At dinner time the father announced to us the exciting fact that Leslie had asked if a few
of his guests might picnic that afternoon in the Strelley hayfields. The closes were so
set with two green islets. Moreover, the squire's lady had written a book filling these
meadows and the mill precincts with pot-pourri romance. The wedding guests at Highclose
were anxious to picnic in so choice a spot.
who were coming.
"Oh, not many—about half a dozen—mostly ladies down for the wedding."
George at first swore warmly; then he began to appreciate the affair as a joke.
Mrs. Saxton hoped they wouldn't want her to provide them pots, for she hadn't two cups that
excited, and wanted a holiday from school, which Emily at once vetoed firmly, thereby
causing family dissension.
As we went round the field in the afternoon turning the hay, we were thinking apart, and
did not talk. Every now and then—and at every corner—we stopped to look down towards the
wood, to see if they were coming.
"Here they are!" George exclaimed suddenly, having spied the movement of white in the dark
wood. We stood still and watched. Two girls, heliotrope4 and white, a man with two girls,
pale green and white, and a man with a girl last.
"Can you tell who they are?" I asked.
"That's Marie Tempest, that first girl in white, and that's him and Lettie at the back, I
don't know any more."
He glanced at me to see what I was thinking of him. I was thinking that he was afraid to
meet her, and I was smiling to myself. Perhaps he felt ashamed, for he went silently away
the machine might not go, to bring down the lush green grass and the tall meadow sweet.
pretty; I bowed to Maria and to Lettie, and I shook hands with Leslie and with his friend,
Freddy Cresswell. The latter was to be best man, a broad shouldered, pale-faced fellow,
with beautiful soft hair like red wheat, and laughing eyes, and a whimsical, drawling
manner of speech, like a man who has suffered enough to bring him to manhood and maturity,
shape within my belt, and I felt the inferiority cast upon the father, big and fine as he
was in his way, for his shoulders were rounded with work, and his trousers were much
distorted.
"What can we do?" said Marie; "you know we don't want to hinder, we want to help you. It
was so good of you to let us come."
The father laughed his fine indulgence, saying to them—they loved him for the mellow,
laughing modulation28 of his voice:
"Come on, then—I see there's a bit of turning-over to do, as Cyril's left. Come and pick
your forks."
From among a sheaf of hayforks he chose the lightest for them, and they began anywhere,
just tipping at the swaths. He showed them carefully—Marie and the charming little Hilda—
just how to do it, but they found the right way the hardest way, so they worked in their
"Ain' it flippin' 'ot?" drawled Cresswell, who had just taken his M. A. degree in classics:
He gathered a cushion of hay, which Louie Denys carefully appropriated, arranging first her
beautiful dress, that fitted close to her shape, without any belt or interruption, and then
laying her arms, that were netted to the shoulder in open lace, gracefully32 at rest. Lettie,
where Leslie had prepared for her, and Miss D'Arcy reluctantly accepted my pile.
Cresswell twisted his clean-cut mouth in a little smile, saying:
"Lord, a giddy little pastoral—fit for old Theocritus, ain't it, Miss Denys?"
"Why do you talk to me about those classic people—I daren't even say their names. What
would he say about us?"
"He'd make old Daphnis there,"—pointing to Leslie—"sing a match with me, Damoetas—
contesting the merits of our various sheperdesses—begin Daphnis, sing up for Amaryllis, I
mean Nais, damn 'em, they were for ever getting mixed up with their nymphs."
"I say, Mr. Cresswell, your language! Consider whom you're damning," said Miss Denys,
leaning over and tapping his head with her silk glove.
"You say any giddy thing in a pastoral," he replied, taking the edge of her skirt, and
lying back on it, looking up at her as she leaned over him. "Strike up, Daphnis, something
about honey or white cheese—or else the early apples that'll be ripe in a week's time."
"I'm sure the apples you showed me are ever so little and green," interrupted Miss Denys;
"they will never be ripe in a week—ugh, sour!"
He smiled up at her in his whimsical way:
"Hear that, Tempest—'Ugh, sour!'—not much! Oh, love us, haven't you got a start yet?—
isn't there aught to sing about, you blunt-faced kid?"
"I'll hear you first—I'm no judge of honey and cheese."
"An' darn little apples—takes a woman to judge them; don't it, Miss Denys?"
"I don't know," she said, stroking his soft hair from his forehead with her hand whereon
rings were sparkling.
"'My love is not white, my hair is not yellow, like honey dropping through the sunlight—my
love is brown, and sweet, and ready for the lips of love.' Go on, Tempest—strike up, old
make your backache to look at him working—go an' stop him, somebody."
"Yes, let us go and fetch him," said Miss D'Arcy. "I'm sure he doesn't know what a happy
pastoral state he's in—let us go and fetch him."
"They don't like hindering at their work, Agnes—besides, where ignorance is bliss——"
said Lettie, afraid lest she might bring him. The other hesitated, then with her eyes she
invited me to go with her.
We'll say we want those foxgloves he'll be cutting down directly—and those bell flowers. I
suppose you needn't go on with your labours——"
He did not know we were approaching till I called him, then he started slightly as he saw
the tall, proud girl.
"Mr. Saxton—Miss D'Arcy," I said, and he shook hands with her. Immediately his manner
clasping the lady's hand.
"We thought you looked so fine," she said to him, "and men are so embarrassing when they
make love to somebody else—aren't they? Save us those foxgloves, will you—they are
campanulas—bell-flowers, ah, yes! They are spinning idylls up there. I don't care for
idylls, do you? Oh, you don't know what a classical pastoral person you are—but there, I
little god fluttering about in our hayfields, does one? Do you find much time to sport with
He laughed and went on with his work. She smiled a little, too, thinking she had made a
great impression. She put out her hand with a dramatic gesture, and looked at me, when the
We wandered about picking flowers and talking until teatime. A manservant came with the
trough all pretty with cranesbill and stellaria hanging over, while long blades of grass
waved in the water. George, who had finished his work, and wanted to go home to tea, walked
across to the spring where Lettie sat playing with the water, getting little cupfuls to put
meeting each other again.
"It is about teatime," he said.
"Yes—it will be ready in a moment—this is not to make the tea with—it's only to keep a
little supply of hot water."
"Oh," he said, "I'll go on home—I'd rather."
"No," she replied, "you can't because we are all having tea together: I had some fruits put
up, because I know you don't trifle with tea—and your father's coming."
look at me!"
He held out his inflamed, barbaric hands.
"It won't matter—you'll give the realistic touch."
He laughed ironically.
"No—you must come," she insisted.
"I'll have a drink then, if you'll let me," he said, yielding.
She got up quickly, blushing, offering him the tiny, pretty cup.
mouth to the water, and drank deeply. She stood and watched the motion of his drinking, and
of his heavy breathing afterwards. He got up, wiping his mouth, not looking at her. Then he
washed his hands in the water, and stirred up the mud. He put his hand to the bottom of the
"It wants cleaning out," he said.
"Yes," she replied, shuddering62. "You won't be long," she added, taking up the silver
kettle.
The girls were seated on tufts of hay, with the men leaning in attendance on them, and the
manservant waiting on all. George was placed between Lettie and Hilda. The former handed
him his little egg-shell of tea, which, as he was not very thirsty, he put down on the
ground beside him. Then she passed him the bread and butter, cut for five-o'clock tea, and
fruits, grapes and peaches, and strawberries, in a beautifully carved oak tray. She watched
head away. All the gay teatime, when the talk bubbled and frothed over all the cups, she
avoided him with her eyes. Yet again and again, as someone said: "I'm sorry, Mr. Saxton—
will you have some cake?"—or "See, Mr. Saxton—try this peach, I'm sure it will be mellow
right to the stone,"—speaking very naturally, but making the distinction between him and
the other men by their indulgence towards him, Lettie was forced to glance at him as he sat
eating, answering in monosyllables, laughing with constraint65 and awkwardness, and her
have done over the cups. "George," they said afterwards, "was a wet blanket on the party."
Lettie was intensely annoyed with him. His presence was unbearable70 to her. She wished him a
thousand miles away. He sat listening to Cresswell's whimsical affectation of vulgarity
which flickered with fantasy, and he laughed in a strained fashion.
He was the first to rise, saying he must get the cows up for milking.
"Oh, let us go—let us go. May we come and see the cows milked?" said Hilda, her delicate,
here."
"No," laughed Agnes D'Arcy, "they—they're smelly,"—and she pursed up her mouth, and ended
in a little trill of deprecatory laughter, as she often did. Hilda looked from one to the
other, blushing.
"Come, Lettie," said Leslie good-naturedly, "I know you have a farmyard fondness—come on,"
and they followed George down.
length of the water, "tipping on their little toes, the darlings—pitter-patter through the
water, tiny little things," as Marie said.
We heard George below calling "Bully—Bully—Bully—Bully!"—and then, a moment or two
after, in the bottom garden: "Come out, you little fool—are you coming out of it?" in
manifestly angry tones.
"Has it run away?" laughed Hilda, delighted and we hastened out of the lower garden to see.
their crimson weight on to the seeding grass of the path, borne down by secret rain, and by
among the green bushes. We burst into the new world of delight. As Lettie stooped, taking
between both hands the gorgeous silken fulness of one blossom that was sunk to the earth.
with sudden pain. As he came up, with the calf stalking grudgingly85 behind, he said:
"There's a fine show of pyeenocks this year, isn't there?"
"What do you call them?" cried Hilda, turning to him her sweet, charming face full of
interest.
"Pyeenocks," he replied.
seductive finger. It sucked eagerly, but unprofitably, and it appeared to cast a troubled
eye inwards to see if it were really receiving any satisfaction,—doubting, but not
despairing. Marie, and Hilda, and Leslie laughed, while he, after looking at Lettie as she
Then he returned, rubbing his sticky finger dry against his breeches. He stood near to
Lettie, and she felt rather than saw the extraordinary pale cleanness of the one finger
among the others. She rubbed her finger against her dress in painful sympathy.
"But aren't the flowers lovely!" exclaimed Marie again. "I want to hug them."
"They are like a romance—D'Annunzio—a romance in passionate92 sadness," said Lettie, in an
of desire to shield herself, and yet in a measure express herself.
"There is a tale about them," I said.
The girls clamoured for the legend.
"Pray, do tell us," pleaded Hilda, the irresistible93.
"It was Emily told me—she says it's a legend, but I believe it's only a tale. She says the
peonies were brought from the Hall long since by a fellow of this place—when it was a
mill. He was brown and strong, and the daughter of the Hall, who was pale and fragile and
watch her, and one day, when she came near to him telling him a tale that set the tears
in the poplar spinney. She would come with her arms full of flowers, for she always kept to
her fairy part. One morning she came early through the mists. He was out shooting. She
wanted to take him unawares, like a fairy. Her arms were full of peonies. When she was
moving beyond the trees he shot her, not knowing. She stumbled on, and sank down in their
tryst place. He found her lying there among the red pyeenocks, white and fallen. He thought
she was just lying talking to the red flowers, so he stood waiting. Then he went up, and
bent over her, and found the flowers full of blood. It was he set the garden here with
these pyeenocks."
The eyes of the girls were round with the pity of the tale and Hilda turned away to hide
her tears.
"It is a beautiful ending," said Lettie, in a low tone, looking at the floor.
George waited till Lettie looked at him. She lifted her eyes to him at last. Then each
turned aside, trembling.
Marie asked for some of the peonies.
"Give me just a few—and I can tell the others the story—it is so sad—I feel so sorry for
him, it was so cruel for him——! And Lettie says it ends beautifully——!"
George cut the flowers with his great clasp knife, and Marie took them, carefully, treating
their romance with great tenderness. Then all went out of the garden and he turned to the
cowshed.
"Good-bye for the present," said Lettie, afraid to stay near him.
"Good-bye," he laughed.
"Thank you so much for the flowers—and the story—it was splendid," said Marie, "—but so
sad!"
Then they went, and we did not see them again.
Later, when all had gone to bed at the mill, George and I sat together on opposite sides of
the fire, smoking, saying little. He was casting up the total of discrepancies99, and now and
again he ejaculated one of his thoughts.
off by the rabbits it was no manner of use, so he's ploughed it in: an' they say with
idylls, eating peaches in our close."
"She said it ended well—but what's the good of death—what's the good of that?" He turned
his face to the ashes in the grate, and sat brooding.
"Damn that row!" said I, stirring, looking also into the grey fire.
"It's some stoat or weasel, or something. It's been going on like that for nearly a week.
I've shot in the trees ever so many times. There were two—one's gone."
darkness among the trees.
"You know," he said, "she hated me this afternoon, and I hated her——"
It was midnight, full of sick thoughts.
"It is no good," said I. "Go to bed—it will be morning in a few hours."
点击
收听单词发音
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1
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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4
heliotrope
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| n.天芥菜；淡紫色 | |
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5
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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6
brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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7
mow
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| v.割（草、麦等），扫射，皱眉；n.草堆，谷物堆 | |
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8
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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9
scythe
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| n. 长柄的大镰刀，战车镰； v. 以大镰刀割 | |
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10
strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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12
slur
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| v.含糊地说；诋毁；连唱；n.诋毁；含糊的发音 | |
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13
whetted
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| v.（在石头上）磨（刀、斧等）( whet的过去式和过去分词 )；引起，刺激（食欲、欲望、兴趣等） | |
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14
marshy
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| adj.沼泽的 | |
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15
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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16
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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17
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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18
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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19
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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20
svelte
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| adj.（女人）体态苗条的 | |
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21
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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22
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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24
flannels
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| 法兰绒男裤； 法兰绒( flannel的名词复数 ) | |
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flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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scrupulous
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| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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modulation
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| n.调制 | |
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29
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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31
flop
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| n.失败(者)，扑通一声；vi.笨重地行动，沉重地落下 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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33
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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34
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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35
tuning
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| n.调谐，调整，调音v.调音( tune的现在分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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36
wasp
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| n.黄蜂，蚂蜂 | |
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treacle
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| n.糖蜜 | |
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38
mowing
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| n.割草，一次收割量，牧草地v.刈，割( mow的现在分词 ) | |
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ironic
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| adj.讽刺的，有讽刺意味的，出乎意料的 | |
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inflamed
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| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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42
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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idyllic
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| adj.质朴宜人的，田园风光的 | |
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banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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46
crunched
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的过去式和过去分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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48
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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49
trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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50
beetles
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| n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
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51
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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52
silt
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| n.淤泥，淤沙，粉砂层，泥沙层；vt.使淤塞；vi.被淤塞 | |
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53
silted
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| v.（河流等）为淤泥淤塞( silt的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）淤塞 | |
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54
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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pettishly
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56
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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58
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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59
proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
shrimps
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| n.虾，小虾( shrimp的名词复数 )；矮小的人 | |
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61
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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62
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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frivolity
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| n.轻松的乐事，兴高采烈；轻浮的举止 | |
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discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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stink
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| vi.发出恶臭；糟透，招人厌恶；n.恶臭 | |
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highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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voluptuously
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| adv.风骚地，体态丰满地 | |
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petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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cardinals
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| 红衣主教( cardinal的名词复数 )； 红衣凤头鸟（见于北美，雄鸟为鲜红色）； 基数 | |
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calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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zealously
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| adv.热心地；热情地；积极地；狂热地 | |
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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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enraptured
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| v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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grudgingly
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crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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yew
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| n.紫杉属树木 | |
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hover
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| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
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wren
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| n.鹪鹩；英国皇家海军女子服务队成员 | |
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tryst
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| n.约会；v.与…幽会 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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discrepancies
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| n.差异，不符合（之处），不一致（之处）( discrepancy的名词复数 ) | |
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blench
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| v.退缩，畏缩 | |
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throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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102
rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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