"Master Harry5," said she, clasping her hands over the head of her cane, and speaking in slow, somewhat tremulous tones, but with neither the slovenly7 utterance8 nor the vicious pronunciation of the ordinary slave,—"Master Harry, excuse me if I interrupt you, but I could not wait any longer,—I wanted so much to see Miss Eleanor's son!"
"It is Maumer Rue9," said Major Bergan, not only with unwonted kindness of tone, but with something akin6 to respect in his manner;—"your mother must have spoken to you of our old nurse, Harry?"
"Indeed she has!" exclaimed Bergan, earnestly, starting up to take the blind woman's hand. "Your name has always been a household word with us. The story of your devotion to my mother, in saving her from the flames, at the risk of your own life, and with the ultimate loss of your sight, was the one story of which we children never used to tire. Probably we felt, in our vague, childish way, that it was the one which came from the profoundest depth in her own heart,—since she could never tell it to us without a little tremor11 in her voice, and a soft dewiness in her eyes,—and that was the secret of its charm for us. You may be sure that she has never forgotten how much she owes you!"
The old woman's lips trembled, and large tears gathered in her sightless eyes. "The Lord bless my dear young lady!" she ejaculated fervently,—"I knew she would never forget her old maumer. And it's like her to make much of my little service; but I did nothing but what was my duty—nothing."
"She thinks otherwise," replied Bergan, kindly12. "She regards it as one of those rare instances of courage and devotion, for which the whole world is better and brighter. She bade me give you her kindest love, and tell you that you must not despair of meeting her once more, even on this side the grave. When the new railroad is finished, as far as our place,—which it promises to be in a year or two,—she fully13 intends to revisit her childhood's home, and look once more upon the faces of her childhood's friends. She furthermore charged me to pay you an early visit, in your own quarters, and tell you everything about her western home and life that you might care to hear."
"How kind of Miss Eleanor to think of that!" responded the blind woman, delightedly. "It shows that she's just her own old self, always trying to think what everybody would like, and then doing her best to give it to them. Of course, there's a hundred questions that I should like to ask about her; and if you really don't mind answering them, and will do me the honor to step into my little cabin, some day when you're passing by, I shall be more obliged to you than I can rightly tell. But as to my ever seeing Miss Eleanor again,—I beg your pardon, sir; you see I've not yet learned to say Mrs. Arling,—though there's nothing on earth that would make me so glad as to meet her again, and hear the sound of her sweet, cheery voice, yet I'm getting to be too old to dare to reckon much upon the future. But the next best thing to meeting her, is to meet her son, here on the old place; and I thank the Lord that He has let me live long enough for that."
The old negress bent her head devoutly14 for a moment, and then turned to Major Bergan. "Does he favor Miss Eleanor much, Master Harry?" she asked.
"Yes, he is a good deal like her, maumer; he has her eyes exactly. But he is even more like what I was forty years ago; it really makes me feel young again to look at him. He's a real Bergan, I can tell you that."
Maumer Rue smiled as if well pleased; yet the smile seemed a little burdened with sadness, too; and Bergan saw that it was followed by a look of extreme wistfulness.
"Can I do anything for you?" he asked, kindly.
"Nothing, master,—unless—if it is not asking too much,—and if you would not mind the touch of an old woman's fingers, that have to serve her instead of eyes, I could get so much clearer an idea of your looks,—" and she finished the sentence by raising her hand significantly toward his face.
Bergan was much moved. "Of course I should not mind," said he, drawing near to her;—"examine me as closely as you like. It would be strange indeed if there were anything unpleasant to me in the touch of hands that have done so much for my mother!"
"It's easy to see that you are Miss Eleanor's son, you have just her kind, pleasant ways," responded the blind woman, gratefully. "He is a little taller than you, Master Harry," she continued, turning toward the Major, as she laid her hand on Bergan's head,—"yes, just a little taller, though not much."
"All the better for that," remarked the Major, parenthetically, "the Bergans must not degenerate15."
Maumer Rue went on, without noticing the interruption; passing her fingers lightly over Bergan's features, as she spoke10. "His brow is square and full, like yours, and he has the same straight nose; but his eyes are not so deep-set, nor his eyebrows16 so heavy. His jaw17 is like yours, too,—the set, square jaw of the Bergans,—but his mouth is more like Miss Eleanor's:—a sweet, pleasant mouth she had, the mouth of the Habershams, her mother's family. Yet it could be firm enough, too, when there was need; our Miss Eleanor had plenty of character. And I'm right glad to see that you are so much like her; you couldn't resemble any one better or handsomer."
She made a slight pause, and then added, in a half-humorous way,—"I reckon she couldn't give you any spice of the 'black Bergan temper,' as she had none of it herself."
"I am afraid she did," answered Bergan, laughing, yet coloring, too; "and many a scrape it has gotten me into, before now. But I hope that I am learning to control it a little."
"I don't see why you should," broke in the Major, gruffly. "The Bergan temper is an heir-loom to be proud of; it identifies the breed. It has run in the blood from time immemorial. A Bergan without it—that is, a male, of course a woman counts for nothing—would be no Bergan at all."
"You say true, Master Harry," rejoined Rue, composedly; "it's always run in the blood, and heated it more than was good for it, many a time. Yet, now and then, there has been a Bergan who has learned how to keep it under, and been all the better for doing it. You surely must recollect18 what a mild, kind gentleman your father was, young as you were when he died; and I've heard say that there never was a truer Bergan, or one more respected all the country through."
The Major made a grimace19, and muttered something unintelligible20, in a tone half of acquiescence21, half of irritation22.
Rue turned again to Bergan. "You have been very patient with an old woman's talk, and an old woman's infirmity," said she, with a kind of natural dignity,—"I will not trouble you any longer. Good night, and thank you, Master—what name shall I say?"
Bergan hesitated, and looked doubtfully at his uncle.
"He says his name is Bergan," explained the Major, shortly; "but I have given him to understand that he is to be known by my own name, Harry, while he stays here."
Rue shook her head. "There can be but one Master Harry for me," she said quietly,—"the one that I nursed as a babe and petted as a child, the one that I have lived with so many years, and who has always been so kind to me—kinder even than he has been to himself. So please let me call him Master Bergan; but, of course, the rest of the people will give him any name that you say."
"Of course they will," returned the Major, haughtily23, "or I'll know the reason why. As for you, maumer, I shall let you do as you please; you've had your own way too long to be balked24 of it now. But take care that the others don't hear and imitate you,—or you know what they'll get.".
"Thank you, Master Harry," replied Rue, as gratefully as if the assent25 had been more graciously given,—"you are always good to your poor old maumer. Good night." And she turned to go.
But on the threshold, she paused, and lifted her sightless face toward the dim night-sky, across which dark clouds were swiftly scudding26.
"Master Harry," said she, suddenly, "do you remember how I told you, six months ago, that the Bergan star was set, and how angry you were?"
"Yes, yes, I remember," exclaimed the Major, hoarsely27 and eagerly,—"what of it?"
She slowly raised her right hand, and pointed28 skyward, with a strange, intent, watchful29 expression in her uplifted "See! it is rising!" said she; "it comes up through the clouds,—they try to hold it back, but they cannot,—it grows brighter! it rises higher!—ah!"—drawing her breath hard and gaspingly,—"it stops—it goes down again!—the clouds cover it!—it is—No! it is not gone! it shines faintly behind the clouds—it breaks through—slowly, slowly, slowly,—it rises! it rises!"
Yielding, half-unconsciously, to the powerful influence of the blind woman's rapt, ecstatic manner, Bergan had drawn30 near to her, and now saw, with surprise, a single star shining for a moment through the rifts31 of the clouds. Glancing at the Major, whom he had before seen to be hanging with breathless interest upon the words of the old negress, he perceived that his eyes were fixed32 upon it also, with a gaze that was half-awed, half-triumphant. He knew not what to think.
Maumer Rue still stood in the same commanding attitude, with raised hand, and intent, uplooking face. Suddenly, her arm fell by her side; her head drooped33 on her breast; the majesty34 that had informed her pose and gesture went out like an expiring flame; she shivered, tottered35, and would have fallen but for the Major's prompt support. Without a word, he guided her safely to the door of her cabin.
Coming back, he reseated himself at the table, which had been cleared of everything but the bottles and glasses, and hastily poured out and swallowed some raw brandy. Then he remarked, in a half-explanatory and half-apologetic tone,—
"She enjoys the reputation of a seer, or prophetess, among the negroes; and I really think she has some faith in it herself. Certainly, she seems to have strange visions now and then; and some of her predictions have come true; I confess she puzzles even me. At all events, she is the best and most faithful old creature that ever lived. She was born on the estate, brought up in the Hall with my father and his sisters, shared their education, is thoroughly36 steeped in the family traditions, duly infected with the family pride, and entirely37 devoted38 to the family interests. She is the only person that I allow to do pretty much as she pleases; her long and faithful services to my father, Eleanor, and myself, deserve that much, I think. And really, she is of great use to me; I scarcely know what I should do without her. The negroes all believe her to be a hundred years old—undoubtedly she is past ninety—and that, together with her reputation as a prophetess, gives her great power over them, and saves me a heap of trouble in managing them. She has very good judgment39, too, in many things; I frequently take her advice, and never yet had occasion to regret doing so. Indeed, it was chiefly at her instigation and entreaty40 that I had made up my mind, as I told you, to write to your mother about sending me one of her sons."
He paused for a moment, and then asked, in a careless tone, but with a quick, keen glance at his nephew, from under his shaggy brows,—"Did you see that star?"
"Yes," answered Bergan. "It was a curious coincidence."
"Hum—very," returned his uncle, evidently not quite satisfied with this view of the matter. But he said no more.
The conversation now turned into various other channels. It touched for a brief space upon the indefatigable41 quoter of proverbs whom Bergan had overtaken on his way to the Hall; and whom the Major declared to be the only living representative of one of the oldest and most influential42 families in the county. He had been reared in affluence43, had been educated in Europe, and had inherited a large fortune and a fine estate. But he had early fallen into bad habits,—not so much from viciousness of temper and taste, as from weakness of will and consequent inability to resist temptation,—had run a short, rapid career of folly44, extravagance, and dissipation, in which he had frittered away his inheritance, and so had gradually sunken into his present state of semi-vagabondage. He lived, by sufferance, in a little cabin, on one corner of the estate which he had formerly45 owned. From his wholesale46 shipwreck47 of fortune, position, will, energy, and hope, he had saved but one thing—his love of proverbs. It had even grown stronger in proportion as other things wasted and failed,—like a plant striking deep root into soil enriched by the decay of many sister plants. He had learned several languages solely48 for the sake of their proverbs; he had even been seen to hesitate and waver long between the diverse, but powerful, attractions of a bottle of ardent49 spirits and a dingy50, old collection of saws, when but one came within the compass of his purse; and he was known far and wide by the sobriquet51 of "Proverb Dick." His real name was Richard Causton.
In listening to this history, Bergan could not but be struck by the curiously52 discriminating53 character of the Major's animadversion. He had little, or nothing, to say in disapproval54 of the depraved and ungovernable appetite for strong drink which, it was easy to see, had played so important part in ruining poor Richard Causton; while he could find no words strong enough to express his bitter contempt for the flabby will, the pitiable irresolution55, and the insane extravagance, which had joined hands with that appetite for his complete destruction. Tender, as a mother to her babe, over the fault which he knew himself to possess (if he secretly acknowledged it to be a fault), Major Bergan was merciless to the weaknesses from which he was saved by a hardier56 will and a more energetic temperament57.
But as the evening wore on, and the brandy slowly worked its way up to the stronghold of his brain, the Major's talk grew discursive58, profane59, and incoherent; until Bergan, shocked and pained, and anxious to escape from the mortifying60 spectacle, pleaded fatigue61, and begged permission to retire. Jip was accordingly summoned, and he was conducted to a little, low room under the cottage roof, where his portmanteau had been bestowed62, and some little provision made for his comfort.
Here Bergan quickly threw himself on the bed, to find, for the first time in his life, that it was one thing to woo the fair maiden63 Sleep, and another to win her. Recollections of his western home, of his mother, of the ancestral traditions on which his childish imagination had fed, of his youthful studies and aspirations64, of his recent journey, and the disappointment in which it had ended, mingled65 with half-conceived plans and half-acknowledged hopes,—a vague, changeable, teasing, tireless procession of thoughts and images,—filed slowly through his mind, compelling his reluctant gaze, and blocking up every avenue to Slumberland. And if, for an instant, the vexing67 march stopped, and the importunate68 images began to waver and blend, sounds of stamping feet, of jingling69 glass, of muttered oaths and sentences, or two or three half-sung, half-shouted lines of a drunken ditty, coming up from below, startled him once more into wakefulness, and told him that his uncle's solitary70 debauch71 was not yet ended. It was already gray dawn when, worn out with restlessness, he fell into a brief slumber66, and dreamed that old Rue, with the Bergan star in her hand, was beckoning72 him to follow her over a dreary73, desolate74 country, full of briers and pitfalls75, wherein he was so constantly entangled76 that, in spite of his best endeavors, he could never get any nearer to her. Turning suddenly, she flashed the star into his eyes, and:—oh, horror of horrors!—he was blind!
Starting up, all in a tremble, he found that the risen sun was shining full in his face, through the uncurtained window. It was morning.
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1
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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furrowed
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| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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slovenly
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| adj.懒散的，不整齐的，邋遢的 | |
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utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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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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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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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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13
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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degenerate
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| v.退步，堕落；adj.退步的，堕落的；n.堕落者 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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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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acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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balked
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| v.畏缩不前，犹豫( balk的过去式和过去分词 )；（指马）不肯跑 | |
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assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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scudding
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| n.刮面v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的现在分词 ) | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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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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rifts
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| n.裂缝( rift的名词复数 )；裂隙；分裂；不和 | |
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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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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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42
influential
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| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
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affluence
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| n.充裕，富足 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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shipwreck
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| n.船舶失事，海难 | |
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solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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51
sobriquet
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| n.绰号 | |
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52
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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discriminating
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| a.有辨别能力的 | |
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54
disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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55
irresolution
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| n.不决断，优柔寡断，犹豫不定 | |
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56
hardier
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| 能吃苦耐劳的，坚强的( hardy的比较级 )； （植物等）耐寒的 | |
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57
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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58
discursive
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| adj.离题的，无层次的 | |
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profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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60
mortifying
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| adj.抑制的，苦修的v.使受辱( mortify的现在分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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64
aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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65
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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66
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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vexing
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| adj.使人烦恼的，使人恼火的v.使烦恼( vex的现在分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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68
importunate
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| adj.强求的；纠缠不休的 | |
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69
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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70
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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71
debauch
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| v.使堕落，放纵 | |
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72
beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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73
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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74
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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75
pitfalls
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| （捕猎野兽用的）陷阱( pitfall的名词复数 )； 意想不到的困难，易犯的错误 | |
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76
entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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