Beyond the gate to the Moor rises a steep road of broken granite and flint. It climbs upward, straight and dogged, into the world of the heather and, pursued a little, reveals the solemn sweep and dip of the circumambient waste. To the skyline tumbles this billowy ocean, and the ripples19 upon the crest20 of each mighty21 wave are granite. Here rise the tors, adorned22 at this August season with purple ling to their footstools of stone; here subtend wildernesses23 between the high hills; and the sheep bells jangle upon them, and the red kine bellow24 from the watercourses. A rook, his feathers p. 5blown awry25, hops26 thrice, then ascends27 heavily; but the kestrel, with greater distinction of flight, glides28 away from his perch29 upon a stone, ere he swoops30 aloft with long reaches, to hang motionless in the air, like a brown star afar off. The moorland world extends in vast, undulating mosaic31 of olive and dun, thinly veiled by the bloom of the ling and splashed with golden furze and grey granite. The expanse is touched to umber and velvet33 warmth in sunshine; is enriched with the pure, cool purple of cloud-shadows; is brightened into sheer emerald-green, where springs burst from their peat-moss cradles amid seeding cotton-grass; is lightened throughout its sombre heath tones with glistening34 sheets of polished fern, where the tracts35 of the bracken stand under direct sunlight. There is warmth of colour in its breezy interspaces—warmth, won from the ruddiness of ripe rush-heads and manifold grasses all bending and swaying in waves under the wind.
At the junction36 of two roads, that cross at right angles within a hundred yards of the moor-gate, there stands a blackthorn of venerable shape. It is a deformed37, grotesque38 tree, much bent39 and shrivelled. Its boughs40 are coated with close fabric41 of grey encrustations, but such clothing has failed to protect its carcase against a century of winters and biting winds. In autumn the scanty42 foliage43 is still p. 6brightened by a meagre crop of fruit; but life crawls with difficulty up the zigzag44 bones of this most ancient thorn, while each spring its tardy45 sap awakes less of the tree, and leaves increasing concourse of abrupt46 and withered47 twigs48 to rot above and below the centre of vitality49. Beneath this ruin you shall note a slight hillock of green grass, where foxgloves shake aloft their purple pyramids of blossom and a rabbit’s hole lies close beside them. Of artificial barrow or modern burying-place there is no suggestion here; and yet this mound50 by the highway side conceals51 a grave; and the story of the human dust within it is the truth concerning one who lived and smarted more than a hundred years ago. Men were of the same pattern then as now, but manners varied52 vastly; and the Moor-man, who farms upon the grudging53 boundaries of that great central desert to-day, and curses the winds that scatter54 his beggarly newtakes with thistledown and fern seed, might wonder at the tales this same wild wind could tell him of past times and of the customs of his ancestors.
Human life on the Moor is still hard enough, but modern methods of softening55 the rough edges of existence were even less considered in the beginning of the century, when American and French prisoners of war sorrowfully sighed at Prince Town. In those days the natives of the Devonshire p. 7highlands endured much hardship and laughed at the more delicate nurture56 of the townfolk, as the wandering Tuaregs laugh when their softer fellows exchange tent and desert for the green oases57 of many palms and sweet waters. Then food was rough on Dartmoor and drink was rougher. Cider colic all men knew as a common ill; most beverages59 were brewed60 of native herbs and berries; only upon some occasion of rare rejoicing would a lavish61 goodwife commission “Johnny Fortnight,” the nomad62 packman, to bring her two or three ounces of genuine Cathay as entertainment for her cronies.
It was rather more than a century ago that one, John Aggett, dwelt within two hundred yards of the thorn-bush already described; and the remains63 of his cottage, of which the foundation and a broken wall still exist, may yet be seen—a grey ghost, all smothered64 with nettles65, docks and trailing briars. A cultivated patch of land formerly66 extended around this dwelling67, and in that old-world garden grew kale and potatoes, with apple trees, an elder, whose fruit made harsh wine, and sundry68 herbs, used for seasoning69 meat or ministering to sickness. No evidence of this cultivation70 now survives, save only the ruined wall and a patriarchal crab-apple tree—the stock that once supported a choicer scion71, long since perished.
p. 8Here, a mile or two distant from Postbridge in the vale of Eastern Dart58, resided John Aggett and his widowed mother. The cottage was the woman’s property; and that no regular rent had to be paid for it she held a lucky circumstance, for John by no means walked in his laborious72 father’s footsteps. Work indeed he could; and he performed prodigious73 feats74 of strength when it pleased him; but it was not in the details of his prosaic75 trade as a thatcher76 that he put forth77 his great powers. Business by no means attracted him or filled his life. As a matter of fact the man was extremely lazy and only when sports of the field occupied his attention did he disdain78 trouble and exertion79. He would tramp for many miles to shoot plovers80 or the great golden-eyed heath poults and bustards that then frequented the Moor; he cared nothing for cold and hunger on moonlight winter nights when wild ducks and geese were to be slain81; and trout-fishing in summer-time would brace82 him to days of heroic toil83 on remote waters. But thatching or the thought of it proved a sure narcotic84 to his energies; and it was not until Sarah Belworthy came into his life as a serious factor that the young giant began to take a more serious view of existence and count the ultimate cost of wasted years.
Man and maid had known one another from early youth, and John very well remembered the p. 9first meeting of all, when he was a lanky85 youngster of eleven, she a little lass of eight. Like the boy, Sarah was an only child, and her parents, migrating from Chagford to Postbridge, within which moorland parish the Aggetts dwelt, secured a cottage midway between the home of the thatcher and the village in the valley below. Soon afterward86 the children met upon one of the winding sheep tracks that traverse the Moor on every hand. They were upon the same business, and each, moving slowly along, sought for every tress, lock or curl of sheeps’ wool that hung here and there in the thorny87 clutch of furze and bramble.
The boy stopped, for Sarah’s great grey eyes and red mouth awoke something in him. He felt angry because the blood flowed to his freckled88 face; but she was cool as the little spring that rose in their path—cool as the crystal water that bubbled up and set a tiny column of silver sand shivering among the red sundews and bog89 asphodels at their feet.
“Marnin’ to ’e,” said John, who already knew the small stranger by sight.
“Marnin’, Jan Aggett.”
“An’ what might your name be, if I may ax?”
“I be called Sarah, but Sally most times; an’ I be wool-gatherin’ same as you.”
“Hast-a got gude store?”
p. 10“But little yet.”
“I’ll shaw ’e all the best plaaces, if you mind to let me.”
“Thank ’e, Jan Aggett. My mother’s a gert spinner.”
“An’ my mother’s a gert spinner tu.”
“Not so gert as mine, I reckon.”
“Never was better’n my mother.”
“Mine be better, I tell ’e! Her spins black wool an’ white together into butivul, braave grey yarn90; an’ auld91 Churdles Ash—him what’s got the loom32 to Widecombe, do buy it for money, wi’ gladness.”
“Ban’t much black wool in these paarts; an’ my mother knits her worsted into clothes for me. But I’ll share what I find with you now.”
“I lay I’ll find a plenty for myself.”
“I lay you will. An’ I’ll shaw ’e wheer the blackberries be in autumn time, an’ wheer the best hurts be got out Laughter Tor way; an’ wheer the properest rexens for cannel-making[10] do graw.”
“Sure you’m a very kind-fashioned bwoy, Jan Aggett.”
“You’d best to call me just ‘Jan,’ like other folks.”
“So I will; an’ you’d best to call me ‘Sally.’”
“Burned if I doan’t then! An’ us’ll be friends.”
p. 11From that time forward the lonely children became close companions; and when years passed and Sarah ripened92 to maidenhood93, while John brought forth a straw-coloured moustache and thick beard that matched his sandy locks, the pair of them were already regarded by their own generation as surely bound for marriage in due season.
There came an afternoon when the girl had reached the age of eighteen and John was just arrived at man’s estate. They worked together during harvest time, and the thatcher, standing94 on a stack ladder, watched the girl where she was gleaning95 and likened her pink sunbonnet to some bright flower nodding over the gold stubbles. Presently she came to him with a bundle of good corn under her arm.
“’Tis long in the straw this year,” she said. “You must thresh it for me when you can and hand me the straw for plaiting. I can sell all the hats an’ bonnets96 tu, as I’m like to weave. An’ parson do allus give me half a crown each year for a new straw hat.”
John came down from his perch and picked up the little sheaf. Then, the day’s work done, they dawdled97 up the hill, and Sarah, hot and weary, after toil in great sunshine, sometimes took John’s hand, like a little child, when the road revealed no other person.
p. 12Up through the lanes from the farm of Cator Court to the higher land they made their way, crossed over the river nigh Dury and passed beside a wall where scabious drew a sky-blue mantle98 over the silver and ebony lichens99 of the granite. Pennyworts also raised their little steeples from the interstices of the old wall; briars broke its lines; red berries and black twinkled among the grasses, and dainty cups and purses of ripe seeds revealed their treasures; flowers not a few also blossomed there, while butterflies gemmed100 the golden ragwort, and bees struggled at many blossoms. A mellow101 murmur102 of life gladdened the evening, and the sun, slow sinking behind distant Bellever, warmed the world with rich horizontal light. At a break in the stones dripped a stream in a little dark nest of ferns. Here, too, stood a stile leading into heavy woods, and one sentinel beech103 tree arose at the corner of a gamekeeper’s path through the preserves. Hither, weary with her labours and desiring a brief rest, Sarah turned, climbed the stile, and sat down beneath the tree. John accompanied her and they reclined in silence awhile where the ripe glory of September sunshine sent a shimmer104 of ruddy and diaphanous105 light into the heart of the wood and flamed upon the bole of the great beech. A woodpecker suddenly departed from the foliage p. 13above the silent pair. He made off with a dipping, undulatory motion and cheerful laughter, as who should say, “two is company and three none.”
John turned to Sarah and sighed and shook his head while he tickled106 her hand with a straw from the sheaf. She did not withdraw it, so he came a little nearer and put the straw up her arm; then followed it with two of his own fingers and felt her moist skin under them.
She laughed lazily, and the music fired his heart and sluggish107 tongue.
“Oh, God, Sally, how long be I to dance upon your beck and call for nought108? How long be I to bide109 this way while you hang back?”
“Us couldn’t be gerter friends.”
“Ess fay, but us could. Wheer do friendship lead to ’twixt men an’ women? Dost hear? I knaw you’m butivul to see, an’ purtiest gal110 in Postbridge an’ such like; an’ I knaw a man o’ my fortune an’ poor brain power’s got no right—an’ yet, though ’tis bowldacious so to do, I ban’t built to keep away from ’e. I peek111 an’ pine an’ dwindle112 for ’e, I do.”
“‘Dwindle,’ dear heart! Wheer’s the signs of that? You’m stronger an’ taller an’ better’n any man on East Dart.”
“Did ’e say ‘better,’ Sally? Did ’e mean it? ’Tis a year since I fust axed ’e, serious as a man, p. 14an’ a dozen times ’twixt then an’ now I’ve axed again. I swear I thought as I’d seen love light in them misty eyes of thine, else I’d have troubled ’e less often. But—but—”
“Wouldn’t I have sent ’e away wi’ a flea113 to your ear when fust you axed, if I’d meant all I said, you silly gawkim?”
Then he put his arm round her and hugged her very close. No artifice114 restrained the plump natural curves of her waist; her garments were thin and the soft body of her beneath them fired him.
“Give awver! You’m squeezin’ me, Jan!”
“Say it then—say it out—or I’ll hug ’e, an’ hug ’e, an’ hug ’e to death for sheer love!”
“You gert thick-headed twoad! Caan’t ’e read awnly a woman’s words to ’e? Haven’t ’e found out these long months? Didn’t ’e even guess how ’twas when we went christening Farmer Chave’s apple trees down-along by night, an’ I slapped your face for comin’ to me arter you’d been fooling with that slammocking maypole of a gal, Tom Chubb’s darter? You’m blind for all your eyes.”
He gave an inarticulate grunt115 and poured huge noisy kisses on her hair and face and little ears.
“Christ A’mighty! Sweatin’ for joy I be! To think it—to think you finds the likes o’ me gude enough for ’e! Theer—theer. Hallelujah!”
He shouted and danced with the grace of a brown p. 15bear, while she smoothed herself from his salutations and sat up panting after such rough embrace. Then he took out his knife and sought the beech tree behind them. Sunset fires were dying away. Only a starry116 twinkling of auburn light still caught the high tops of the tallest trees and marked them out against the prevailing117 shadows of the woods.
“’Tis a deed should be cut on the first bark as meets your eyes after the woman’s said ‘yes’ to ’e,” declared John.
Then, turning to the trunk where lichens painted pale silver patterns on the grey, he set to work, at the height of a man’s heart, and roughly fashioned the letters “S. B.” and “ J. A.” with a scroll118 around them and a knot beneath to indicate the nature of true love.
“Theer let it bide, sweetheart, for our childer’s childer to see when we’m sleepin’ down-along.”
“Go away with ’e, Jan!”
Presently they moved onward119 to their homes.
“Braave news for my mother,” said the girl.
“Braaver news for mine,” declared John.
The sun had set and the twilight120 was in Sarah’s grey eyes as she lifted them to him. Together they passed upward, very slowly, with her head against his shoulder and his arm round her.
“’Tis a pleasant thing seemin’ly to have a huge gert man to love ’e.”
p. 16“Ess fay, my bird! You’ll live to knaw it, please God.”
From their lofty standpoint spread a wide scene of waning121 light on a fading world; and above the eastern horizon, through the last roses of the afterglow, imperceptibly stole a round shield of pale pearl. Aloft the sleeping wind-clouds lost their light and turned slate-grey as the misty phantom122 of the moon gathered brightness, and the western nimbus of sunset faded away.
Then John took his lips from his love’s and gave her the sheaf of gleaned123 corn and left her at her father’s door, while he tramped on up the hill.
His mother trembled before the long-anticipated truth and knew the first place in his heart was gone at last.
“As purty as a pictur in truth,” she said, “but something too taffety [16] for the wife of a day labourer.”
“Not so,” answered the man. “She’m an angel out o’ heaven, an’ she’ll come to be the awnly wife worth namin’ on Dartymoor. For that matter she ban’t feared of a day’s work herself, an’ have awftentimes earned a fourpenny piece ’pon the land.”
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1
sylvan
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| adj.森林的 | |
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2
obliquity
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| n.倾斜度 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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4
forestry
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| n.森林学；林业 | |
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5
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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6
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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7
arable
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| adj.可耕的，适合种植的 | |
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8
orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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9
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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melodiously
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confluence
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| n.汇合，聚集 | |
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reek
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| v.发出臭气；n.恶臭 | |
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13
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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14
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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15
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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16
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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17
commingle
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| v.混合 | |
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18
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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19
ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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20
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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21
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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22
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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23
wildernesses
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| 荒野( wilderness的名词复数 )； 沙漠； （政治家）在野； 不再当政（或掌权） | |
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24
bellow
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| v.吼叫，怒吼；大声发出，大声喝道 | |
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awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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hops
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| 跳上[下]( hop的第三人称单数 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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ascends
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的第三人称单数 ) | |
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glides
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| n.滑行( glide的名词复数 )；滑音；音渡；过渡音v.滑动( glide的第三人称单数 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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29
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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swoops
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| 猛扑，突然下降( swoop的名词复数 ) | |
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31
mosaic
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| n./adj.镶嵌细工的，镶嵌工艺品的，嵌花式的 | |
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32
loom
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| n.织布机，织机；v.隐现，(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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34
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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35
tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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deformed
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| adj.畸形的；变形的；丑的，破相了的 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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39
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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40
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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41
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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42
scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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43
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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44
zigzag
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| n.曲折，之字形；adj.曲折的，锯齿形的；adv.曲折地，成锯齿形地；vt.使曲折；vi.曲折前行 | |
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45
tardy
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| adj.缓慢的，迟缓的 | |
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46
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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47
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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48
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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50
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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51
conceals
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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52
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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53
grudging
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| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
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54
scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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55
softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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56
nurture
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| n.养育，照顾，教育；滋养，营养品；vt.养育，给与营养物，教养，扶持 | |
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57
oases
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| n.（沙漠中的）绿洲( oasis的名词复数 )；（困苦中）令人快慰的地方（或时刻）；乐土；乐事 | |
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58
dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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59
beverages
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| n.饮料( beverage的名词复数 ) | |
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60
brewed
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| 调制( brew的过去式和过去分词 )； 酝酿； 沏（茶）； 煮（咖啡） | |
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61
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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62
nomad
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| n.游牧部落的人，流浪者，游牧民 | |
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63
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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64
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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65
nettles
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| n.荨麻( nettle的名词复数 ) | |
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66
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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67
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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68
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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69
seasoning
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| n.调味；调味料；增添趣味之物 | |
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70
cultivation
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| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
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71
scion
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| n.嫩芽，子孙 | |
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72
laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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73
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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74
feats
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| 功绩，伟业，技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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75
prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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76
thatcher
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| n.茅屋匠 | |
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77
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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78
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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80
plovers
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| n.珩，珩科鸟（如凤头麦鸡）( plover的名词复数 ) | |
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81
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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82
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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83
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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84
narcotic
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| n.麻醉药，镇静剂；adj.麻醉的，催眠的 | |
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85
lanky
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| adj.瘦长的 | |
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86
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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87
thorny
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| adj.多刺的，棘手的 | |
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88
freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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89
bog
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| n.沼泽；室...陷入泥淖 | |
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90
yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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auld
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| adj.老的，旧的 | |
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92
ripened
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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93
maidenhood
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| n. 处女性, 处女时代 | |
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94
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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95
gleaning
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| n.拾落穗，拾遗，落穗v.一点点地收集（资料、事实）( glean的现在分词 )；（收割后）拾穗 | |
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96
bonnets
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| n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 )；（烟囱等的）覆盖物；（苏格兰男子的）无边呢帽；（女子戴的）任何一种帽子 | |
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97
dawdled
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| v.混（时间）( dawdle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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99
lichens
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| n.地衣( lichen的名词复数 ) | |
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100
gemmed
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| 点缀（gem的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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101
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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102
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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103
beech
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| n.山毛榉；adj.山毛榉的 | |
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104
shimmer
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| v./n.发微光，发闪光；微光 | |
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105
diaphanous
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| adj.(布)精致的，半透明的 | |
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106
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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107
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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108
nought
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| n.／adj.无，零 | |
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109
bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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110
gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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111
peek
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| vi.偷看，窥视；n.偷偷的一看，一瞥 | |
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112
dwindle
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| v.逐渐变小（或减少） | |
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113
flea
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| n.跳蚤 | |
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114
artifice
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| n.妙计，高明的手段；狡诈，诡计 | |
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115
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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116
starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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117
prevailing
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| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
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118
scroll
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| n.卷轴，纸卷；(石刻上的)漩涡 | |
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119
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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120
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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121
waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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122
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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123
gleaned
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| v.一点点地收集（资料、事实）( glean的过去式和过去分词 )；（收割后）拾穗 | |
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