For the next few days, Holcroft lived alone. The weather remained inclement1 and there was no occasion for him to go farther away than the barn and outbuildings. He felt that a crisis in his life was approaching, that he would probably be compelled to sell his property for what it would bring, and begin life again under different auspices2.
"I must either sell or marry," he groaned3, "and one's about as hard and bad as the other. Who'll buy the place and stock at half what they're worth, and where could I find a woman that would look at an old fellow like me, even if I could bring myself to look at her?"
The poor man did indeed feel that he was shut up to dreadful alternatives. With his ignorance of the world, and dislike for contact with strangers, selling out and going away was virtually starting out on an unknown sea without rudder or compass. It was worse than that--it was the tearing up of a life that had rooted itself in the soil whereon he had been content from childhood to middle age. He would suffer more in going, and in the memory of what he had parted with, than in any of the vicissitudes5 which might overtake him. He had not much range of imagination or feeling, but within his limitations his emotions were strong and his convictions unwavering. Still, he thought it might be possible to live in some vague, unknown place, doing some kind of work for people with whom he need not have very much to do. "I've always been my own master, and done things in my own way," he muttered, "but I suppose I could farm it to suit some old, quiet people, if I could only find 'em. One thing is certain, anyhow--I couldn't stay here in Oakville, and see another man living in these rooms, and plowing7 my fields, and driving his cows to my old pasture lots. That would finish me like a galloping8 consumption."
Every day he shrunk with a strange dread4 from the wrench9 of parting with the familiar place and with all that he associated with his wife. This was really the ordeal10 which shook his soul, and not the fear that he would be unable to earn his bread elsewhere. The unstable11 multitude, who are forever fancying that they would be better off somewhere else or at something else, can have no comprehension of this deep-rooted love of locality and the binding12 power of long association. They regard such men as Holcroft as little better than plodding13 oxen. The highest tribute which some people can pay to a man, however, is to show that they do not and cannot understand him. But the farmer was quite indifferent whether he was understood or not. He gave no thought to what people said or might say. What were people to him? He only had a hunted, pathetic sense of being hedged in and driven to bay. Even to his neighbors, there was more of the humorous than the tragic14 in his plight15. It was supposed that he had a goodly sum in the bank, and gossips said that he and his wife thought more of increasing this hoard16 than of each other, and that old Holcroft's mourning was chiefly for a business partner. His domestic tribulations17 evoked18 mirth rather than sympathy; and as the news spread from farmhouse19 to cottage of his summary bundling of Bridget and her satellites out of doors, there were both hilarity20 and satisfaction.
While there was little commiseration21 for the farmer, there was decided22 disapprobation of the dishonest Irish tribe, and all were glad that the gang had received a lesson which might restrain them from preying23 upon others.
Holcroft was partly to blame for his present isolation24. Remote rural populations are given to strong prejudices, especially against those who are thought to be well-off from an oversaving spirit; and who, worse still, are unsocial. Almost anything will be forgiven sooner than "thinking one's self better than the other folks;" and that is the usual interpretation25 of shy, reticent26 people. But there had been a decided tinge27 of selfishness in the Holcrofts' habit of seclusion28; for it became a habit rather than a principle. While they cherished no active dislike to their neighbors, or sense of superiority, these were not wholly astray in believing that they had little place in the thoughts or interests of the occupants of the hill farm. Indifference29 begat indifference, and now the lonely, helpless man had neither the power nor the disposition30 to bridge the chasm31 which separated him from those who might have given him kindly32 and intelligent aid. He was making a pathetic effort to keep his home and to prevent his heart from being torn bleeding away from all it loved. His neighbors thought that he was merely exerting himself to keep the dollars which it had been the supreme33 motive34 of his life to accumulate.
Giving no thought to the opinions of others, Holcroft only knew that he was in sore straits--that all which made his existence a blessing35 was at stake.
At times, during these lonely and stormy March days, he would dismiss his anxious speculations36 in regard to his future course. He was so morbid37, especially at night, that he felt that his wife could revisit the quiet house. He cherished the hope that she could see him and hear what he said, and he spoke38 in her viewless presence with a freedom and fullness that was unlike his old reticence39 and habit of repression40. He wondered that he had not said more endearing words and given her stronger assurance of how much she was to him. Late at night, he would start out of a long reverie, take a candle, and, going through the house, would touch what she had touched, and look long and fixedly41 at things associated with her. Her gowns still hung in the closet, just as she had left them; he would take them out and recall the well-remembered scenes and occasions when they were worn. At such times, she almost seemed beside him, and he had a consciousness of companionship which soothed42 his perturbed43 spirit. He felt that she appreciated such loving remembrance, although unable to express her approval. He did not know it, but his nature was being softened44, deepened, and enriched by these deep and unwonted experiences; the hard materiality of his life was passing away, rendering45 him capable of something better than he had ever known.
In the morning all the old, prosaic46 problems of his life would return, with their hard, practical insistence47, and he knew that he must decide upon something very soon. His lonely vigils and days of quiet had brought him to the conclusion that he could not hunt up a wife as a matter of business. He would rather face the "ever angry bears" than breathe the subject of matrimony to any woman that he could ever imagine himself marrying. He was therefore steadily48 drifting toward the necessity of selling everything and going away. This event, however, was like a coral reef to a sailor, with no land in view beyond it. The only thing which seemed certain was the general breaking up of all that had hitherto made his life.
The offer of help came from an unexpected source. One morning Holcroft received a call from a neighbor who had never before shown any interest in his affairs. On this occasion, however, Mr. Weeks began to display so much solicitude49 that the farmer was not only surprised, but also a little distrustful. Nothing in his previous knowledge of the man had prepared the way for such very kindly intervention50.
After some general references to the past, Mr. Weeks continued, "I've been saying to our folks that it was too bad to let you worry on alone without more neighborly help. You ought either to get married or have some thoroughly51 respectable and well-known middle-aged52 woman keep house for you. That would stop all talk, and there's been a heap of it, I can tell you. Of course, I and my folks don't believe anything's been wrong."
"Believing that something was wrong is about all the attention my neighbors have given me, as far as I can see," Holcroft remarked bitterly.
"Well, you see, Holcroft, you've kept yourself so inside your shell that people don't know what to believe. Now, the thing to do is to change all that. I know how hard it is for a man, placed as you be, to get decent help. My wife was a-wondering about it the other day, and I shut her up mighty53 sudden by saying, 'You're a good manager, and know all the country side, yet how often you're a-complaining that you can't get a girl that's worth her salt to help in haying and other busy times when we have to board a lot of men.' Well, I won't beat around the bush any more. I've come to act the part of a good neighbor. There's no use of you're trying to get along with such haphazard54 help as you can pick up here and in town. You want a respectable woman for housekeeper55, and then have a cheap, common sort of a girl to work under her. Now, I know of just such a woman, and it's not unlikely she'd be persuaded to take entire charge of your house and dairy. My wife's cousin, Mrs. Mumpson--" At the mention of this name Holcroft gave a slight start, feeling something like a cold chill run down his back.
Mr. Weeks was a little disconcerted but resumed, "I believe she called on your wife once?"
"Yes," the farmer replied laconically56. "I was away and did not see her."
"Well, now," pursued Mr. Weeks, "she's a good soul. She has her little peculiarities57; so have you and me, a lot of 'em; but she's thoroughly respectable, and there isn't a man or woman in the town that would think of saying a word against her. She has only one child, a nice, quiet little girl who'd be company for her mother and make everything look right, you know."
"I don't see what there's been to look wrong," growled59 the farmer.
"Nothing to me and my folks, of course, or I wouldn't suggest the idea of a relation of my wife coming to live with you. But you see people will talk unless you stop their mouths so they'll feel like fools in doing it. I know yours has been a mighty awkward case, and here's a plain way out of it. You can set yourself right and have everything looked after as it ought to be, in twenty-four hours. We've talked to Cynthy--that's Mrs. Mumpson--and she takes a sight of interest. She'd do well by you and straighten things out, and you might do a plaguey sight worse than give her the right to take care of your indoor affairs for life."
"I don't expect to marry again," said Holcroft curtly60.
"Oh, well! Many a man and woman has said that and believed it, too, at the time. I'm not saying that my wife's cousin is inclined that way herself. Like enough, she isn't at all, but then, the right kind of persuading does change women's minds sometimes, eh? Mrs. Mumpson is kinder alone in the world, like yourself, and if she was sure of a good home and a kind husband there's no telling what good luck might happen to you. But there'll be plenty of time for considering all that on both sides. You can't live like a hermit61."
"I was thinking of selling out and leaving these parts," Holcroft interrupted.
"Now look here, neighbor, you know as well as I do that in these times you couldn't give away the place. What's the use of such foolishness? The thing to do is to keep the farm and get a good living out of it. You've got down in the dumps and can't see what's sensible and to your own advantage."
Holcroft was thinking deeply, and he turned his eyes wistfully to the upland slopes of his farm. Mr. Weeks had talked plausibly62, and if all had been as he represented, the plan would not have been a bad one. But the widower63 did not yearn64 for the widow. He did not know much about her, but had very unfavorable impressions. Mrs. Holcroft had not been given to speaking ill of anyone, but she had always shaken her head with a peculiar58 significance when Mrs. Mumpson's name was mentioned.
The widow had felt it her duty to call and counsel against the sin of seclusion and being too much absorbed in the affairs of this world.
"You should take an interest in everyone," this self-appointed evangelist had declared, and in one sense she lived up to her creed65. She permitted no scrap66 of information about people to escape her, and was not only versed67 in all the gossip of Oakville, but also of several other localities in which she visited.
But Holcroft had little else to deter68 him from employing her services beyond an unfavorable impression. She could not be so bad as Bridget Malony, and he was almost willing to employ her again for the privilege of remaining on his paternal69 acres. As to marrying the widow--a slight shudder70 passed through his frame at the thought.
Slowly he began, as if almost thinking aloud, "I suppose you are right, Lemuel Weeks, in what you say about selling the place. The Lord knows I don't want to leave it. I was born and brought up here, and that counts with some people. If your wife's cousin is willing to come and help me make a living, for such wages as I can pay, the arrangement might be made. But I want to look on it as a business arrangement. I have quiet ways of my own, and things belonging to the past to think about, and I've got a right to think about 'em. I aint one of the marrying kind, and I don't want people to be a-considering such notions when I don't. I'd be kind and all that to her and her little girl, but I should want to be left to myself as far as I could be."
"Oh, certainly," said Mr. Weeks, mentally chuckling71 over the slight prospect72 of such immunity73, "but you must remember that Mrs. Mumpson isn't like common help--"
"That's where the trouble will come in," ejaculated the perplexed74 farmer, "but there's been trouble enough with the other sort."
"I should say so," Mr. Weeks remarked emphatically. "It would be a pity if you couldn't get along with such a respectable, conscientious75 woman as Mrs. Mumpson, who comes from one of the best families in the country."
Holcroft removed his hat and passed his hand over his brow wearily as he said, "Oh, I could get along with anyone who would do the work in a way that would give me a chance to make a little, and then leave me to myself."
"Well, well," said Mr. Weeks, laughing, "you needn't think that because I've hinted at a good match for you I'm making one for my wife's cousin. You may see the day when you'll be more hot for it than she is. All I'm, trying to do is to help you keep your place, and live like a man ought and stop people's mouths."
"If I could only fill my own and live in peace, it's all I ask. When I get to plowing and planting again I'll begin to take some comfort."
These words were quoted against Holcroft, far and near. "Filling his own mouth and making a little money are all he cares for," was the general verdict. And thus people are misunderstood. The farmer had never turned anyone hungry from his door, and he would have gone to the poorhouse rather than have acted the part of the man who misrepresented him. He had only meant to express the hope that he might be able to fill his mouth--earn his bread, and get it from his native soil. "Plowing and planting"--working where he had toiled76 since a child---would be a solace77 in itself, and not a grudged78 means to a sordid79 end.
Mr. Weeks was a thrifty80 man also, and in nothing was he more economical than in charitable views of his neighbors' motives81 and conduct. He drove homeward with the complacent82 feeling that he had done a shrewd, good thing for himself and "his folks" at least. His wife's cousin was not exactly embraced in the latter category, although he had been so active in her behalf. The fact was, he would be at much greater pains could he attach her to Holcroft or anyone else and so prevent further periodical visits.
He regarded her and her child as barnacles with such appalling83 adhesive84 powers that even his ingenuity85 at "crowding out" had been baffled. In justice to him, it must be admitted that Mrs. Mumpson was a type of the poor relation that would tax the long suffering of charity itself. Her husband had left her scarcely his blessing, and if he had fled to ills he knew not of, he believed that he was escaping from some of which he had a painfully distinct consciousness. His widow was one of the people who regard the "world as their oyster," and her scheme of life was to get as much as possible for nothing. Arrayed in mourning weeds, she had begun a system of periodical descents upon his relatives and her own. She might have made such visitations endurable and even welcome, but she was not shrewd enough to be sensible. She appeared to have developed only the capacity to talk, to pry86, and to worry people. She was unable to rest or to permit others to rest, yet her aversion to any useful form of activity was her chief characteristic. Wherever she went she took the ground that she was "company," and with a shawl hanging over her sharp, angular shoulders, she would seize upon the most comfortable rocking chair in the house, and mouse for bits of news about everyone of whom she had ever heard. She was quite as ready to tell all she knew also, and for the sake of her budget of gossip and small scandal, her female relatives tolerated her after a fashion for a time; but she had been around so often, and her scheme of obtaining subsistence for herself and child had become so offensively apparent, that she had about exhausted87 the patience of all the kith and kin6 on whom she had the remotest claim. Her presence was all the more unwelcome by reason of the faculty88 for irritating the men of the various households which she invaded. Even the most phlegmatic89 or the best-natured lost their self-control, and as their wives declared, "felt like flying all to pieces" at her incessant90 rocking, gossiping, questioning, and, what was worse still, lecturing. Not the least endurable thing about Mrs. Mumpson was her peculiar phase of piety91. She saw the delinquencies and duties of others with such painful distinctness that she felt compelled to speak of them; and her zeal92 was sure to be instant out of season.
When Mr. Weeks had started on his ominous93 mission to Holcroft his wife remarked to her daughter confidentially94, "I declare, sis, if we don't get rid of Cynthy soon, I believe Lemuel will fly off the handle."
To avoid any such dire95 catastrophe96, it was hoped and almost prayed in the Weeks household that the lonely occupant of the hill farm would take the widow for good and all.
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inclement
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| adj.严酷的，严厉的，恶劣的 | |
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auspices
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| n.资助，赞助 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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vicissitudes
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| n.变迁，世事变化；变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 )；盛衰兴废 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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plowing
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| v.耕( plow的现在分词 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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unstable
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| adj.不稳定的，易变的 | |
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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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plodding
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| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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hoard
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| n./v.窖藏，贮存，囤积 | |
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tribulations
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| n.苦难( tribulation的名词复数 )；艰难；苦难的缘由；痛苦 | |
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evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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commiseration
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| n.怜悯，同情 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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preying
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| v.掠食( prey的现在分词 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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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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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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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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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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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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reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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repression
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| n.镇压，抑制，抑压 | |
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fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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haphazard
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| adj.无计划的，随意的，杂乱无章的 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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laconically
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| adv.简短地，简洁地 | |
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peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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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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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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hermit
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| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
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plausibly
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| 似真地 | |
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widower
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| n.鳏夫 | |
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yearn
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| v.想念；怀念；渴望 | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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versed
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| adj. 精通，熟练 | |
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deter
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| vt.阻止，使不敢，吓住 | |
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paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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immunity
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| n.优惠；免除；豁免，豁免权 | |
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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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grudged
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| 怀恨（grudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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thrifty
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| adj.节俭的；兴旺的；健壮的 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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complacent
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| adj.自满的；自鸣得意的 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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adhesive
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| n.粘合剂；adj.可粘着的，粘性的 | |
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ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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pry
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| vi.窥(刺)探，打听；vt.撬动(开，起) | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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phlegmatic
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| adj.冷静的，冷淡的，冷漠的，无活力的 | |
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incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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