Peter Conant had told his wife that he wouldn't be at the Lodge1 this week until Saturday, as business would prevent his coming earlier, yet the Thursday afternoon train brought him to Millbank and Bill Coombs' stage took him to Hillcrest.
"Why, Peter!" exclaimed Aunt Hannah, when she saw him, "what on earth brought you—"
Then she stopped short, for Peter's eyes were staring more roundly than usual and the hand that fumbled2 at his locket trembled visibly. He stared at Aunt Hannah, he stared at Irene; but most of all he stared at Mary Louise, who seemed to sense from his manner some impending3 misfortune.
"H-m," said the lawyer, growing red and then paling; "I've bad news."
He chopped the words off abruptly4, as if he resented the necessity of uttering them. His eyes, which had been fixed5 upon the face of Mary Louise, suddenly wavered and sought the floor.
His manner said more than his words. Mary Louise grew white and pressed her hands to her heart, regarding the lawyer with eyes questioning and full of fear. Irene turned a sympathetic gaze upon her friend and Aunt Hannah came closer to the girl and slipped an arm around her waist, as if to help her to endure this unknown trial. And Mary Louise, feeling she could not bear the suspense7, asked falteringly8:
"Has—Gran'pa Jim—been—"
"No," said Mr. Conant. "No, my dear, no."
"Then—has anything happened to—to—mother?"
"Well, well," muttered the lawyer, with a sort or growl9, "Mrs. Burrows10 has not been in good health for some months, it seems. She—eh—was under a—eh—under a nervous strain; a severe nervous strain, you know, and—"
"Is she dead?" asked the girl in a low, hard voice.
"The end, it seems, came unexpectedly, several days ago. She did not suffer, your grandfather writes, but—"
Again he left his sentence unfinished, for Mary Louise had buried her face in Aunt Hannah's bosom11 and was sobbing12 in a miserable13, heart-breaking way that made Peter jerk a handkerchief from, his pocket and blow his nose lustily. Then he turned and marched from the room, while his wife led the hapless girl to a sofa and cuddled her in her lap as if she had been a little child.
"She's best with the women," muttered Peter to himself. "It's a sorrowful thing—a dreadful thing, in a way—but it can't be helped and—she's best with the women."
He had wandered into the dining room, where Sarah Judd was laying the table for dinner. She must have overheard the conversation in the living room, for she came beside the lawyer and asked:
"When did Mrs. Burrows die?"
"On Monday."
"Where?"
"That's none of your business, my girl."
"Has the funeral been held?"
He regarded her curiously14. The idea of a servant asking such questions! But there was a look in Sarah's blue eyes that meant more than curiosity; somehow, it drew from him an answer.
"Mrs. Burrows was cremated15 on Wednesday. It seems she preferred it to burial." Having said this, he turned to stare from the window again.
Sarah Judd stood silent a moment. Then she said with a sigh of relief:
"Eh? Why not?" whirling round to face her.
"Because," said Sarah, "it will enable Mr. Hathaway to face the world again—a free man."
Peter Conant was so startled that he stood motionless, forgetting his locket but not forgetting to stare. Sarah, with her hands full of forks and spoons, began placing the silver in orderly array upon the table. She paid no heed17 to the lawyer, who gradually recovered his poise18 and watched her with newly awakened19 interest. Once or twice he opened his mouth to speak, and then decided20 not to. He was bewildered, perplexed21, suspicious. In thought he began to review the manner of Sarah's coming to them, and her subsequent actions. She seemed a capable servant. Mrs. Conant had never complained of her. Yet—what did she know of Hathaway?
Mary Louise did not appear at dinner. She begged to be left alone in her room. Sarah took her some toast and tea, with honest sympathy in her eyes, but the sorrowing girl shook her head and would not taste the food. Later, however, in the evening, she entered the living room where the others sat in depressed22 silence and said:
"Please, Mr. Conant, tell me all you know about—mother."
"It is very little, my dear" replied the lawyer in a kindly23 tone. "This morning I received a message from your grandfather which said: 'Poor Beatrice passed away on Monday and at her request her body was cremated to-day. Be very gentle in breaking the sad news to Mary Louise.' That was all, my child, and I came here as quickly as I could. In a day or so we shall have further details, I feel sure. I am going back to town in the morning and will send you any information I receive."
"Thank you," said the girl, and was quietly leaving the room when Irene called to her.
"Mary Louise!"
"Yes?" half turning.
"Will you come with me to my room?"
"Now?"
"Yes. You know I cannot go up the stairs. And—I lost my own dear mother not long ago, you will remember."
Tears started to the girl's eyes, but she waited until Irene wheeled her chair beside her and then the two went through the den6 to Irene's room.
Mrs. Conant nodded to Peter approvingly.
"Irene will comfort her," she said, "and in a way far better than I might do. It is all very dreadful and very sad, Peter, but the poor child has never enjoyed much of her mother's society and when the first bitter grief is passed I think she will recover something of her usual cheerfulness."
"H-m," returned the lawyer; "it seems a hard thing to say, Hannah, but this demise24 may prove a blessing25 in disguise and be best for the child's future happiness. In any event, I'm sure it will relieve the strain many of us have been under for the past ten years."
"The whole thing is a riddle26, Hannah. And, by the way, have you noticed anything suspicious about our hired girl?"
"About Sarah? No," regarding him with surprise.
"Does she—eh—snoop around much?"
"No; she's a very good girl."
"Too good to be true, perhaps," observed Peter, and lapsed28 into thought. Really, it wouldn't matter now how much Sarah Judd—or anyone else—knew of the Hathaway case. The mystery would solve itself, presently.
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收听单词发音
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1
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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2
fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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3
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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5
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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6
den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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7
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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8
falteringly
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| 口吃地，支吾地 | |
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9
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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10
burrows
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| n.地洞( burrow的名词复数 )v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的第三人称单数 )；翻寻 | |
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11
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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12
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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13
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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14
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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15
cremated
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| v.火葬，火化（尸体）( cremate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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17
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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18
poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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19
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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20
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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21
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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22
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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23
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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24
demise
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| n.死亡；v.让渡，遗赠，转让 | |
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25
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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26
riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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27
riddles
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| n.谜（语）( riddle的名词复数 )；猜不透的难题，难解之谜 | |
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28
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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