He never afterwards could tell how he lived through the following Sunday or how he taught school as usual on Monday. He found out how much a man may suffer and yet go on living and working. His body seemed to him an automaton4 that moved and spoke5 mechanically, while his tortured spirit, pent-up within, endured pain that left its impress on him for ever. Out of that fiery6 furnace of agony Eric Marshall was to go forth7 a man who had put boyhood behind him for ever and looked out on life with eyes that saw into it and beyond.
On Tuesday afternoon there was a funeral in the district and, according to custom, the school was closed. Eric went again to the old orchard8. He had no expectation of seeing Kilmeny there, for he thought she would avoid the spot lest she might meet him. But he could not keep away from it, although the thought of it was an added torment9, and he vibrated between a wild wish that he might never see it again, and a sick wonder how he could possibly go away and leave it—that strange old orchard where he had met and wooed his sweetheart, watching her develop and blossom under his eyes, like some rare flower, until in the space of three short months she had passed from exquisite10 childhood into still more exquisite womanhood.
As he crossed the pasture field before the spruce wood he came upon Neil Gordon, building a longer fence. Neil did not look up as Eric passed, but sullenly11 went on driving poles. Before this Eric had pitied Neil; now he was conscious of feeling sympathy with him. Had Neil suffered as he was suffering? Eric had entered into a new fellowship whereof the passport was pain.
The orchard was very silent and dreamy in the thick, deep tinted12 sunshine of the September afternoon, a sunshine which seemed to possess the power of extracting the very essence of all the odours which summer has stored up in wood and field. There were few flowers now; most of the lilies, which had queened it so bravely along the central path a few days before, were withered13. The grass had become ragged14 and sere15 and unkempt. But in the corners the torches of the goldenrod were kindling16 and a few misty17 purple asters nodded here and there. The orchard kept its own strange attractiveness, as some women with youth long passed still preserve an atmosphere of remembered beauty and innate18, indestructible charm.
Eric walked drearily19 and carelessly about it, and finally sat down on a half fallen fence panel in the shadow of the overhanging spruce boughs20. There he gave himself up to a reverie, poignant21 and bitter sweet, in which he lived over again everything that had passed in the orchard since his first meeting there with Kilmeny.
So deep was his abstraction that he was conscious of nothing around him. He did not hear stealthy footsteps behind him in the dim spruce wood. He did not even see Kilmeny as she came slowly around the curve of the wild cherry lane.
Kilmeny had sought the old orchard for the healing of her heartbreak, if healing were possible for her. She had no fear of encountering Eric there at that time of day, for she did not know that it was the district custom to close the school for a funeral. She would never have gone to it in the evening, but she longed for it continually; it, and her memories, were all that was left her now.
Years seemed to have passed over the girl in those few days. She had drunk of pain and broken bread with sorrow. Her face was pale and strained, with bluish, transparent22 shadows under her large wistful eyes, out of which the dream and laughter of girlhood had gone, but into which had come the potent23 charm of grief and patience. Thomas Gordon had shaken his head bodingly when he had looked at her that morning at the breakfast table.
“She won’t stand it,” he thought. “She isn’t long for this world. Maybe it is all for the best, poor lass. But I wish that young Master had never set foot in the Connors orchard, or in this house. Margaret, Margaret, it’s hard that your child should have to be paying the reckoning of a sin that was sinned before her birth.”
Kilmeny walked through the lane slowly and absently like a woman in a dream. When she came to the gap in the fence where the lane ran into the orchard she lifted her wan24, drooping25 face and saw Eric, sitting in the shadow of the wood at the other side of the orchard with his bowed head in his hands. She stopped quickly and the blood rushed wildly over her face.
The next moment it ebbed26, leaving her white as marble. Horror filled her eyes,—blank, deadly horror, as the livid shadow of a cloud might fill two blue pools.
Behind Eric Neil Gordon was standing27 tense, crouched28, murderous. Even at that distance Kilmeny saw the look on his face, saw what he held in his hand, and realized in one agonized29 flash of comprehension what it meant.
All this photographed itself in her brain in an instant. She knew that by the time she could run across the orchard to warn Eric by a touch it would be too late. Yet she must warn him—she MUST—she MUST! A mighty30 surge of desire seemed to rise up within her and overwhelm her like a wave of the sea,—a surge that swept everything before it in an irresistible31 flood. As Neil Gordon swiftly and vindictively32, with the face of a demon33, lifted the axe34 he held in his hand, Kilmeny sprang forward through the gap.
“ERIC, ERIC, LOOK BEHIND YOU—LOOK BEHIND YOU!”
Eric started up, confused, bewildered, as the voice came shrieking35 across the orchard. He did not in the least realize that it was Kilmeny who had called to him, but he instinctively36 obeyed the command.
He wheeled around and saw Neil Gordon, who was looking, not at him, but past him at Kilmeny. The Italian boy’s face was ashen37 and his eyes were filled with terror and incredulity, as if he had been checked in his murderous purpose by some supernatural interposition. The axe, lying at his feet where he had dropped it in his unutterable consternation38 on hearing Kilmeny’s cry told the whole tale. But before Eric could utter a word Neil turned, with a cry more like that of an animal than a human being, and fled like a hunted creature into the shadow of the spruce wood.
A moment later Kilmeny, her lovely face dewed with tears and sunned over with smiles, flung herself on Eric’s breast.
“Oh, Eric, I can speak,—I can speak! Oh, it is so wonderful! Eric, I love you—I love you!”
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1
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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3
gall
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| v.使烦恼，使焦躁，难堪；n.磨难 | |
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4
automaton
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| n.自动机器，机器人 | |
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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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6
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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10
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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11
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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12
tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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13
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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14
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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15
sere
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| adj.干枯的；n.演替系列 | |
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16
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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17
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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drearily
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| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
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20
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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21
poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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22
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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23
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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24
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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26
ebbed
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的过去式和过去分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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27
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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28
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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30
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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31
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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32
vindictively
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| adv.恶毒地；报复地 | |
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33
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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34
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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35
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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36
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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37
ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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38
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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