“Ah-ha, my dear doggie!” said the good lady. “Somebody has come to the wrong box, has she not? Somebody thought I would take her in, and be kind to her, and pet her, and give her your cream, did she not? But no one shall have my doggie’s cream; no, that they shan’t!”
“Mrs. Cameron,” said Flower, when these particularly clever and lucid5 remarks had continued for nearly an hour, “may I open the window of the carriage at this side? I’m quite stifling6.”
Mrs. Cameron laid a firm, fat hand upon the window cord, and bent7 again over the pampered8 Scorpion.
“And is my doggie’s asthma9 not to be considered for the sake of somebody who ought not to be here, who was never invited nor wished for, and is now to be returned like a bad penny to where she came from? Is my own dearest little dog to suffer for such a person’s whims10? Oh, fie! oh, fie! Well, come here my Scorpion; your mistress won’t reject you.”
For Flower, in a fit of ungovernable temper, had suddenly dashed the petted form of Scorpion to the ground.
The poor angry girl now buried herself in the farthest corner of the railway carriage. From there she could hear Mrs. Cameron muttering about “somebody’s” temper, and hoping that “somebody” would get her deserts.
These remarks, uttered several times, frightened Flower so much that at last she looked up, and said, in a queer, startled voice:
“You don’t think Dr. Maybright is going to die? You can’t be so awfully11 wicked as to think that.”
“Oh, we are wicked, are we, Scorpion?” said Mrs. Cameron, her fat hand gently stroking down Scorpion’s smooth fur from tip to tail. “Never mind, Scorpion, my own; never mind. When the little demon12 of temper gets into somebody she isn’t quite accountable, is she?”
Flower wondered if any restraining power would keep her from leaping out of the window.
But even the weariest journey comes to an end at last, and twenty-four hours after she had left Sleepy Hollow, Flower, feeling the most subdued13, the most abject14, the most brow-beaten young person in Christendom, returned to it. Toward the end of the journey she felt impervious15 to Mrs. Cameron’s sly allusions16, and Scorpion growled17 and snapped at her in vain. Her whole heart was filled with one over-powering dread18. How should she find the Doctor? Was he better? Was he worse? Or had all things earthly come to an end for him; and had he reached a place where even the[Pg 141] naughtiest girl in all the world could vex19 and trouble him no longer?
When the hired fly drew up outside the porch, Flower suddenly remembered her first arrival—the gay “Welcome” which had waved above her head; the kind, bright young faces that had come out of the darkness to greet her; the voice of the head of the house, that voice which she was so soon to learn to love, uttering the cheeriest and heartiest20 words of greeting. Now, although Mrs. Cameron pulled the hall-door bell with no uncertain sound, no one, for a time at least, answered the summons, and Flower, seizing her opportunity, sprang out of the fly and rushed into the house.
The first person she met, the very first, was Polly. Polly was sitting at the foot of the stairs, all alone. She had seated herself on the bottom step. Her knees were huddled21 up almost to her chin. Her face was white, and bore marks of tears. She scarcely looked up when Flower ran to her.
“Polly! Polly! How glad I am you at least are not very ill.”
“Is that you, Flower?” asked Polly.
She did not seem surprised, or in any way affected22.
“Yes, my leg does still ache very much. But what of that? What of anything now? He is worse! They have sent for another doctor. The doctor from London is upstairs; he’s with him. I’m waiting here to catch him when he comes down, for I must know the very worst.”
“The very worst!” echoed Flower in a feeble tone.
She tumbled down somehow on to the stair beside Polly, and the next instant her death-like face lay in Polly’s lap.
“Now, my dear, you need not be in the least frightened,” said a shrill23 voice in Polly’s ears. “A most troublesome young person! a most troublesome! She has just fainted; that’s all. Let me fetch a jug24 of cold water to pour over her.”
“Is that you, Aunt Maria?” said Polly. “Oh, yes, there was a telegram, but we forgot all about it. And is that Scorpion, and is he going to bark? But he mustn’t! Please kneel down here, Aunt Maria, and hold Flower’s head. Whatever happens, Scorpion mustn’t bark. Give him to me!”
Before Mrs. Cameron had time to utter a word or in any way to expostulate, she found herself dragged down beside Flower, Flower’s head transferred to her capacious lap, and the precious Scorpion snatched out of her arms. Polly’s firm, muscular young fingers tightly held the dog’s mouth, and in an instant Scorpion and she were out of sight. Notwithstanding all his fighting and struggling and desperate efforts to free himself, she succeeded in carrying him to a little deserted25 summer pagoda26 at a distant end of the garden. Here she locked him in, and allowed him to suffer both cold and hunger for the remainder of the night.
There are times when even the most unkind are softened27. Mrs. Cameron was not a sympathetic person. She was a great philanthropist, it is true, and was much esteemed28, especially by those people who did not know her well. But[Pg 142] love, the real name for what the Bible calls charity, seldom found an entrance into her heart. The creature she devoted29 most affection to was Scorpion. But now, as she sat in the still house, which all the time seemed to throb30 with a hidden intense life; when she heard in the far distance doors opening gently and stifled31 sobs32 and moans coming from more than one young throat; when she looked down at the deathlike face of Flower—she really did forget herself, and rose for once to the occasion.
Very gently—for she was a strong woman—she lifted Flower, and carried her into the Doctor’s study. There she laid her on a sofa, and gave her restoratives, and when Flower opened her dazed eyes she spoke33 to her more kindly34 than she had done yet.
“I have ordered something for you, which you are to take at once,” she said. “Ah! here it is! Thank you, Alice. Now, Daisy, drink this off at once.”
It was a beaten-up egg in milk and brandy, and when Flower drank it she felt no longer giddy, and was able to sit up and look around her.
In the meantime Polly and all the other children remained still as mice outside the Doctor’s door. They had stolen on tiptoe from different quarters of the old house to this position, and now they stood perfectly35 still, not looking at one another or uttering a sound, but with their eyes fixed36 with pathetic earnestness and appeal at the closed door. When would the doctors come out? When would the verdict be given? Minutes passed. The children found this time of tension an agony.
“I can’t bear it!” sobbed37 Firefly at last.
But the others said, “Hush!” so peremptorily38, and with such a total disregard for any one person’s special emotions, that the little girl’s hysterical39 fit was nipped in the bud.
At last there was a sound of footsteps within the room, and the local practitioner40, accompanied by the great physician from London, opened the door carefully and came out.
“Go in and sit with your father,” said one of the doctors to Helen.
Without a word she disappeared into the darkened room, and all the others, including little Pearl in Nurse’s arms, followed the medical men downstairs. They went into the Doctor’s study, where Flower was still lying very white and faint on the sofa. Fortunately for the peace of the next quarter of an hour Mrs. Cameron had taken herself off in a vain search for Scorpion.
“Now,” said Polly, when they were all safely in the room—she took no notice of Flower; she did not even see her—“now please speak; please tell us the whole truth at once.”
She went up and laid her hand on the London physician’s arm.
“The whole truth? But I cannot do that, my dear young lady,” he said, in hearty41, genial42 tones. “Bless me!” turning[Pg 143] to the other doctor, “do all these girls and boys belong to Maybright? And so you want the whole truth, Miss—Miss——”
“I’m called Polly, sir.”
“The whole truth, Polly? Only God knows that. Your father was in a weak state of health; he had a shock and a chill. We feared mischief43 to the brain. Oh, no, he is by no means out of the wood yet. Still I have hope of him; I have great hope. What do you say, Strong? Symptoms have undoubtedly44 taken a more favorable turn during the last hour or two.”
“I quite agree with you, Sir Andrew,” said the local practitioner, with a profound bow.
“Then, my dear young lady, my answer to you, to all of you, is that, although only God knows the whole truth, there is, in my opinion, considerable hope—yes, considerable. I’ll have a word with you in the other room, Strong. Good-by, children; keep up your spirits. I have every reason to think well of the change which has set in within the last hour.”
The moment the doctors left the room Polly looked eagerly round at the others.
“Only God knows the truth,” she said. “Let us pray to Him this very minute. Let’s get on our knees at once.”
They all did so, and all were silent.
“What are we to say, Polly?” asked Firefly at last. “I never did ’aloud prayers’ since mother died.”
“Hush! There’s the Lord’s Prayer,” said Polly. “Won’t somebody say it? My voice is choking.”
“I will,” said Flower.
Nobody had noticed her before; now she came forward, knelt down by Polly’s side, and repeated the prayer of prayers in a steady voice. When it was over, she put up her hands to her face, and remained silent.
“What are you saying now?” asked Firefly, pulling at her skirt.
“Something about myself.”
“What is that?” they all asked.
“I’ve been the wickedest girl in the whole of England. I have been asking God to forgive me.”
“Oh, poor Flower!” echoed the children, touched by her dreary45, forsaken46 aspect.
Polly put her arms round her and kissed her.
“We have quite forgiven you, so, of course, God will,” she said.
“How noble you are! Will you be my friend?”
“Yes, if you want to have me. Oh, children!” continued Polly, “do you think we can any of us ever do anything naughty again if father gets better?”
“He will get better now,” said Firefly.
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1
languishing
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| a. 衰弱下去的 | |
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scorpion
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| n.蝎子，心黑的人，蝎子鞭 | |
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procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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lucid
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| adj.明白易懂的，清晰的，头脑清楚的 | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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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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pampered
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| adj.饮食过量的，饮食奢侈的v.纵容，宠，娇养( pamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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asthma
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| n.气喘病，哮喘病 | |
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WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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impervious
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| adj.不能渗透的，不能穿过的，不易伤害的 | |
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allusions
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| 暗指，间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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vex
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| vt.使烦恼，使苦恼 | |
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heartiest
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| 亲切的( hearty的最高级 )； 热诚的； 健壮的； 精神饱满的 | |
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huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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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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pagoda
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| n.宝塔（尤指印度和远东的多层宝塔），（印度教或佛教的）塔式庙宇 | |
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27
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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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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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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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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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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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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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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37
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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peremptorily
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| adv.紧急地，不容分说地，专横地 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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practitioner
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| n.实践者，从事者；(医生或律师等)开业者 | |
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41
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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42
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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43
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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44
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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45
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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46
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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