“Here, Milly, are more verses. He is a very persevering4 poet, whoever he is.” So I broke the seal; but this time it was prose. And the first words were “Captain Oakley!”
I confess to an odd sensation as these remarkable5 words met my eye. It might possibly be a proposal. I did not wait to speculate, however, but read these sentences traced in the identical handwriting which had copied the lines with which I had been twice favoured.
“Captain Oakley presents his compliments to Miss Ruthyn, and trusts she will excuse his venturing to ask whether, during his short stay in Feltram, he might be permitted to pay his respects at Bartram–Haugh. He has been making a short visit to his aunt, and could not find himself so near without at least attempting to renew an acquaintance which he has never ceased to cherish in memory. If Miss Ruthyn would be so very good as to favour him with ever so short a reply to the question he ventures most respectfully to ask, her decision would reach him at the Hall Hotel, Feltram.”
“Well, he’s a roundabout fellah, anyhow. Couldn’t he come up and see you if he wanted to? They poeters, they do love writing long yarns7 — don’t they?” And with this reflection, Milly took the note and read it through again.
“It’s jolly polite anyhow, isn’t it Maud?” said Milly, who had conned8 it over, and accepted it as a model composition.
I must have been, I think, naturally a rather shrewd girl; and considering how very little I had seen of the world — nothing in fact — I often wonder now at the sage9 conclusions at which I arrived.
Were I to answer this handsome and cunning fool according to his folly10, in what position should I find myself? No doubt my reply would induce a rejoinder, and that compel another note from me, and that invite yet another from him; and however his might improve in warmth, they were sure not to abate11. Was it his impertinent plan, with this show of respect and ceremony, to drag me into a clandestine12 correspondence? Inexperienced girl as I was, I fired at the idea of becoming his dupe, and fancying, perhaps, that there was more in merely answering his note than it would have amounted to, I said —
“That kind of thing may answer very well with button-makers, but ladies don’t like it. What would your papa think of it if he found that I had been writing to him, and seeing him without his permission? If he wanted to see me he could have”—(I really did not know exactly what he could have done)—“he could have timed his visit to Lady Knollys differently; at all events, he has no right to place me in an embarrassing situation, and I am certain Cousin Knollys would say so; and I think his note both shabby and impertinent.”
Decision was not with me an intellectual process. When quite cool I was the most undecided of mortals, but once my feelings were excited I was prompt and bold.
“I’ll give the note to Uncle Silas,” I said, quickening my pace toward home; “he’ll know what to do.”
But Milly, who, I fancy, had no objection to the little romance which the young officer proposed, told me that she could not see her father, that he was ill, and not speaking to anyone.
“And aren’t ye making a plaguy row about nothin’? I lay a guinea if ye had never set eyes on Lord Ilbury you’d a told him to come, and see ye, an’ welcome.”
“Don’t talk like a fool, Milly. You never knew me do anything deceitful. Lord Ilbury has no more to do with it, you know very well, than the man in the moon.”
I was altogether very indignant. I did not speak another word to Milly. The proportions of the house are so great, that it is a much longer walk than you would suppose from the hall-door to Uncle Silas’s room. But I did not cool all that way; and it was not till I had just reached the lobby, and saw the sour, jealous face, and the high caul of old Wyat, and felt the influence of that neighbourhood, that I paused to reconsider. I fancied there was a cool consciousness of success behind all the deferential14 phraseology of Captain Oakley, which nettled15 me extremely. No; there could be no doubt. I tapped softly at the door.
“What is it now, Miss?” snarled16 the querulous old woman, with her shrivelled fingers on the door-handle.
“Can I see my uncle for a moment?”
“He’s tired, and not a word from him all day long.”
“Not ill, though?”
“Awful bad in the night,” said the old crone, with a sudden savage17 glare in my face, as if I had brought it about.
“Oh! I’m very sorry. I had not heard a word of it.”
“No one does but old Wyat. There’s Milly there never asks neither — his own child!”
“Weakness, or what?”
“One o’ them fits. He’ll slide awa’ in one o’ them some day, and no one but old Wyat to know nor ask word about it; that’s how ’twill be.”
“Will you please hand him this note, if he is well enough to look at it, and say I am at the door?”
She took it with a peevish18 nod and a grunt19, closing the door in my face, and in a few minutes returned —
“Come in wi’ ye,” said Dame20 Wyat, and I appeared.
Uncle Silas, who, after his nightly horror or vision, lay extended on a sofa, with his faded yellow silk dressing-gown about him, his long white hair hanging toward the ground, and that wild and feeble smile lighting21 his face — a glimmer22 I feared to look upon — his long thin arms lay by his sides, with hands and fingers that stirred not, except when now and then, with a feeble motion, he wet his temples and forehead with eau de Cologne from a glass saucer placed beside him.
“Excellent girl! dutiful ward3 and niece!” murmured the oracle23; “heaven reward you — your frank dealing24 is your own safety and my peace. Sit you down, and say who is this Captain Oakley, when you made his acquaintance, what his age, fortune, and expectations, and who the aunt he mentions.”
Upon all these points I satisfied him as fully6 as I was able.
“Wyat — the white drops,” he called, in a thin, stern tone. “I’ll write a line presently. I can’t see visitors, and, of course, you can’t receive young captains before you’ve come out. Farewell! God bless you, dear.”
Wyat was dropping the “white” restorative into a wine-glass and the room was redolent of ether. I was glad to escape. The figures and whole mise en scène were unearthly.
“Well, Milly,” I said, as I met her in the hall, “your papa is going to write to him.”
I sometimes wonder whether Milly was right, and how I should have acted a few months earlier.
Next day whom should we meet in the Windmill Wood but Captain Oakley. The spot where this interesting rencontre occurred was near that ruinous bridge on my sketch25 of which I had received so many compliments. It was so great a surprise that I had not time to recollect26 my indignation, and, having received him very affably, I found it impossible, during our brief interview, to recover my lost altitude.
After our greetings were over, and some compliments neatly27 made, he said —
“I had such a curious note from Mr. Silas Ruthyn. I am sure he thinks me a very impertinent fellow, for it was really anything but inviting28 — extremely rude, in fact. But I could not quite see that because he does not want me to invade his bed-room — an incursion I never dreamed of — I was not to present myself to you, who had already honoured me with your acquaintance, with the sanction of those who were most interested in your welfare, and who were just as well qualified29 as he, I fancy, to say who were qualified for such an honour.”
“My uncle, Mr. Silas Ruthyn, you are aware, is my guardian30; and this is my cousin, his daughter.”
This was an opportunity of becoming a little lofty, and I improved it. He raised his hat and bowed to Milly.
“I’m afraid I’ve been very rude and stupid. Mr. Ruthyn, of course, has a perfect right to — to — in fact, I was not the least aware that I had the honour of so near a relation’s — a — a — and what exquisite31 scenery you have! I think this country round Feltram particularly fine; and this Bartram–Haugh is, I venture to say, about the very most beautiful spot in this beautiful region. I do assure you I am tempted32 beyond measure to make Feltram and the Hall Hotel my head-quarters for at least a week. I only regret the foliage33; but your trees show wonderfully, even in winter, so many of them have got that ivy34 about them. They say it spoils trees, but it certainly beautifies them. I have just ten days’ leave unexpired; I wish I could induce you to advise me how to apply them. What shall I do, Miss Ruthyn?”
“I am the worst person in the world to make plans, even for myself, I find it so troublesome. What do you say? Suppose you try Wales or Scotland, and climb up some of those fine mountains that look so well in winter?”
“I should much prefer Feltram. I so wish you would recommend it. What is this pretty plant?”
“We call that Maud’s myrtle. She planted it, and it’s very pretty when it’s full in blow,” said Milly.
Our visit to Elverstone had been of immense use to us both.
“Oh! planted by you?” he said, very softly, with a momentary35 corresponding glance. “May I— ever so little — just a leaf?”
And without waiting for permission, he held a sprig of it next his waistcoat.
“Yes, it goes very prettily36 with those buttons. They are very pretty buttons; are not they, Milly? A present, a souvenir, I dare say?”
This was a terrible hit at the button-maker, and I thought he looked a little oddly at me, but my countenance37 was so “bewitchingly simple” that I suppose his suspicions were allayed38.
Now, it was very odd of me, I must confess, to talk in this way, and to receive all those tender allusions39 from a gentleman about whom I had spoken and felt so sharply only the evening before. But Bartram was abominably40 lonely. A civilised person was a valuable waif or stray in that region of the picturesque41 an the brutal42; and to my lady reader especially, because she will probably be hardest upon me, I put it — can you not recollect any such folly in your own past life? Can you not it as many minutes call to mind at least six similar inconsistencies of your own practising? For my part, I really can’t see the advantage of being the weaker sex if we are always to be as strong as our masculine neighbours.
There was, indeed, no revival43 of the little sentiment which I had once experienced. When these things once expire, I do believe they are as hard to revive as our dead lap-dogs, guinea-pigs, and parrots. It was my perfect coolness which enabled me to chat, I flatter myself, so agreeably with the refined Captain, who plainly thought me his captive, and was probably now and then thinking what was to be done to utilise that little bit of Bartram, or to beautify some other, when he should see fit to become its master, as we rambled44 over these wild but beautiful grounds.
It was just about then that Milly nudged me rather vehemently45, and whispered “Look there!”
I followed with mine the direction of her eyes, and saw my odious cousin, Dudley, in a flagrant pair of cross-barred peg-tops, and what Milly before her reformation used to call other “slops” of corresponding atrocity46, approaching our refined little party with great strides. I really think that Milly was very nearly ashamed of him. I certainly was. I had no apprehension47, however, of the scene which was imminent48.
The charming Captain mistook him probably for some rustic49 servant of the place, for he continued his agreeable remarks up to the very moment when Dudley, whose face was pale with anger, and whose rapid advance had not served to cool him, without recollecting50 to salute51 either Milly or me, accosted52 our elegant companion as follows:—
“By your leave, master, baint you summat in the wrong box here, don’t you think?”
He had planted himself directly in his front, and looked unmistakably menacing.
“May I speak to him? Will you excuse me?” said the Captain blandly53.
“Ow — ay, they’ll excuse ye ready enough, I dessay; you’re to deal wi’ me, though. Baint ye in the wrong box now?”
“I’m not conscious, sir, of being in a box at all,” replied the Captain, with severe disdain54. “It strikes me you are disposed to get up a row. Let us, if you please, get a little apart from the ladies if that is your purpose.”
“I mean to turn you out o’ this the way ye came. If you make a row, so much the wuss for you, for I’ll lick ye to fits.”
“Tell him not to fight,” whispered Milly; “he’ll a no chance wi’ Dudley.”
I saw Dickon Hawkes grinning over the paling on which he leaned.
“Mr. Hawkes,” I said, drawing Milly with me toward that unpromising mediator55, “pray prevent unpleasantness and go between them.”
“An’ git licked o’ both sides? Rather not, Miss, thank ye,” grinned Dickon, tranquilly56.
“Who are you, sir?” demanded our romantic acquaintance, with military sternness.
“I’ll tell you who you are — you’re Oakley, as stops at the Hall, that Governor wrote, over-night, not to dare show your nose inside the grounds. You’re a half-starved cappen, come down here to look for a wife, and ——”
Before Dudley could finish his sentence, Captain Oakley, than whose face no regimentals could possibly have been more scarlet57, at that moment, struck with his switch at Dudley’s handsome features.
I don’t know how it was done — by some “devilish cantrip slight.” A smack58 was heard, and the Captain lay on his back on the ground, with his mouth full of blood.
“How do ye like the taste o’ that?” roared Dickon, from his post of observation.
In an instant Captain Oakley was on his feet again, hatless, looking quite frantic59, and striking out at Dudley, who was ducking and dipping quite coolly, and again the same horrid60 sound, only this time it was double, like a quick postman’s knock, and Captain Oakley was on the grass again.
“Tapped by his smeller, by ——!” thundered Dickon, with a roar of laughter.
“Come away, Milly — I’m growing ill,” said I.
“drop it, Dudley, I tell ye; you’ll kill him,” screamed Milly.
But the devoted61 Captain, whose nose, and mouth, and shirt-front formed now but one great patch of blood, and who was bleeding beside over one eye, dashed at him again.
I turned away. I felt quite faint, and on the point of crying, with mere13 horror.
“Hammer away at his knocker,” bellowed62 Dickon, in a frenzy63 of delight.
“He’ll break it now, if it ain’t already,” cried Milly, alluding64, as I afterwards understood, to the Captain’s Grecian nose.
“Brayvo, little un!” The Captain was considerably65 the taller.
Another smack, and, I suppose, Captain Oakley fell once more.
“Hooray! the dinner-service again, by — — ” roared Dickon. “Stick to that. Over the same ground — subsoil, I say. He han’t enough yet.”
In a perfect tremor66 of disgust, I was making as quick a retreat as I could, and as I did, I heard Captain Oakley shriek67 hoarsely68 —
“You’re a d —— prizefighter; I can’t box you.”
“I told ye I’d lick ye to fits,” hooted69 Dudley.
“But you’re the son of a gentleman, and by —— you shall fight me as a gentleman.”
A yell of hooting70 laughter from Dudley and Dickon followed this sally.
“Gi’e my love to the Colonel, and think o’ me when ye look in the glass — won’t ye? An’ so you’re goin’ arter all; well, follow what’s left o’ yer nose. Ye forgot some o’ yer ivories, didn’t ye, on th’ grass?”
These and many similar jibes71 followed the mangled72 Captain in his retreat.
点击收听单词发音
1 persecute | |
vt.迫害,虐待;纠缠,骚扰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 odious | |
adj.可憎的,讨厌的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 ward | |
n.守卫,监护,病房,行政区,由监护人或法院保护的人(尤指儿童);vt.守护,躲开 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 persevering | |
a.坚忍不拔的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 yarns | |
n.纱( yarn的名词复数 );纱线;奇闻漫谈;旅行轶事 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 conned | |
adj.被骗了v.指挥操舵( conn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 sage | |
n.圣人,哲人;adj.贤明的,明智的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 folly | |
n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 abate | |
vi.(风势,疼痛等)减弱,减轻,减退 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 clandestine | |
adj.秘密的,暗中从事的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 deferential | |
adj. 敬意的,恭敬的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 nettled | |
v.拿荨麻打,拿荨麻刺(nettle的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 snarled | |
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 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 peevish | |
adj.易怒的,坏脾气的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 grunt | |
v.嘟哝;作呼噜声;n.呼噜声,嘟哝 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 dame | |
n.女士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 lighting | |
n.照明,光线的明暗,舞台灯光 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 glimmer | |
v.发出闪烁的微光;n.微光,微弱的闪光 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 oracle | |
n.神谕,神谕处,预言 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 dealing | |
n.经商方法,待人态度 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 sketch | |
n.草图;梗概;素描;v.素描;概述 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 recollect | |
v.回忆,想起,记起,忆起,记得 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 neatly | |
adv.整洁地,干净地,灵巧地,熟练地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 inviting | |
adj.诱人的,引人注目的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 qualified | |
adj.合格的,有资格的,胜任的,有限制的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 guardian | |
n.监护人;守卫者,保护者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 foliage | |
n.叶子,树叶,簇叶 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 ivy | |
n.常青藤,常春藤 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 momentary | |
adj.片刻的,瞬息的;短暂的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 prettily | |
adv.优美地;可爱地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 allayed | |
v.减轻,缓和( allay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 allusions | |
暗指,间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 abominably | |
adv. 可恶地,可恨地,恶劣地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 revival | |
n.复兴,复苏,(精力、活力等的)重振 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 rambled | |
(无目的地)漫游( ramble的过去式和过去分词 ); (喻)漫谈; 扯淡; 长篇大论 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 vehemently | |
adv. 热烈地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 atrocity | |
n.残暴,暴行 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 apprehension | |
n.理解,领悟;逮捕,拘捕;忧虑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 imminent | |
adj.即将发生的,临近的,逼近的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 rustic | |
adj.乡村的,有乡村特色的;n.乡下人,乡巴佬 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 recollecting | |
v.记起,想起( recollect的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 salute | |
vi.行礼,致意,问候,放礼炮;vt.向…致意,迎接,赞扬;n.招呼,敬礼,礼炮 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 accosted | |
v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 );跟…搭讪;(乞丐等)上前向…乞讨;(妓女等)勾搭 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 blandly | |
adv.温和地,殷勤地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 disdain | |
n.鄙视,轻视;v.轻视,鄙视,不屑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 mediator | |
n.调解人,中介人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 tranquilly | |
adv. 宁静地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 scarlet | |
n.深红色,绯红色,红衣;adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 smack | |
vt.拍,打,掴;咂嘴;vi.含有…意味;n.拍 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 frantic | |
adj.狂乱的,错乱的,激昂的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 horrid | |
adj.可怕的;令人惊恐的;恐怖的;极讨厌的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 bellowed | |
v.发出吼叫声,咆哮(尤指因痛苦)( bellow的过去式和过去分词 );(愤怒地)说出(某事),大叫 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 frenzy | |
n.疯狂,狂热,极度的激动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
64 alluding | |
提及,暗指( allude的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
66 tremor | |
n.震动,颤动,战栗,兴奋,地震 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
67 shriek | |
v./n.尖叫,叫喊 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
68 hoarsely | |
adv.嘶哑地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
69 hooted | |
(使)作汽笛声响,作汽车喇叭声( hoot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
70 hooting | |
(使)作汽笛声响,作汽车喇叭声( hoot的现在分词 ); 倒好儿; 倒彩 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
71 jibes | |
n.与…一致( jibe的名词复数 );(与…)相符;相匹配v.与…一致( jibe的第三人称单数 );(与…)相符;相匹配 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
72 mangled | |
vt.乱砍(mangle的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |