She stood still for a moment in the complete darkness to recover breath, and to consider what she was to do. Strange to say, she did not feel at all frightened now; the shelter of the four walls gave her confidence. There were no dogs about, and Maggie felt pretty sure that the wife of Micah Jones was also absent, for if she were in the hut, and awake, she would be sure to say, “Who’s there?” quoth Maggie, to her own heart; “and ef she’s in the hut, and asleep, why it wouldn’t be like her not to snore.”
The little girl stood still for a full minute; during this time she was collecting her faculties7, and that brain, which Polly was pleased to call so small, was revolving8 some practical schemes.
“Ef I could only lay my hand on a match, now,” she thought.
She suddenly remembered that in her mother’s cottage the match-box was generally placed behind a certain brick near the fireplace; it was a handy spot, both safe and dry, and Maggie, since her earliest days, had known that if there was such a luxury as a box of matches in the house, it would be found in this corner. She wondered if the wife of Micah Jones could also have adopted so excellent a practice. She stepped across the little hut, felt with her hands right and left, poked9 about all round the open fireplace, and at last, joy of joys, not only discovered a box with a few matches in it, but an end of candle besides.
In a moment she had struck a match, had applied10 it to the candle, and then, holding the flickering11 light high, looked around the little hut.
A girl, crouched12 up against the wall on some straw, was gazing at her with wide-open terrified eyes; the girl was perfectly still, not a muscle in her body moved, only her big frightened eyes gazed fixedly13 at Maggie. She wore no hat on her head; her long yellow hair lay in confusion over her shoulders; her feet were shoeless, and one arm was laid with a certain air of protection on a wee white bundle on the straw by her side.
“Who are you?” said Flower, at last. “Are you a ghost, or are you the daughter of the dreadful woman who lives in this hut? See! I had a long sleep. She put me to sleep,[Pg 118] I know she did; and while I was asleep she stole my purse and rings, and my hat and shoes. But that’s nothing, that’s nothing at all. While I was asleep, baby here died. I know she’s quite dead, she has not stirred nor moved for hours, at least it seems like hours. What are you staring at me in that rude way for, girl? I’m quite sure the baby, Polly’s little sister, is dead.”
Nobody could speak in a more utterly14 apathetic15 way than Flower. Her voice neither rose nor fell. She poured out her dreary16 words in a wailing17 monotone.
“I know that it’s my fault,” she added; “Polly’s little sister has died because of me.”
She still held her hand over the white bundle.
“I’m terrified, but not of you,” she added; “you may be a ghost, stealing in here in the dark; or you may be the daughter of that dreadful woman. But whoever you are, it’s all alike to me. I got into one of my passions. I promised my mother when she died that I’d never get into another, but I did, I got into one to-day. I was angry with Polly Maybright; I stole her little sister away, and now she’s dead. I am so terrified at what I have done that I never can be afraid of anything else. You need not stare so at me, girl; whoever you are I’m not afraid of you.”
Maggie had now found an old bottle to stick her candle into.
“I am Miss Polly’s little kitchen-maid, Maggie Ricketts,” she replied. “I ain’t a ghost, and I haven’t nothing to say to the wife of Micah Jones. As to the baby, let me look at it. You’re a very bad young lady, Miss Flower, but I has come to fetch away the baby, ef you please, so let me look at it this minute. Oh, my, how my legs do ache; that moor18 is heavy walking! Give me the baby, please, Miss Flower. It ain’t your baby, it’s Miss Polly’s.”
“So, you’re Maggie?” said Flower. There was a queer shake in her voice. “It was about you I was so angry. Yes, you may look at the baby; take it and look at it, but I don’t want to see it, not if it’s dead.”
Maggie instantly lifted the little white bundle into her arms, removed a portion of the shawl, and pressed her cheek against the cheek of the baby.
The little white cheek was cold, but not deadly cold, and some faint, faint breath still came from the slightly parted lips.
When Maggie had anything to do, no one could be less nervous and more practical.
“The baby ain’t dead at all,” she explained. “She’s took with a chill, and she’s very bad, but she ain’t dead. Mother has had heaps of babies, and I know what to do. Little Miss Pearl must have a hot bath this minute.”
“Oh, Maggie,” said Flower. “Oh, Maggie, Maggie!”
Her frozen indifference19, her apathy20, had departed. She rose from her recumbent position, pushed back her hair[Pg 119] and stood beside the other young girl, with eyes that glowed, and yet brimmed over with tears.
“Oh, what a load you have taken off my heart!” she exclaimed. “Oh, what a darling you are! Kiss me, Maggie, kiss me, dear, dear Maggie.”
“All right, Miss. You was angry with me afore, and now you’re a-hugging of me, and I don’t see no more sense in one than t’other. Ef you’ll hold the baby up warm to you, Miss, and breathe ag’in her cheek werry gentle-like, you’ll be a-doing more good than a-kissing of me. I must find sticks, and I must light up a fire, and I must do it this minute, or we won’t have no baby to talk about, nor fuss over.”
Maggie’s rough and practical words were perhaps the best possible tonic21 for Flower at this moment. She had been on the verge22 of a fit of hysterics, which might have been as terrible in its consequences as either her passion or her despair. Now trembling slightly, she sat down on the little stool which Maggie had pulled forward for her, took the baby in her arms, and partly opening the shawl which covered it, breathed on its white face.
The little one certainly was alive, and when Flower’s breath warmed it, its own breathing became stronger.
Meanwhile, Maggie bustled23 about. The hermit’s hut, now that she had something to do in it, seemed no longer at all terrible. After a good search round she found some sticks, and soon a bright fire blazed and crackled, and filled the tiny house with light and warmth. A pot of water was put on the fire to warm, and then Maggie looked round for a vessel24 to bathe the baby in. She found a little wooden tub, which she placed ready in front of the fire.
“So far, so good!” she exclaimed; “but never a sight of a towel is there to be seen. Ef you’ll give me the baby now, Miss, I’ll warm her limbs a bit afore I put her in the bath. I don’t know how I’m to dry her, I’m sure, but a hot bath she must have.”
“I have got a white petticoat on,” said Flower. “Would that be any use?”
“Off with it this minute, then, Miss; it’s better nor nought25. Now, then, my lamb! my pretty! see ef Maggie don’t pull you round in a twinkling!”
She rubbed and chafed26 the little creature’s limbs, and soon baby opened her eyes, and gave a weak, piteous cry.
“I wish I had something to give her afore I put her in the bath,” said Maggie. “There’s sure to be sperits of some sort in a house like this. You look round you and see ef you can’t find something, Miss Flower.”
Flower obediently searched in the four corners of the hut.
“I can’t see anything!” she exclaimed. “The place seems quite empty.”
“Eh, dear!” said Maggie: “you don’t know how to search. Take the baby, and let me.”
She walked across the cabin, thrust her hand into some[Pg 120] straw which was pressed against the rafters, pulled out an old tin can and opened it.
“Eh, what’s this?” she exclaimed. “Sperits? Now we’ll do. Give me the baby back again, Miss Flower, and fetch a cup, ef you please.”
Flower did so.
“Put some hot water into it. Why, you ain’t very handy! Miss Polly’s worth a dozen of you! Now pour in a little of the sperit from the tin can—not too much. Let me taste it. That will do. Now, baby—now, Miss Polly’s darling baby!—I’ll wet your lips with this, and you’ll have your bath, and you’ll do fine!”
The mixture was rubbed on the blue lips of the infant, and Maggie even managed to get her to swallow a few drops. Then, the bath being prepared by Flower, under a shower of scathing27 ridicule28 from Maggie, who had very small respect, in any sense of the word, for her assistant, the baby was put into it, thoroughly29 warmed, rubbed up, and comforted, and then, with the white fleecy shawl wrapped well around her, she fell asleep in Maggie’s arms.
“She’ll do for the present,” said the kitchen-maid, leaning back and mopping a little moisture from her own brow. “She’ll do for a time, but she won’t do for long, for she’ll want milk and all kinds of comforts. And I tell you what it is, Miss Flower, that my master and Miss Polly can’t be kept a-fretting for this child until the morning. Some one must go at once, and tell ’em where she is, and put ’em out of their misery30, and the thing is this: is it you, or is it me, that’s to do the job?”
“But,” said Flower—she had scarcely spoken at all until now—“cannot we both go? Cannot we both walk home, and take the baby with us?”
“No, Miss, not by no means. Not a breath of night air must touch the cheeks of this blessed lamb. Either you or me, Miss Flower, must walk back to Sleepy Hollow, and tell ’em about the baby, and bring back Nurse, and what’s wanted for the child. Will you hold her, Miss? and shall I trot31 off at once?—for there ain’t a minute to be lost.”
“No,” said Flower, “I won’t stay in the hut. It is dreadful to me. I will go and tell the Doctor and Polly.”
“As you please, Miss. Maybe it is best as I should stay with little Missy. You’ll find it awful lonesome out on the moor, Miss Flower, and I expect when you get near Deadman’s Glen as you’ll scream out with terror; there’s a bogey32 there with a head three times as big as his body, and long arms, twice as long as they ought to be, and he tears up bits of moss33 and fern, and flings them at yer, and if any of them, even the tiniest bit, touches yer, why you’re dead before the year is out. Then there’s the walking ghost and the shadowy maid, and the brown lady, the same color as the bracken when it’s withering34 up, and—and—why, what’s the matter, Miss Flower?”
“Only I respected you before you talked in that way,” said Flower. “I respected you very much, and I was awfully35 ashamed of not being able to eat my dinner with you. But when you talk in such an awfully silly way I don’t respect you, so you had better not go on. Please tell me, as well as you can, how I’m to get to Sleepy Hollow, and I’ll start off at once.”
“You must beware of the brown lady, all the same.”
“No, I won’t beware of her; I’ll spring right into her arms.”
“And the bogey in Deadman’s Glen. For Heaven’s sake, Miss Flower, keep to the west of Deadman’s Glen.”
“If Deadman’s Glen is a short cut to Sleepy Hollow, I’ll walk through it. Maggie, do you want Nurse to come for little Pearl, or not? I don’t mind waiting here till morning; it does not greatly matter to me. I was running away, you know.”
“You must go at once,” said Maggie, recalled to common sense by another glance at the sleeping child. “The baby’s but weakly, and there ain’t nothing here as I can give her, except the sperits and water, until Nurse comes. I’ll lay her just for a minute on the straw here, and go out with you and put you on the track. You follow the track right on until you see the lights in the village. Sleepy Hollow’s right in the village, and most likely there’ll be a light in the Doctor’s study window; be quick, for Heaven’s sake, Miss Flower?”
“Yes, I’m off. Oh, Maggie, Maggie! what do you think? That dreadful woman has stolen my shoes. I forgot all about it until this minute. What shall I do? I can’t walk far in my stockings.”
“Have my boots, Miss; they’re hob-nailed, and shaped after my foot, which is broad, as it should be, seeing as I’m only a kitchen-maid. But they’re strong, and they are sure to fit you fine.”
“I could put my two feet into one of them,” responded Flower, curling her proud lip once again disdainfully. But then she glanced at the baby, and a queer shiver passed over her; her eyes grew moist, her hands trembled.
“I will put the boots on,” she said. And she slipped her little feet, in their dainty fine silk stockings, into Maggie’s shoes.
“Good-by, Miss; come back as soon as you can,” called out the faithful waiting-maid, and Flower set off across the lonely moor.
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收听单词发音
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1
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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3
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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7
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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8
revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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9
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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10
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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12
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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14
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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15
apathetic
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| adj.冷漠的，无动于衷的 | |
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16
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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17
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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18
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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19
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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21
tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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bustled
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| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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24
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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25
nought
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| n.／adj.无，零 | |
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26
chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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27
scathing
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| adj.（言词、文章）严厉的，尖刻的；不留情的adv.严厉地，尖刻地v.伤害，损害（尤指使之枯萎）( scathe的现在分词) | |
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ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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29
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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30
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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31
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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32
bogey
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| n.令人谈之变色之物；妖怪，幽灵 | |
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33
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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34
withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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35
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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