Mr. Peel managed to save a little money out of his earnings5. He took year by year these savings6 to the nearest county bank and invested them to the best of his ability. The bank broke, and in one fell stroke he lost all the savings of a life. This affected7 his health, and he never held up his head or recovered his vigor8 of mind and body again.
He died and two years afterward9 his wife followed him. Priscilla was then fourteen and there were three little sisters several years younger. They were merry little children, strong, healthy, untouched by care. Priscilla, on the contrary, was grave and looked much older than her years.
On the night their mother was buried Aunt Rachel Peel, their father's sister, came from her home far away on the borders of Devonshire, and told the four desolate10 children that she was going to take them away to live on her little farm with her.
Aunt Raby spoke11 in a very frank manner. She concealed12 nothing.
"It's only fair to tell you, Prissie," she said, addressing the tall, gawky girl, who stood with her hands folded in front of her— "it's only fair to tell you that hitherto I've just made two ends meet for one mouth alone, and how I'm to fill four extra ones the Lord knows, but I don't. Still, I'm going to try, for it shall never be said that Andrew Peel's children wanted bread while his sister, Rachel Peel, lived."
"We have none of us big appetites," said Priscilla after a long, solemn pause; "we can do with very little food— very little. The only one who ever is really hungry is Hattie."
Aunt Raby looked up at the pale face, for Prissie was taller than her aunt even then, and said in a shocked voice:
"Good gracious, child! do you think I'd stint13 one of you? You ought all to be hearty14, and I hope you will be. No, no, it isn't that, Prissie, but there'll be no luxuries, so don't you expect them."
"I don't want them," answered Priscilla.
The children all went to Devonshire, and Aunt Raby toiled15, as perhaps no woman had ever toiled before, to put bread into their mouths. Katie had a fever, which made her pale and thin and took away that look of robustness17 which had characterized the little Yorkshire maiden18. Nobody thought about the children's education, and they might have grown up without any were it not for Priscilla, who taught them what she knew herself. Nobody thought Priscilla clever; she had no brilliance19 about her in any way, but she had a great gift for acquiring knowledge. Wherever she went she picked up a fresh fact, or a fresh fancy, or a new idea, and these she turned over and over in her active, strong, young brain until she assimilated them and made them part of herself.
Among the few things that had been saved from her early home there was a box of her father's old books, and as these comprised several of the early poets and essayists, she might have gone further and fared worse.
One day the old clergyman who lived at a small vicarage near called to see Miss Peel. He discovered Priscilla deep over Carlyle's "History of the French Revolution." The young girl had become absorbed in the fascination20 of the wild and terrible tale. Some of the horror of it had got into her eyes as she raised them to return Mr. Hayes' courteous21 greeting. His attention was arrested by the look she gave him. He questioned her about her reading, and presently offered to help her. From this hour Priscilla made rapid progress. She was not taught in the ordinary fashion, but she was being really educated. Her life was full now; she knew nothing about the world, nothing about society. She had no ambitions and she did not trouble herself to look very far ahead. The old classics which she studied from morning till night abundantly satisfied her really strong intellectual nature.
Mr. Hayes allowed her to talk with him, even to argue points with him. He always liked her to draw her own conclusions; he encouraged her really original ideas; he was proud of his pupil, and he grew fond of her. It was not Priscilla's way to say a word about it, but she soon loved the old clergyman as if he were her father.
Some time between her sixteenth and seventeenth birthday that awakening22 came which altered the whole course of her life. It was a summer's day Priscilla was seated in the old wainscoted parlor23 of the cottage, devouring24 a book lent to her by Mr. Hayes on the origin of the Greek drama and occasionally bending to kiss little Katie, who sat curled up in her arms, when the two elder children rushed in with the information that Aunt Raby had suddenly lain flat down in the hayfield, and they thought she was asleep.
Prissie tumbled her book in one direction and Katie in the other. In a moment she was kneeling by Miss Peel's side.
"What is it, Aunt Raby?" she asked tenderly. "Are you ill?"
The tired woman opened her eyes slowly.
"I think I fainted, dear love," she said. "Perhaps it was the heat of the sun."
Priscilla managed to get her back into the house. She grew better presently and seemed something like herself, but that evening the aunt and niece had a long talk, and the next day Prissie went up to see Mr. Hayes.
"I am interested," he said when he saw her enter the room, "to see how you have construed25 that passage in Cicero, Priscilla. You know I warned you of its difficulty."
"Oh, please, sir, don't," said Prissie, holding up her hand with an impatient movement, which she now and then found herself indulging in. "I don't care if Cicero is at the bottom of the sea. I don't want to speak about him or think about him. His day is over, mine is— oh, sir, I beg your pardon."
"Granted, my dear child. Sit down, Prissie. I will forgive your profane26 words about Cicero, for I see you are excited. What is the matter?"
"I want you to help me, Mr. Hayes. Will you help me? You have always been my dear friend, my good friend."
"Of course I will help you. What is wrong? Speak to me fully27."
"Aunt Raby fainted in the hayfield yesterday."
"Indeed? It was a warm day; I am truly concerned. Would she like to see me? Is she better to-day?"
"She is quite well to-day— quite well for the time."
"My dear Priscilla, what a tragic28 face! Your Aunt Raby is not the first woman who has fainted and got out of her faint again and been none the worse."
"That is just the point, Mr. Hayes. Aunt Raby has got out of her faint, but she is the worse."
Mr. Hayes looked hard into his pupil's face. There was no beauty in it. The mouth was wide, the complexion29 dull, the features irregular. Even her eyes— and perhaps they were Prissie's best point— were neither large nor dark; but an expression now filled those eyes and lingered round that mouth which made the old rector feel solemn.
He took one of the girl's thin unformed hands between his own.
"My dear child," he said, "something weighs on your mind. Tell your old friend— your almost father— all that is in your heart."
Thus begged to make a confidence, Priscilla did tell a commonplace, and yet tragic, story. Aunt Raby was affected with an incurable30 illness. It would not kill her soon; she might live for years, but every year she would grow a little weaker and a little less capable of toil16. As long as she lived the little farm belonged to her, but whenever she died it would pass to a distant cousin. Whenever Aunt Raby died, Priscilla and her three sisters would be penniless.
"So I have come to you," continued Prissie, "to say that I must take steps at once to enable me to earn money. I must support Hattie and Rose and Katie whenever Aunt Raby goes. I must earn money as soon as it is possible for a girl to do so, and I must stop dreaming and thinking of nothing but books, for perhaps books and I will have little to say to each other in future."
"That would be sad," replied Mr. Hayes, "for that would be taking a directly opposite direction to the path which Providence31 clearly intends you to walk in."
Priscilla raised her eyes and looked earnestly at the old rector. Then, clasping her hands tightly together, she said with suppressed passion:
"Why do you encourage me to be selfish, Mr. Hayes?"
"I will not," he replied, answering her look; "I will listen patiently to all you have to say. How do you propose to earn bread for yourself and your sisters?"
"I thought of dressmaking."
"Um! Did you— make— the gown you have on?"
"Yes," replied Priscilla, looking down at her ungainly homespun garment.
The rector rose to his feet and smiled in the most sweet and benevolent32 way.
"I am no judge of such matters," he said, "and I may be wrong. But my impression is that the style and cut of that dress would scarcely have a large demand in fashionable quarters."
"Oh, sir!" Prissie blushed all over. "You know I said I should have to learn."
"My dear child," said Mr. Hayes firmly, "when it becomes a question of a woman earning her bread, let her turn to that path where promise lies. There is no promise in the fit of that gown, Prissie. But here— here there is much."
He touched her big forehead lightly with his hand.
"You must not give up your books, my dear," he said, "for, independently of the pleasure they afford, they will also give you bread and butter. Go home now and let me think over matters. Come again to-morrow. I may have important things to say to you."
From this conversation came the results which, shortly after the completion of her eighteenth year, made Priscilla an inmate33 of St. Benet's far-famed college for women. Mr. Hayes left no stone unturned to effect his object. He thought Priscilla could do brilliantly as a teacher, and he resolved that for this purpose she should have the advantages which a collegiate life alone could offer to her. He himself prepared her for her entrance examination, and he and Aunt Raby between them managed the necessary funds to give the girl a three-years' life as a student in these halls of learning.
Prissie knew very little about the money part of the scheme. She only guessed what had become of Aunt Raby's watch and chain; and a spasm34 crossed her face when one day she happened to see that Aunt Raby's poor little jewel case was empty. The jewels and the watch could certainly not fetch much, but they provided Prissie with a modest little outfit35, and Mr. Hayes had got a grant from a loan society, which further lightened expenses for all parties.
Priscilla bade her sisters, her aunt and the old rector good-by and started on her new life with courage.
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1
peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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refinements
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| n.（生活）风雅；精炼( refinement的名词复数 )；改良品；细微的改良；优雅或高贵的动作 | |
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earnings
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| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
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savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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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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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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stint
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| v.节省，限制，停止；n.舍不得化，节约，限制；连续不断的一段时间从事某件事 | |
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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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toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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robustness
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| 坚固性，健壮性；鲁棒性 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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construed
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| v.解释（陈述、行为等）( construe的过去式和过去分词 )；翻译，作句法分析 | |
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profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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inmate
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| n.被收容者；(房屋等的)居住人；住院人 | |
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spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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