Surrounded by these and myriad9 other evidences of spring, stands a fair and beautiful girl, herself in the spring of life. The name of the place is appropriate to her and to the season. Springfield is an enclosed park of forty acres, the beauties of which are jealously hidden from vulgar gaze. It is the most picturesque10 portion of an important estate, at present in the possession of Lady Josephine Temple, who lies sick in the quaint11 old house yonder, built in the Elizabethan style, the designs for which are said to have been prepared by John of Padua. But John of Padua and all the historical associations of the house are as dead letters to Lady Temple, who has sufficient food for contemplation in her own immediate12 affairs and condition. The blinds of the room in which she lies are drawn13 down for the express purpose of shutting out the day, in accordance with the ancient formula, which provided that the sick should be depressed14 and weakened by dim light and silence, instead of cheered and strengthened by sunlight and cheerfulness.
To beautiful Nelly Marston, as she stands by the quaint old windows in the laughing sunlight, with diamond drops of rain glistening15 in her bonny brown hair, and on her lashes,--
"The April in her eyes; it is love's spring,
And these the showers to bring it on,"--
to her comes, with a bashful air upon him, the son of the head gardener of Springfield, a young man of twenty-five or thereabouts, fairly handsome, fairly well-made, and, through the long services of his father, fairly well-to-do in the world. He has in his hand some loose flowers, and a small bouquet16 of lilies of the valley, arranged in good taste, and looking, with their white petals17 and their background of exquisitely18 green leaves, like turrets19 of ivory carved out one above another, built up on emerald mountains. The young man, with a world of admiration20 expressed in his manner, holds out the lilies to Miss Nelly Marston, with a shyness that would have been comical in one so strong had his earnestness allowed scope for any quality less strong than itself.
"May I offer you these, miss?"
As though he were offering her his heart, which, indeed, he was ready and eager to do, but lacked the courage.
"Thank you, John," she says, turning the flowers this way and that, with as dainty a coquetting with man and flower--though she does not look at him--as well could be. Then she selects two or three of the lilies, and places them in her brown hair, where they rest like white doves in an autumn forest. John's heart is full as he sees his flowers thus disposed. Nelly, then, inhales21 the fresh air, demonstratively, as though it were nectar. "What a lovely morning! And yet it was blowing last night, almost like winter."
"Ah, you heard the wind, miss," responds the young gardener, delighted at the opportunity of exchanging a few words with the girl who had but lately come to Springfield, and who had taken his heart captive the moment his eyes rested on her fair face. A thrill actually runs through his foolish heart at the thought that he and she were awake at the same moment listening to the wind. "It is a good sign, miss, for harvest."
"I have heard you are weather-wise, John," says Nelly Marston, with a little laugh sweeter to the young fellow than the sweetest chime of bells, or the sweetest music of birds. "Harvest-time is far off. In what way is it a good sign?"
"When April blows his horn, it's good for hay and corn. An old saying, miss."
"As old, I dare say, as that April showers make May flowers." (Nelly Marston is almost as pleased as the young gardener himself at the opportunity for conversation. She finds Springfield very dull. Every soul in it, with the exception of the mistress, is a servant, and Lady Temple, a childless widow, is not remarkable22 for cheerfulness or lively manners. There is no one at Springfield with whom the girl can associate.) "These lilies are very, very pretty, John! What is that flower you have in your hand, that one with the spotted23 leaves?"
"This, miss? It isn't very handsome, but I can't resist picking a bit when I first catch sight of it in the spring hedges, because it reminds me of the time when I was a little un, and when me and the others used to play at lords-and-ladies with it. It's almost a medicine flower, too, miss, the cuckoo-pint24."
"The cuckoo-pint! Is lords-and-ladies another name for it?"
"Not a proper name, miss, but that's what we used to call it. It's come down to us in that way."
"And the cuckoo flower, too! I have heard of the cuckoo flower, of course, but never of the cuckoo-pint. Lords-and-ladies! Give it to me, John, will you?"
"With pleasure, miss," answers the delighted and palpitating John. "I'll pick you a bunch of them, if you like, miss."
"Yes, do! But--I am a very curious person, John, always wanting to know things--why is it called lords-and-ladies?"
"I don't exactly know, miss, except, perhaps, that it changes more than any other flower."
"And lords-and-ladies do that?"
"It isn't for me to say, miss. I only repeat what I have heard. There's other names for it. If you'll allow me, miss." John's nerves tingle25 as he takes the flower from the girl's hand, and in doing so, touches her fingers. The contact of her soft flesh with his is a concentrated bliss26 to him, and sets his sensitive soul on fire. "You see, I pull down this hood"--(he suits the action to the word, and turns down the outer leaf)--"and here's the Parson in his Pulpit. You might fancy 'twas something like it, miss."
"You must not make fun of parsons, John. My father was one."
John, who is a staunch church-goer, and by no means irreverently inclined, is instantly imbued27 with a deeper reverence28 than ever for parsons, and says apologetically,
"Tis not making fun of them, miss, to liken them to flowers. If I was to liken them to medicine bottles, now, with the white labels tied round their necks, 'twould be different; but I wouldn't go so far as that."
Nelly Marston laughs, the likeness29 of medicine bottles to the clergy30 is so clearly apparent.
"It is a long stretch either way, John. I must go in now. Don't forget to pick me a bunch of lords-and-ladies!"
"I'll not forget, miss."
The happy young gardener touches his cap, and walks away with a blithe4 heart, to search at once among the hedges for this particular species of the arum. Be sure that none but the very finest specimens31 will meet with his approval. From this day forth32 the cuckoo-pint holds a curiously-tender place in his memory, and the season
"When daisies pied, and violets blue,
And lady-smocks, all silver-white,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue33,
Do paint the meadows with delight,"
never comes round without bringing with it a vision of himself and a fair and beautiful girl by the old house at Springfield, she with white lilies and cuckoo flowers in her hands, and he standing34 before her, with a heart pulsing with love and adoration35.
Nelly Marston would have stopped a longer time conversing36 with him, had she not seen a maid approaching her from the house to summon her to Lady Temple's room.
"I have been waiting for you, Miss Marston," says the sick lady, in a peevish37 tone, as the girl enters, "and wondering where you were. What have you in your hand? Flowers! Send them away. You know I am expressly forbidden to have flowers about me. Stay. What are they? Don't bring them too close."
"Only a few lilies of the valley, Lady Temple, that the gardener's son gave me."
"And you have some in your hair, too--that the gardener's son gave you! And those other flowers, the yellow ones?"
"This is the cuckoo flower--the cuckoo pint, rather. Lords-and-ladies, he called it."
"And that's why you choose it, I suppose. So you have been gossiping with the gardener's son! You are like your mother, I am afraid."
"My mother, Lady Temple," says the girl proudly, straightening her slight figure, "during her lifetime, always spoke38 of you with respect and affection. I shall be glad if you will explain the meaning of your words--if they have a meaning."
"There, there, don't worry me, Miss Marston. I am not strong enough for scenes. It seems to be a bright morning."
"It is very fresh and lovely out of doors. Spring is come in real earnest. The apple-blossoms look beautiful----"
"And I lie here," interrupts Lady Temple querulously, "shut out from it all, shut out from it all! I have never had any happiness in my life, never! Shall I never rise from this horrible bed?" She gazes at Nelly Marston, envious39 of the girl's youth and brightness. "I suppose, Miss Marston, if you were mistress of this house and grounds, you think you could be very happy?"
"I think so, Lady Temple. I should not require much else."
"You would!" cried Lady Temple, fiercely. "One thing. Love! That is what your mother sacrificed herself for, the fool!"
"Why speak of her in that way," asks the girl, in a quiet tone, but with a bright colour in her face which shows how deeply she resents the words of her mistress, "before her daughter? She was your friend, remember. You say you have never had happiness in your life. I am sorry for you, and I am glad to think that my mother had much."
"There, there! Be still. Your mother was a good creature, and no one's enemy but her own. What are those shadows on the blind?"
"Swallows, Lady Temple. I lay awake for a long time this morning, watching them. They are building nests just outside my window."
"Never mind them," says Lady Temple, fretfully. "Listen to me, Miss Marston. I am not quite alone in the world. I have relatives who love me very much just now--oh, yes, very much just now, when they think I have not long to live! But only one shall darken my doors. My nephew, Mr. Temple, will be here in a few days; you must see that his rooms are ready for him when he arrives. Give me his letter. There it is, on my dressing-table. What have you dropped? What are you looking at?"
"A portrait, Lady Temple. It slipped from the envelope. Is it Mr. Temple's picture?"
"Yes, yes; give it to me. It is a handsome face, is it not, Miss Marston? Now sit down, and do not annoy me any longer. When I am asleep, go softly, and see to Mr. Temple's rooms. He will have this house when I am gone, if he does not thwart40 me. But I will take care--I will take care----"
The sentence is not finished, and there is silence in the sick room. Lady Temple dozes41, and Nelly Marston sits quietly by the window, stealthily raising a corner of the blind now and then, to catch a glimpse of the sun and the beautiful grounds upon which it shines.
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1
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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7
chirp
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| v.(尤指鸟)唧唧喳喳的叫 | |
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8
beech
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| n.山毛榉；adj.山毛榉的 | |
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9
myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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10
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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15
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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16
bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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17
petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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18
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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19
turrets
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| （六角）转台( turret的名词复数 )； （战舰和坦克等上的）转动炮塔； （摄影机等上的）镜头转台； （旧时攻城用的）塔车 | |
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20
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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21
inhales
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| v.吸入( inhale的第三人称单数 ) | |
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22
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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23
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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24
pint
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| n.品脱 | |
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25
tingle
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| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
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26
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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27
imbued
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| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
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28
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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29
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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30
clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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31
specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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32
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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34
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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adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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37
peevish
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| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
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38
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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39
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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40
thwart
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| v.阻挠，妨碍，反对；adj.横(断的) | |
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41
dozes
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| n.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的名词复数 )v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的第三人称单数 ) | |
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