Stephen had brought a change of clothes, as he had a habit of being ducked once at least during the day; and since there was a halt in the proceedings1 and no need of his services for an hour or two, he found Rose and walked with her to a secluded2 spot where they could watch the logs and not be seen by the people.
"You frightened everybody almost to death, jumping into the river," chided Rose.
Stephen laughed. "They thought I was a fool to save a fool, I suppose."
"Perhaps not as bad as that, but it did seem reckless."
"I know; and the boy, no doubt, would be better off dead; but so should I be, if I could have let him die."
Rose regarded this strange point of view for a moment, and then silently acquiesced3 in it. She was constantly doing this, and she often felt that her mental horizon broadened in the act; but she could not be sure that Stephen grew any dearer to her because of his moral altitudes.
"Besides," Stephen argued, "I happened to be nearest to the river, and it was my job."
"How do you always happen to be nearest to the people in trouble, and why is it always your 'job'?"
"If there are any rewards for good conduct being distributed, I'm right in line with my hand stretched out," Stephen replied, with meaning in his voice.
Rose blushed under her flowery hat as he led the way to a bench under a sycamore tree that overhung the water.
She had almost convinced herself that she was as much in love with Stephen Waterman as it was in her nature to be with anybody. He was handsome in his big way, kind, generous, temperate4, well educated, and well-to-do. No fault could be found with his family, for his mother had been a teacher, and his father, though a farmer, a college graduate. Stephen himself had had one year at Bowdoin, but had been recalled, as the head of the house, when his father died. That was a severe blow; but his mother's death, three years after, was a grief never to be quite forgotten. Rose, too, was the child of a gently bred mother, and all her instincts were refined. Yes; Stephen in himself satisfied her in all the larger wants of her nature, but she had an unsatisfied hunger for the world,--the world of Portland, where her cousins lived; or, better still, the world of Boston, of which she heard through Mrs. Wealthy Brooks5, whose nephew Claude often came to visit her in Edgewood. Life on a farm a mile and a half distant from post-office and stores; life in the house with Rufus, who was rumored6 to be somewhat wild and unsteady,--this prospect7 seemed a trifle dull and uneventful to the trivial part of her, though to the better part it was enough. The better part of her loved Stephen Waterman, dimly feeling the richness of his nature, the tenderness of his affection, the strength of his character. Rose was not destitute8 either of imagination or sentiment. She did not relish9 this constant weighing of Stephen in the balance: he was too good to be weighed and considered. She longed to be carried out of herself on a wave of rapturous assent10, but something seemed to hold her back,--some seed of discontent with the man's environment and circumstances, some germ of longing11 for a gayer, brighter, more varied12 life. No amount of self-searching or argument could change the situation. She always loved Stephen more or less: more when he was away from her, because she never approved his collars nor the set of his shirt bosom13; and as he naturally wore these despised articles of apparel whenever he proposed to her, she was always lukewarm about marrying him and settling down on the River Farm. Still, today she discovered in herself, with positive gratitude15, a warmer feeling for him than she had experienced before. He wore a new and becoming gray flannel16 shirt, with the soft turn-over collar that belonged to it, and a blue tie, the color of his kind eyes. She knew that he had shaved his beard at her request not long ago, and that when she did not like the effect as much as she had hoped, he had meekly17 grown a mustache for her sake; it did seem as if a man could hardly do more to please an exacting18 ladylove.
And she had admired him unreservedly when he pulled off his boots and jumped into the river to save Alcestis Crambry's life, without giving a single thought to his own.
And was there ever, after all, such a noble, devoted20, unselfish fellow, or a better brother? And would she not despise herself for rejecting him simply because he was countrified, and because she longed to see the world of the fashion plates in the magazines?
"The logs are so like people!" she exclaimed as they sat down. "I could name nearly every one of them for somebody in the village. Look at Mite21 Shapley, that dancing little one, slipping over the falls and skimming along the top of the water, keeping out of all the deep places, and never once touching22 the rocks."
Stephen fell into her mood. "There's Squire23 Anderson coming down crosswise and bumping everything in reach. You know he's always buying lumber24 and logs without knowing what he is going to do with them. They just lie and rot by the roadside. The boys always say that a toadstool is the old Squire's 'mark' on a log."
"And that stout25, clumsy one is Short Dennett.--What are you doing, Stephen?"
"Only building a fence round this clump26 of harebells," Stephen replied. "They've just got well rooted, and if the boys come skidding27 down the bank with their spiked28 shoes, the poor things will never hold up their heads again. Now they're safe.--Oh, look, Rose! There come the minister and his wife!"
A portly couple of peeled logs, exactly matched in size, came ponderously29 over the falls together, rose within a second of each other, joined again, and swept under the bridge side by side.
"And--oh! oh!--Dr. and Mrs. Cram19 just after them! Isn't that funny?" laughed Rose, as a very long, slender pair of pines swam down, as close to each other as if they had been glued in that position. Rose thought, as she watched them, who but Stephen would have cared what became of the clump of delicate harebells. How gentle such a man would be to a woman! How tender his touch would be if she were ill or in trouble!
Several single logs followed,--crooked ones, stolid30 ones, adventurous31 ones, feeble swimmers, deep divers32. Some of them tried to start a small jam on their own account; others stranded33 themselves for good and all, as Rose and Stephen sat there side by side, with little Dan Cupid for an invisible third on the bench.
"There never was anything so like people," Rose repeated, leaning forward excitedly. "And, upon my word, the minister and doctor couples are still together. I wonder if they'll get as far as the fails at Union? That would be an odd place to part, would n't it--Union?"
Stephen saw his opportunity, and seized it.
"There's a reason, Rose, why two logs go downstream better than one, and get into less trouble. They make a wider path, create more force and a better current. It's the same way with men and women. Oh, Rose, there is n't a man in the world that's loved you as long, or knows how to love you any better than I do. You're just like a white birch sapling, and I'm a great, clumsy fir tree; but if you 'll only trust yourself to me, Rose, I'll take you safely down- river."
Stephen's big hand closed on Rose's little one; she returned its pressure softly and gave him the kiss that with her, as with him, meant a promise for all the years to come. The truth and passion in the man had broken the girl's bonds for the moment. Her vision was clearer, and, realizing the treasures of love and fidelity34 that were being offered her, she accepted them, half unconscious that she was not returning them in kind. How is the belle35 of two villages to learn that she should "thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's love"?
And Stephen? He went home in the dusk, not knowing whether his feet were touching the solid earth or whether he was treading upon rainbows.
Rose's pink calico seemed to brush him as he walked in the path that was wide enough only for one. His solitude36 was peopled again when he fed the cattle, for Rose's face smiled at him from the haymow; and when he strained the milk, Rose held the pans.
His nightly tasks over, he went out and took his favorite seat under the apple tree. All was still, save for the crickets' ceaseless chirp37, the soft thud of an August sweeting dropping in the grass, and the swish-swash of the water against his boat, tethered in the Willow38 Cove14.
He remembered when he first saw Rose, for that must have been when he began to love her, though he was only fourteen and quite unconscious that the first seed had been dropped in the rich soil of his boyish heart.
He was seated on the kerosene39 barrel in the Edgewood post-office, which was also the general country store, where newspapers, letters, molasses, nails, salt codfish, hairpins40, sugar, liver pills, canned goods, beans, and ginghams dwelt in genial41 proximity42. When she entered, just a little pink-and-white slip of a thing with a tin pail in her hand and a sunbonnet falling off her wavy43 hair, Stephen suddenly stopped swinging his feet. She gravely announced her wants, reading them from a bit of paper,--1 quart molasses, 1 package ginger44, 1 lb. cheese, 2 pairs shoe laces, 1 card shirt buttons.
While the storekeeper drew off the molasses she exchanged shy looks with Stephen, who, clean, well-dressed, and carefully mothered as he was, felt all at once uncouth45 and awkward, rather as if he were some clumsy lout46 pitch- forked into the presence of a fairy queen. He offered her the little bunch of bachelor's buttons he held in his hand, augury47 of the future, had he known it,--and she accepted them with a smile. She dropped her memorandum48; he picked it up, and she smiled again, doing still more fatal damage than in the first instance. No words were spoken, but Rose, even at ten, had less need of them than most of her sex, for her dimples, aided by dancing eyes, length of lashes49, and curve of lips, quite took the place of conversation. The dimples tempted50, assented51, denied, corroborated52, deplored53, protested, sympathized, while the intoxicated54 beholder55 cudgeled his brain for words or deeds which should provoke and evoke56 more and more dimples.
The storekeeper hung the molasses pail over Rose's right arm and tucked the packages under her left, and as he opened the mosquito-netting door to let her pass out she looked back at Stephen, perched on the kerosene barrel, just a little girl, a little glance, a little dimple, and Stephen was never quite the same again. The years went on, and the boy became man, yet no other image had ever troubled the deep, placid57 waters of his heart. Now, after many denials, the hopes and longings58 of his nature had been answered, and Rose had promised to marry him. He would sacrifice his passion for logging and driving in the future, and become a staid farmer and man of affairs, only giving himself a river holiday now and then. How still and peaceful it was under the trees, and how glad his mother would be to think that the old farm would wake from its sleep, and a woman's light foot be heard in the sunny kitchen!
Heaven was full of silent stars, and there was a moonglade on the water that stretched almost from him to Rose. His heart embarked59 on that golden pathway and sailed on it to the farther shore. The river was free of logs, and under the light of the moon it shone like a silver mirror. The soft wind among the fir branches breathed Rose's name; the river, rippling60 against the shore, sang "Rose "; and as Stephen sat there dreaming of the future, his dreams, too, could have been voiced in one word, and that word "Rose."
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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acquiesced
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| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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temperate
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| adj.温和的，温带的，自我克制的，不过分的 | |
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brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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rumored
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| adj.传说的，谣传的v.传闻( rumor的过去式和过去分词 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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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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assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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cram
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| v.填塞，塞满，临时抱佛脚，为考试而学习 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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mite
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| n.极小的东西；小铜币 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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skidding
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| n.曳出，集材v.（通常指车辆） 侧滑( skid的现在分词 )；打滑；滑行；（住在）贫民区 | |
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spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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ponderously
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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divers
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| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
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stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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belle
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| n.靓女 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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chirp
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| v.(尤指鸟)唧唧喳喳的叫 | |
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willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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hairpins
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| n.发夹( hairpin的名词复数 ) | |
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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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proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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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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ginger
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| n.姜，精力，淡赤黄色；adj.淡赤黄色的；vt.使活泼，使有生气 | |
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uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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lout
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| n.粗鄙的人；举止粗鲁的人 | |
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augury
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| n.预言，征兆，占卦 | |
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memorandum
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| n.备忘录，便笺 | |
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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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50
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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51
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
corroborated
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| v.证实，支持（某种说法、信仰、理论等）( corroborate的过去式 ) | |
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53
deplored
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| v.悲叹，痛惜，强烈反对( deplore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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55
beholder
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| n.观看者，旁观者 | |
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56
evoke
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| vt.唤起，引起，使人想起 | |
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57
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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58
longings
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| 渴望，盼望( longing的名词复数 ) | |
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59
embarked
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| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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60
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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