Mrs. Jonas Andrews was spending the afternoon with her sister-in-law. She was a big, sonsy woman, with full-blown peony cheeks and large, dreamy, brown eyes. When she had been a slim, pink-and-white girl those eyes had been very romantic. Now they were so out of keeping with the rest of her appearance as to be ludicrous.
Mrs. Eben, sitting at the other end of the small tea-table that was drawn6 up against the window, was a thin little woman, with a very sharp nose and light, faded blue eyes. She looked like a woman whose opinions were always very decided7 and warranted to wear.
"How does Sara like teaching at Newbridge?" asked Mrs. Jonas, helping8 herself a second time to Mrs. Eben's matchless black fruit cake, and thereby9 bestowing10 a subtle compliment which Mrs. Eben did not fail to appreciate.
"Well, I guess she likes it pretty well—better than down at White Sands, anyway," answered Mrs. Eben. "Yes, I may say it suits her. Of course it's a long walk there and back. I think it would have been wiser for her to keep on boarding at Morrison's, as she did all winter, but Sara is bound to be home all she can. And I must say the walk seems to agree with her."
"I was down to see Jonas' aunt at Newbridge last night," said Mrs. Jonas, "and she said she'd heard that Sara had made up her mind to take Lige Baxter at last, and that they were to be married in the fall. She asked me if it was true. I said I didn't know, but I hoped to mercy it was. Now, is it, Louisa?"
"Not a word of it," said Mrs. Eben sorrowfully. "Sara hasn't any more notion of taking Lige than ever she had. I'm sure it's not MY fault. I've talked and argued till I'm tired. I declare to you, Amelia, I am terribly disappointed. I'd set my heart on Sara's marrying Lige—and now to think she won't!"
"She is a very foolish girl," said Mrs. Jonas, judicially11. "If Lige Baxter isn't good enough for her, who is?"
"And he's so well off," said Mrs. Eben, "and does such a good business, and is well spoken of by every one. And that lovely new house of his at Newbridge, with bay windows and hardwood floors! I've dreamed and dreamed of seeing Sara there as mistress."
"Maybe you'll see her there yet," said Mrs. Jonas, who always took a hopeful view of everything, even of Sara's contrariness. But she felt discouraged, too. Well, she had done her best.
If Lige Baxter's broth12 was spoiled it was not for lack of cooks. Every Andrews in Avonlea had been trying for two years to bring about a match between him and Sara, and Mrs. Jonas had borne her part valiantly13.
Mrs. Eben's despondent14 reply was cut short by the appearance of Sara herself. The girl stood for a moment in the doorway15 and looked with a faintly amused air at her aunts. She knew quite well that they had been discussing her, for Mrs. Jonas, who carried her conscience in her face, looked guilty, and Mrs. Eben had not been able wholly to banish16 her aggrieved17 expression.
Sara put away her books, kissed Mrs. Jonas' rosy18 cheek, and sat down at the table. Mrs. Eben brought her some fresh tea, some hot rolls, and a little jelly-pot of the apricot preserves Sara liked, and she cut some more fruit cake for her in moist plummy slices. She might be out of patience with Sara's "contrariness," but she spoiled and petted her for all that, for the girl was the very core of her childless heart.
Sara Andrews was not, strictly19 speaking, pretty; but there was that about her which made people look at her twice. She was very dark, with a rich, dusky sort of darkness, her deep eyes were velvety20 brown, and her lips and cheeks were crimson21.
She ate her rolls and preserves with a healthy appetite, sharpened by her long walk from Newbridge, and told amusing little stories of her day's work that made the two older women shake with laughter, and exchange shy glances of pride over her cleverness.
"I must feed my pussy," she said as she left the room.
"That girl beats me," said Mrs. Eben with a sigh of perplexity. "You know that black cat we've had for two years? Eben and I have always made a lot of him, but Sara seemed to have a dislike to him. Never a peaceful nap under the stove could he have when Sara was home—out he must go. Well, a little spell ago he got his leg broke accidentally and we thought he'd have to be killed. But Sara wouldn't hear of it. She got splints and set his leg just as knacky, and bandaged it up, and she has tended him like a sick baby ever since. He's just about well now, and he lives in clover, that cat does. It's just her way. There's them sick chickens she's been doctoring for a week, giving them pills and things!
"And she thinks more of that wretched-looking calf23 that got poisoned with paris green than of all the other stock on the place."
As the summer wore away, Mrs. Eben tried to reconcile herself to the destruction of her air castles. But she scolded Sara considerably24.
"Sara, why don't you like Lige? I'm sure he is a model young man."
"I don't like model young men," answered Sara impatiently. "And I really think I hate Lige Baxter. He has always been held up to me as such a paragon25. I'm tired of hearing about all his perfections. I know them all off by heart. He doesn't drink, he doesn't smoke, he doesn't steal, he doesn't tell fibs, he never loses his temper, he doesn't swear, and he goes to church regularly. Such a faultless creature as that would certainly get on my nerves. No, no, you'll have to pick out another mistress for your new house at the Bridge, Aunt Louisa."
When the apple trees, that had been pink and white in June, were russet and bronze in October, Mrs. Eben had a quilting. The quilt was of the "Rising Star" pattern, which was considered in Avonlea to be very handsome. Mrs. Eben had intended it for part of Sara's "setting out," and, while she sewed the red-and-white diamonds together, she had regaled her fancy by imagining she saw it spread out on the spare-room bed of the house at Newbridge, with herself laying her bonnet26 and shawl on it when she went to see Sara. Those bright visions had faded with the apple blossoms, and Mrs. Eben hardly had the heart to finish the quilt at all.
The quilting came off on Saturday afternoon, when Sara could be home from school. All Mrs. Eben's particular friends were ranged around the quilt, and tongues and fingers flew. Sara flitted about, helping her aunt with the supper preparations. She was in the room, getting the custard dishes out of the cupboard, when Mrs. George Pye arrived.
Mrs. George had a genius for being late. She was later than usual to-day, and she looked excited. Every woman around the "Rising Star" felt that Mrs. George had some news worth listening to, and there was an expectant silence while she pulled out her chair and settled herself at the quilt.
She was a tall, thin woman with a long pale face and liquid green eyes. As she looked around the circle she had the air of a cat daintily licking its chops over some titbit.
"I suppose," she said, "that you have heard the news?"
She knew perfectly27 well that they had not. Every other woman at the frame stopped quilting. Mrs. Eben came to the door with a pan of puffy, smoking-hot soda28 biscuits in her hand. Sara stopped counting the custard dishes, and turned her ripely-colored face over her shoulder. Even the black cat, at her feet, ceased preening29 his fur. Mrs. George felt that the undivided attention of her audience was hers.
"Baxter Brothers have failed," she said, her green eyes shooting out flashes of light. "Failed DISGRACEFULLY!"
She paused for a moment; but, since her hearers were as yet speechless from surprise, she went on.
"George came home from Newbridge, just before I left, with the news. You could have knocked me down with a feather. I should have thought that firm was as steady as the Rock of Gibraltar! But they're ruined—absolutely ruined. Louisa, dear, can you find me a good needle?"
"Louisa, dear," had set her biscuits down with a sharp thud, reckless of results. A sharp, metallic30 tinkle31 sounded at the closet where Sara had struck the edge of her tray against a shelf. The sound seemed to loosen the paralyzed tongues, and everybody began talking and exclaiming at once. Clear and shrill32 above the confusion rose Mrs. George Pye's voice.
"Yes, indeed, you may well say so. It IS disgraceful. And to think how everybody trusted them! George will lose considerable by the crash, and so will a good many folks. Everything will have to go—Peter Baxter's farm and Lige's grand new house. Mrs. Peter won't carry her head so high after this, I'll be bound. George saw Lige at the Bridge, and he said he looked dreadful cut up and ashamed."
"Who, or what's to blame for the failure?" asked Mrs. Rachel Lynde sharply. She did not like Mrs. George Pye.
"There are a dozen different stories on the go," was the reply. "As far as George could make out, Peter Baxter has been speculating with other folks' money, and this is the result. Everybody always suspected that Peter was crooked34; but you'd have thought that Lige would have kept him straight. HE had always such a reputation for saintliness."
"I don't suppose Lige knew anything about it," said Mrs. Rachel indignantly.
"Well, he'd ought to, then. If he isn't a knave35 he's a fool," said Mrs. Harmon Andrews, who had formerly36 been among his warmest partisans37. "He should have kept watch on Peter and found out how the business was being run. Well, Sara, you were the level-headest of us all—I'll admit that now. A nice mess it would be if you were married or engaged to Lige, and him left without a cent—even if he can clear his character!"
"There is a good deal of talk about Peter, and swindling, and a lawsuit," said Mrs. George Pye, quilting industriously38. "Most of the Newbridge folks think it's all Peter's fault, and that Lige isn't to blame. But you can't tell. I dare say Lige is as deep in the mire39 as Peter. He was always a little too good to be wholesome40, I thought."
There was a clink of glass at the cupboard, as Sara set the tray down. She came forward and stood behind Mrs. Rachel Lynde's chair, resting her shapely hands on that lady's broad shoulders. Her face was very pale, but her flashing eyes sought and faced defiantly41 Mrs. George Pye's cat-like orbs42. Her voice quivered with passion and contempt.
"You'll all have a fling at Lige Baxter, now that he's down. You couldn't say enough in his praise, once. I'll not stand by and hear it hinted that Lige Baxter is a swindler. You all know perfectly well that Lige is as honest as the day, if he IS so unfortunate as to have an unprincipled brother. You, Mrs. Pye, know it better than any one, yet you come here and run him down the minute he's in trouble. If there's another word said here against Lige Baxter I'll leave the room and the house till you're gone, every one of you."
She flashed a glance around the quilt that cowed the gossips. Even Mrs. George Pye's eyes flickered43 and waned44 and quailed45. Nothing more was said until Sara had picked up her glasses and marched from the room. Even then they dared not speak above a whisper. Mrs. Pye, alone, smarting from the snub, ventured to ejaculate, "Pity save us!" as Sara slammed the door.
For the next fortnight gossip and rumor46 held high carnival47 in Avonlea and Newbridge, and Mrs. Eben grew to dread33 the sight of a visitor.
"They're bound to talk about the Baxter failure and criticize Lige," she deplored48 to Mrs. Jonas. "And it riles Sara up so terrible. She used to declare that she hated Lige, and now she won't listen to a word against him. Not that I say any, myself. I'm sorry for him, and I believe he's done his best. But I can't stop other people from talking."
One evening Harmon Andrews came in with a fresh budget of news.
"The Baxter business is pretty near wound up at last," he said, as he lighted his pipe. "Peter has got his lawsuits49 settled and has hushed up the talk about swindling, somehow. Trust him for slipping out of a scrape clean and clever. He don't seem to worry any, but Lige looks like a walking skeleton. Some folks pity him, but I say he should have kept the run of things better and not have trusted everything to Peter. I hear he's going out West in the Spring, to take up land in Alberta and try his hand at farming. Best thing he can do, I guess. Folks hereabouts have had enough of the Baxter breed. Newbridge will be well rid of them."
Sara, who had been sitting in the dark corner by the stove, suddenly stood up, letting the black cat slip from her lap to the floor. Mrs. Eben glanced at her apprehensively50, for she was afraid the girl was going to break out in a tirade51 against the complacent52 Harmon.
But Sara only walked fiercely out of the kitchen, with a sound as if she were struggling for breath. In the hall she snatched a scarf from the wall, flung open the front door, and rushed down the lane in the chill, pure air of the autumn twilight53. Her heart was throbbing54 with the pity she always felt for bruised55 and baited creatures.
On and on she went heedlessly, intent only on walking away her pain, over gray, brooding fields and winding56 slopes, and along the skirts of ruinous, dusky pine woods, curtained with fine spun57 purple gloom. Her dress brushed against the brittle58 grasses and sere59 ferns, and the moist night wind, loosed from wild places far away, blew her hair about her face.
At last she came to a little rustic60 gate, leading into a shadowy wood-lane. The gate was bound with willow61 withes, and, as Sara fumbled62 vainly at them with her chilled hands, a man's firm step came up behind her, and Lige Baxter's hand closed over her's.
He opened the gate and drew her through. She left her hand in his, as they walked through the lane where lissome64 boughs65 of young saplings flicked66 against their heads, and the air was wildly sweet with the woodsy odors.
"It's a long while since I've seen you, Lige," Sara said at last.
Lige looked wistfully down at her through the gloom.
"Yes, it seems very long to me, Sara. But I didn't think you'd care to see me, after what you said last spring. And you know things have been going against me. People have said hard things. I've been unfortunate, Sara, and may be too easy-going, but I've been honest. Don't believe folks if they tell you I wasn't."
"Indeed, I never did—not for a minute!" fired Sara.
"I'm glad of that. I'm going away, later on. I felt bad enough when you refused to marry me, Sara; but it's well that you didn't. I'm man enough to be thankful my troubles don't fall on you."
Sara stopped and turned to him. Beyond them the lane opened into a field and a clear lake of crocus sky cast a dim light into the shadow where they stood. Above it was a new moon, like a gleaming silver scimitar. Sara saw it was over her left shoulder, and she saw Lige's face above her, tender and troubled.
"Lige," she said softly, "do you love me still?"
"You know I do," said Lige sadly.
That was all Sara wanted. With a quick movement she nestled into his arms, and laid her warm, tear-wet cheek against his cold one.
When the amazing rumor that Sara was going to marry Lige Baxter, and go out West with him, circulated through the Andrews clan67, hands were lifted and heads were shaken. Mrs. Jonas puffed68 and panted up the hill to learn if it were true. She found Mrs. Eben stitching for dear life on an "Irish Chain" quilt, while Sara was sewing the diamonds on another "Rising Star" with a martyr-like expression on her face. Sara hated patchwork69 above everything else, but Mrs. Eben was mistress up to a certain point.
"You'll have to make that quilt, Sara Andrews. If you're going to live out on those prairies, you'll need piles of quilts, and you shall have them if I sew my fingers to the bone. But you'll have to help make them."
And Sara had to.
When Mrs. Jonas came, Mrs. Eben sent Sara off to the post-office to get her out of the way.
"I suppose it's true, this time?" said Mrs. Jonas.
"Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Eben briskly. "Sara is set on it. There is no use trying to move her—you know that—so I've just concluded to make the best of it. I'm no turn-coat. Lige Baxter is Lige Baxter still, neither more nor less. I've always said he's a fine young man, and I say so still. After all, he and Sara won't be any poorer than Eben and I were when we started out."
Mrs. Jonas heaved a sigh of relief.
"I'm real glad you take that view of it, Louisa. I'm not displeased70, either, although Mrs. Harmon would take my head off if she heard me say so. I always liked Lige. But I must say I'm amazed, too, after the way Sara used to rail at him."
"Well, we might have expected it," said Mrs. Eben sagely71. "It was always Sara's way. When any creature got sick or unfortunate she seemed to take it right into her heart. So you may say Lige Baxter's failure was a success after all."
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panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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mosaic
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| n./adj.镶嵌细工的，镶嵌工艺品的，嵌花式的 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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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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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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bestowing
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judicially
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| 依法判决地，公平地 | |
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broth
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| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
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valiantly
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| adv.勇敢地，英勇地；雄赳赳 | |
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despondent
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| adj.失望的，沮丧的，泄气的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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banish
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| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
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aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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velvety
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| adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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crimson
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jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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considerably
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paragon
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| n.模范，典型 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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soda
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preening
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| v.（鸟）用嘴整理（羽毛）( preen的现在分词 ) | |
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metallic
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tinkle
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shrill
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dread
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crooked
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knave
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formerly
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partisans
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industriously
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mire
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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defiantly
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orbs
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| abbr.off-reservation boarding school 在校寄宿学校n.球，天体，圆形物( orb的名词复数 ) | |
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flickered
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waned
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| v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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quailed
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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carnival
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| n.嘉年华会，狂欢，狂欢节，巡回表演 | |
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deplored
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| v.悲叹，痛惜，强烈反对( deplore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lawsuits
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apprehensively
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| adv.担心地 | |
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tirade
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| n.冗长的攻击性演说 | |
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complacent
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| adj.自满的；自鸣得意的 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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sere
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| adj.干枯的；n.演替系列 | |
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rustic
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willow
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62
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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63
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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64
lissome
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| adj.柔软的；敏捷的 | |
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65
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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66
flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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67
clan
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| n.氏族，部落，宗族，家族，宗派 | |
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68
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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69
patchwork
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| n.混杂物；拼缝物 | |
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70
displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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71
sagely
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| adv. 贤能地，贤明地 | |
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