Very early were they afloat again, and as they glided1 up the stream Sylvia watched the earth's awakening2, seeing in it what her own should be. The sun was not yet visible above the hills, but the sky was ready for his coming, with the soft flush of color dawn gives only to her royal lover. Birds were chanting matins as if all the jubilance of their short lives must be poured out at once. Flowers stirred and brightened like children after sleep. A balmy wind came whispering from the wood, bringing the aroma3 of pines, the cool breath of damp nooks, the healthful kiss that leaves a glow behind. Light mists floated down the river like departing visions that had haunted it by night, and every ripple4 breaking on the shore seemed to sing a musical good morrow.
Sylvia could not conceal5 the weariness her long vigil left behind; and after betraying herself by a drowsy6 lurch7 that nearly took her overboard, she made herself comfortable, and slept till the grating of the keel on a pebbly8 shore woke her to find a new harbor reached under the lee of a cliff, whose deep shadow was very grateful after the glare of noon upon the water.
"How do you intend to dispose of yourself this afternoon, Adam?" asked Mark, when dinner was over and his sister busy feeding the birds.
"In this way," answered Warwick, producing a book and settling himself in a commodious11 cranny of the rock.
"Moor12 and I want to climb the cliff and sketch13 the view; but it is too rough a road for Sylvia. Would you mind mounting guard for an hour or two? Read away, and leave her to amuse herself; only pray don't let her get into any mischief15 by way of enjoying her liberty, for she fears nothing and is fond of experiments."
"I'll do my best," replied Warwick, with an air of resignation.
Having slung17 the hammock and seen Sylvia safely into it, the climbers departed, leaving her to enjoy the luxury of motion. For half an hour she swung idly, looking up into the green pavilion overhead, where many insect families were busy with their small joys and cares, or out over the still landscape basking18 in the warmth of a cloudless afternoon. Then she opened a book Mark had brought for his own amusement, and began to read as intently as her companion, who leaned against the boulder19 slowly turning his pages, with leafy shadows flickering20 over his uncovered head and touching21 it with alternate sun and shade. The book proved interesting, and Sylvia was rapidly skimming into the heart of the story, when an unguarded motion caused her swing to slope perilously22 to one side, and in saving herself she lost her book. This produced a predicament, for being helped into a hammock and getting out alone are two very different things. She eyed the distance from her nest to the ground, and fancied it had been made unusually great to keep her stationary24. She held fast with one hand and stretched downward with the other, but the book insolently25 flirted26 its leaves just out of reach. She took a survey of Warwick; he had not perceived her plight27, and she felt an unwonted reluctance28 to call for help, because he did not look like one used to come and go at a woman's bidding. After several fruitless essays she decided29 to hazard an ungraceful descent; and, gathering31 herself up, was about to launch boldly out, when Warwick cried, "Stop!" in a tone that nearly produced the catastrophe32 he wished to avert33. Sylvia subsided34, and coming up he lifted the book, glanced at the title, then keenly at the reader.
"Do you like this?"
"So far very much."
"Are you allowed to read what you choose?"
"Yes, sir. That is Mark's choice, however; I brought no book."
"I advise you to skim it into the river; it is not a book for you."
Sylvia caught a glimpse of the one he had been reading himself, and impelled35 by a sudden impulse to see what would come of it, she answered with a look as keen as his own--
"You disapprove36 of my book; would you recommend yours?"
"In this case, yes; for in one you will find much falsehood in purple and fine linen37, in the other some truth in fig-leaves. Take your choice."
He offered both; but Sylvia took refuge in civility.
"I thank you, I'll have neither; but if you will please steady the hammock, I will try to find some more harmless amusement for myself."
He obeyed with one of the humorous expressions which often passed over his face. Sylvia descended38 as gracefully39 as circumstances permitted, and went roving up and down the cliffs. Warwick resumed his seat and the "barbaric yawp," but seemed to find Truth in demi-toilet less interesting than Youth in a gray gown and round hat, for which his taste is to be commended. The girl had small scope for amusement, and when she had gathered moss40 for pillows, laid out a white fungus41 to dry for a future pin-cushion, harvested penny-royal in little sheaves tied with grass-blades, watched a battle between black ants and red, and learned the landscape by heart; she was at the end of her resources, and leaning on a stone surveyed earth and sky with a somewhat despondent42 air.
"You would like something to do, I think."
"Yes, sir; for being rather new to this sort of life, I have not yet learned how to dispose of my time."
"I see that, and having deprived you of one employment will try to replace it by another."
Warwick rose, and going to the single birch that glimmered43 among the pines like a delicate spirit of the wood, he presently returned with strips of silvery bark.
"You were wishing for baskets to hold your spoils, yesterday; shall we make some now?" he asked.
"How stupid in me not to think of that! Yes, thank you, I should like it very much;" and producing her housewife, Sylvia fell to work with a brightening face.
Warwick sat a little below her on the rock, shaping his basket in perfect silence. This did not suit Sylvia, for feeling lively and loquacious44 she wanted conversation to occupy her thoughts as pleasantly as the birch rolls were occupying her hands, and there sat a person who, she was sure, could do it perfectly45 if he chose. She reconnoitered with covert46 glances, made sundry47 overtures48, and sent out envoys49 in the shape of scissors, needles, and thread. But no answering glance met hers; her remarks received the briefest replies, and her offers of assistance were declined with an absent "No, thank you." Then she grew indignant at this seeming neglect, and thought, as she sat frowning over her work, behind his back--
"He treats me like a child,--very well, then, I'll behave like one, and beset50 him with questions till he is driven to speak; for he can talk, he ought to talk, he shall talk."
"Mr. Warwick, do you like children?" she began, with a determined51 aspect.
"Better than men or women."
"Do you enjoy amusing them?"
"Exceedingly, when in the humor."
"Are you in the humor now?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Then why don't you amuse me?"
"Because you are not a child."
"I fancied you thought me one."
"If I had, I probably should have put you on my knee, and told you fairy tales, or cut dolls for you out of this bark, instead of sitting respectfully silent and making a basket for your stores."
There was a curious smile about Warwick's mouth as he spoke52, and Sylvia was rather abashed53 by her first exploit. But there was a pleasure in the daring, and choosing another topic she tried again.
"Mark was telling me last night about the great college you had chosen; I thought it must be a very original and interesting way to educate one's self, and wanted very much to know what you had been studying lately. May I ask you now?"
"Men and women," was the brief answer.
"Have you got your lesson, sir?"
"A part of it very thoroughly54, I believe."
"Would you think me rude if I asked which part?"
"The latter."
"And what conclusions do you arrive at concerning this branch of the subject?" asked Sylvia, smiling and interested.
"That it is both dangerous and unsatisfactory."
He spoke so gravely, looked so stern, that Sylvia obeyed a warning instinct and sat silent till she had completed a canoe-shaped basket, the useful size of which produced a sudden longing55 to fill it. Her eye had already spied a knoll56 across the river covered with vines, and so suggestive of berries that she now found it impossible to resist the desire for an exploring trip in that direction. The boat was too large for her to manage alone, but an enterprising spirit had taken possession of her, and having made one voyage of discovery with small success she resolved to try again, hoping a second in another direction might prove more fruitful.
"Is your basket done, sir?" she asked.
"Yes; will you have it?"
"Why, you have made it as an Indian would, using grass instead of thread. It is much more complete than mine, for the green stitches ornament57 the white bark, but the black ones disfigure it. I should know a man made your basket and a woman mine."
"Because one is ugly and strong, the other graceful30 but unable to stand alone?" asked Warwick, rising, with a gesture that sent the silvery shreds58 flying away on the wind.
"One holds as much as the other, however; and I fancy the woman would fill hers soonest if she had the wherewithal to do it. Do you know there are berries on that hillside opposite?"
"I see vines, but consider fruit doubtful, for boys and birds are thicker than blackberries."
"I've a firm conviction that they have left some for us; and as Mark says you like frankness, I think I shall venture to ask you to row me over and help me fill the baskets on the other side."
Sylvia looked up at him with a merry mixture of doubt and daring in her face, and offered him his hat.
"Very good, I will," said Warwick, leading the way to the boat with an alacrity59 which proved how much pleasanter to him was action than repose60.
There was no dry landing-place just opposite, and as he rowed higher, Adam fixed61 his eyes on Sylvia with a look peculiar62 to himself, a gaze more keen than soft, which seemed to search one through and through with its rapid discernment. He saw a face full of contradictions,--youthful, maidenly63, and intelligent, yet touched with the unconscious melancholy64 which is born of disappointment and desire. The mouth was sweet and tender as a woman's should be, the brow spirited and thoughtful; but the eyes were by turns eager, absent, or sad, and there was much pride in the carriage of the small head with its hair of wavy66 gold gathered into a green snood, whence little tendrils kept breaking loose to dance upon her forehead, or hang about her neck. A most significant but not a beautiful face, because of its want of harmony. The dark eyes, among their fair surroundings, disturbed the sight as a discord67 in music jars upon the ear; even when the lips smiled the sombre shadow of black lashes68 seemed to fill them with a gloom that was never wholly lost. The voice, too, which should have been a girlish treble, was full and low as a matured woman's, with now and then a silvery ring to it, as if another and a blither creature spoke.
Sylvia could not be offended by the grave penetration69 of this glance, though an uncomfortable consciousness that she was being analyzed70 and tested made her meet it with a look intended to be dignified71, but which was also somewhat defiant72, and more than one smile passed over Warwick's countenance73 as he watched her. The moment the boat glided with a soft swish among the rushes that fringed the shore, she sprang up the bank, and leaving a basket behind her by way of hint, hurried to the sandy knoll, where, to her great satisfaction, she found the vines heavy with berries. As Warwick joined her she held up a shining cluster, saying with a touch of exultation74 in her voice--
"My faith is rewarded; taste and believe."
He accepted them with a nod, and said pleasantly--
"As my prophecy has failed, let us see if yours will be fulfilled."
"I accept the challenge." And down upon her knees went Sylvia among the vines, regardless of stains, rents, or wounded hands.
Warwick strolled away to leave her "claim" free, and silence fell between them; for one was too busy with thorns, the other with thoughts, to break the summer stillness. Sylvia worked with as much energy as if a silver cup was to be the reward of success. The sun shone fervently75 and the wind was cut off by the hill, drops gathered on her forehead and her cheeks glowed; but she only pushed off her hat, thrust back her hair, and moved on to a richer spot. Vines caught at her by sleeve and skirt as if to dishearten the determined plunderer76, but on she went with a wrench77 and a rip, an impatient "Ah!" and a hasty glance at damaged fabrics78 and fingers. Lively crickets flew up in swarms79 about her, surly wasps80 disputed her right to the fruit, and drunken bees blundered against her as they met zigzagging81 homeward much the worse for blackberry wine. She never heeded82 any of them, though at another time she would gladly have made friends with all, but found compensation for her discomforts83 in the busy twitter of sand swallows perched on the mullein-tops, the soft flight of yellow butterflies, and the rapidity with which the little canoe received its freight of "Ethiop sweets." As the last handful went in she sprung up crying "Done!" with a suddenness that broke up the Long Parliament and sent its members skimming away as if a second "Noll" had appeared among them. "Done!" came back Warwick's answer like a deep echo from below, and hurrying down to meet him she displayed her success, saying archly--
"I am glad we both won, though to be perfectly candid84 I think mine is decidedly the fullest." But as she swung up her birch pannier the handle broke, and down went basket, berries and all, into the long grass rustling85 at her feet.
Warwick could not restrain a laugh at the blank dismay that fell upon the exultation of Sylvia's face, and for a moment she was both piqued86 and petulant88. Hot, tired, disappointed, and, hardest of all, laughed at, it was one of those times that try girls' souls. But she was too old to cry, too proud to complain, too well-bred to resent, so the little gust90 passed over unseen, she thought, and joining in the merriment she said, as she knelt down beside the wreck--
"This is a practical illustration of the old proverb, and I deserve it for my boasting. Next time I'll try to combine strength and beauty in my work."
To wise people character is betrayed by trifles. Warwick stopped laughing, and something about the girlish figure in the grass, regathering with wounded hands the little harvest lately lost, seemed to touch him. His face softened91 suddenly as he collected several broad leaves, spread them on the grass, and sitting down by Sylvia, looked under her hat-brim with a glance of mingled92 penitence93 and friendliness94.
"Now, young philosopher, pile up your berries in that green platter while I repair the basket. Bear this in mind when you work in bark: make your handle the way of the grain, and choose a strip both smooth and broad."
Then drawing out his knife he fell to work, and while he tied green withes, as if the task were father to the thought, he told her something of a sojourn95 among the Indians, of whom he had learned much concerning their woodcraft, arts, and superstitions96; lengthening97 the legend till the little canoe was ready for another launch. With her fancy full of war-trails and wampum, Sylvia followed to the river-side, and as they floated back dabbled98 her stained fingers in the water, comforting their smart with its cool flow till they swept by the landing-place, when she asked, wonderingly--
"Where are we going now? Have I been so troublesome that I must be taken home?"
"We are going to get a third course to follow the berries, unless you are afraid to trust yourself to me."
"Indeed, I'm not; take me where you like, sir."
Something in her frank tone, her confiding99 look, seemed to please Warwick; he sat a moment looking into the brown depths of the water, and let the boat drift, with no sound but the musical drip of drops from the oars100.
"You are going upon a rock, sir."
"I did that three months ago."
He spoke as if to himself, his face darkened, and he shook the hair off his forehead with an impatient gesture. A swift stroke averted101 the shock, and the boat shot down the stream, leaving a track of foam102 behind it as Warwick rowed with the energy of one bent103 on outstripping104 some importunate105 remembrance or dogging care. Sylvia marvelled106 greatly at the change which came upon him, but held fast with flying hair and lips apart to catch the spray, enjoying the breezy flight along a path tessellated with broad bars of blue and gold. The race ended as abruptly107 as it began, and Warwick seemed the winner, for when they touched the coast of a floating lily-island, the cloud was gone. As he shipped his oars he turned, saying, with very much the look and manner of a pleasant boy--
"You were asleep when we passed this morning; but I know you like lilies, so let us go a fishing."
"That I do!" cried Sylvia, capturing a great white flower with a clutch that nearly took her overboard. Warwick drew her back and did the gathering himself.
"Enough, sir, quite enough. Here are plenty to trim our table and ourselves with; leave the rest for other voyagers who may come this way."
As Warwick offered her the dripping nosegay he looked at the white hand scored with scarlet108 lines.
"Poor hand! let the lilies comfort it. You are a true woman, Miss Sylvia, for though your palm is purple there's not a stain upon your lips, and you have neither worked nor suffered for yourself it seems."
"I don't deserve that compliment, because I was only intent on outdoing you if possible; so you are mistaken again you see."
"Not entirely109, I think. Some faces are so true an index of character that one cannot be mistaken. If you doubt this look down into the river, and such an one will inevitably110 smile back at you."
Pleased, yet somewhat abashed, Sylvia busied herself in knotting up the long brown stems and tinging111 her nose with yellow pollen112 as she inhaled113 the bitter-sweet breath of the lilies. But when Warwick turned to resume the oars, she said--
"Let us float out as we floated in. It is so still and lovely here I like to stay and enjoy it, for we may never see just such a scene again."
He obeyed, and both sat silent, watching the meadows that lay green and low along the shore, feeding their eyes with the beauty of the landscape, till its peaceful spirit seemed to pass into their own, and lend a subtle charm to that hour, which henceforth was to stand apart, serene114 and happy, in their memories forever. A still August day, with a shimmer115 in the air that veiled the distant hills with the mellow116 haze117, no artist ever truly caught. Midsummer warmth and ripeness brooded in the verdure of field and forest. Wafts118 of fragrance119 went wandering by from new-mown meadows and gardens full of bloom. All the sky wore its serenest120 blue, and up the river came frolic winds, ruffling121 the lily leaves until they showed their purple linings123, sweeping124 shadowy ripples125 through the long grass, and lifting the locks from Sylvia's forehead with a grateful touch, as she sat softly swaying with the swaying of the boat. Slowly they drifted out into the current, slowly Warwick cleft126 the water with reluctant stroke, and slowly Sylvia's mind woke from its trance of dreamy delight, as with a gesture of assent127 she said--
"Yes, I am ready now. That was a happy little moment, and I am glad to have lived it, for such times return to refresh me when many a more stirring one is quite forgotten." A moment after she added, eagerly, as a new object of interest appeared: "Mr. Warwick, I see smoke. I know there is a wood on fire; I want to see it; please land again."
He glanced over his shoulder at the black cloud trailing away before the wind, saw Sylvia's desire in her face, and silently complied; for being a keen student of character, he was willing to prolong an interview that gave him glimpses of a nature in which the woman and the child were curiously128 blended.
"I love fire, and that must be a grand one, if we could only see it well. This bank is not high enough; let us go nearer and enjoy it," said Sylvia, finding that an orchard129 and a knoll or two intercepted130 the view of the burning wood.
"It is too far."
"Not at all. I am no helpless, fine lady. I can walk, run, and climb like any boy; so you need have no fears for me. I may never see such a sight again, and you know you'd go if you were alone. Please come, Mr. Warwick."
"I promised Mark to take care of you, and for the very reason that you love fire, I'd rather not take you into that furnace, lest you never come out again. Let us go back immediately."
The decision of his tone ruffled131 Sylvia, and she turned wilful132 at once, saying in a tone as decided as his own--
"No; I wish to see it. I am always allowed to do what I wish, so I shall go;" with which mutinous133 remark she walked straight away towards the burning wood.
Warwick looked after her, indulging a momentary134 desire to carry her back to the boat, like a naughty child. But the resolute135 aspect of the figure going on before him, convinced him that the attempt would be a failure, and with an amused expression he leisurely136 followed her.
Sylvia had not walked five minutes before she was satisfied that it _was_ too far; but having rebelled, she would not own herself in the wrong, and being perverse137, insisted upon carrying her point, though she walked all night. On she went over walls, under rails, across brooks138, along the furrows139 of more than one ploughed field, and in among the rustling corn, that turned its broad leaves to the sun, always in advance of her companion, who followed with exemplary submission140, but also with a satirical smile, that spurred her on as no other demonstration141 could have done. Six o'clock sounded from the church behind the hill; still the wood seemed to recede142 as she pursued, still close behind her came the steady footfalls, with no sound of weariness in them, and still Sylvia kept on, till, breathless, but successful, she reached the object of her search.
Keeping to the windward of the smoke, she gained a rocky spot still warm and blackened by the late passage of the flames, and pausing there, forgot her own pranks143 in watching those which the fire played before her eyes. Many acres were burning, the air was full of the rush and roar of the victorious144 element, the crash of trees that fell before it, and the shouts of men who fought it unavailingly.
"Ah, this is grand! I wish Mark and Mr. Moor were here. Aren't you glad you came, sir?"
Sylvia glanced up at her companion, as he stood regarding the scene with the intent, alert expression one often sees in a fine hound when he scents145 danger in the air. But Warwick did not answer, for as she spoke a long, sharp cry of human suffering rose above the tumult146, terribly distinct and full of ominous147 suggestion.
"Someone was killed when that tree fell! Stay here till I come back;" and Adam strode away into the wood as if his place were where the peril23 lay.
For ten minutes Sylvia waited, pale and anxious; then her patience gave out, and saying to herself, "I can go where he does, and women are always more helpful than men at such times," she followed in the direction whence came the fitful sound of voices. The ground was hot underneath148 her feet, red eyes winked149 at her from the blackened sod, and fiery150 tongues darted151 up here and there, as if the flames were lurking152 still, ready for another outbreak. Intent upon her charitable errand, and excited by the novel scene, she pushed recklessly on, leaping charred153 logs, skirting still burning stumps154, and peering eagerly into the dun veil that wavered to and fro. The appearance of an impassable ditch obliged her to halt, and pausing to take breath, she became aware that she had lost her way. The echo of voices had ceased, a red glare was deepening in front, and clouds of smoke enveloped155 her in a stifling156 atmosphere. A sense of bewilderment crept over her; she knew not where she was; and after a rapid flight in what she believed a safe direction had been cut short by the fall of a blazing tree before her, she stood still, taking counsel with herself. Darkness and danger seemed to encompass157 her, fire flickered158 on every side, and suffocating159 vapors160 shrouded161 earth and sky. A bare rock suggested one hope of safety, and muffling162 her head in her skirt, she lay down faint and blind, with a dull pain in her temples, and a fear at her heart fast deepening into terror, as her breath grew painful and her head began to swim.
"This is the last of the pleasant voyage! Oh, why does no one think of me?"
As the regret rose, a cry of suffering and entreaty163 broke from her. She had not called for help till now, thinking herself too remote, her voice too feeble to overpower the din10 about her. But some one had thought of her, for as the cry left her lips steps came crashing through the wood, a pair of strong arms caught her up, and before she could collect her scattered164 senses she was set down beyond all danger on the green bank of a little pool.
"Well, salamander, have you had fire enough?" asked Warwick, as he dashed a handful of water in her face with such energetic goodwill165 that it took her breath away.
"Yes, oh yes,--and of water, too! Please stop, and let me get my breath!" gasped166 Sylvia, warding167 off a second baptism and staring dizzily about her.
"Why did you quit the place where I left you?" was the next question, somewhat sternly put.
"I wanted to know what had happened."
"So you walked into a bonfire to satisfy your curiosity, though you had been told to keep out of it? You'd never make a Casabianca."
"I hope not, for of all silly children, that boy was the silliest, and he deserved to be blown up for his want of common sense," cried the girl, petulantly168.
"Obedience169 is an old-fashioned virtue170, which you would do well to cultivate along with your common sense, young lady."
Sylvia changed the subject, for Warwick stood regarding her with an irate171 expression that was somewhat alarming. Fanning herself with the wet hat, she asked abruptly--
"Was the man hurt, sir?"
"Yes."
"Very much?"
"Yes."
"Can I not do something for him? He is very far from any house, and I have some experience in wounds."
"He is past all help, above all want now."
"Dead, Mr. Warwick?"
"Quite dead."
Sylvia sat down as suddenly as she had risen, and covered her face with a shiver, remembering that her own wilfulness172 had tempted173 a like fate, and she too, might now have been 'past help, above all want.' Warwick went down to the pool to bathe his hot face and blackened hands; as he returned Sylvia met him with a submissive--
"I will go back now if you are ready, sir."
If the way had seemed long in coming it was doubly so in returning, for neither pride nor perversity174 sustained her now, and every step cost an effort. "I can rest in the boat," was her sustaining thought; great therefore was her dismay when on reaching the river no boat was to be seen.
"Why, Mr. Warwick, where is it?"
"A long way down the river by this time, probably. Believing that we landed only for a moment, I did not fasten it, and the tide has carried it away."
"But what shall we do?"
"One of two things,--spend the night here, or go round by the bridge."
"Is it far?"
"Some three or four miles, I think."
"Is there no shorter way? no boat or carriage to be had?"
"It is growing late and you would be gone a long time, I suppose?"
"Probably."
"Which had we better do?"
"I should not venture to advise. Suit yourself, I will obey orders."
"If you were alone what would you do?"
"Swim across."
Sylvia looked disturbed, Warwick impenetrable, the river wide, the road long, and the cliffs the most inaccessible177 of places. An impressive pause ensued, then she said frankly--
"It is my own fault and I'll take the consequences. I choose the bridge and leave you the river. If I don't appear till dawn, tell Mark I sent him a good night," and girding up her energies she walked bravely off with much external composure and internal chagrin178.
As before, Warwick followed in silence. For a time she kept in advance, then allowed him to gain upon her, and presently fell behind, plodding179 doggedly180 on through thick and thin, vainly trying to conceal the hunger and fatigue181 that were fast robbing her of both strength and spirits. Adam watched her with a masculine sense of the justice of the retribution which his wilful comrade had brought upon herself. But as he saw the elasticity182 leave her steps, the color fade from her cheeks, the resolute mouth relax, and the wistful eyes dim once or twice with tears of weariness and vexation, pity got the better of pique87, and he relented. His steady tramp came to a halt, and stopping by a wayside spring, he pointed89 to a mossy stone, saying with no hint of superior powers--
"We are tired, let us rest."
Sylvia dropped down at once, and for a few minutes neither spoke, for the air was full of sounds more pertinent183 to the summer night than human voices. From the copse behind them, came the coo of wood-pigeons, from the grass at their feet the plaintive184 chirp185 of crickets; a busy breeze whispered through the willow186, the little spring dripped musically from the rock, and across the meadows came the sweet chime of a bell. Twilight187 was creeping over forest, hill, and stream, and seemed to drop refreshment188 and repose upon all weariness of soul and body, more grateful to Sylvia, than the welcome seat and leafy cup of water Warwick brought her from the spring.
The appearance of a thirsty sparrow gave her thoughts a pleasant turn, for, sitting motionless, she watched the little creature trip down to the pool, drink and bathe, then flying to a willow spray, dress its feathers, dry its wings, and sit chirping189 softly as if it sang its evening hymn190. Warwick saw her interest, and searching in his pocket, found the relics191 of a biscuit, strewed192 a few bits upon the ground before him, and began a low, sweet whistle, which rose gradually to a varied193 strain, alluring194, spirited, and clear as any bird voice of the wood. Little sparrow ceased his twitter, listened with outstretched neck and eager eye, hopping195 restlessly from twig196 to twig, until he hung just over the musician's head, agitated197 with a small flutter of surprise, delight, and doubt. Gathering a crumb198 or two into his hand, Warwick held it toward the bird, while softer, sweeter, and more urgent rose the invitation, and nearer and nearer drew the winged guest, fascinated by the spell.
Suddenly a belated blackbird lit upon the wall, surveyed the group and burst into a jubilant song, that for a moment drowned his rival's notes. Then, as if claiming the reward, he fluttered to the grass, ate his fill, took a sip199 from the mossy basin by the way, and flew singing over the river, leaving a trail of music behind him. There was a dash and daring about this which fired little sparrow with emulation200. His last fear seemed conquered, and he flew confidingly201 to Warwick's palm, pecking the crumbs202 with grateful chirps203 and friendly glances from its quick, bright eye. It was a pretty picture for the girl to see; the man, an image of power, in his hand the feathered atom, that, with unerring instinct, divined and trusted the superior nature which had not yet lost its passport to the world of innocent delights that Nature gives to those who love her best. Involuntarily Sylvia clapped her hands, and, startled by the sudden sound, little sparrow skimmed away.
"Thank you for the pleasantest sight I've seen for many a day. How did you learn this gentle art, Mr. Warwick?"
"I was a solitary204 boy, and found my only playmates in the woods and fields. I learned their worth, they saw my need, and when I asked their friendship, gave it freely. Now we should go; you are very tired, let me help you."
He held his hand to her, and she put her own into it with a confidence as instinctive205 as the bird's. Then, hand in hand they crossed the bridge and struck into the wilderness206 again; climbing slopes still warm and odorous, passing through dells full of chilly207 damps, along meadows spangled with fire-flies, and haunted by sonorous208 frogs; over rocks crisp with pale mosses209, and between dark firs, where shadows brooded, and melancholy breezes rocked themselves to sleep. Speaking seldom, yet feeling no consciousness of silence, no sense of restraint, for they no longer seemed like strangers to one another, and this spontaneous friendliness lent an indefinable charm to the dusky walk. Warwick found satisfaction in the knowledge of her innocent faith in him, the touch of the little hand he held, the sight of the quiet figure at his side. Sylvia felt that it was pleasant to be the object of his care, fancied that they would learn to know each other better in three days of this free life than in as many months at home, and rejoiced over the discovery of unsuspected traits in him, like the soft lining122 of the chestnut210 burr, to which she had compared him more than once that afternoon. So, mutually and unconsciously yielding to the influence of the hour and the mood it brought them, they walked through the twilight in that eloquent211 silence which often proves more persuasive212 than the most fluent speech.
The welcome blaze of their own fire gladdened them at length, and when the last step was taken, Sylvia sat down with an inward conviction she never could get up again. Warwick told their mishap213 in the fewest possible words, while Mark, in a spasm214 of brotherly solicitude215, goaded216 the fire to a roar that his sister's feet might be dried, administered a cordial as a preventive against cold, and prescribed her hammock the instant supper was done. She went away with him, but a moment after she came to Warwick with a box of Prue's ointment65 and a soft handkerchief stripped into bandages.
"What now?" he asked.
"I wish to dress your burns, sir."
"They will do well enough with a little water; go you and rest."
"Mr. Warwick, you know you ate your supper with your left hand, and put both behind you when you saw me looking at them. Please let me make them easier; they were burnt for me, and I shall get no sleep till I have had my way."
There was a curious mixture of command and entreaty in her manner, and before their owner had time to refuse or comply, the scorched217 hands were taken possession of, the red blisters218 covered with a cool bandage, and the frown of pain smoothed out of Warwick's forehead by the prospect219 of relief. As she tied the last knot, Sylvia glanced up with a look that mutely asked pardon for past waywardness, and expressed gratitude220 for past help; then, as if her heart were set at rest, she was gone before her patient could return his thanks.
She did not reappear, Mark went to send a lad after the lost boat, and the two friends were left alone; Warwick watching the blaze, Moor watching him, till, with a nod toward a pair of diminutive221 boots that stood turning out their toes before the fire, Adam said--
"The wearer of those defiant-looking articles is the most capricious piece of humanity it was ever my fortune to see. You have no idea of the life she has led me since you left."
"I can imagine it."
"She is as freakish, and wears as many shapes as Puck; a gnat16, a will-o'-the-wisp, a Sister of Charity, a meek-faced child; and one does not know in which guise222 she pleases most. Hard the task of him who has and tries to hold her."
"Hard yet happy; for a word will tame the high spirit, a look touch the warm heart, a kind act be repaid with one still kinder. She is a woman to be studied well, taught tenderly, and, being won, cherished with an affection that knows no shadow of a change."
Moor spoke low, and on his face the fire-light seemed to shed a ruddier glow than it had done before. Warwick eyed him keenly for a moment, then said, with his usual abruptness--
"Geoffrey, you should marry."
"Set me the example by mortgaging your own heart, Adam."
"I have."
"I thought so. Tell me the romance."
"It is the old story--a handsome woman, a foolish man; a few weeks of doubt, a few of happiness; then the two stand apart to view the leap before they take it; after that, peace or purgatory223, as they choose well or ill."
"In June, God willing."
The hope of deliverance gave to Warwick's tone the fervor225 of desire, and led his friend to believe in the existence of a passion deep and strong as the heart he knew so well. No further confessions226 disturbed his satisfaction, for Warwick scorned complaint; pity he would not receive, sympathy was powerless to undo227 the past, time alone would mend it, and to time he looked for help. He rose presently as if bedward bound, but paused behind Moor, turned his face upward, and said, bending on it a look given to this friend alone--
"If my confidence were a good gift, you should have it. But my experience must not mar9 your faith in womankind. Keep it as chivalrous228 as ever, and may God send you the mate whom you deserve. Geoffrey, good night."
"Good night, Adam."
And with a hand-shake more expressive229 of affection than many a tenderer demonstration, they parted--Warwick to watch the stars for hours, and Moor to muse14 beside the fire till the little boots were dry.
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收听单词发音
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1
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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2
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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3
aroma
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| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
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4
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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pebbly
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| 多卵石的，有卵石花纹的 | |
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9
mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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11
commodious
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| adj.宽敞的；使用方便的 | |
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12
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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13
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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14
muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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15
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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16
gnat
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| v.对小事斤斤计较，琐事 | |
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17
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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18
basking
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的现在分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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19
boulder
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| n.巨砾；卵石，圆石 | |
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20
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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21
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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22
perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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23
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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24
stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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25
insolently
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| adv.自豪地，自傲地 | |
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26
flirted
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27
plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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28
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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29
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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30
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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31
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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32
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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33
avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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34
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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35
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36
disapprove
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| v.不赞成，不同意，不批准 | |
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37
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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38
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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39
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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40
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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41
fungus
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| n.真菌，真菌类植物 | |
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42
despondent
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| adj.失望的，沮丧的，泄气的 | |
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43
glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
loquacious
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| adj.多嘴的，饶舌的 | |
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45
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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46
covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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47
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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48
overtures
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| n.主动的表示，提议；（向某人做出的）友好表示、姿态或提议( overture的名词复数 )；（歌剧、芭蕾舞、音乐剧等的）序曲，前奏曲 | |
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49
envoys
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| 使节( envoy的名词复数 )； 公使； 谈判代表； 使节身份 | |
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50
beset
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| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
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51
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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52
spoke
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| 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 | |
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53
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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55
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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56
knoll
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| n.小山，小丘 | |
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57
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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58
shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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59
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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60
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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61
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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62
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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63
maidenly
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| adj. 像处女的, 谨慎的, 稳静的 | |
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64
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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65
ointment
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| n.药膏，油膏，软膏 | |
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66
wavy
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| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
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67
discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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68
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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69
penetration
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| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
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70
analyzed
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| v.分析( analyze的过去式和过去分词 )；分解；解释；对…进行心理分析 | |
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71
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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72
defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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73
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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74
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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75
fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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76
plunderer
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| 掠夺者 | |
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77
wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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78
fabrics
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| 织物( fabric的名词复数 )； 布； 构造； （建筑物的）结构（如墙、地面、屋顶）：质地 | |
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79
swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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80
wasps
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| 黄蜂( wasp的名词复数 )； 胡蜂； 易动怒的人； 刻毒的人 | |
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81
zigzagging
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| v.弯弯曲曲地走路，曲折地前进( zigzag的现在分词 )；盘陀 | |
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82
heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
discomforts
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| n.不舒适( discomfort的名词复数 )；不愉快，苦恼 | |
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84
candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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85
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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86
piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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87
pique
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| v.伤害…的自尊心，使生气 n.不满，生气 | |
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88
petulant
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| adj.性急的，暴躁的 | |
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89
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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90
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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91
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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92
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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93
penitence
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| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
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94
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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95
sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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96
superstitions
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| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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97
lengthening
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的现在分词 )； 加长 | |
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98
dabbled
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| v.涉猎( dabble的过去式和过去分词 )；涉足；浅尝；少量投资 | |
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99
confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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100
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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101
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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102
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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103
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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104
outstripping
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| v.做得比…更好，（在赛跑等中）超过( outstrip的现在分词 ) | |
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105
importunate
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| adj.强求的；纠缠不休的 | |
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106
marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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107
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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108
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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109
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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110
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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111
tinging
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的现在分词 ) | |
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112
pollen
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| n.[植]花粉 | |
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113
inhaled
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| v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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114
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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115
shimmer
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| v./n.发微光，发闪光；微光 | |
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116
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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117
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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118
wafts
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| n.空中飘来的气味，一阵气味( waft的名词复数 )；摇转风扇v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的第三人称单数 ) | |
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119
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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120
serenest
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| serene（沉静的，宁静的，安宁的）的最高级形式 | |
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121
ruffling
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| 弄皱( ruffle的现在分词 )； 弄乱； 激怒； 扰乱 | |
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122
lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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123
linings
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| n.衬里( lining的名词复数 )；里子；衬料；组织 | |
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124
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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125
ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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126
cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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127
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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128
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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129
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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130
intercepted
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| 拦截( intercept的过去式和过去分词 )； 截住； 截击； 拦阻 | |
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131
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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132
wilful
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| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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133
mutinous
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| adj.叛变的，反抗的；adv.反抗地，叛变地；n.反抗，叛变 | |
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134
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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135
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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136
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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137
perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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138
brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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139
furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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140
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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141
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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142
recede
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| vi.退(去)，渐渐远去；向后倾斜，缩进 | |
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143
pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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144
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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145
scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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146
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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147
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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148
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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149
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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150
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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151
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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152
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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153
charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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154
stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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155
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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156
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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157
encompass
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| vt.围绕，包围；包含，包括；完成 | |
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158
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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159
suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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160
vapors
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| n.水汽，水蒸气，无实质之物( vapor的名词复数 )；自夸者；幻想 [药]吸入剂 [古]忧郁（症）v.自夸，（使）蒸发( vapor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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161
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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162
muffling
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| v.压抑，捂住( muffle的现在分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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163
entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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164
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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165
goodwill
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| n.善意，亲善，信誉，声誉 | |
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166
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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167
warding
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| 监护，守护（ward的现在分词形式） | |
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168
petulantly
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169
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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170
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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171
irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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172
wilfulness
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| 任性；倔强 | |
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173
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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174
perversity
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| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
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175
runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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176
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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177
inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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178
chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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179
plodding
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| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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180
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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181
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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182
elasticity
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| n.弹性，伸缩力 | |
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183
pertinent
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| adj.恰当的；贴切的；中肯的；有关的；相干的 | |
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184
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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185
chirp
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| v.(尤指鸟)唧唧喳喳的叫 | |
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186
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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187
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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188
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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189
chirping
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的现在分词 ) | |
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190
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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191
relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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192
strewed
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| v.撒在…上( strew的过去式和过去分词 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
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193
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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194
alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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195
hopping
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| n. 跳跃 动词hop的现在分词形式 | |
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196
twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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197
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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198
crumb
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| n.饼屑，面包屑，小量 | |
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199
sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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200
emulation
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| n.竞争；仿效 | |
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201
confidingly
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| adv.信任地 | |
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202
crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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203
chirps
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的第三人称单数 )； 啾； 啾啾 | |
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204
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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205
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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206
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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207
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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208
sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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209
mosses
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| n. 藓类, 苔藓植物 名词moss的复数形式 | |
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210
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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211
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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212
persuasive
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| adj.有说服力的，能说得使人相信的 | |
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213
mishap
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| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
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214
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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215
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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216
goaded
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| v.刺激( goad的过去式和过去分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
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217
scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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218
blisters
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| n.水疱( blister的名词复数 )；水肿；气泡 | |
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219
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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220
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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221
diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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222
guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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223
purgatory
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| n.炼狱；苦难；adj.净化的，清洗的 | |
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224
probation
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| n.缓刑(期)，(以观后效的)察看；试用(期) | |
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225
fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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226
confessions
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| n.承认( confession的名词复数 )；自首；声明；（向神父的）忏悔 | |
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227
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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228
chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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229
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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