"How do you do, Mr. Witla," he inquired with easy grace as he strolled up, the yellow mud of the fields on his boots. He had pulled a big jackknife out of his pocket and begun whittling2 a fine twig3 he had picked up. "I'm glad to see you. My daughter, Angela, has been telling me one thing and another about you."
He smiled as he looked at Eugene. Angela, who was sitting beside him, rose and strolled toward the house.
"I'm glad to see you," said Eugene. "I like your country around here. It looks prosperous."
"It is prosperous," said the old patriarch, drawing up a chair which stood at the foot of a tree and seating himself. Eugene sank back into the hammock.
"It's a soil that's rich in lime and carbon and sodium—the things which make plant life grow. We need very little fertilizer here—very little. The principal thing is to keep the ground thoroughly4 cultivated and to keep out the bugs5 and weeds."
He cut at his stick meditatively6. Eugene noted7 the chemical and physical knowledge relative to farming. It pleased him to find brain coupled with crop cultivation8.
"I noticed some splendid fields of wheat as I came over," he observed.
"Yes, wheat does well here," Blue went on, "when the weather is moderately favorable. Corn does well. We have a splendid apple crop and grapes are generally successful in this state. I have always thought that Wisconsin had a little the best of the other valley states, for we are blessed with a moderate climate, plenty of streams and rivers and a fine, broken landscape. There are good mines up north and lots of lumber9. We are a prosperous people, we Wisconsiners, decidedly prosperous. This state has a great future."
Eugene noted the wide space between his clear blue eyes as he talked. He liked the bigness of his conception of his state and of his country. No petty little ground-harnessed ploughman this, but a farmer in the big sense of the word—a cultivator of the soil, with an understanding of it—an American who loved his state and his country.
"I have always thought of the Mississippi valley as the country of the future," said Eugene. "We have had the Valley of the Nile and the Valley of the Euphrates with big populations, but this is something larger. I rather feel as though a great wave of population were coming here in the future."
"It is the new paradise of the world," said Jotham Blue, pausing in his whittling and holding up his right hand for emphasis. "We haven't come to realize its possibilities. The fruit, the corn, the wheat, to feed the nations of the world can be raised here. I sometimes marvel10 at the productivity of the soil. It is so generous. It is like a great mother. It only asks to be treated kindly11 to give all that it has."
Eugene smiled. The bigness of his prospective12 father-in-law's feelings lured13 him. He felt as though he could love this man.
They talked on about other things, the character of the surrounding population, the growth of Chicago, the recent threat of a war with Venezuela, the rise of a new leader in the Democratic party, a man whom Jotham admired very much. As he was telling of the latter's exploits—it appeared he had recently met him at Blackwood—Mrs. Blue appeared in the front door.
"Jotham!" she called.
He rose. "My wife must want a bucket of water," he said, and strolled away.
Eugene smiled. This was lovely. This was the way life should be—compounded of health, strength, good nature, understanding, simplicity14. He wished he were a man like Jotham, as sound, as hearty15, as clean and strong. To think he had raised eight children. No wonder Angela was lovely. They all were, no doubt.
While he was rocking, Marietta came back smiling, her blond hair blowing about her face. Like her father she had blue eyes, like him a sanguine16 temperament17, warm and ruddy. Eugene felt drawn18 to her. She reminded him a little of Ruby—a little of Margaret. She was bursting with young health.
"You're stronger than Angela," he said, looking at her.
"Oh, yes, I can always outrun Angel-face," she exclaimed. "We fight sometimes but I can get things away from her. She has to give in. Sometimes I feel older—I always take the lead."
Eugene rejoiced in the sobriquet19 of Angel-face. It suited Angela, he thought. She looked like pictures of Angels in the old prints and in the stained glass windows he had seen. He wondered in a vague way, however, whether Marietta did not have the sweeter temperament—were not really more lovable and cosy20. But he put the thought forcefully out of his mind. He felt he must be loyal to Angela here.
While they were talking the youngest boy, David, came up and sat down on the grass. He was short and stocky for his years—sixteen—with an intelligent face and an inquiring eye. Eugene noted stability and quiet force in his character at once. He began to see that these children had inherited character as well as strength from their parents. This was a home in which successful children were being reared. Benjamin came up after awhile, a tall, overgrown, puritanical21 youth, with western modifications22 and then Samuel, the oldest of the living boys and the most impressive. He was big and serene23 like his father, of brown complexion24 and hickory strength. Eugene learned in the conversation that he was a railroad man in St. Paul—home for a brief vacation, after three years of absence. He was with a road called the Great Northern, already a Second Assistant Passenger Agent and with great prospects25, so the family thought. Eugene could see that all the boys and girls, like Angela, were ruggedly26 and honestly truthful27. They were written all over with Christian28 precept29—not church dogma—but Christian precept, lightly and good naturedly applied30. They obeyed the ten commandments in so far as possible and lived within the limits of what people considered sane31 and decent. Eugene wondered at this. His own moral laxity was a puzzle to him. He wondered whether he were not really all wrong and they all right. Yet the subtlety32 of the universe was always with him—the mystery of its chemistry. For a given order of society no doubt he was out of place—for life in general, well, he could not say.
At 12.30 dinner was announced from the door by Mrs. Blue and they all rose. It was one of those simple home feasts common to any intelligent farming family. There was a generous supply of fresh vegetables, green peas, new potatoes, new string beans. A steak had been secured from the itinerant33 butcher who served these parts and Mrs. Blue had made hot light biscuit. Eugene expressed a predilection34 for fresh buttermilk and they brought him a pitcherful35, saying that as a rule it was given to the pigs; the children did not care for it. They talked and jested and he heard odd bits of information concerning people here and there—some farmer who had lost a horse by colic; some other farmer who was preparing to cut his wheat. There were frequent references to the three oldest sisters, who lived in other Wisconsin towns. Their children appeared to be numerous and fairly troublesome. They all came home frequently, it appeared, and were bound up closely with the interests of the family as a whole.
"The more you know about the Blue family," observed Samuel to Eugene, who expressed surprise at the solidarity36 of interest, "the more you realize that they're a clan37 not a family. They stick together like glue."
"That's a rather nice trait, I should say," laughed Eugene, who felt no such keen interest in his relatives.
"Well, if you want to find out how the Blue family stick together just do something to one of them," observed Jake Doll, a neighbor who had entered.
"That's sure true, isn't it, Sis," observed Samuel, who was sitting next to Angela, putting his hand affectionately on his sister's arm. Eugene noted the movement. She nodded her head affectionately.
Eugene almost begrudged39 him his sister's apparent affection. Could such a girl be cut out of such an atmosphere—separated from it completely, brought into a radically40 different world, he wondered. Would she understand him; would he stick by her. He smiled at Jotham and Mrs. Blue and thought he ought to, but life was strange. You never could tell what might happen.
During the afternoon there were more lovely impressions. He and Angela sat alone in the cool parlor41 for two hours after dinner while he restated his impressions of her over and over. He told her how charming he thought her home was, how nice her father and mother, what interesting brothers she had. He made a genial42 sketch43 of Jotham as he had strolled up to him at noon, which pleased Angela and she kept it to show to her father. He made her pose in the window and sketched44 her head and her halo of hair. He thought of his double page illustration of the Bowery by night and went to fetch it, looking for the first time at the sweet cool room at the end of the house which he was to occupy. One window, a west one, had hollyhocks looking in, and the door to the north gave out on the cool, shady grass. He moved in beauty, he thought; was treading on showered happiness. It hurt him to think that such joy might not always be, as though beauty were not everywhere and forever present.
When Angela saw the picture which Truth had reproduced, she was beside herself with joy and pride and happiness. It was such a testimony45 to her lover's ability. He had written almost daily of the New York art world, so she was familiar with that in exaggerated ideas, but these actual things, like reproduced pictures, were different. The whole world would see this picture. He must be famous already, she imagined.
That evening and the next and the next as they sat in the parlor alone he drew nearer and nearer to that definite understanding which comes between a man and woman when they love. Eugene could never stop with mere46 kissing and caressing47 in a reserved way, if not persistently48 restrained. It seemed natural to him that love should go on. He had not been married. He did not know what its responsibilities were. He had never given a thought to what his parents had endured to make him worth while. There was no instinct in him to tell him. He had no yearnings for parenthood, that normal desire which gives visions of a home and the proper social conditions for rearing a family. All he thought of was the love making period—the billing and cooing and the transports of delight which come with it. With Angela he felt that these would be super-normal precisely49 because she was so slow in yielding—so on the defensive50 against herself. He could look in her eyes at times and see a swooning veil which foreshadowed a storm of emotion. He would sit by her stroking her hands, touching51 her cheek, smoothing her hair, or at other times holding her in his arms. It was hard for her to resist those significant pressures he gave, to hold him at arm's length, for she herself was eager for the delights of love.
It was on the third night of his stay and in the face of his growing respect for every member of this family, that he swept Angela to the danger line—would have carried her across it had it not been for a fortuitous wave of emotion, which was not of his creation, but of hers.
They had been to the little lake, Okoonee, a little way from the house during the afternoon for a swim.
Afterward52 he and Angela and David and Marietta had taken a drive. It was one of those lovely afternoons that come sometimes in summer and speak direct to the heart of love and beauty. It was so fair and warm, the shadows of the trees so comforting that they fairly made Eugene's heart ache. He was young now, life was beautiful, but how would it be when he was old? A morbid53 anticipation54 of disaster seemed to harrow his soul.
The sunset had already died away when they drew near home. Insects hummed, a cow-bell tinkled55 now and then; breaths of cool air, those harbingers of the approaching eve, swept their cheeks as they passed occasional hollows. Approaching the house they saw the blue smoke curls rising from the kitchen chimney, foretelling56 the preparation of the evening meal. Eugene clasped Angela's hand in an ecstasy57 of emotion.
He wanted to dream—sitting in the hammock with Angela as the dusk fell, watching the pretty scene. Life was all around. Jotham and Benjamin came in from the fields and the sound of their voices and of the splashing water came from the kitchen door where they were washing. There was an anticipatory58 stamping of horses' feet in the barn, the lowing of a distant cow, the hungry grunt59 of pigs. Eugene shook his head—it was so pastoral, so sweet.
At supper he scarcely touched what was put before him, the group at the dining table holding his attention as a spectacle. Afterwards he sat with the family on the lawn outside the door, breathing the odor of flowers, watching the stars over the trees, listening to Jotham and Mrs. Blue, to Samuel, Benjamin, David, Marietta and occasionally Angela. Because of his mood, sad in the face of exquisite60 beauty, she also was subdued61. She said little, listening to Eugene and her father, but when she did talk her voice was sweet.
Jotham arose, after a time, and went to bed, and one by one the others followed. David and Marietta went into the sitting room and then Samuel and Benjamin left. They gave as an excuse hard work for the morning. Samuel was going to try his hand again at thrashing. Eugene took Angela by the hand and led her out where some hydrangeas were blooming, white as snow by day, but pale and silvery in the dark. He took her face in his hands, telling her again of love.
"It's been such a wonderful day I'm all wrought62 up," he said. "Life is so beautiful here. This place is so sweet and peaceful. And you! oh, you!" kisses ended his words.
They stood there a little while, then went back into the parlor where she lighted a lamp. It cast a soft yellow glow over the room, just enough to make it warm, he thought. They sat first side by side on two rocking chairs and then later on a settee, he holding her in his arms. Before supper she had changed to a loose cream colored house gown. Now Eugene persuaded her to let her hair hang in the two braids.
Real passion is silent. It was so intense with him that he sat contemplating63 her as if in a spell. She leaned back against his shoulder stroking his hair, but finally ceased even that, for her own feeling was too intense to make movement possible. She thought of him as a young god, strong, virile64, beautiful—a brilliant future before him. All these years she had waited for someone to truly love her and now this splendid youth had apparently65 cast himself at her feet. He stroked her hands, her neck, cheeks, then slowly gathered her close and buried his head against her bosom66.
Angela was strong in convention, in the precepts67 of her parents, in the sense of her family and its attitude, but this situation was more than she could resist. She accepted first the pressure of his arm, then the slow subtlety with which he caressed68 her. Resistance seemed almost impossible now for he held her close—tight within the range of his magnetism69. When finally she felt the pressure of his hand upon her quivering limbs, she threw herself back in a transport of agony and delight.
"No, no, Eugene," she begged. "No, no! Save me from myself. Save me from myself. Oh, Eugene!"
He paused a moment to look at her face. It was wrought in lines of intense suffering—pale as though she were ill. Her body was quite limp. Only the hot, moist lips told the significant story. He could not stop at once. Slowly he drew his hand away, then let his sensitive artists' fingers rest gently on her neck—her bosom.
"Don't, Eugene," she begged, "don't. Think of my father, my mother. I, who have boasted so. I of whom they feel so sure. Oh, Eugene, I beg of you!"
He stroked her hair, her cheeks, looking into her face as Abélard might have looked at Héloïse.
"Oh, I know why it is," she exclaimed, convulsively. "I am no better than any other, but I have waited so long, so long! But I mustn't! Oh, Eugene, I mustn't! Help me!"
Vaguely71 Eugene understood. She had been without lovers. Why? he thought. She was beautiful. He got up, half intending to carry her to his room, but he paused, thinking. She was such a pathetic figure. Was he really as bad as this? Could he not be fair in this one instance? Her father had been so nice to him—her mother—He saw Jotham Blue before him, Mrs. Blue, her admiring brothers and sisters, as they had been a little while before. He looked at her and still the prize lured him—almost swept him on in spite of himself, but he stayed.
"Stand up, Angela," he said at last, pulling himself together, looking at her intensely. She did so. "Leave me now," he went on, "right away! I won't answer for myself if you don't. I am really trying. Please go."
She paused, looking at him fearfully, regretfully.
"Oh, forgive me, Eugene," she pleaded.
"Forgive me," he said. "I'm the one. But you go now, sweet. You don't know how hard this is. Help me by going."
She moved away and he followed her with his eyes, yearningly72, burningly, until she reached the door. When she closed it softly he went into his own room and sat down. His body was limp and weary. He ached from head to foot from the intensity73 of the mood he had passed through. He went over the recent incidents, almost stunned74 by his experience and then went outside and stood under the stairs, listening. Tree toads75 were chirping76, there were suspicious cracklings in the grass as of bugs stirring. A duck quacked77 somewhere feebly. The bell of the family cow tinkled somewhere over near the water of the little stream. He saw the great dipper in the sky, Sirius, Canopus, the vast galaxy78 of the Milky79 Way.
"What is life anyway?" he asked himself. "What is the human body? What produces passion? Here we are for a few years surging with a fever of longing80 and then we burn out and die." He thought of some lines he might write, of pictures he might paint. All the while, reproduced before his mind's eye like a cinematograph, were views of Angela as she had been tonight in his arms, on her knees. He had seen her true form. He had held her in his arms. He had voluntarily resigned her charms for tonight; anyhow, no harm had come. It never should.
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1
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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whittling
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| v.切，削（木头），使逐渐变小( whittle的现在分词 ) | |
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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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5
bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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8
cultivation
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| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
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lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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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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12
prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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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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sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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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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sobriquet
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| n.绰号 | |
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cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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puritanical
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| adj.极端拘谨的；道德严格的 | |
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modifications
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| n.缓和( modification的名词复数 )；限制；更改；改变 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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ruggedly
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| 险峻地； 粗暴地； （面容）多皱纹地； 粗线条地 | |
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truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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precept
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| n.戒律；格言 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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subtlety
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| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
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itinerant
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| adj.巡回的；流动的 | |
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predilection
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| n.偏好 | |
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pitcherful
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| 一水壶量 | |
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solidarity
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| n.团结；休戚相关 | |
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clan
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| n.氏族，部落，宗族，家族，宗派 | |
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blues
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| n.抑郁，沮丧；布鲁斯音乐 | |
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begrudged
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| 嫉妒( begrudge的过去式和过去分词 )； 勉强做； 不乐意地付出； 吝惜 | |
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radically
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| ad.根本地，本质地 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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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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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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55
tinkled
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| （使）发出丁当声，（使）发铃铃声( tinkle的过去式和过去分词 )； 叮当响着发出，铃铃响着报出 | |
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56
foretelling
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的现在分词 ) | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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anticipatory
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| adj.预想的，预期的 | |
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grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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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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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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64
virile
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| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
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65
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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66
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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67
precepts
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| n.规诫，戒律，箴言( precept的名词复数 ) | |
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68
caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
magnetism
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| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
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70
lamely
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| 一瘸一拐地，不完全地 | |
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71
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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72
yearningly
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| 怀念地，思慕地，同情地； 渴 | |
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73
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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74
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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75
toads
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆( toad的名词复数 ) | |
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76
chirping
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的现在分词 ) | |
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77
quacked
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| v.（鸭子）发出嘎嘎声( quack的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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78
galaxy
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| n.星系；银河系；一群(杰出或著名的人物) | |
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79
milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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80
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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