This pretty creature led a lonely life at Wyvern. Between her and the young squires2, Charles and Henry, there intervened the great gulf4 of twenty years, and she was left very much to herself.
Sometimes she rode into the village with the old Squire3; she sat in the Wyvern pew every Sunday; hut except on those and like occasions, the townsfolk saw little of her.
“’Taint after her father or mother she takes with them airs of hers; there was no pride in the Vicar or poor Mrs. Maybell, and she’ll never be like her mother, a nice little thing she was.”
So said Mrs. Ford5 of the George Inn at Wyvern—but what she called pride was in reality shyness.
About Miss Maybell there was a very odd rumour6 afloat in the town. It had got about that this beautiful young lady was in love with old Squire Fairfield—or at least with his estate of Wyvern.
The village doctor was standing7 with his back to his drawing-room fire, and the newspaper in his left hand lowered to his knee—as he held forth8 to his wife, and romantic old Mrs. Diaper—at the tea-table.
“If she is in love with that old man, as they say, take my word for it, she’ll not be long out of a mad-house.”
“How do you mean, my dear?” asked his wife.
“I mean it is not love at all, but incipient9 mania10; Her lonely life up there at Wyvern, would make any girl odd, and it’s setting her mad—that’s how I mean.”
“My dear sir,” remonstrated11 fat Mrs. Diaper, who was learned as well as romantic, “romance takes very whimsical shape at times; Vanessa was in love with Dean Swift, and very young men were passionately12 in love with Ninon de l’Enclos.”
“Tut—stuff—did I ever hear!” exclaimed Mrs. Buttle, derisively13, “who ever thought of love or romance in the matter? The young lady thinks it would be very well to be mistress of Wyvern, and secure a comfortable jointure, and so it would; and if she can make that unfortunate old man fancy her in love with him, she’ll bring him to that, I have very little doubt. I never knew a quiet minx that wasn’t sly—smooth water.”
In fact, through the little town of Wyvern, shut out for the most part from the forest grounds, and old gray manor-house of the same name, it came to be buzzed abroad and about that, whether for love, or from a motive14 more sane15, though less refined, pretty Miss Alice Maybell had set her heart on marrying her surly old benefactor16, whose years were enough for her grandfather.
It was an odd idea to get into people’s heads; but why were her large soft gray eyes always following the Squire by stealth?
And, after all, what is incredible of the insanities17 of ambition? or the subtilty of women?
In the stable-yard of Wyvern Master Charles had his foot in the stirrup, and the old fellow with a mulberry-coloured face, and little gray eyes, who held the stirrup-leather at the other side, said, grinning—
“I wish ye may get it.”
“Get what?” said Charles Fairfield, arresting his spring for a moment and turning his dark and still handsome face, with a hard look at the man, for there was something dry and sly in his face and voice.
“What we was talking of—the old house and the land,” said the man.
“Hey, is that all?” said the young squire as he was still called at four-and-forty, throwing himself lightly into the saddle. “I’m pretty easy about that, why, what’s the matter?”
“What if the old fellow took it in his head to marry?”
“Marry—eh? well, if he did, I don’t care; but what the devil makes you talk like that? why, man, there’s black and white, seal and parchment for that, the house and acres are settled, Tom; and who do you think would marry him?”
“You’re the last to hear it; any child in the town could tell you, Miss Alice Maybell.”
“Oh! do they really? I did not think of that,” said the young squire, first looking in old Tom’s hard gray eyes. Then for a moment at his own boots thoughtfully, and then he swung himself into the saddle, and struck his spur in his horse’s side, and away he plunged18, without another word.
“He don’t like it, not a bit,” said Tom, following him with askance look as he rode down the avenue. “No more do I, she’s always a-watching of the Squire, and old Harry19 does throw a sheep’s eye at her, and she’s a likely lass; what though he be old, it’s an old rat that won’t eat cheese.”
As Tom stood thus, he received a poke20 on the shoulder with the end of a stick, and looking round saw old Squire Harry.
The Squire’s face was threatening. “Turn about, damn ye, what were you saying to that boy o’ mine?”
“Nothin’ as I remember,” lied Tom, bluntly.
“Come, what was it?” said the hard old voice, sternly.
“I said Blackie’d be the better of a brushin-boot, that’s all, I mind.”
“You lie, I saw you look over your shoulder before you said it, and while he was talkin’ he saw me acomin’, and he looked away—I caught ye at it, ye pair of false, pratin’ scoundrels; ye were talkin’ o’ me—come, what did he say, sirrah ?
“Narra word about ye.”
“You lie; out wi’ it, sir, or I’ll make your head sing like the church bell.”
And he shook his stick in his great tremulous fist, with a look that Tom well knew.
“Narra word about you from first to last,” said Tom; and he cursed and swore in support of his statement, for a violent master makes liars21 of his servants, and the servile vices23 crop up fast and rank under the shadow of tyranny.
“I don’t believe you,” said the Squire irresolutely24, “you’re a liar22, Tom, a black liar; ye’ll choke wi’ lies some day—you—fool!”
But the Squire seemed partly appeased25 and stood with the point of his stick now upon the ground, looking down on little Tom, with a somewhat grim and dubious26 visage, and after a few moment’s silence, he, asked—
“Where’s Miss Alice ?
“Takin’ a walk, sir.”
“Where, I say?”
“She went towards the terrace-garden,” answered Tom.
And toward the terrace-garden walked with a stately, tottering27 step the old Squire, with his great mastiff at his heels. Under the shadow of tall trees, one side of their rugged28 stems lighted with the yellow sunset, the other in soft gray, while the small birds were singing pleasantly high over his head among quivering leaves.
He entered the garden, ascending29 five worn steps of stone, between two weather-worn stone-urns. It is a pretty garden, all the prettier though sadder for its neglected state. Tall trees overtop its walls from without, and those gray walls are here and there overgrown with a luxuriant mantle30 of ivy31; within are yew-trees and wonderfully tall old myrtles; laurels32 not headed down for fifty years, and grown from shrubs33 into straggling, melancholy34 trees. Its broad walls are now overgrown with grass, and it has the air and solitude35 of a ruin.
In this conventual seclusion36, seated under the shade of a great old tree, he saw her. The old-fashioned rustic37 seat on which she sat is confronted by another, with what was once a gravel38 walk between.
More erect39, shaking himself up as it were, he strode slowly toward her. Her head was supported by her hand—her book on her lap—she seemed lost in a reverie, as he approached unawares over the thick carpet of grass and weeds.
“Well, lass, what brings you here? You’ll be sneezing and coughing for this; won’t you—sneezing and coughing—a moist, dark nook ye’ve chosen,” said Squire Harry, placing himself, nevertheless, on the seat opposite.
She started at the sound of his voice, and as she looked up in his face, he saw that she had been crying.
The Squire said nothing, but stiffly scuffled and poked40 the weeds and grass at his feet, for a while, with the end of his stick, and whistled low, some dreary41 old bars to himself.
At length he said abruptly42, but in a kind tone—
“You’re no child, now; you’ve grown up; you’re a well-thriven, handsome young woman, little Alice. There’s not one to compare wi’ ye; of all the lasses that comes to Wyvern Church ye bear the bell, ye do, ye bear the bell; ye know it. Don’t ye? Come, say lass; don’t ye know there’s none to compare wi’ ye ?
“Thank you, sir. It’s very good of you to think so—you’re always so kind,” said pretty Alice, looking very earnestly up in his face, her large tearful eyes wider than usual, and wondering, and, perhaps, hoping for what might come next.
“I’ll be kinder, maybe; never ye mind; ye like Wyvern, lass—the old house; well, it’s snug43, it is. It’s a good old English house; none o’ your thin brick—walls and Greek pillars, and scrape o’ rotten plaster, like my Lord Wrybroke’s sprawling44 house, they think so fine—but they don’t think it, only they say so, and they lie, just to flatter the peer; damn them. They go to London and learn courtiers’ ways there; that wasn’t so when I was a boy; a good old gentleman that kept house and hounds here was more, by a long score, than half a dozen fine Lunnon lords; and you’re handsomer, Alice, and a deal better, and a better lady, too, than the’ best o’ them painted, fine ladies, that’s too nice to eat good beef or mutton, and can’t call a cabbage a cabbage, I’m told, and would turn up their eyes, like a duck in thunder, if a body told ’em to put on their pattens, and walk out, as my mother used, to look over the poultry45. But what was that you were saying—I forget?”
“I don’t think, sir—I don’t remember—was I saying anything? I— I don’t recollect,” said Alice, who knew that she had contributed nothing to the talk.
“And you like Wyvern,” pursued the old man, with a gruff sort of kindness, “well, you’re right; it’s not bin46 a bad home for ye, and ye’d grieve to leave it. Ay—you’re right, there’s no place like it—there’s no air like it, and ye love Wyvern, and ye shan’t leave it, Alice.”
Alice Maybell looked hard at him; she was frightened, and also agitated47. She grew suddenly pale, but the Squire not observing this, continued—
“That is, unless ye be the greatest fool in the country’s side. You’d miss Wyvern, and the old woods, and glens, and spinnies, and, mayhap, ye’d miss the old man a bit too—not so old as they give out though, and ’tisn’t always the old dog gives in first—mind ye—nor the young un that’s the best dog, neither. I don’t care that stick for my sons—no more than they for me—that’s reason. They’re no comfort to me, nor never was. They’d be devilish glad I was carried out o’ Wyvern Hall feet foremost.”
“Oh, sir, you can’t think —?”
“Hold your little fool’s tongue; I’m wiser than you. If it warn’t for you, child, I don’t see much my life would be good for. You don’t wish me dead, like those cubs48. Hold your tongue, lass. I see some one’s bin frightenin’ you; but I’m not going to die for a bit. Don’t you take on; gie us your hand.”
And he took it, and held it fast in his massive grasp.
“Ye’ve been cryin ye fool. Them fellows bin sayin’ I’m breakin’ up. It’s a damned lie. I’ve a mind to send them about their business. I’d do it as ready as put a horse over a three-foot wall; but I’ve twelve years’ life in me yet. I’m good for fourteen years, if I live as long as my father did. He took his time about it, and no one heard me grumble49, and I’ll take mine. Don’t ye be a fool; I tell you there’s no one goin’ to die here, that I know of. There’s gentle blood in your veins50, and you’re a kind lass, and I’ll take care o’ you—mind, I’ll do it, and I’ll talk to you again.”
And so saying, he gave her hand a parting shake, and let it drop, and rising, he turned away, and strode stiffly from the garden. He was not often so voluble; and now the whole of this talk seemed to Alice Maybell a riddle51. He could not be thinking of marrying; but was he thinking of leaving her the house and a provision for her life!
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1
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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2
squires
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| n.地主，乡绅( squire的名词复数 ) | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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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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8
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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9
incipient
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| adj.起初的，发端的，初期的 | |
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mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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12
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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13
derisively
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| adv. 嘲笑地，嘲弄地 | |
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14
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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15
sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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16
benefactor
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| n. 恩人，行善的人，捐助人 | |
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17
insanities
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| 精神错乱( insanity的名词复数 )； 精神失常； 精神病； 疯狂 | |
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18
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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19
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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20
poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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21
liars
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| 说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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23
vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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24
irresolutely
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| adv.优柔寡断地 | |
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25
appeased
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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26
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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27
tottering
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| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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28
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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30
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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33
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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38
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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39
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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40
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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41
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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42
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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43
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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44
sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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45
poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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46
bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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47
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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48
cubs
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| n.幼小的兽，不懂规矩的年轻人( cub的名词复数 ) | |
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49
grumble
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| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
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50
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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51
riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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