With an old calendar before her as a model for the lettering, Peggy did her work neatly5 and well, and the gilt6 “arabesques” had an artistic7 flourish which was quite professional. When Robert was shown the first half-dozen sheets he whistled with surprise, and exclaimed, “Good old Mariquita!” a burst of approval before which Peggy glowed with delight. It had been agreed that, after printing the first ten days of January, Peggy should go on to the first ten of February, and so on throughout the year, so that Rob should be able to use what quotations8 had already been found under each heading, and should not be detained until the whole thirty or thirty-one had been chosen.
The partners were most fastidious in their selection at the beginning of their work; but when half the time had passed, and not one-third of the necessary number of quotations had been found, alarm seized upon the camp, and it was realised that a little more latitude9 must be shown.
“We shall have to use up all the old ones which we struck off the list,” said Rob disconsolately10. “I’m sorry; but I never realised before that three hundred and sixty-five was such an outrageously11 large number. And we shall have to get books of extracts, and read them through from beginning to end. Nearly two hundred more to find; a hundred and fifty, say, when we have used up those old ones! It will take us all our time!”
“I’ll get up at six every morning and read by my fire,” said Peggy firmly. “If it’s necessary, I’ll get up at five, and if I can’t find bits to suit all the stupid old things, I’ll—I’ll write some myself! There! Why shouldn’t I? I often make up things in my head, and you wouldn’t believe how fine they are. I think of them days afterwards, and ask myself, ‘Now where did I read that?’ and then it comes back to me. ‘Dear me; I made it up myself!’ If we get very short, Rob, there wouldn’t be any harm in writing a few sentences and signing them ‘Saville,’ would there?”
“Not if they were good enough,” said Rob, trying to suppress the laugh which would have hurt Peggy’s feelings, and looking with twinkling eyes at the little figure by his side, so comically unprofessional, with her lace collar, dainty little feet, and pigtail of dark brown hair.
“You mustn’t get up too early in the morning and overtire yourself. I can’t allow that!” he added firmly. “You have looked like a little white ghost the last few days, and your face is about the size of my hand. You must get some colour into your cheeks before the holidays, or that beloved Arthur will think we have been ill-treating you when he comes down.”
Peggy gave a sharp sigh, and relapsed into silence. It was the rarest thing in the world to hear her allude12 to any of her own people. When a letter arrived, and Mrs Asplin asked questions concerning father, mother, or brother, she answered readily enough, but she never offered information, or voluntarily carried on the conversation. Friends less sympathetic might have imagined that she was so happy in her new home that she had no care beyond it, but no one in the vicarage made that mistake. When the Indian letter was handed to her across the breakfast-table, the flush of delight on the pale cheeks brought a reflected smile to every face, and more than one pair of eyes watched her tenderly as she sat hugging the precious letter, waiting until the moment should come when she could rush upstairs and devour13 its contents in her own room. Once it had happened that mail day had arrived and brought no letter, and that had been a melancholy14 occasion. Mrs Asplin had looked at one envelope after another, had read the addresses twice, thrice, even four times over, before she summoned courage to tell of its absence.
“There is no letter for you to-day, Peggy!” Her voice was full of commiseration15 as she spoke16, but Peggy sat in silence, her face stiffened17, her head thrown back with an assumption of calm indifference18. “There must have been some delay in the mail. You will have two letters next week, dearie, instead of one.”
“Probably,” said Peggy. Mellicent was staring at her with big, round eyes; the vicar peered over the rim19 of his spectacles; Esther passed the marmalade with eager solicitude20; her friends were all full of sympathy, but there was a “Touch-me-if-you-dare!” atmosphere about Peggy that day which silenced the words on their lips. It was evident that she preferred to be left alone, and though her eyes were red when she came down to lunch, she held her chin so high, and joined in the conversation with such an elegant flow of language, that no one dare comment on the fact. Two days later the letter arrived, and all was sunshine again; but, in spite of her cheery spirits, her friends realised that Peggy’s heart was not in the vicarage, and that there were moments when the loneliness of her position pressed on her, and when she longed intensely for someone of her very own, whose place could not be taken by even the kindest of friends.
Like most undemonstrative people, Peggy dearly loved to be appreciated, and to receive marks of favour from those around. Half the zest21 with which she entered into her new labour was owing to the fact that Robert had chosen her from all the rest to be his partner. She was aglow22 with satisfaction in this fact, and with pleasure in the work itself, and the only cloud which darkened her horizon at the present moment was caused by those incidental references to the fair Rosalind which fell so often from her companions’ lips.
“Everything,” said Peggy impatiently to herself, “everything ends in Rosalind! Whatever we are talking about, that stupid girl’s name is bound to be introduced! I asked Mellicent if she would have a scone23 at tea this afternoon, and she said something about Rosalind in reply—Rosalind liked scones24, or she didn’t like scones, or some ridiculous nonsense of the sort! Who wants to know what Rosalind likes? I don’t! I’m sick of the name! And Mrs Asplin is as silly as the rest! The girls must have new dresses because Rosalind is coming, and they will be asked to tea at the Larches25! If their green dresses are good enough for us, why won’t they do for Rosalind, I should like to know? Rob is the only sensible one. I asked him if she were really such a marvellous creature, and he said she was an affected26 goose! He ought to know better than anyone else! Curls indeed! One would think it was something extraordinary to have curls! My hair would curl too, if I chose to make it, but I don’t; I prefer to have it straight! If she is the ‘Honourable Rosalind,’ I am Mariquita Saville, and I’m not going to be patronised by anybody—so there!” and Peggy tossed her head, and glared at the reflection in the glass in a lofty and scornful manner, as though it were the offending party who had had the audacity27 to assume superiority.
Robert was one with Peggy in hoping that his people would not leave town until such time as the calendar should be despatched on its travels, for when they were installed at the Larches he was expected to be at home each week from Saturday until Monday, and the loss of that long holiday afternoon would interfere28 seriously with the work on hand. He had seen so little of his people for the last few years, that he would be expected to be sociable29 during the short time that he was with them, and could hardly shut himself up in his room for hours at a time. Despair then settled down upon both partners, when a letter arrived to say that the Darcy family were coming down even earlier than had been expected, and summoning Robert to join them at the earliest possible moment.
“This is awful!” cried the lad, ruffling30 his hair with a big, restless hand. “I know what it means—not only Saturdays off, but two or three nights during the week into the bargain! Between you and me, Mariquita, the governor is coming down here to economise, and intends to stay much longer than usual. Hector has been getting into debt again; he’s the eldest31, you know—the one in the Life Guards. It’s a lot too bad, for he has had it all his own way so far, and when he runs up bills like this, everyone has to suffer for it. Mother hates the country for more than a few weeks at a time, and will be wretched if she is kept here all through the winter. I know how it will be: she will keep asking people down, and getting up all sorts of entertainments to relieve the dulness. It’s all very well in its way, but just now when I need every minute—”
“Shall you give up trying for the prize?” asked Peggy faintly, and Rob threw back his head with emphatic32 disclaimer.
“I never give up a thing when I have made up my mind to do it! There are ten days still, and a great deal can be done in ten days. I’ll take a couple of books upstairs with me every night, and see if I can find something fresh. There is one good thing about it, I shall have a fresh stock of books to choose from at the Larches. It is the last step that costs in this case. It was easy enough to fix off the first hundred, but the last is a teaser!”
On Saturday morning a dogcart came over to convey Robert to the Larches, and the atmosphere of the vicarage seemed charged with expectation and excitement. The Darcys had arrived; to-morrow they would appear at church; on Monday they would probably drive over with Rob and pay a call. These were all important facts in a quiet country life, and seemed to afford unlimited33 satisfaction to every member of the household. Peggy grew so tired of the name of Darcy that she retired34 to her room at eight o’clock, and was busy at work over the September batch35 of cards, when a knock came to the door, and she had to cover them over with the blotting-paper to admit Mellicent in her dressing-gown, with her hair arranged for the night in an extraordinary number of little plaited pigtails.
“Will you fasten the ends for me, Peggy, please?” she requested. “When I do it, the threads fall off, and the ends come loose. I want it to be specially36 nice for to-morrow!”
“But it will look simply awful, Mellicent, if you leave it like this. It will be frizzed out almost on a level with your head. Let me do it up in just two tight plaits; it will be far, far nicer,” urged Peggy, lifting one little tail after another, and counting their number in dismay. But no, Mellicent would not be persuaded. The extra plaits were a tribute to Rosalind, a mark of attention to her on her arrival with which she would suffer no interference; and as a consequence of her stubbornness she marched to church next morning disfigured by a mop of untidy, tangled37 hair, instead of the usual glossy38 locks.
Peggy preserved a demeanour of stately calm, as she waited for the arrival of the Darcy family, but even she felt a tremor39 of excitement when the verger hobbled up to the square pew and stood holding the door open in his hand. The heads of the villagers turned with one consent to the doorway40; only one person in the church disdained41 to move her position, but she heard the clatter42 of horses’ hoofs43 from without, and presently the little procession passed the vicarage pew, and she could indulge her curiosity without sacrifice to pride. First of all came Lord Darcy, a thin, oldish man, with a face that looked tired and kind, and faintly amused by the amount of attention which his entrance had attracted. Then his wife, a tall, fair woman, with a beautiful profile, and an air of languid discontent, who floated past with rustling44 silken skirts, leaving an impression of elegance45 and luxury, which made Mrs Asplin sigh and Mellicent draw in her breath with a gasp46 of rapture47. Then followed Robert with his shaggy head, scowling48 more fiercely than ever in his disgust at finding himself an object of attention, and last of all a girlish figure in a grey dress, with a collar of soft, fluffy49 chinchilla, and a velvet50 hat with drooping51 brim, beneath which could be seen a glimpse of a face pink and white as the blossoms of spring, and a mass of shining, golden hair. Peggy shut her lips with a snap, and the iron entered into her soul. It was no use pretending any longer! This was Rosalind, and she was fairer, sweeter, a hundred times more beautiful than she had ever imagined!
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1
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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carnival
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| n.嘉年华会，狂欢，狂欢节，巡回表演 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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8
quotations
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| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
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latitude
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| n.纬度，行动或言论的自由(范围)，(pl.)地区 | |
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disconsolately
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| adv.悲伤地，愁闷地；哭丧着脸 | |
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outrageously
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| 凶残地； 肆无忌惮地； 令人不能容忍地； 不寻常地 | |
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allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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devour
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| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
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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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commiseration
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| n.怜悯，同情 | |
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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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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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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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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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scone
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| n.圆饼，甜饼，司康饼 | |
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scones
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| n.烤饼，烤小圆面包( scone的名词复数 ) | |
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larches
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| n.落叶松（木材）( larch的名词复数 ) | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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ruffling
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| 弄皱( ruffle的现在分词 )； 弄乱； 激怒； 扰乱 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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32
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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batch
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| n.一批(组，群)；一批生产量 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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40
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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41
disdained
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| 鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
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42
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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43
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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44
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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45
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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46
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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47
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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48
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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49
fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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50
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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51
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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