We had another best-parlor, looking on the road, where were the piano and the upholstered furniture, covered in brown holland on common days; but though the pale yellow tabaret chairs and curtains looked very pretty when they were all uncovered, we none of us ever felt quite comfortable excepting in the big dwelling-room that looked over the marsh6. How well I remember it that day when we were all there together! Father sat by the fire with his boots and gaiters still on. He had been out for the first time after a severe attack of his complaint, and he was very irritable7. I thought Joyce might have helped him off with the heavy things, but no doubt he had refused; any offer of help was almost an insult to him. They used to say I took after father in that. He was bending over the fire that day, stretching out his fingers to the blaze—a powerful figure still, though somewhat worn with hard work and the sufferings which he never allowed to gain the upper-hand. But his back was not bent—an out-door life, whatever other marks it may leave, spares that one; his head was erect8 still—a remarkable9 head—the gray hair, thick and strong, sticking up in obstinate10 little tufts without any attempt at order or smoothness. It was not beautiful hair, for the tufts were quite straight, but at least it was very characteristic; I have never seen any quite like it. It was in keeping with the bushy eyebrows11 that had just the same defiant12 expression as the tufts of hair. The brow was high and prominent, the eyes keen and quick to change, the jaw13 heavy and somewhat sullen14. At first sight it might not have been called a lovable face; it might rather have been called a stern, even an unbending one; but that it was really lovable is proved by the sure love and confidence with which it always inspired little children. They came to father naturally as they would have gone to the tenderest woman, and smiled in his face as though certain beforehand of the smile that would answer theirs in return. But father's face was sullen sometimes to a grown-up person. It looked very sullen as he sat by the fire that day. I knew in a moment that something had ruffled15 him.
Mother seemed to be doing her best, however, to make up for the ill reception which her husband was giving his guest; and mother's best was a very pretty thing. She was a very pretty woman, and she looked her prettiest that day. She was tall—we were a tall family, I was the shortest of us all—and her height looked even greater than it was in the straight folds of the soft gray dress that suited so well with her fair skin. She had a fresh white cap on; the soft fluted16 frills came down in straight lines just below her ears, framing her face; and the bands of snow-white hair, that looked so pretty beside the fresh skin, were tucked away smoothly17 beneath it. Mother's face was a young face still—as dainty in color as a little child's. Joyce took her beauty from her.
Mother was standing18 up in the middle of the room talking to the squire19, who apparently20 was about to take his leave. Joyce was putting the last touches to the dinner-table. She looked up at me in an appealing kind of way as I came in, and I felt sure that there had been some sort of difference between father and the squire. They often did have little differences, though they were the best of friends in reality; but I always secretly took father's side in every argument, and I never liked to see mother, as it were, making amends21 for what father had said. Yet it was what she was doing now. "I'm sure, Squire Broderick," she was saying, "we take it very kindly22 of you to interest yourself in our affairs. Laban is a little tetchy just now, but it's because he ain't well. He feels just as I do really."
Father made an impatient sound with his lips at this, but mother went on just the same.
"I'm quite of your mind," she declared, shaking her head. "I've often said so to Laban myself. We can't go against Providence23, and we must learn to take help where we can get it, though I know ofttimes it's just the hardest thing we have to do."
What could this speech mean? I was puzzled. I glanced at father. He sat quite silent, tapping his foot. I glanced at Joyce. There was nothing in her manner to show that the subject under discussion had anything whatever to do with her. The squire had turned round as I came into the room, but mother kept him so to herself that he could do no more than give me a smile as I walked across and sat down in the window-seat.
"I know it would be the best in the end," mother went on, with a distressed24 look on her sweet old face.
It rather annoyed me at the time, simply because I saw that she was siding with the squire against father; but I have often remembered that, and many kindred looks since, and have wondered how it was that I never guessed at the anxiety of that tender spirit that labored25 so devotedly26 to cope with problems that were beyond its grasp.
"However," added mother, with the pretty smile that, after all, I remember more often than the knitted brow, "he'll come round himself in time. He always does see things the way you put them after a bit."
She said these words in a whisper, although they were really quite loud enough for any one to hear. I saw father smile. He was so fond of mother, and the words were so far from accurate, that he could afford to smile; for there were very few instances in which he came round to the squire's way of seeing things at that time, although he was very fond of the squire. The squire himself laughed aloud. He had a rich, rippling27 laugh; it did one good to hear it.
"No, no, ma'am," he said, "I can't agree to that; and no reason why it should be so either." He held out his hand to mother as he spoke28.
"I must be off now," he added. "I ought to have gone long ago. We'll talk it over again another time."
"Oh, won't you stay and have a bit of dinner with us, squire?" cried mother, in a disappointed voice. "It's just coming in. I know it's not what you have at home, but it is a fine piece of roast beef to-day."
"Fie, fie, Mrs. Maliphant! don't you be so modest," said the squire, with his genial29 smile, buttoning up his overcoat as he spoke.
He always had a gay, easy manner towards the mother—something, I used to fancy, like what her own younger brother might have had towards her, or even her own son, although at that time I should have thought it impossible for a man as old to be mother's son at all. I suppose it was in consequence of that sad time in the past that he had grown to love her as I know he did.
"I don't often get a dinner such as I get at your table," added he; "but I can't stay to-day, for I'm due at home."
Just the words that young man had used at the foot of the village street. I was determined30 to find out before the squire left whether that young man was staying at the Manor31 or not.
"Perhaps Mr. Broderick has visitors, mother," I suggested.
I glanced at Joyce as I spoke. Her cheeks were poppies.
"What makes you think so?" asked the squire, turning to me and frowning a little.
"We met a gentleman in town," said I, boldly, although my heart beat a little; "he helped us with the mare32 when she reared, and he said he was a friend of yours."
Mother looked at me, and Joyce blushed redder than ever. Certainly, for a straightforward33 and simple young woman who had no more than her legitimate34 share of vanity, Joyce had a most unfortunate trick of blushing. I know it was admired, but I never could see that folk must needs be more delicate of mind because they blushed, or more sensitive of heart because they cried. The squire frowned a little more and bit his lip.
"Ah, it must have been Frank," said he. "He did say he was going to walk into town this morning. My nephew," added he, in explanation, turning to mother. "Captain Forrester."
"Oh, not at all; he's a very well-grown man, and of an age to take care of himself," answered the squire, and it did not strike me then that he said it a little bitterly. "My sister is a great deal older than I am."
"Of course I have seen Mrs. Forrester," said mother, "and I know she's a deal older than you are, but I never should have thought she had a grown-up son—and a captain, too!"
"Oh yes, he's a captain," repeated the squire, and he took up his hat and stick from the corner of the room and put his hand on the door-knob. "Good-bye, Mr. Maliphant," cried he, cheerily, without touching36 any more on the sore subject.
Father did not reply, and he turned to me and held out his hand. "Good-bye," he said, more seriously than it seemed to me the subject required. "I'm sorry the mare reared."
"See the squire to the door, Joyce," said the mother. And Joyce, blushing again, glided37 out into the hall and lifted the big latch38.
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1
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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masonry
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| n.砖土建筑；砖石 | |
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gales
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| 龙猫 | |
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marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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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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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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fluted
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| a.有凹槽的 | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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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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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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amends
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| n. 赔偿 | |
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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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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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devotedly
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| 专心地； 恩爱地； 忠实地； 一心一意地 | |
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rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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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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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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37
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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38
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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