A June Sunday in the country, radiant, cloudless, odorous with the breath of countless1 blossoms, thrilled with the melody of unnumbered voices, was just beginning. The first blush of morning lay warm upon sky and lake--the splendour above perfectly2 matched by the splendour below,--as Rose Macleod opened her casement3 window fronting the east, and looked out upon the myriad4 tender tints5, the new yet ever familiar harmonies of light and colour with which the world was clothed. The gray walls of the Commodore's home on this side were hung with climbing plants, and as his pretty daughter leaned out of her chamber6 window a dewy branch of roses, loosened from its fastening, struck her softly on the cheek. The touch gave her a thrill, delicately keen--a pleasure, sharp as pain. No life was abroad yet except the birds, but the morning-glories were all awake. She could see their wealth of tender bloom outspread upon the rugged7 heap of rocks, warm with sunshine, that separated between a corner of the flower-smothered turf and the dark shadow of the almost impenetrable woods.
With her golden head drooped8 in drowsy9 meditation10 upon her folded arms she would have made a picture for a painter, a picture rose-tinted and rose-framed. But no painter was there to look upon her except the sun, and his ardent11 attentions becoming altogether too warm to be agreeable he was incontinently shut outside. She turned away with that slight sense of intoxication12 that comes from gazing too long upon the inexpressible beauty of a world that is dimmed only by the complaints and forebodings of querulous humanity. In the cool dimness of the pretty many-windowed room she stood a moment irresolutely13, and then went in search of inspiration to a row of well-used books, over which she ran a pink reflective finger-tip. But nothing there responded to her need. It is a rare book that is worthy14 to hold the attention of maidenhood15 on a June morning.
So, as further slumber16 was impossible, she presently slipped down stairs, and stepped out upon the broad veranda17. Afterwards came the younger children, Herbert and Eva, whose usually bright faces were shadowed now with the consciousness that it was Sunday, a fact that was aggravated18 rather than palliated by the radiant perfection of the weather. The Commodore, who was the most sympathetic soul alive, would, if he could have followed his own unperverted instincts, have had his children as happy on Sunday as on any other day, but it was necessary to make concessions19 to the Puritan spirit of the time, which ruled that a certain degree of discomfort20 and restraint should mark the first day of the week. But every dull look vanished as the father's step was heard, for his was one of those genial21, warm-hearted, caressing22 natures, which are calculated to dispel23 the chill of even an old-fashioned Sunday. There was also a hearty24 brusqueness in the tone of his voice, something of the sea in the swing of his gait, and even in the movement of his full kindly25 gray eye, which could not fail to inspire confidence. His children flew to him at once, laying violent hands upon him, and clinging to his arms with decorously subdued26 shrieks27 of merriment, as he walked briskly to and fro.
"Where's Edward?" he demanded of his eldest28 daughter, as they approached that young lady, who was pensively29 reclining in a rustic30 chair.
"Not up yet, papa," she dreamily responded, uplifting her face for his morning salutation.
"Not awake yet," corrected Herbert, with a boy's unmistakable contempt for the luxurious31 habits of his elders.
"Lazy dog!" commented the Commodore, in a voice whose irateness32 was wholly assumed. "If I had come down late to breakfast when I was young I would have been sent back to bed again."
"That is what Ed. would like," declared Herbert. "He said it was no use calling Sunday a day of rest unless one could get all the rest one wanted, and it was hardly worth while for him to get up at all on a day when he couldn't fish or shoot or go out in his boat."
"The young barbarian33! After all the care and pains expended34 on his bringing up. What shall we do about it, Rosy35?"
"Call him again!" said Herbert, who, with the ever-fertile mind of tender youth, was never destitute36 of practical suggestions.
"Bright boy! run at once and ring the bell just outside his door." As the child departed to make the clangour, so much more delightful37 to his own ears than to those for whom it was intended, Eva observed:
"But he came in so late last night, papa, and looked very tired."
The Commodore patted the head of his little girl, but he continued to direct towards her elder sister a glance of half-humorous inquiry38. Poor Rose knitted her pretty brows in troubled perplexity. She had been informed in the "Advice to Young Women," "Duties of Womanhood," and other ethical39 works of the day, that a sister's influence is illimitable, and she felt besides an added weight of responsibility towards her motherless sister and brothers. "I don't know, papa," she said at last, "unless we all take to the backwoods, live in a wigwam, and feast on the fruits of the chase. Edward chafes40 a good deal under the restraints of civilized41 life."
"Ah, here comes the prodigal42 son!" joyously43 exclaimed Eva, who ran to meet her favourite brother, oblivious44 of the smiles produced by her unflatteringly inapt remark.
"Don't kill any calf45 for me," entreated46 Edward, thrusting his younger sister's straight yellow locks over her face, until it was hard to say where her features ended and the back of her head began. "I deserve it, but I don't like it. Veal47 is my detestation."
"Upon my word," said the old gentleman, looking very hard at a discoloured spot just above the left eye of his eldest born, "it looks as though I had been trying to kill the prodigal instead of the calf. That's a bad bruise48, my boy."
"'Tis, sir," responded Edward, in a tone which implied that meek49 assent50 was all that could be expected from him to a proposition so very self-evident. He felt uncomfortably conscious that the eyes of the assembled family were upon him, and glanced half enviously51 at Eva, as though the ability to shake a sunny mane over one's face at will was something to be thankful for. The breakfast bell roused them from a momentary52 silence, but the shadow of this mysterious bruise seemed to follow them even to the table. Herbert and Eva, aged53 respectively ten and twelve, had that superabundant love of information so characteristic of their tender years. They sat in round-eyed silence, bringing the battery of their glances to bear upon their unfortunate brother, who at last could endure it no longer.
"Upon my life!" he exclaimed, "one would think I was the governor-general, or some wild animal in a menagerie, to become the object of so much concentrated and distinguished54 attention."
"Which would you say he was, Eva?" asked Herbert.
"Which what?" inquired that young lady.
"Sir Peregrine Maitland, or a wild animal?"
"Oh, Sir Peregrine, of course. See what a lofty, scornful way he has of looking at us. And yet he is not really proud; he is willing to sit down with us at our humble55 board, just as though he was a common person."
"Children!" said Rose with soft reproach, but her voice trembled, and the imps56 were subjugated57 only outwardly.
"Really, I can't say. I haven't been over in several days."
"Oh, I imagined you were there last night."
"I never go there at night," protested the young man, with unnecessary vehemence59. It was clear to him now that his father and sister held a very low opinion of him indeed. Probably they thought he had been hurt in some vulgar tavern60 brawl61, or drunken street fight. The idea was loathsome62 to him. He had not a single low taste or trait of character.
"I'm afraid," said Herbert, shaking his head with mock regret, "that you are a very wild fellow."
"He means that you are very fond of the wilds," interpreted Rose, hurriedly endeavouring to avert63 the threatened domestic storm. "Eva," she continued, taking up that irrepressible damsel before she could give utterance64 to the uncalled-for remark, which was but too evidently burning upon her lips, "do you know your catechism?"
"Yes," replied her sister, in rather an aggrieved65 tone, for she did not relish66 this change in the conversation, "I know it--to a certain extent."
"Eva looks as though she would prefer to catechise Edward," slyly interpolated her father; and under this shameless encouragement the young lady boldly observed:
"Indeed, I should. I should like to begin right at the beginning with, 'Can you tell me, dear child, who made you'--have that big black bruise on your brow?"
"I can," responded Edward, imperturbably67. "It was a beautiful little beast, not much bigger than you are, but a great deal prettier."
"Was it, really?" Any offence that might have been taken at the uncomplimentary nature of the reply was swallowed up in eager curiosity. "What was it?"
"Well, that I can't tell you. I never saw anything like it before."
"That's queer," said Herbert. "What colour was it?"
"Oh, black and brown and all the loveliest shades of scarlet--with cruel, little, white teeth, sharp and strong as a squirrel's teeth."
"But it didn't bite you," said Rose, with a puzzled glance at the white brow, whose delicate fairness made the discolouration more conspicuous68.
"Why on earth didn't you shoot it?" questioned the Commodore, rousing himself to the exploration of this new mystery.
The young man laughed a little guiltily. "To tell the truth the idea never once entered my head. You have no idea what beautiful eyes it had."
"Oh--sentimentalist!"
"Yes, I was sentimental71 enough yesterday, but it will be long before I am troubled that way again."
"At any rate," said Herbert, as they drifted back to the shadowing veranda, whose flowery screen the sun had not yet penetrated72, "you can't go to church."
"I wish I could take you all over in my sail-boat," said his elder brother, wistfully surveying the blue waters of Kempenfeldt Bay.
"Ed., you are a heathen," declared Miss Eva, whose usual adoring advocacy of her brother's opinions was paralized by this assault upon the proprieties73; "it's wicked to ride in a boat on Sunday."
"But it's perfectly right to ride in a carriage," added Herbert, with a view to giving information, and not with any satirical intention.
There was no reply. If it is a crime to possess a too great susceptibility to the ever-deepening charm of woods and waters then Edward Macleod was the chief of sinners. In his father he had a secret sympathizer, for the old gentleman himself was not without strong leanings toward a free and careless, if not semi-savage74, life. But no hint of this escaped him in the presence of the younger children, whose air of severe morality, born of renewed attacks and final triumph over the difficulties of the Sunday School lesson, he considered it unwise to disturb.
Church service was not a painfully long or tedious affair. The little wooden structure, erected75 for that purpose in Barrie, had the air of trying to be in sweet accord with the outlying wilderness76, from the dark green drapery of ivy77 which charitably strove to hide its raw newness. The town itself (for in a new country everything in excess of a post-office is called a town) was wrapped in Sabbath stillness. The little church was well filled, for a bright Sunday in a country village draws the inhabitants from their homes as infallibly as bees from their hives. Workers and drones they were all there, bowed together under the sense of a common need, and of faith in a common Helper, which alone makes men free and equal.
Like a light in a dark place gleamed the bright head of Rose Macleod in the farthest corner of the family pew. A vagrant78 sunbeam, like a golden arrow, pierced the gloom about her, but to the disappointment of one interested observer, it failed to reach the rich coils, so nearly resembling it in colour. This observer presently reminded himself that he had come there to worship the divine, as revealed in holy writ79, not in human beauty; nevertheless he could not forbear sending another stealthy glance, which, more accurately80 aimed than the sunbeam, rested fully and lingeringly upon the shadowy recess81, where a glowing amber-golden head bloomed richly forth82 against the frigid83 back-ground of a bare wooden wall. The dainty little lady, enveloped84 in the antique richness of a stiff brocade, should have been made aware by some mysteriously occult means of a strange thrill at the heart, caused by the protracted85 gaze of a handsome fellow-worshipper, but to tell the truth her thoughts were piously86 intent upon the enormity of her own sins, and the necessity of reclaiming87 her brother from the very literal wildness of his ways.
Service was over; the still air seemed vibrant88 with the notes of the last hymn89, and tender with the just-uttered words of the benediction90, as this stately little damsel, with the peculiar91 air of distinction which set so charmingly upon her doll-like personality, passed down the aisle92 and out into the sunshine. She had looked on him--she had been conscious of his existence; but it was seemingly in the same way that she had noticed the wooden pews against which her rich little robe was trailing, and the floor which felt the pressure of her dainty feet. Allan Dunlop standing93 among the outcoming worshippers, whose greetings he mechanically responded to, silently anathematized the soulless edict of society, which forbids a man to stand and gaze after a vanishing vision in feminine form. The receding94 figure was not wholly unconscious, however, of the mute homage95 of which she had been the recipient96.
A few hours later this lovely possessor of all the graces and virtues97, according to the newly-awakened imagination of her unknown admirer, reclined in her shell-pink apartment, in which the breezes blowing through the lattice sounded like the andante of the sea, and sighed for the forbidden fruit of a half-finished novel. But the sigh perished with the breath that gave it birth. The next moment she sternly doubled a very diminutive98 fist, and demanded of herself whether that was the best use that could be made of her time and opportunities. Then she looked about for some missionary99 work. It was not far to seek, for the children, weary of purposeless drifting on the still monotonous100 tide of Sunday afternoon, came battering101 at her door with united hands and voices, demanding a story. In the midst of her recital102 she suddenly bethought herself of Edward and inquired after his whereabouts.
"Roaming up and down the strawberry patch," said Eva.
"Seeking what he may devour," added her brother, unconsciously giving a scriptural turn to his information.
"For shame, Herbert!"
"Shame enough! He never offered me one."
The subject of this discussion passed the open door shortly after and looked rather forlornly in upon the interested trio. On his way upstairs a casement window that stood ajar swung softly open as he passed it, touched by the invisible fingers of the breeze; and the young man was not comforted by the picture suddenly revealed to him--the picture of a slim shape in a light canoe darting103 bird-like over the water. Rose felt a vague pang104 of pity, but had no opportunity to go to him. Her ministrations were in active demand by the younger pair from whom she was unable to free herself until twilight105 fell, when they voluntarily resigned her to a need greater than their own. On many a summer night in years past they had seen their father and mother pace the winding106 length of the avenue together. Now, when the tender gloom of evening was beginning, and the solitary107 figure of the Commodore was seen going with drooped head toward his favourite walk, it was Rose who ran with eager step to take the vacant place at his side. If his heart was saddened by that shadowy presence, which walks at eventide by the side of him who is bereaved108, it could not be wholly cast down so long as warm clinging hands were about his arm, a bright face looking up into his, and a clear voice, from which every note of sadness was excluded, murmuring a thousand entertaining nothings in his ear.
If Rose was a never-failing fountain of alluring109 fiction to Herbert and Eva, and the comfort of life to her father, she was the sympathizing confidante of her elder brother, who unburdened his heart to her in a private interview just before retiring.
"But what under the sun made you kiss her?" inquired this practical young lady.
"Oh, murder, Rose, what a question! What under the sun makes one taste a peach or pluck a flower?"
"But if the peach or the flower does not belong to you? Well, I'll not lecture you, Edward; you have sufficiently110 expiated111 your offence."
"I never dreamed," returned the delinquent112, "that a kiss for a blow, which is the Christian's rule of morals, could be translated by the poor savage into a blow for a kiss."
"Probably you terrified her. That old chief has brought her up in the belief that the white man is a compound of all the vices113."
"Well, she behaved as though I might be that. She never paused to consider the ruin she had wrought114, but darted115 off like a flash of lightning."
Rose laughed; but after she departed the smile upon her brother's face quickly vanished. Not that the bruise on his brow was so severe, but he found it impossible to forgive the blow to his vanity.
"Beautiful little brute!" he muttered under his breath, "I haven't done with her yet. She'll live to give me something prettier than this in return for my caresses116."
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1
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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irresolutely
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| adv.优柔寡断地 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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maidenhood
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| n. 处女性, 处女时代 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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aggravated
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| 使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使更严重； 激怒； 使恼火 | |
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concessions
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| n.（尤指由政府或雇主给予的）特许权( concession的名词复数 )；承认；减价；（在某地的）特许经营权 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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dispel
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| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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irateness
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| n.irate（发怒的，愤怒的，盛怒的；被激怒的）的变形 | |
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barbarian
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| n.野蛮人；adj.野蛮(人)的；未开化的 | |
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expended
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| v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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ethical
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| adj.伦理的，道德的，合乎道德的 | |
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chafes
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的第三人称单数 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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veal
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| n.小牛肉 | |
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bruise
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| n.青肿，挫伤；伤痕；vt.打青；挫伤 | |
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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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enviously
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| adv.满怀嫉妒地 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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imps
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| n.（故事中的）小恶魔( imp的名词复数 )；小魔鬼；小淘气；顽童 | |
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subjugated
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| v.征服，降伏( subjugate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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brawl
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| n.大声争吵，喧嚷；v.吵架，对骂 | |
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loathsome
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| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
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avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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64
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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66
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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67
imperturbably
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| adv.泰然地，镇静地，平静地 | |
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68
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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69
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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70
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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72
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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73
proprieties
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| n.礼仪，礼节；礼貌( propriety的名词复数 )；规矩；正当；合适 | |
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74
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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75
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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76
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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77
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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78
vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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79
writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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81
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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83
frigid
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| adj.寒冷的，凛冽的；冷淡的；拘禁的 | |
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84
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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85
protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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86
piously
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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87
reclaiming
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| v.开拓( reclaim的现在分词 )；要求收回；从废料中回收（有用的材料）；挽救 | |
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88
vibrant
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| adj.震颤的，响亮的，充满活力的，精力充沛的，(色彩)鲜明的 | |
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89
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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90
benediction
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| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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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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receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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recipient
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| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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99
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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100
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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101
battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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102
recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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103
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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104
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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105
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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106
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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107
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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108
bereaved
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| adj.刚刚丧失亲人的v.使失去（希望、生命等）( bereave的过去式和过去分词)；（尤指死亡）使丧失（亲人、朋友等）；使孤寂；抢走（财物） | |
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109
alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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110
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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111
expiated
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| v.为（所犯罪过）接受惩罚，赎（罪）( expiate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112
delinquent
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| adj.犯法的，有过失的；n.违法者 | |
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113
vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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114
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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115
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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116
caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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