It does not take sexual affinity12 long to manifest itself, once its subjects are brought near to each other. Eugene was older in certain forms of knowledge, broader in a sense, potentially greater than she would ever comprehend; but nevertheless, swayed helplessly by emotion and desire. Her own emotions, though perhaps stronger than his, were differently aroused. The stars, the night, a lovely scene, any exquisite13 attribute of nature could fascinate him to the point of melancholy14. With her, nature in its largest aspects passed practically unnoticed. She responded to music feelingly, as did Eugene. In literature, only realism appealed to him; for her, sentiment, strained though not necessarily unreal, had the greatest charm. Art in its purely15 æsthetic forms meant nothing at all to her. To Eugene it was the last word in the matter of emotional perception. History, philosophy, logic16, psychology17, were sealed books to her. To Eugene they were already open doors, or, better yet, flowery paths of joy, down which he was wandering. Yet in spite of these things they were being attracted toward each other.
And there were other differences. With Eugene convention meant nothing at all, and his sense of evil and good was something which the ordinary person would not have comprehended. He was prone18 to like all sorts and conditions of human beings—the intellectual, the ignorant, the clean, the dirty, the gay, the sorrowful, white, yellow, black. As for Angela, she had a distinct preference for those who conducted themselves according to given standards of propriety19. She was brought up to think of those people as best who worked the hardest, denied themselves the most, and conformed to the ordinary notions of right and wrong. There was no questioning of current standards in her mind. As it was written socially and ethically20 upon the tables of the law, so was it. There might be charming characters outside the pale, but they were not admitted to association or sympathy. To Eugene a human being was a human being. The ruck of misfits or ne'er-do-wells he could laugh joyously21 with or at. It was all wonderful, beautiful, amusing. Even its grimness and tragedy were worth while, although they hurt him terribly at times. Why, under these circumstances, he should have been so thoroughly attracted to Angela remains22 a mystery. Perhaps they complemented23 each other at this time as a satellite complements24 a larger luminary—for Eugene's egoism required praise, sympathy, feminine coddling; and Angela caught fire from the warmth and geniality25 of his temperament.
On the train next day Eugene had nearly three hours of what he deemed most delightful26 talk with her. They had not journeyed far before he had told her how he had traveled this way, on this train, at this hour, two years before; how he had walked about the streets of the big city, looking for a place to sleep, how he had got work and stayed away until he felt that he had found himself. Now he was going to study art and then to New York or Paris, and do magazine illustrating27 and possibly paint pictures. He was truly your flamboyant28 youth of talent when he got to talking—when he had a truly sympathetic ear. He loved to boast to someone who really admired him, and he felt that he had admiration29 here. Angela looked at him with swimming eyes. He was really different from anything she had ever known, young, artistic30, imaginative, ambitious. He was going out into a world which she had longed for but never hoped to see—that of art. Here he was telling her of his prospective31 art studies, and talking of Paris. What a wonderful thing!
As the train neared Chicago she explained that she would have to make an almost immediate connection with one which left over the Chicago Milwaukee and St. Paul, for Blackwood. She was a little lonely, to tell the truth, a little sick at heart, for the summer vacation was over and she was going back to teach school. Alexandria, for the two weeks she had been there visiting Mrs. King (formerly a Blackwood girl and school-day chum of hers), was lovely. Her girlhood friend had tried to make things most pleasant and now it was all over. Even Eugene was over, for he said nothing much of seeing her again, or had not so far. She was wishing she might see more of this world he painted in such glowing colors, when he said:
"Mr. Bangs said that you come down to Chicago every now and then?"
"I do," she replied. "I sometimes come down to go to the theatres and shop." She did not say that there was an element of practical household commercialism in it, for she was considered one of the best buyers in the family and that she was sent to buy by various members of the family in quantities. From a practical household point of view she was a thoroughbred and was valued by her sisters and friends as someone who loved to do things. She might have come to be merely a family pack horse, solely32 because she loved to work. It was instinct to do everything she did thoroughly, but she worked almost exclusively in minor33 household matters.
"How soon do you expect to come down again?" he asked.
"Oh, I can't tell. I sometimes come down when Opera is on in the winter. I may be here around Thanksgiving."
"Not before that?"
"I don't think so," she replied archly.
"That's too bad. I thought maybe I'd see you a few times this fall. When you do come I wish you could let me know. I'd like to take you to the theatre."
Eugene spent precious little money on any entertainment, but he thought he could venture this. She would not be down often. Then, too, he had the notion that he might get a rise one of these days—that would make a difference. When she came again he would be in art school, opening up another field for himself. Life looked hopeful.
"That's so nice of you," she replied. "And when I come I'll let you know. I'm just a country girl," she added, with a toss of her head, "and I don't get to the city often."
Eugene liked what he considered the guileless naïveté of her confessions—the frankness with which she owned up to simplicity and poverty. Most girls didn't. She almost made a virtue35 out of these thing—at least they were charming as a confession34 in her.
"I'll hold you to that," he assured her.
"Oh, you needn't. I'll be glad to let you know."
They were nearing the station. He forgot, for the moment that she was not as remote and delicate in her beauty as Stella, that she was apparently36 not as passionate37 temperamentally as Margaret. He saw her wonderfully dull hair and her thin lips and peculiar2 blue eyes, and admired her honesty and simplicity. He picked up her grip and helped her to find her train. When they came to part he pressed her hand warmly, for she had been very nice to him, so attentive38 and sympathetic and interested.
"I won't forget."
"You wouldn't mind if I wrote you now and then?"
"Not at all. I'd like it."
"Then I will," he said, and went out.
He stood outside and looked at her through the train window as it pulled out. He was glad to have met her. This was the right sort of girl, clean, honest, simple, attractive. That was the way the best women were—good and pure—not wild pieces of fire like Margaret; nor unconscious, indifferent beauties like Stella, he was going to add, but couldn't. There was a voice within him that said that artistically40 Stella was perfect and even now it hurt him a little to remember. But Stella was gone forever, there was no doubt about that.
During the days that followed he thought of the girl often. He wondered what sort of a town Blackwood was; what sort of people she moved with, what sort of a house she lived in. They must be nice, simple people like his own in Alexandria. These types of city bred people whom he saw—girls particularly—and those born to wealth, had no appeal for him as yet. They were too distant, too far removed from anything he could aspire41 to. A good woman such as Miss Blue obviously was, must be a treasure anywhere in the world. He kept thinking he would write to her—he had no other girl acquaintance now; and just before he entered art school he did this, penning a little note saying that he remembered so pleasantly their ride; and when was she coming? Her answer, after a week, was that she expected to be in the city about the middle or the end of October and that she would be glad to have him call. She gave him the number of an aunt who lived out on the North Side in Ohio Street, and said she would notify him further. She was hard at work teaching school now, and didn't even have time to think of the lovely summer she had had.
"Poor little girl," he thought. She deserved a better fate. "When she comes I'll surely look her up," he thought, and there was a lot that went with the idea. Such wonderful hair!
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1
peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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affinity
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| n.亲和力，密切关系 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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ethically
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| adv.在伦理上，道德上 | |
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joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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complemented
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| 有补助物的，有余格的 | |
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complements
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| 补充( complement的名词复数 )； 补足语； 补充物； 补集（数） | |
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geniality
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| n.和蔼，诚恳；愉快 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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illustrating
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| 给…加插图( illustrate的现在分词 )； 说明； 表明； （用示例、图画等）说明 | |
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flamboyant
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| adj.火焰般的，华丽的，炫耀的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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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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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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artistically
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| adv.艺术性地 | |
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aspire
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| vi.(to，after)渴望，追求，有志于 | |
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