At every spare moment of the day she was locked in her room, scribbling3 away for dear life or searching for appropriate extracts, and, as a consequence, her brain refused to rest when she wished it to do so. She tossed wakefully on her pillow, and was often most inclined for sleep when six o’clock struck, and she dragged herself up, a white-cheeked, weary little mortal, to sit blinking over the fire, wishing feebly that it was time to go to bed again, instead of getting up to face the long, long day.
Robert was not more observant than most boys of his age, and Peggy would have worked herself to death before she had complained to him. She was proud to feel that he depended on her more than ever, that without her help he could not possibly have finished his task, while his words of gratitude5 helped to comfort a heart which was feeling sore and empty.
In truth, these last few weeks had been harder for Peggy than those immediately following her mother’s departure. Then each one in the house had vied with the other in trying to comfort her, whereas now, without any intention of unkindness, her companions often appeared to be neglectful.
When Rosalind was present Esther hung on one arm and Mellicent on the other, without so much as a glance over the shoulder to see if Peggy were following. Instead of a constant “Peggy, what would you like?”
“What does Peggy say?” her opinion was never even asked, while Rosalind’s lightest word was treated as law.
It would have been hard for any girl under the circumstances, but it was doubly hard when that girl was so dependent on her friends, and so sensitive and reserved in disposition6 as Peggy Saville. She would not deign7 to complain or to ask for signs of affection which were not voluntarily given, but her merry ways disappeared, and she became so silent and subdued8 that she was hardly recognisable as the audacious Peggy of a few weeks earlier.
“Peggy’s so grumpy,” Mellicent complained to her mother. “She never laughs now, nor makes jokes, nor flies about as she used to do! She’s just as glum9 and mum as can be, and she never sits with us! She is always in her bedroom with the door locked, so that we can’t get in! She’s there now! I think she might stay with us sometimes! It’s mean, always running away!”
Mrs Asplin drew her brows together and looked worried. She had not been satisfied about Peggy lately, and this news did not tend to reassure10 her. Her kind heart could not endure that anyone beneath her roof should be ill or unhappy, and the girl had looked both during the last few days. She went upstairs at once and tapped at the door, when Peggy’s voice was raised in impatient answer.
“I can’t come! Go away! I’m engaged!”
“But I want to speak to you, dear! Please let me in!” she replied in her clear, pleasant tones; whereupon there was a hasty scamper11 inside, and the door was thrown open.
“Oh–h! I didn’t know it was you; I thought it was one of the girls. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”
Mrs Asplin gave a glance around. The gas-fire was lit, but the chair beside it stood stiffly in the corner, and the cushion was uncrushed. Evidently, the girl had not been sitting there. The work-basket was in its accustomed place, and there were no cottons or silks lying about—Peggy had not been sewing at Christmas presents, as she had half hoped to find her. A towel was thrown over the writing-table, and a piece of blotting-paper lay on the floor. A chair was pushed to one side, as if it had been lately used. That looked as if she had been writing letters.
“Peggy dear, what are you doing all by yourself in this chilly12 room?”
“I’m busy, Mrs Asplin. I lit the fire as soon as I came in.”
“But a room does not get warm in five minutes. I don’t want you to catch cold and be laid up with a sore throat. Can’t you bring your writing downstairs and do it beside the others?”
“I would rather not. I can get on so much better by myself.”
“Are you writing to India—to your mother?”
“N–no, not just now.”
“Then really, dear, you must come downstairs! This won’t do! Your mother wished you to have a fire in your room, so that you might be able to sit here when you wanted to be alone, but she never meant you to make it a habit, or to spend all your spare time alone. It isn’t healthy to use a room night and day, and to burn so much gas, and it isn’t sociable13, Peggy dear. Mellicent has just been complaining that you are hardly ever with them nowadays. Come along, like a good girl; put the writing away and amuse yourself downstairs. You have done enough work for one day. You don’t do me credit with those white cheeks.”
Peggy stood with her eyes fixed14 on the carpet without uttering a word. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to say, “Oh, do let me stay upstairs as much as I like for a day or two longer. I have a piece of work on hand which I am anxious to finish. It is a secret, but I hope to tell you all about it soon, and I am sure you will be pleased.” If she had done so, she knew perfectly15 well how hearty16 and pleasant would have been Mrs Asplin’s consent; but there are some states of mind in which it is a positive pleasure to be a martyr17, and to feel oneself misunderstood, and this was just the mood in which Peggy found herself at present. She heard Mrs Asplin sigh, as if with anxiety and disappointment, as she left the room, and shrugged18 her shoulders in wilful19 indifference20.
“She thinks I like sitting shivering here! I slave, and slave, from morning till night, and then people think I am sulky! I am not working for myself. I don’t want the wretched old ten pounds; I could have ten pounds to-morrow if I needed it. Mother said I could. I am working to help Rob, and now I shall have to sit up later, and get up earlier than ever, as I mayn’t work during the day. Mellicent said I was never with them, did she! I don’t see that it matters whether I am there or not! They don’t want me; nobody wants me, now that Rosalind has come! I hate Rosalind—nasty, smirking21, conceited22 thing!” and Peggy jerked the towel off the writing-table and flicked23 it violently to and fro in the air, just as a little relief to her overcharged feelings.
She was crossing the hall with unwilling24 steps when the postman’s knock sounded at the door, and three letters in long, narrow envelopes fell to the ground. Each envelope was of a pale pink tint25, with a crest26 and monogram27 in white relief; one was addressed to the Misses Asplin, another to Oswald Elliston, and a third to Miss Mariquita Saville.
“Invitations!” cried Peggy, with a caper28 of delight. “Invitations! How scrumptious!” Her face clouded for a moment as the sight of the letters “R.D.” suggested the sender of the letters; but the natural girlish delight in an unexpected festivity was stronger even than her prejudices, and it was the old, bright Peggy who bounced into the schoolroom holding up the three letters, and crying gleefully, “Quis, Quis, something nice for somebody! An invitation!”
“Ego29, Ego!” came the eager replies, and the envelopes were seized and torn open in breathless haste.
“From Rosalind! Oh, how funny! ‘Requests the pleasure—company—to a pink luncheon30.’ What in the world is a ‘pink luncheon’?—‘on Tuesday next, the 20th inst.’”
“A p–p–pink luncheon? How wewwy stwange!” echoed Mellicent, who had been suddenly affected31 with an incapacity to pronounce the letter “r” since the arrival of Rosalind Darcy on the scene—a peculiarity33 which happened regularly every autumn, and passed off again with the advent34 of spring. “How can a luncheon possibly be pink?”
“That’s more than I can tell you, my dear! Ask Rob. What does it mean, Rob?” asked Peggy curiously35; and Robert scowled36, and shook back his shock of hair.
“Some American fad37, I believe. The idea is to have everything of one colour—flowers, drapery, and food, china—everything that is on the table. It’s a fag and an awful handicap, for you can’t have half the things you want. But let us be modern or die—that’s the motto nowadays. Mother is always trying to get hold of new-fangled notions.”
“‘Peggy Saville requests the pleasure of Jane Smith’s company to a magenta38 supper.’—‘Peggy Saville requests the pleasure of Mr Jones’s company to a purple tea.’ It’s a splendid idea! I like it immensely,” said Peggy, pursing her lips, and staring in the fire in meditative39 fashion. “Pink—pink—what can we eat that is pink? P–prawns, p–pickles, p–p–pomegranates, P–aysandu tongues (you would call those pink, wouldn’t you—pinky red?) Humph! I don’t think it sounds very nice. Perhaps they dye the things with cochineal. I think I shall have a sensible brown and green meal before I go, and then I can nibble40 elegantly at the pinkies. Would it be considered a delicate mark of attention if I wore a pink frock?”
“Certainly it would. Wear that nice one that you put on in the evenings. Rosalind will be in pink from head to foot, you may depend on it,” said Robert confidently; whereupon Mellicent rushed headlong from the room to find her mother, and plead eagerly that summer crepon dresses of the desired tint should be brought forth41 from their hiding-place and freshened up for the occasion. To accede42 to this request meant an extra call upon time already fully4 occupied, but mothers have a way of not grudging43 trouble where their children are concerned. Mrs Asplin said, “Yes, darling, of course I will!” and set to work with such goodwill44 that all three girls sported pink dresses beneath their ulsters when they set off to partake of the mysterious luncheon, a few days later.
Rosalind came to the bedroom to receive them, and looked on from an arm-chair, while Lady Darcy’s maid helped the visitors to take off their wraps. She herself looked like a rose in her dainty pink draperies, and Peggy had an impression that she was not altogether pleased to see that her guests were as appropriately dressed as herself. She eyed them up and down, and made remarks to the maid in that fluent French of hers which was so unintelligible45 to the schoolgirls’ ears. The maid smirked46 and pursed up her lips, and then, meeting Peggy’s steady gaze, dropped her eyes in confusion. Peggy knew, as well as if she had understood every word, that the remarks exchanged between mistress and maid had been of a depreciatory47 nature, not as concerned her own attire—that was as perfect in its way as Rosalind’s own—but with reference to the home-made dresses of the vicar’s daughters, which seemed to have suddenly become clumsy and shapeless when viewed in the mirrors of this elegant bedroom. She was in arms at once on her friends’ behalf, and when Peggy’s dignity was hurt she was a formidable person to tackle. In this instance she fixed her eyes first on the maid, and then on Rosalind herself with a steady, disapproving48 stare which was not a little disconcerting.
“I am sorry,” she said, “but we really don’t know French well enough to follow your conversation! You were talking about us, I think. Perhaps you would be kind enough to repeat your remarks in English?”
“Oh–h, it doesn’t matter! It was nothing at all important!” Rosalind flushed, and had the grace to look a trifle ashamed of her own ill-breeding, but she did not by any means appreciate the reproof49. The girls had not been ten minutes in the house, and already that aggravating50 Peggy Saville had succeeded in making her feel humiliated51 and uncomfortable. The same thing happened whenever they met. The respect and awe52 and adoring admiration53 which she was accustomed to receive from other girls of her own age seemed altogether wanting in Peggy’s case; and yet, strange to say, the very fact that she refused to fall down and worship invested Peggy with a peculiar32 importance in Rosalind’s eyes. She longed to overcome her prejudices and add her name to the list of her adorers, and to this end she considered her tastes in a way which would never have occurred to her in connection with Mrs Asplin’s daughters. In planning the pink luncheon Peggy had been continually in her mind, and it is doubtful whether she would have taken the trouble to arrange so difficult an entertainment had not the party from the vicarage included that important personage, Miss Mariquita Saville.
From the bedroom the girls adjourned54 to the morning-room, where Lady Darcy sat waiting; but almost as soon as they had exchanged greetings, the gong sounded to announce luncheon, and they walked across the hall aglow55 with expectation.
The table looked exquisite56, and the guests stood still in the doorway57 and gasped58 with admiration. The weather outside was grey and murky59, but tall standard lamps were placed here and there, and the light which streamed from beneath the pink silk shades gave an air of warmth and comfort to the room. Down the centre of the table lay a slip of looking-glass, on which graceful60 long-necked swans seemed to float to and fro, while troughs filled with soft pink blossoms formed a bordering. Garlands of pink flowers fell from the chandelier and were attached to the silver candelabra, in which pink candles burned with clear and steady flare61. Glass, china, ornaments62, were all of the same dainty colour, and beside each plate was a dainty little buttonhole nosegay, with a coral-headed pin, all ready to be attached to the dress or coat of the owner.
“It’s—it’s beautiful!” cried Mellicent ecstatically; while Peggy’s beauty-loving eye turned from one detail to another with delighted approbation63. “Really,” she said to herself in astonishment64, “I couldn’t have done it better myself! It’s quite admirable!” and as Rosalind’s face peered inquiringly at her beneath the canopy65 of flowers, she nodded her head, and smiled generous approval.
“Beautiful! Charming! I congratulate you! Did you design it and arrange everything yourself?”
“Mother and I made it up between us. We didn’t do the actual work, but we told the servants what to do, and saw that it was all right. The flowers and bonbons66 are easy enough to manage; it’s the things to eat that are the greatest trouble.”
“It seems to be too horribly prosaic68 to eat anything at such a table, except crumpled69 rose-leaves, like the princess in the fairy tale,” said Peggy gushingly70; but at this Mellicent gave an exclamation71 of dismay, and the three big lads turned their eyes simultaneously72 towards the soup tureen, as if anxious to assure themselves that they were not to be put off with such ethereal rations73.
The soup was pink. “Tomato!” murmured Peggy to herself, as she raised the first creamy spoonful to her lips. The fish was covered with thick pink sauce; tiny little cutlets lurked74 behind ruffles75 of pink paper; pink baskets held chicken soufflés; moulds of pink cream and whipped-up syllabubs were handed round in turns, and looked so tempting76 that Mellicent helped herself at once, and nearly shed tears of mortification77 on finding that they were followed by distracting pink ices, which were carried away again before she could possibly finish what was on her plate. Then came dessert-plates and finger-glasses, in which crystallised rose-leaves floated in the scented78 water, as if in fulfilment of Peggy’s suggestion of an hour before, and the young people sat in great contentment, eating rosy79 apples, bananas pared and dipped in pink sugar, or helping80 themselves to the delicious bonbons which were strewed81 about the table.
While they were thus occupied the door opened, and Lord Darcy came into the room. He had not appeared before, and he shook hands with the visitors in turn, and then stood at the head of the table looking about him with a slow, kindly82 smile. Peggy watched him from her seat, and thought what a nice face he had, and wondered at the indifferent manner in which he was received by his wife and daughter. Lady Darcy leant back in her chair and played with her fruit, the sleeves of her pink silk tea-gown falling back from her white arms. Rosalind whispered to Max, and neither of them troubled to cast so much as a glance of welcome at the new-comer. Peggy thought of her own father, the gallant83 soldier out in India, of the joy and pride with which his comings and goings were watched; of Mr Asplin in the vicarage, with his wife running to meet him, and Mellicent resting her curly bead84 on his shoulder; and the figure of the old lord standing85 unnoticed at the head of his own table assumed a pathetic interest. It seemed, however, as if Lord Darcy were accustomed to be overlooked, for he showed no signs of annoyance86; on the contrary, his face brightened, and he looked at the pretty scene with sparkling eyes. The room was full of a soft rosy glow, the shimmer87 of silver and crystal was reflected in the sheet of mirror, and beneath the garlands of flowers the young faces of the guests glowed with pleasure and excitement. He looked from one to the other—handsome Max, dandy Oswald, Robert with his look of strength and decision; then to the girls—Esther, gravely smiling; wide-eyed Mellicent; Peggy, with her eloquent88, sparkling eyes; Rosalind, a queen of beauty among them all; finally to the head of the table, where sat his wife.
“I must congratulate you, dear,” he said heartily89. “It is the prettiest sight I have seen for a long time. You have arranged admirably, but that’s no new thing; you always do. I don’t know where you get your ideas. These wreaths—eh? I’ve never seen anything like them before. What made you think of fastening them up there?”
“I have had them like that several times before, but you never notice a thing until its novelty is over, and I am tired to death of seeing it,” said his wife, with a frown and an impatient curve of the lip, as if she had received a rebuke90 instead of a compliment.
Peggy stared at her plate, felt Robert shuffle91 on his chair by her side, and realised that he was as embarrassed and unhappy as herself. The beautiful room with its luxurious92 appointments seemed to have suddenly become oppressive and cheerless, for in it was the spirit of discontent and discord93 between those who should have been most in harmony. Esther was shocked, Mellicent frightened, the boys looked awkward and uncomfortable. No one ventured to break the silence, and there was quite a long pause before Lady Darcy spoke94 again in quick, irritable95 tones.
“Have you arranged to get away with me on Thursday, as I asked you?”
“My dear, I cannot. I explained before. I am extremely sorry, but I have made appointments which I cannot break. I could take you next week if you would wait.”
“I can’t wait. I told you I had to go to the dentist’s. Do you wish me to linger on in agony for another week? And I have written to Mrs Bouverie that I will be at her ‘At Home’ on Saturday. My appointments are, at least, as binding96 as yours. It isn’t often that I ask you to take me anywhere, but when it is a matter of health I do think you might show a little consideration.”
Lord Darcy drew his brows together and bit his moustache. Peggy recalled Robert’s description of the “governor looking wretched” when he found himself compelled to refuse a favour, and did not wonder that the lad was ready to deny himself a pleasure rather than see that expression on his father’s face. The twinkling light had died out of his eyes, and he looked old and sad and haggard, far more in need of physical remedies than his wife, whose “agony” had been so well concealed97 during the last two hours as to give her the appearance of a person in very comfortable health. Rosalind alone looked absolutely unruffled, and lay back in her chair nibbling98 at her bonbon67, as though such scenes were of too frequent occurrence between her parents to be deserving of attention.
“If you have made up your mind to go to-morrow, and cannot go alone, you must take Robert with you, Beatrice, for I cannot leave. It is only for four days, and Mr Asplin will no doubt excuse him, if you write and explain the circumstances.”
Lord Darcy left the room, and Robert and Peggy exchanged agonised glances. Go away for nearly a week, when before two days were over the calendar must be sent to London, and there still remained real hard work before it was finished! Peggy sat dazed and miserable99, seeing the painful effort of the last month brought to naught100, Robert’s ambition defeated, and her own help of no avail. That one glance had shown the lad’s face flushed with emotion; but when his mother spoke to him in fretful tones, bidding him be ready next morning when she should call in the carriage on her way to the station, he answered at once with polite acquiescence—
“Very well, mater, I won’t keep you waiting. I shall be ready by half-past ten if you want me.”
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1
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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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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scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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deign
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| v. 屈尊, 惠允 ( 做某事) | |
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subdued
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glum
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| adj.闷闷不乐的，阴郁的 | |
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reassure
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scamper
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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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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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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wilful
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| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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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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smirking
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conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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tint
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crest
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monogram
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| n.字母组合 | |
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caper
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| v.雀跃，欢蹦；n.雀跃，跳跃；续随子，刺山柑花蕾；嬉戏 | |
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ego
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luncheon
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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peculiarity
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advent
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fad
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| n.时尚；一时流行的狂热；一时的爱好 | |
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magenta
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| n..紫红色（的染料）；adj.紫红色的 | |
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meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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nibble
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| n.轻咬，啃；v.一点点地咬，慢慢啃，吹毛求疵 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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accede
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| v.应允，同意 | |
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grudging
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| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
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goodwill
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| n.善意，亲善，信誉，声誉 | |
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unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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smirked
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| v.傻笑( smirk的过去分词 ) | |
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depreciatory
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| adj.贬值的，蔑视的 | |
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disapproving
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| adj.不满的，反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
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reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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aggravating
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| adj.恼人的，讨厌的 | |
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humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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52
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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adjourned
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| （使）休会， （使）休庭( adjourn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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approbation
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| n.称赞；认可 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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bonbons
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| n.小糖果( bonbon的名词复数 ) | |
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bonbon
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| n.棒棒糖；夹心糖 | |
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prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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gushingly
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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ruffles
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| 褶裥花边( ruffle的名词复数 ) | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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strewed
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| v.撒在…上( strew的过去式和过去分词 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
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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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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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bead
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| n.念珠；(pl.)珠子项链；水珠 | |
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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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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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shimmer
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| v./n.发微光，发闪光；微光 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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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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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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