Out through a side door which stood open ran Flower, down by the shrubbery, over the stile, and in a few moments she was out again on the wide, wild, lonely moor1 with Polly’s pet pressed close to her beating heart. Long before Nurse had returned to the nursery Flower had reached the moor, and when poor, distracted Nurse discovered her loss, Flower had wriggled2 herself into the middle of a clump3 of young oak-trees, and was fondling and petting little Pearl, who sat upright on her knee. From her hiding-place Flower could presently hear footsteps and voices, but none of them came near her, and for the present baby was contented4, and did not cry. After a time the footsteps moved further off, and Flower peeped from her shelter.
“Now, baby, come on,” she said. She wrapped the shawl again firmly round the little one, and started with a kind of trotting5 motion over the outskirts6 of the moor. She was intensely excited, and her cheeks were flushed with the first delicious glow of victory. Oh, how sorry Polly would be now for having attempted to oppose her. Yes, Polly would know now that Flower Dalrymple was not a person to be trifled with.
She was really a strong girl, though she had a peculiarly fragile look. The weight of the three months’ old baby was not very great, and for a time she made quite rapid progress. After she had walked about a mile she stood still to consider and to make her plans. No more ignorant girl in all England could perhaps be found than this same poor silly, revengeful Flower; but even she, with all her ideas Australian, and her knowledge of English life and ways simply null and void, even she knew that the baby could not live for a long time without food and shelter on the wide common land which lay around. She did not mean to steal baby for always, but she thought she would keep her for a month or two, until Polly was well frightened and repentant8, and then she would send her back by some kind, motherly woman whom she was sure to come across. As to herself, she had[Pg 104] fully9 made up her mind never again to enter the doors of Sleepy Hollow, for it would be impossible for her, she felt, to associate with any people who had sat down to dinner with the kitchen-maid. Holding the baby firmly in her arms, Flower stood and hesitated. The warm fleecy white shawl sheltered little Pearl from all cold, and for the present she slept peacefully.
“I must try and find some town,” thought Flower. “I must walk to some town—the nearest, I suppose—with baby. Then I will sell one of my rings, and try to get a nice woman to give me a lodging10. If she is a motherly person—and I shall certainly look out for some one that is—I can give her little Pearl when I get tired of her, and she can take her back to Sleepy Hollow. But I won’t give Pearl up for the present; for, in the first place she amuses me, and in the next I wish Polly to be well punished. Now I wonder which is the nearest way to the town? If I were at Ballarat, I should know quickly enough by the sign-posts placed at intervals11 all over the country, but they don’t seem to have anything of the sort here in barbarous England. Now, how shall I get to the nearest town without meeting any one who would be likely to tell Dr. Maybright?”
Flower had scarcely expressed herself in this fashion before once again the rough-looking man crossed her path. She greeted him quite joyfully12.
“Oh! you’re just the person I want,” she exclaimed. “I’ve got my purse now, and a little money in it. Would you like to earn a shilling?”
“Sure-ly,” said the man. “But I’d a sight rather ’arn two,” he added.
“I’ll give you two. I have not got much money, but I’ll certainly give you two shillings if you’ll help me now. I have got a little baby here—a dear little baby, but she’s rather heavy. I am running away with her to revenge myself on somebody. I don’t mind telling you that, for you look like an outlaw13 yourself, and you’ll sympathize with me. I want you to carry baby for me, and to take us both to the nearest town. Do you hear? Will you do it?”
“Sure-ly,” said the man, favoring Flower with a long, peculiar7 glance.
“Well, here’s baby; you must be very careful of her. I’ll give you three shillings after you have taken her and me to the nearest town; and if you are really kind, and walk quickly, and take us to a nice restaurant where I can have a good dinner—for I am awfully14 hungry—you shall have something to eat yourself as well. Now walk on in front of me, please, and don’t waste any more time, for it would be dreadful if we were discovered.”
The man shambled on at once in front of Flower; his strong arms supported little Pearl comfortably, and she slumbered15 on in an unbroken dream.
The bright sunlight had now faded, the short October day[Pg 105] was drawing in, the glory and heat of the morning had long departed, and Flower, whose green cloth dress was very light in texture16, felt herself shivering in the sudden cold.
“Are you certain you are going to the nearest town?” she called out to the man.
“Sure-ly,” he responded back to her. He was stepping along at a swinging pace, and Flower was very tired, and found it difficult to keep up with him. Having begged of him so emphatically to hurry, she did not like to ask him now to moderate his steps. To keep up with him at all she had almost to run; and she was now not only hungry, cold, and tired, but the constant quick motion took her breath away. They had left the border of the moor, and were now in the middle of a most desolate17 piece of country. As Flower looked around her she shivered with the first real sensation of loneliness she had ever known. The moor seemed to fill the whole horizon. Desolate moor and lowering sky—there seemed to be nothing else in all the world.
“Where is the nearest town?” she gasped18 at last. “Oh, what a long, long way off it is!”
“It’s miles away!” said the man, suddenly stopping and turning round fiercely upon her; “but ef you’re hungry, there’s a hut yer to the left where my mother lives. She’ll give you a bit of supper and a rest, ef so be as you can pay her well.”
“Oh, yes, I can pay her,” responded Flower. The thought of any shelter or any food was grateful to the fastidious girl now.
“I am very hungry and very tired,” she said. “I will gladly rest in your mother’s cottage. Where is it?”
“I said as it wor a hut. There are two dawgs there: be you afeard?”
“Of dogs? I am not afraid of anything!” said Flower, curling her short lip disdainfully.
“You be a girl!” responded the man. He shambled on again in front, and presently they came in sight of the deserted19 hermit’s hut, where Polly and Maggie a few weeks before had been led captive. A woman was standing20 in the doorway21, and by her side, sitting up on their haunches, were two ugly, lean-looking dogs.
“Down, Cinder22 and Flinder!” said the woman. “Down you brutes23! Now, Patrick, what have you been up to? Whatever’s that in your arms, and who’s a-follering of yer?”
“This yer’s a babby,” said the man, “and this yer’s a girl. She,” pointing to Flower, “wants to be took to the nearest town, and she have money to pay, she says.”
“Oh! she have money to pay?” said the wife of Micah Jones—for it was she. “Them as has money to pay is oilers and oilers welcome. Come in, and set you down by the fire, hinney. Well, well, and so you has brought a babby with you! Give it to me, Pat. What do you know, you great hulking feller! about the tending of babbies?”[Pg 106]
The man gladly relinquished24 his charge, then pointed25 backwards26 with his finger at Flower.
“She’s cold and ’ungry, and she has money to pay,” he said.
“Come in, then, Missy, come in; yer’s a good fire, and a hunk of cheese, and some brown bread, and there’ll be soup by-and-by. Yes,” winking27 at her son, “there’ll be good strong soup by-and-by.”
Flower, who had come up close to the threshold of the hut, now drew back a step or two. At sight of the woman her courage had revived, her feeling of extreme loneliness had vanished, and a good deal of the insolence28 which often marked her bearing had in consequence returned to her.
“I won’t go in,” she said. “It looks dirty in there and I hate dirt. No, I won’t go in! Bring me some food out here, please. Of course I’ll pay you.”
“Highty-tighty!” said the woman. “And is wee babby to stay out in the cold night air?”
“I forgot about the baby,” said Flower. “Give her to me. Is the night air bad for babies?” she asked, looking up inquiringly at the great rough woman who stood by her side.
Flower’s utter and fearless indifference29 to even the possibility of danger had much the same effect on Mrs. Jones that it had upon her son. They both owned to a latent feeling of uneasiness in her presence. Had she showed the least trace of fear; had she dreaded30 them, or tried in any way to soften31 them, they would have known how to manage her. But Flower addressed them much as she would have done menials in her kitchen at home. The mother, as well as the son, muttered under her breath—“Never see’d such a gel!” She dropped the baby into Flower’s outstretched arms, and answered her query32 in a less surly tone than usual.
“For sure night air is bad for babes, and this little ’un is young. Yes, werry young and purty.”
The woman pulled aside the white fluffy33 shawl; two soft clear brown eyes looked up at her, and a little mouth was curved to a radiant smile.
“Fore sure she’s purty,” said the woman. “Look, Patrick. She minds me o’—well, never mind. Missy, it ain’t good for a babe like that to be out in the night air. You’re best in the house, and so is the babe. The dawgs shan’t touch yer. Come into the house, and I’ll give yer what supper’s going, and the babe, pretty crittur, shall have a drink of milk.”
“I would not injure the baby,” said Flower. She held both arms firm round it, and entered the smoky, dismal34 hut.
The wife of Micah Jones moved a stool in front of the fire, pushed Flower rather roughly down on it, and then proceeded to cut thick hunches35 of sour bread and cheese. This was quite the coarsest food Flower had ever eaten, and yet she never thought anything more delicious. While she ate the woman sat down opposite her.
“I’ll take the babe now and feed it,” she said. “The pretty dear must be hungry.”[Pg 107]
It was not little Pearl’s way to cry. It was her fashion to look tranquilly36 into all faces, and to take calmly every event, whether adverse37 or otherwise. When she looked at Flower she smiled, and she smiled again into the face of the rough woman who, in consequence, fed her tenderly with the best she had to give.
“Is the soup done?” said the rough man, suddenly coming forward. “It’s soup I’m arter. It’s soup as’ll put life into Miss, and give her a mind to walk them miles to the nearest town.”
The woman laughed back at her son.
“The soup’s in the pot,” she said. “You can give it a stir, Pat, if you will. Nathaniel will be in by-and-by, and he’ll want his share. But you can take a bowl now, if you like, and give one to Missy.”
“Ay,” said the man, “soup’s good; puts life into a body.”
He fetched two little yellow bowls filled one for Flower, stirring it first with a pewter spoon.
“This’ll put life into you, Miss,” he said.
He handed the bowl of soup to the young girl. All this time the woman was bending over the baby. Suddenly she raised her head.
“’Tis a bonny babe,” she said. “Ef I was you, Pat, I wouldn’t stir Missy’s soup. I’d give her your own bowl. I has no quarrel with Miss, and the babe is fair. Give her your own soup, Patrick.”
“It’s all right, mother, Miss wouldn’t eat as much as in my bowl. You ain’t ’ungry enough for that, be you, Miss?”
“I am very hungry,” said Flower, who was gratefully drinking the hot liquid. “I could not touch this food if I was not very hungry. If I want more soup I suppose I can have some more from the pot where this was taken. What is the matter, woman? What are you staring at me for?”
“I think nought38 at all of you,” said the woman, frowning, and drawing back, for Flower’s tone was very rude. “But the babe is bonny. Here, take her back, she’s like—but never mind. You’ll be sleepy, maybe, and ’ud like to rest a bit. I meant yer no harm, but Patrick’s powerful, and he and Nat, they does what they likes. They’re the sons of Micah Jones, and he was a strong man in his day. You’d like to sleep, maybe, Missy. Here, Patrick, take the bowl from the girl’s hand.”
“I do feel very drowsy,” said Flower. “I suppose it is from being out all day. This hut is smoky and dirty, but I’ll just have a doze39 for five minutes. Please, Patrick, wake me at the end of five minutes, for I must, whatever happens, reach the nearest town before night.”
As Flower spoke40 her eyes closed, and the woman, laying her back on some straw, put the baby into her arms.
“She’ll sleep sound, pretty dear,” she said. “Ef I was you I wouldn’t harm her, just for the sake of the babe,” she concluded.
“Why, mother, what’s took you? I won’t hurt Missy. It’s her own fault ef she runs away, and steals the baby. That baby belongs to the doctor what lives in the Hollow; it’s nought special, and you needn’t be took up with it. Ah, here comes Nathaniel. Nat, I’ve found a lass wandering on the moor, and I brought her home, and now the mother don’t want us to share the booty.”
Nathaniel Jones was a man of very few words indeed. He had a fiercer, wilder eye than his brother, and his evidently was the dominant41 and ruling spirit.
“The moon’s rising,” he said; “she’ll be at her full in half an hour. Do your dooty, mother, for we must be out of this, bag and baggage, in half an hour.”
Without a word or a sigh, or even a glance of remorse42, Mrs. Jones took the cap from Flower’s head, and feeling around her neck discovered the gold chain which held the little bag of valuables. Without opening this she slipped it into her pocket. Flower’s dainty shoes were then removed, and the woman looked covetously43 at the long, fine, cloth dress, but shook her head over it.
“I’d wake her if I took it,” she said.
“No, you wouldn’t, I drugged the soup well,” said Pat.
“Well, anyhow, I’ll leave her her dress. There’s nought more but a handkerchief with a bit of lace on it.”
“Take the baby’s shawl,” said Nathaniel, “and let us be off. If the moon goes down we won’t see the track. Here, mother, I’ll help myself to the wrap.”
“No, you won’t,” said the woman. “You don’t touch the babe with the pale face and the smile of Heaven. I’m ready; let’s go.”
The dogs were called, and the entire party strode in single file along a narrow path, which led away in a westerly direction over Peg-Top Moor.
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收听单词发音
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1
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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2
wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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3
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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4
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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6
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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7
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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8
repentant
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| adj.对…感到悔恨的 | |
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9
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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10
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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12
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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13
outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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14
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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15
slumbered
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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17
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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18
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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19
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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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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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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cinder
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| n.余烬，矿渣 | |
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brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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24
relinquished
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| 交出，让给( relinquish的过去式和过去分词 )； 放弃 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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27
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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28
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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30
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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31
soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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35
hunches
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| 预感，直觉( hunch的名词复数 ) | |
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tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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adverse
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| adj.不利的；有害的；敌对的，不友好的 | |
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38
nought
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| n.／adj.无，零 | |
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39
doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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40
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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41
dominant
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| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
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42
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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43
covetously
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| adv.妄想地，贪心地 | |
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