ONE afternoon toward the end of August a group of girlssat in a room at Miss Hatchard's in a gay confusion offlags, turkey-red, blue and white paper muslin, harvestsheaves and illuminated2 scrolls3.
North Dormer was preparing for its Old Home Week. Thatform of sentimental4 decentralization was still in itsearly stages, and, precedents5 being few, and the desireto set an example contagious6, the matter had become asubject of prolonged and passionate7 discussion underMiss Hatchard's roof. The incentive8 to the celebrationhad come rather from those who had left North Dormerthan from those who had been obliged to stay there, andthere was some difficulty in rousing the village to theproper state of enthusiasm. But Miss Hatchard's paleprim drawing-room was the centre of constant comingsand goings from Hepburn, Nettleton, Springfield andeven more distant cities; and whenever a visitorarrived he was led across the hall, and treated toa glimpse of the group of girls deep in their prettypreparations.
"All the old names...all the old names...." MissHatchard would be heard, tapping across the hall on hercrutches. "Targatt...Sollas...Fry: this is Miss OrmaFry sewing the stars on the drapery for the organ-loft.
Don't move, girls....and this is Miss Ally Hawes, ourcleverest needle-woman...and Miss Charity Royall makingour garlands of evergreen11....I like the idea of its allbeing homemade, don't you? We haven't had to call inany foreign talent: my young cousin Lucius Harney, thearchitect--you know he's up here preparing a book onColonial houses--he's taken the whole thing in hand socleverly; but you must come and see his sketch12 for thestage we're going to put up in the Town Hall."One of the first results of the Old Home Week agitationhad, in fact, been the reappearance of Lucius Harney inthe village street. He had been vaguely14 spoken of asbeing not far off, but for some weeks past no one hadseen him at North Dormer, and there was a recent reportof his having left Creston River, where he was said tohave been staying, and gone away from the neighbourhoodfor good. Soon after Miss Hatchard's return,however, he came back to his old quarters in her house,and began to take a leading part in the planning of thefestivities. He threw himself into the idea withextraordinary good-humour, and was so prodigal16 ofsketches, and so inexhaustible in devices, that he gavean immediate17 impetus18 to the rather languid movement,and infected the whole village with his enthusiasm.
"Lucius has such a feeling for the past that he hasroused us all to a sense of our privileges," MissHatchard would say, lingering on the last word, whichwas a favourite one. And before leading her visitorback to the drawing-room she would repeat, for thehundredth time, that she supposed he thought it verybold of little North Dormer to start up and have a HomeWeek of its own, when so many bigger places hadn'tthought of it yet; but that, after all, Associationscounted more than the size of the population, didn'tthey? And of course North Dormer was so full ofAssociations...historic, literary (here a filial sighfor Honorius) and ecclesiastical...he knew about theold pewter communion service imported from England in1769, she supposed? And it was so important, in awealthy materialistic19 age, to set the example ofreverting to the old ideals, the family and thehomestead, and so on. This peroration20 usually carriedher half-way back across the hall, leaving the girls toreturn to their interrupted activities.
The day on which Charity Royall was weaving hemlockgarlands for the procession was the last before thecelebration. When Miss Hatchard called upon the NorthDormer maidenhood22 to collaborate23 in the festalpreparations Charity had at first held aloof24; but ithad been made clear to her that her non-appearancemight excite conjecture25, and, reluctantly, she hadjoined the other workers. The girls, at first shy andembarrassed, and puzzled as to the exact nature of theprojected commemoration, had soon become interested inthe amusing details of their task, and excited by thenotice they received. They would not for the worldhave missed their afternoons at Miss Hatchard's, and,while they cut out and sewed and draped and pasted,their tongues kept up such an accompaniment to thesewing-machine that Charity's silence sheltered itselfunperceived under their chatter26.
In spirit she was still almost unconscious of thepleasant stir about her. Since her return to thered house, on the evening of the day when Harney hadovertaken her on her way to the Mountain, she had livedat North Dormer as if she were suspended in the void.
She had come back there because Harney, after appearingto agree to the impossibility of her doing so, hadended by persuading her that any other course would bemadness. She had nothing further to fear from Mr.
Royall. Of this she had declared herself sure, thoughshe had failed to add, in his exoneration27, that he hadtwice offered to make her his wife. Her hatred28 of himmade it impossible, at the moment, for her to sayanything that might partly excuse him in Harney's eyes.
Harney, however, once satisfied of her security, hadfound plenty of reasons for urging her to return. Thefirst, and the most unanswerable, was that she hadnowhere else to go. But the one on which he laid thegreatest stress was that flight would be equivalent toavowal. If--as was almost inevitable--rumours of thescandalous scene at Nettleton should reach NorthDormer, how else would her disappearance29 beinterpreted? Her guardian30 had publicly taken away hercharacter, and she immediately vanished from hishouse. Seekers after motives31 could hardly fail todraw an unkind conclusion. But if she came back atonce, and was seen leading her usual life, the incidentwas reduced to its true proportions, as the outbreak ofa drunken old man furious at being surprised indisreputable company. People would say that Mr. Royallhad insulted his ward1 to justify32 himself, and thesordid tale would fall into its place in the chronicleof his obscure debaucheries.
Charity saw the force of the argument; but if sheacquiesced it was not so much because of that asbecause it was Harney's wish. Since that evening inthe deserted33 house she could imagine no reason fordoing or not doing anything except the fact that Harneywished or did not wish it. All her tossingcontradictory impulses were merged34 in a fatalisticacceptance of his will. It was not that she felt inhim any ascendancy35 of character--there were momentsalready when she knew she was the stronger--but thatall the rest of life had become a mere36 cloudy rim9 aboutthe central glory of their passion. Whenever shestopped thinking about that for a moment she felt asshe sometimes did after lying on the grass and staringup too long at the sky; her eyes were so full oflight that everything about her was a blur37.
Each time that Miss Hatchard, in the course of herperiodical incursions into the work-room, dropped anallusion to her young cousin, the architect, the effectwas the same on Charity. The hemlock21 garland she waswearing fell to her knees and she sat in a kind oftrance. It was so manifestly absurd that Miss Hatchardshould talk of Harney in that familiar possessive way,as if she had any claim on him, or knew anything abouthim. She, Charity Royall, was the only being on earthwho really knew him, knew him from the soles of hisfeet to the rumpled38 crest15 of his hair, knew theshifting lights in his eyes, and the inflexions of hisvoice, and the things he liked and disliked, andeverything there was to know about him, as minutely andyet unconsciously as a child knows the walls of theroom it wakes up in every morning. It was this fact,which nobody about her guessed, or would haveunderstood, that made her life something apart andinviolable, as if nothing had any power to hurt ordisturb her as long as her secret was safe.
The room in which the girls sat was the one which hadbeen Harney's bedroom. He had been sent upstairs,to make room for the Home Week workers; but thefurniture had not been moved, and as Charity sat thereshe had perpetually before her the vision she hadlooked in on from the midnight garden. The table atwhich Harney had sat was the one about which the girlswere gathered; and her own seat was near the bed onwhich she had seen him lying. Sometimes, when theothers were not looking, she bent39 over as if to pick upsomething, and laid her cheek for a moment against thepillow.
Toward sunset the girls disbanded. Their work wasdone, and the next morning at daylight the draperiesand garlands were to be nailed up, and the illuminatedscrolls put in place in the Town Hall. The firstguests were to drive over from Hepburn in time for themidday banquet under a tent in Miss Hatchard's field;and after that the ceremonies were to begin. MissHatchard, pale with fatigue40 and excitement, thanked heryoung assistants, and stood in the porch, leaning onher crutches10 and waving a farewell as she watched themtroop away down the street.
Charity had slipped off among the first; but at thegate she heard Ally Hawes calling after her, andreluctantly turned.
"Will you come over now and try on your dress?"Ally asked, looking at her with wistful admiration41. "Iwant to be sure the sleeves don't ruck up the same asthey did yesterday."Charity gazed at her with dazzled eyes. "Oh, it'slovely," she said, and hastened away without listeningto Ally's protest. She wanted her dress to be aspretty as the other girls'--wanted it, in fact, tooutshine the rest, since she was to take part in the"exercises"--but she had no time just then to fix hermind on such matters....
She sped up the street to the library, of which she hadthe key about her neck. From the passage at the backshe dragged forth42 a bicycle, and guided it to the edgeof the street. She looked about to see if any of thegirls were approaching; but they had drifted awaytogether toward the Town Hall, and she sprang into thesaddle and turned toward the Creston road. There wasan almost continual descent to Creston, and with herfeet against the pedals she floated through the stillevening air like one of the hawks43 she had often watchedslanting downward on motionless wings. Twenty minutesfrom the time when she had left Miss Hatchard's doorshe was turning up the wood-road on which Harneyhad overtaken her on the day of her flight; and a fewminutes afterward44 she had jumped from her bicycle atthe gate of the deserted house.
In the gold-powdered sunset it looked more than everlike some frail45 shell dried and washed by many seasons;but at the back, whither Charity advanced, drawing herbicycle after her, there were signs of recenthabitation. A rough door made of boards hung in thekitchen doorway46, and pushing it open she entered a roomfurnished in primitive47 camping fashion. In the windowwas a table, also made of boards, with an earthenwarejar holding a big bunch of wild asters, two canvaschairs stood near by, and in one corner was a mattresswith a Mexican blanket over it.
The room was empty, and leaning her bicycle against thehouse Charity clambered up the slope and sat down on arock under an old apple-tree. The air was perfectlystill, and from where she sat she would be able to hearthe tinkle49 of a bicycle-bell a long way down theroad....
She was always glad when she got to the little housebefore Harney. She liked to have time to take in everydetail of its secret sweetness--the shadows of theapple-trees swaying on the grass, the old walnutsrounding their domes50 below the road, the meadowssloping westward51 in the afternoon light--before hisfirst kiss blotted52 it all out. Everything unrelated tothe hours spent in that tranquil53 place was as faint asthe remembrance of a dream. The only reality was thewondrous unfolding of her new self, the reaching out tothe light of all her contracted tendrils. She hadlived all her life among people whose sensibilitiesseemed to have withered54 for lack of use; and morewonderful, at first, than Harney's endearments55 were thewords that were a part of them. She had always thoughtof love as something confused and furtive56, and he madeit as bright and open as the summer air.
On the morrow of the day when she had shown him the wayto the deserted house he had packed up and left CrestonRiver for Boston; but at the first station he hadjumped on the train with a hand-bag and scrambled57 upinto the hills. For two golden rainless August weekshe had camped in the house, getting eggs and milk fromthe solitary58 farm in the valley, where no one knew him,and doing his cooking over a spirit-lamp. He got upevery day with the sun, took a plunge59 in a brown poolhe knew of, and spent long hours lying in thescented hemlock-woods above the house, or wanderingalong the yoke60 of the Eagle Ridge61, far above the mistyblue valleys that swept away east and west between theendless hills. And in the afternoon Charity came tohim.
With part of what was left of her savings62 she had hireda bicycle for a month, and every day after dinner, assoon as her guardian started to his office, she hurriedto the library, got out her bicycle, and flew down theCreston road. She knew that Mr. Royall, like everyoneelse in North Dormer, was perfectly48 aware of heracquisition: possibly he, as well as the rest of thevillage, knew what use she made of it. She did notcare: she felt him to be so powerless that if he hadquestioned her she would probably have told him thetruth. But they had never spoken to each other sincethe night on the wharf63 at Nettleton. He had returnedto North Dormer only on the third day after thatencounter, arriving just as Charity and Verena weresitting down to supper. He had drawn64 up his chair,taken his napkin from the side-board drawer, pulled itout of its ring, and seated himself as unconcernedly asif he had come in from his usual afternoon sessionat Carrick Fry's; and the long habit of the householdmade it seem almost natural that Charity should not somuch as raise her eyes when he entered. She had simplylet him understand that her silence was not accidentalby leaving the table while he was still eating, andgoing up without a word to shut herself into her room.
After that he formed the habit of talking loudly andgenially to Verena whenever Charity was in the room;but otherwise there was no apparent change in theirrelations.
She did not think connectedly of these things while shesat waiting for Harney, but they remained in her mindas a sullen65 background against which her short hourswith him flamed out like forest fires. Nothing elsemattered, neither the good nor the bad, or what mighthave seemed so before she knew him. He had caught herup and carried her away into a new world, from which,at stated hours, the ghost of her came back to performcertain customary acts, but all so thinly andinsubstantially that she sometimes wondered that thepeople she went about among could see her....
Behind the swarthy Mountain the sun had gone down inwaveless gold. From a pasture up the slope atinkle of cow-bells sounded; a puff66 of smoke hung overthe farm in the valley, trailed on the pure air and wasgone. For a few minutes, in the clear light that isall shadow, fields and woods were outlined with anunreal precision; then the twilight67 blotted them out,and the little house turned gray and spectral68 under itswizened apple-branches.
Charity's heart contracted. The first fall of nightafter a day of radiance often gave her a sense ofhidden menace: it was like looking out over the worldas it would be when love had gone from it. Shewondered if some day she would sit in that same placeand watch in vain for her lover....
His bicycle-bell sounded down the lane, and in a minuteshe was at the gate and his eyes were laughing in hers.
They walked back through the long grass, and pushedopen the door behind the house. The room at firstseemed quite dark and they had to grope their way inhand in hand. Through the window-frame the sky lookedlight by contrast, and above the black mass of astersin the earthen jar one white star glimmered69 like amoth.
"There was such a lot to do at the last minute," Harneywas explaining, "and I had to drive down toCreston to meet someone who has come to stay with mycousin for the show."He had his arms about her, and his kisses were in herhair and on her lips. Under his touch things deep downin her struggled to the light and sprang up likeflowers in sunshine. She twisted her fingers into his,and they sat down side by side on the improvised70 couch.
She hardly heard his excuses for being late: in hisabsence a thousand doubts tormented71 her, but as soon ashe appeared she ceased to wonder where he had comefrom, what had delayed him, who had kept him from her.
It seemed as if the places he had been in, and thepeople he had been with, must cease to exist when heleft them, just as her own life was suspended in hisabsence.
He continued, now, to talk to her volubly and gaily,deploring his lateness, grumbling72 at the demands on histime, and good-humouredly mimicking73 Miss Hatchard'sbenevolent agitation13. "She hurried off Miles to askMr. Royall to speak at the Town Hall tomorrow: I didn'tknow till it was done." Charity was silent, and headded: "After all, perhaps it's just as well. No oneelse could have done it."Charity made no answer: She did not care what parther guardian played in the morrow's ceremonies. Likeall the other figures peopling her meagre world he hadgrown non-existent to her. She had even put off hatinghim.
"Tomorrow I shall only see you from far off," Harneycontinued. "But in the evening there'll be the dancein the Town Hall. Do you want me to promise not todance with any other girl?"Any other girl? Were there any others? She hadforgotten even that peril74, so enclosed did he and sheseem in their secret world. Her heart gave afrightened jerk.
"Yes, promise."He laughed and took her in his arms. "You goose--noteven if they're hideous75?"He pushed the hair from her forehead, bending her faceback, as his way was, and leaning over so that his headloomed black between her eyes and the paleness of thesky, in which the white star floated...
Side by side they sped back along the dark wood-road tothe village. A late moon was rising, full orbed andfiery, turning the mountain ranges from fluid grayto a massive blackness, and making the upper sky solight that the stars looked as faint as their ownreflections in water. At the edge of the wood, half amile from North Dormer, Harney jumped from his bicycle,took Charity in his arms for a last kiss, and thenwaited while she went on alone.
They were later than usual, and instead of taking thebicycle to the library she propped76 it against the backof the wood-shed and entered the kitchen of the redhouse. Verena sat there alone; when Charity came inshe looked at her with mild impenetrable eyes and thentook a plate and a glass of milk from the shelf and setthem silently on the table. Charity nodded her thanks,and sitting down, fell hungrily upon her piece of pieand emptied the glass. Her face burned with her quickflight through the night, and her eyes were dazzled bythe twinkle of the kitchen lamp. She felt like anight-bird suddenly caught and caged.
"He ain't come back since supper," Verena said. "He'sdown to the Hall."Charity took no notice. Her soul was still wingingthrough the forest. She washed her plate and tumbler,and then felt her way up the dark stairs. When sheopened her door a wonder arrested her. Before goingout she had closed her shutters77 against the afternoonheat, but they had swung partly open, and a bar ofmoonlight, crossing the room, rested on her bed andshowed a dress of China silk laid out on it in virginwhiteness. Charity had spent more than she couldafford on the dress, which was to surpass those of allthe other girls; she had wanted to let North Dormer seethat she was worthy78 of Harney's admiration. Above thedress, folded on the pillow, was the white veil whichthe young women who took part in the exercises were towear under a wreath of asters; and beside the veil apair of slim white satin shoes that Ally had producedfrom an old trunk in which she stored mysterioustreasures.
Charity stood gazing at all the outspread whiteness. Itrecalled a vision that had come to her in the nightafter her first meeting with Harney. She no longer hadsuch visions...warmer splendours had displacedthem...but it was stupid of Ally to have paraded allthose white things on her bed, exactly as HattieTargatt's wedding dress from Springfield had beenspread out for the neighbours to see when she marriedTom Fry....
Charity took up the satin shoes and looked at themcuriously. By day, no doubt, they would appear alittle worn, but in the moonlight they seemed carved ofivory. She sat down on the floor to try them on, andthey fitted her perfectly, though when she stood up shelurched a little on the high heels. She looked down ather feet, which the graceful79 mould of the slippers80 hadmarvellously arched and narrowed. She had never seensuch shoes before, even in the shop-windows atNettleton...never, except...yes, once, she had noticeda pair of the same shape on Annabel Balch.
A blush of mortification81 swept over her. Allysometimes sewed for Miss Balch when that brilliantbeing descended82 on North Dormer, and no doubt shepicked up presents of cast-off clothing: the treasuresin the mysterious trunk all came from the people sheworked for; there could be no doubt that the whiteslippers were Annabel Balch's....
As she stood there, staring down moodily83 at her feet,she heard the triple click-click-click of a bicycle-bell under her window. It was Harney's secret signalas he passed on his way home. She stumbled to thewindow on her high heels, flung open the shutters andleaned out. He waved to her and sped by, hisblack shadow dancing merrily ahead of him down theempty moonlit road; and she leaned there watching himtill he vanished under the Hatchard spruces.
收听单词发音 |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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scrolls
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| n.（常用于录写正式文件的）纸卷( scroll的名词复数 )；卷轴；涡卷形（装饰）；卷形花纹v.（电脑屏幕上）从上到下移动（资料等），卷页( scroll的第三人称单数 )；（似卷轴般）卷起；（像展开卷轴般地）将文字显示于屏幕 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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precedents
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| 引用单元； 范例( precedent的名词复数 )； 先前出现的事例； 前例； 先例 | |
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contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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incentive
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| n.刺激；动力；鼓励；诱因；动机 | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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crutches
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| n.拐杖, 支柱 v.支撑 | |
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evergreen
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| n.常青树；adj.四季常青的 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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impetus
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| n.推动，促进，刺激；推动力 | |
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materialistic
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| a.唯物主义的，物质享乐主义的 | |
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peroration
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| n.（演说等之）结论 | |
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hemlock
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| n.毒胡萝卜，铁杉 | |
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maidenhood
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| n. 处女性, 处女时代 | |
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collaborate
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| vi.协作，合作；协调 | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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exoneration
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| n.免罪，免除 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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ascendancy
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| n.统治权，支配力量 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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rumpled
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| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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hawks
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| 鹰( hawk的名词复数 )； 鹰派人物，主战派人物 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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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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49
tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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50
domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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51
westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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52
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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54
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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55
endearments
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| n.表示爱慕的话语，亲热的表示( endearment的名词复数 ) | |
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furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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58
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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64
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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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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improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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71
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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72
grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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mimicking
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| v.（尤指为了逗乐而）模仿( mimic的现在分词 )；酷似 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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75
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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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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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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80
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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81
mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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82
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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