere12 shop fixtures13, as they have always seemed. The clerk at the soda14 fountain, who will cheerfully dish up ice cream for the hoodlums when they return hot and famished15 from their walk on the pier16, has, after all, other interests in life than syrups17 and fizz—unimportant, it may be, yet interests, nevertheless. Yon fat and shabby patriarch, who sits so calmly all day long tilted18 back in a red armchair outside the drygoods store, is something more, at least potentially, than a painted barber's pole. Inside the drygoods store, although Miss Needham has overlooked her, is the old man's grand-daughter, busily working, dreaming. She works hard all summer so she can go to school winters in Grand Rapids. She has a sweetheart in Grand Rapids, who is taking a business course; they are planning to be married sometime in the sweet by-and-bye.
But one with the enormous and stirring preoccupations of Louise Needham could hardly be expected to look on life with open eyes, or, so to say, analytically19. Appreciations20 must bow and conform. A breezy, impressionistic sort of synthesis is the background such a mentally and emotionally active[Pg 92] person seems inevitably21 to evolve. As it was with the sunrise, so was it also with the people of the world not personally bound up in her destiny. It really wasn't a deliberate narrowness, but simply a sensible recognition of time's limitations. Certainly the living of one's own personal life must always count first.
Reminiscent and dreaming, she passed down the street, while out at sea the steamer drew closer and closer. In one gaily22 decorated shop window was displayed an array of summer fiction: alluring23 titles, with often most astonishing jackets—all the season's best sellers, backed up by certain surviving relics24 of bygone seasons. There were actually volumes in this window (though now badly faded and of course occupying appropriately inferior positions) which had been the avowed25, the lauded26 best sellers during that summertime, long flown, when Louise and Harold Gates indulged in so free an interchange of kisses. There had been, as a matter of fact, rather a profusion27 of kisses in the best sellers that year, also: how true they were, after all, to life—that best of all best sellers!
Miss Needham paused before the window. Her eyes were irresistibly28 drawn29 to examine the miscellany, fruitage of so many seasons, badges of so much smart selling. In the midst of the conglomeration30 she spied a certain volume, modest in title and hue31 as compared with some of the others, though still extravagant32 enough of text, which Leslie had[Pg 93] been telling her about. It was a long historical novel, and Leslie had expressed himself as well pleased with it. He hadn't, as a matter of downright fact, read the book all through, but had skimmed along, omitting all descriptions and the pages where the author philosophized about life. But he had captured the gist33 of the story, and had retold it to Louise one afternoon while they strolled together in delicious solitude34 through Lovers' Lane. And she had promised him she would read the book some time and give him her opinion—it going without saying that her opinion, at least to him, would be of moment. Louise was no great reader—certainly not an inveterate35 reader of long historical novels. Nevertheless, as her eye now encountered it nestling there in the window, a sudden caprice swept her right inside the shop. It was a most amazing thing, but the next moment she found herself telling the clerk she wished to purchase the volume. And then—he fished it out.
The clerk, it must be communicated—a man, by the way, with all sorts of interesting and even enthralling36 human complexes which Louise did not dream of suspecting, since she knew the town so well—was rather surprised that his early morning customer should desire this particular book rather than some of the more gripping things: Diana's Secret, for instance, which was easily one of the most successful works ever exploited in Frankfort. However, since he had long ago given up all hope of[Pg 94] ever selling the historical romance, and since he expected to run out of Diana copies before the season was ended, the clerk naturally offered no comment upon her choice. Covertly37 blowing a little dust off the book she had asked for, he wrapped it up, and handed it over the counter.
Louise was by this time mildly self-reproachful. "How silly of me to walk right in like that and buy it!" she sighed. "With the money—let's see. What could I have bought instead ...?"
But however nimbly her mind might exert itself in estimating the complete badness of her bargain, the book went under her arm. Just a kind of giddy, final fling, she argued.
As she proceeded on her way, the girl kept assuring herself that the embrace of the historic romance was decidedly more playful than serious. It would be amusing later on—oh, perhaps a great deal later on—to show Leslie she had been as good as her word. Possibly she might actually read the book—who could tell?—just to please him. Poor Les! After all, he was only a boy. She was two years his senior. It would be foolish of them to think of each other, even were her heart perfectly38 free.
"Of course it's all right," she said, "for us to be the finest sort of friends; but it must stop there. If I'd guessed how serious a thing it was going to turn out for him I'd have seen it wasn't right to let him think he had any chance...."
[Pg 95]
This, to tell the truth, tended to put it all rather more satisfactorily than had hitherto seemed possible. She was quite pleased, in fact, for it left her in the attitude of repeating "Poor Les!"
Well, yes, she had thrown him over, she admitted—in a certain sense. But only in a sense; and anyway it had to be so. However shallow her reasoning might often appear to others—however often it might fail of horizon—Miss Needham was herself seldom conscious of the slightest insincerity at the time. She had inherited, it is true, a certain intellectual shiftiness from the parent most afflicted39 with a similar disorder40; but however often she might fluctuate to a new point of view, so long as she actually held to it the conception possessed41 for her all the earmarks of probity42 and permanence.
"Poor Les! No, no.... I shouldn't have encouraged him so much...." But she hadn't thought at first that Lynndal was coming. And Arizona is very, very far away—especially on fine summer nights, when one isn't wearing any ring....
Yet presently the book under her arm began to appear a somewhat awkward possession. However easy it might be for her to tell Leslie they must be merely friends now, and however blithely43 she might ask him, after an ancient and at best pretty hackneyed ideal, to look upon her as a sister, it was going to be very hard—for him. Wasn't it? Could it[Pg 96] be otherwise than hard for him? Wouldn't her having bought the book, even, especially if he learned she had bought it, make it all still harder?
Louise was naturally so quick in her sympathies that it troubled her when others couldn't attain44 as convenient solutions for their problems as she generally did for her own. And being herself party to another's unhappiness would, of course, tend to add certain pricks45 of conscience to any of the more abstract, though still altruistic46, sentiments she might feel. "Well," she admitted, "I guess I shouldn't have bought the book, after all—at least not just now." But of course she could keep it hidden. "I needn't show it to Les right away." For that matter, need she ever show it to him? "I suppose—I really suppose I might drop it into the harbour, and be forever rid of it!"
As though, indeed, determined47 to act upon this dramatic impulse, Louise turned and walked down amongst some fishermen's huts at the water's edge. Most of the fishermen were out at sea, having not yet brought in the morning's haul from the nets. The rude little huts, where the fish were cleaned and packed in ice for shipping48, and where the nets were washed, stood idly open. The early sunshine lay across their doorsteps. Some children were at play, running in and out; and before one of the huts a very old woman sat mending a net, working her hard fingers in a quick, intelligent way.
[Pg 97]
Louise walked out upon a little plank49 dock which was flung, at this point, into the harbour. The fishermen used the dock when they unloaded their cargoes50 of fish. It did not extend a great way; but from its extremity51, as she faced westward52, she perceived the approach of a steamer, still out in the "Big Lake," but nearing the harbour channel. It was probably Lynndal's boat, though it might possibly be one of the Ann Arbor53 car ferries from across Lake Michigan. She must hurry to the wharf. Still, the notion of throwing the book away persisted. She must rid herself of every vestige54 of the past. She must come to Lynndal—and it was quite thrilling to put it that way—empty-handed! This would seem to be a formal, a conclusive55, even a rather grand way of marking a close to this surreptitious, this unfortunate, yet this of course sufficiently56 innocent little affair with Leslie—poor Les! Yes, it would be the fitting mark of conclusion; after that her heart would be swept clean. She grasped the book. At first she thought she would fling it far out; then that she would just quietly drop it in. But after all, she slipped the book under her arm again, and made her way hurriedly back to the village street.
Her mind was busy with explanation and a readjustment not, a moment ago, foreseen. "It would have been foolish and stagy to have done that. No, it wouldn't have been right! Perhaps—" yes, [Pg 98]perhaps Hilda would want to read it some day. She brightened. "Leslie said there was much instructive reading in it." Why, yes—the book would do for Hilda, if not for her. Mightn't Hilda even do for Leslie, now that she had thrown him over? Ah, it might be so! The idea occurred to Louise at first as a mere flash of whimsy57; however, second thought made the possibility rather too possible to be altogether agreeable....
"Why, I should think it would be the most natural thing in the world," she assured herself. "Of course Hilda's awfully58 young, but I should think it would be perfectly splendid if they came to care for each other in time. I'm sure it would make it ever so much easier for me." She remembered how oddly her sister had behaved earlier in the day, whenever Leslie was mentioned; how Leslie himself had promised Hilda he would be back in time to play in the tennis tournament with her. "I think it would be just splendid!" she thought. "I'll encourage it, of course, all I can!"
At last, she felt, there was a real solution in sight for poor Les. It would be the very thing! She was so pleased that she laughed aloud as she passed the fat and shabby patriarch tilted back in his red armchair before the drygoods store. But it is possible that even the patriarch, in a philosophy of age as opposed to that of youth, merely thought, as he saw her go by: "Another of the resorters." [Pg 99]Indeed, it is even possible that he did not see her at all.
The steamer drew in through the channel. It was the coast steamer from Ludington, and connected with the Milwaukee line. Louise stood eagerly beside the freight house, peering up at the passengers on the deck. Naturally she was very much excited, and experienced a swift, enveloping59 sense of joyous60 romance in being there to welcome the man she expected some day to marry.
To marry!
Suddenly it occurred to her that, after all, she had hardly thought of it once that way! Yes, Lynndal was the man who would be her husband. Marrying him—no, she had somehow barely thought of that part.... Nevertheless, though the discovery was a little staggering, she strained her eyes quite gaily for a first glimpse of him; wondered if he would look to her just the way he looked during those few days when they had been together in Arizona. But just how, by the way, did he look then? All at once she thought of Lynndal Barry as an almost absolute stranger! It was an inexplicable61 but quite vivid, a rather terrifying sensation. It made the roots of her hair faintly prickle. No, for the life of her she couldn't think of any one's being a more perfect stranger than Lynndal!
Louise wasn't mystically inclined. Yet what she[Pg 100] felt seemed almost a kind of foreboding. Then she laughed to herself, a gay little nervous laugh. And she told herself it was only natural one should feel this way, and that it was all a part of her charming, her really absorbing romance.
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1
marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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2
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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3
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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procurable
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| adj.可得到的，得手的 | |
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scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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7
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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8
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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aprons
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| 围裙( apron的名词复数 )； 停机坪，台口（舞台幕前的部份） | |
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humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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fixtures
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| （房屋等的）固定装置( fixture的名词复数 )； 如（浴盆、抽水马桶）； 固定在某位置的人或物； （定期定点举行的）体育活动 | |
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14
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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famished
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| adj.饥饿的 | |
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pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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17
syrups
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| n.糖浆，糖汁( syrup的名词复数 )；糖浆类药品 | |
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18
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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analytically
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| adv.有分析地，解析地 | |
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appreciations
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| n.欣赏( appreciation的名词复数 )；感激；评定；（尤指土地或财产的）增值 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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25
avowed
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| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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26
lauded
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| v.称赞，赞美( laud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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29
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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30
conglomeration
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| n.团块，聚集，混合物 | |
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31
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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32
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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gist
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| n.要旨；梗概 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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35
inveterate
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| adj.积习已深的，根深蒂固的 | |
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enthralling
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| 迷人的 | |
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covertly
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| adv.偷偷摸摸地 | |
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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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39
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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41
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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42
probity
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| n.刚直；廉洁，正直 | |
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43
blithely
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| adv.欢乐地，快活地，无挂虑地 | |
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44
attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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45
pricks
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| 刺痛( prick的名词复数 )； 刺孔； 刺痕； 植物的刺 | |
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46
altruistic
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| adj.无私的，为他人着想的 | |
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47
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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48
shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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49
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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50
cargoes
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| n.（船或飞机装载的）货物( cargo的名词复数 )；大量，重负 | |
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51
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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52
westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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53
arbor
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| n.凉亭；树木 | |
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54
vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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55
conclusive
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| adj.最后的，结论的；确凿的，消除怀疑的 | |
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56
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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57
whimsy
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| n.古怪，异想天开 | |
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58
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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59
enveloping
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的现在分词 ) | |
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60
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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61
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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