Jimmy told himself that if it were not for Mrs. Carew, and the fact that he could be of some use to her, life would not be worth the living. Even at Mrs. Carew's it was not all joy, for always there was Jamie; and Jamie brought thoughts of Pollyanna—unhappy thoughts.
Being thoroughly4 convinced that Jamie and Pollyanna cared for each other, and also being equally convinced that he himself was in honor bound to step one side and give the handicapped Jamie full right of way, it never occurred to him to question further. Of Pollyanna he did not like to talk or to hear. He knew that both Jamie and Mrs. Carew heard from her; and when they spoke5 of her, he forced himself to listen, in spite of his heartache. But he always changed the subject as soon as possible, and he limited his own letters to her to the briefest and most infrequent epistles possible. For, to Jimmy, a Pollyanna that was not his was nothing but a source of pain and wretchedness; and he had been so glad when the time came for him to leave Beldingsville and take up his studies again in Boston: to be so near Pollyanna, and yet so far from her, he had found to be nothing but torture.
In Boston, with all the feverishness6 of a restless mind that seeks distraction7 from itself, he had thrown himself into the carrying out of Mrs. Carew's plans for her beloved working girls, and such time as could be spared from his own duties he had devoted8 to this work, much to Mrs. Carew's delight and gratitude9.
And so for Jimmy the winter had passed and spring had come—a joyous10, blossoming spring full of soft breezes, gentle showers, and tender green buds expanding into riotous11 bloom and fragrance12. To Jimmy, however, it was anything but a joyous spring, for in his heart was still nothing but a gloomy winter of discontent.
"If only they'd settle things and announce the engagement, once for all," murmured Jimmy to himself, more and more frequently these days. "If only I could know SOMETHING for sure, I think I could stand it better!"
Then one day late in April, he had his wish—a part of it: he learned "something for sure."
It was ten o'clock on a Saturday morning, and Mary, at Mrs. Carew's, had ushered13 him into the music-room with a well-trained: "I'll tell Mrs. Carew you're here, sir. She's expecting you, I think."
In the music-room Jimmy had found himself brought to a dismayed halt by the sight of Jamie at the piano, his arms outflung upon the rack, and his head bowed upon them. Pendleton had half turned to beat a soft retreat when the man at the piano lifted his head, bringing into view two flushed cheeks and a pair of fever-bright eyes.
"Happened! Happened!" ejaculated the lame15 youth, flinging out both his hands, in each of which, as Pendleton now saw, was an open letter. "Everything has happened! Wouldn't you think it had if all your life you'd been in prison, and suddenly you saw the gates flung wide open? Wouldn't you think it had if all in a minute you could ask the girl you loved to be your wife? Wouldn't you think it had if—But, listen! You think I'm crazy, but I'm not. Though maybe I am, after all, crazy with joy. I'd like to tell you. May I? I've got to tell somebody!"
Pendleton lifted his head. It was as if, unconsciously, he was bracing16 himself for a blow. He had grown a little white; but his voice was quite steady when he answered.
"Sure you may, old fellow. I'd be—glad to hear it."
"It's not much to you, of course. You have two feet and your freedom. You have your ambitions and your bridges. But I—to me it's everything. It's a chance to live a man's life and do a man's work, perhaps—even if it isn't dams and bridges. It's something!—and it's something I've proved now I CAN DO! Listen. In that letter there is the announcement that a little story of mine has won the first prize—$3,000, in a contest. In that other letter there, a big publishing house accepts with flattering enthusiasm my first book manuscript for publication. And they both came to-day—this morning. Do you wonder I am crazy glad?"
"No! No, indeed! I congratulate you, Carew, with all my heart," cried
Jimmy, warmly.
"Thank you—and you may congratulate me. Think what it means to me. Think what it means if, by and by, I can be independent, like a man. Think what it means if I can, some day, make Mrs. Carew proud and glad that she gave the crippled lad a place in her home and heart. Think what it means for me to be able to tell the girl I love that I DO love her."
"Yes—yes, indeed, old boy!" Jimmy spoke firmly, though he had grown very white now.
"Of course, maybe I ought not to do that last, even now," resumed Jamie, a swift cloud shadowing the shining brightness of his countenance18. "I'm still tied to—these." He tapped the crutches19 by his side. "I can't forget, of course, that day in the woods last summer, when I saw Pollyanna—I realize that always I'll have to run the chance of seeing the girl I love in danger, and not being able to rescue her."
"Oh, but Carew—" began the other huskily.
Carew lifted a peremptory20 hand.
"I know what you'd say. But don't say it. You can't understand. YOU aren't tied to two sticks. You did the rescuing, not I. It came to me then how it would be, always, with me and—Sadie. I'd have to stand aside and see others—"
"SADIE!" cut in Jimmy, sharply.
"Yes; Sadie Dean. You act surprised. Didn't you know? Haven't you suspected—how I felt toward Sadie?" cried Jamie. "Have I kept it so well to myself, then? I tried to, but—" He finished with a faint smile and a half-despairing gesture.
"Well, you certainly kept it all right, old fellow—from me, anyhow," cried Jimmy, gayly. The color had come back to Jimmy's face in a rich flood, and his eyes had grown suddenly very bright indeed. "So it's Sadie Dean. Good! I congratulate you again, I do, I do, as Nancy says." Jimmy was quite babbling21 with joy and excitement now, so great and wonderful had been the reaction within him at the discovery that it was Sadie, not Pollyanna, whom Jamie loved. Jamie flushed and shook his head a bit sadly.
"No congratulations—yet. You see, I haven't spoken to—her. But I think she must know. I supposed everybody knew. Pray, whom did you think it was, if not—Sadie?"
Jimmy hesitated. Then, a little precipitately22, he let it out.
"Why, I'd thought of—Pollyanna."
Jamie smiled and pursed his lips.
"Pollyanna's a charming girl, and I love her—but not that way, any more than she does me. Besides, I fancy somebody else would have something to say about that; eh?"
Jimmy colored like a happy, conscious boy.
"Do you?" he challenged, trying to make his voice properly impersonal23.
"Of course! John Pendleton."
"JOHN PENDLETON!" Jimmy wheeled sharply.
Jimmy, around whose ears for the second time within five minutes the world had crashed into fragments, barely collected himself enough for a low word of greeting. But Jamie, unabashed, turned with a triumphant25 air of assurance.
"Nothing; only I just said that I believed John Pendleton would have something to say about Pollyanna's loving anybody—but him."
"POLLYANNA! JOHN PENDLETON!" Mrs. Carew sat down suddenly in the chair nearest her. If the two men before her had not been so deeply absorbed in their own affairs they might have noticed that the smile had vanished from Mrs. Carew's lips, and that an odd look as of almost fear had come to her eyes.
"Certainly," maintained Jamie. "Were you both blind last summer?
Wasn't he with her a lot?"
"Why, I thought he was with—all of us," murmured Mrs. Carew, a little faintly.
"Not as he was with Pollyanna," insisted Jamie. "Besides, have you forgotten that day when we were talking about John Pendleton's marrying, and Pollyanna blushed and stammered and said finally that he HAD thought of marrying—once. Well, I wondered then if there wasn't SOMETHING between them. Don't you remember?"
"Y-yes, I think I do—now that you speak of it," murmured Mrs. Carew again. "But I had—forgotten it."
"Oh, but I can explain that," cut in Jimmy, wetting his dry lips.
"John Pendleton DID have a love affair once, but it was with
Pollyanna's mother."
"Pollyanna's mother!" exclaimed two voices in surprise.
"Yes. He loved her years ago, but she did not care for him at all, I understand. She had another lover—a minister, and she married him instead—Pollyanna's father."
"Oh-h!" breathed Mrs. Carew, leaning forward suddenly in her chair.
"And is that why he's—never married?"
"Yes," avouched26 Jimmy. "So you see there's really nothing to that idea at all—that he cares for Pollyanna. It was her mother."
"On the contrary I think it makes a whole lot to that idea," declared Jamie, wagging his head wisely. "I think it makes my case all the stronger. Listen. He once loved the mother. He couldn't have her. What more absolutely natural than that he should love the daughter now—and win her?"
"Oh, Jamie, you incorrigible27 spinner of tales!" reproached Mrs. Carew, with a nervous laugh. "This is no ten-penny novel. It's real life. She's too young for him. He ought to marry a woman, not a girl—that is, if he marries any one, I mean," she stammeringly28 corrected, a sudden flood of color in her face.
"Perhaps; but what if it happens to be a GIRL that he loves?" argued
Jamie, stubbornly. "And, really, just stop to think. Have we had a
single letter from her that hasn't told of his being there? And you
KNOW how HE'S always talking of Pollyanna in his letters."
Mrs. Carew got suddenly to her feet.
"Yes, I know," she murmured, with an odd little gesture, as if throwing something distasteful aside. "But—" She did not finish her sentence, and a moment later she had left the room.
When she came back in five minutes she found, much to her surprise, that Jimmy had gone.
"Why, I thought he was going with us on the girls' picnic!" she exclaimed.
"So did I," frowned Jamie. "But the first thing I knew he was explaining or apologizing or something about unexpectedly having to leave town, and he'd come to tell you he couldn't go with us. Anyhow, the next thing I knew he'd gone. You see,"—Jamie's eyes were glowing again—"I don't think I knew quite what he did say, anyway. I had something else to think of." And he jubilantly spread before her the two letters which all the time he had still kept in his hands.
"Oh, Jamie!" breathed Mrs. Carew, when she had read the letters through. "How proud I am of you!" Then suddenly her eyes filled with tears at the look of ineffable29 joy that illumined Jamie's face.
点击收听单词发音
1 strenuous | |
adj.奋发的,使劲的;紧张的;热烈的,狂热的 | |
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2 erased | |
v.擦掉( erase的过去式和过去分词 );抹去;清除 | |
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3 obliterated | |
v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 );涂去;擦掉;彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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4 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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5 spoke | |
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 feverishness | |
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7 distraction | |
n.精神涣散,精神不集中,消遣,娱乐 | |
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8 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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9 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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10 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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11 riotous | |
adj.骚乱的;狂欢的 | |
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12 fragrance | |
n.芬芳,香味,香气 | |
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13 ushered | |
v.引,领,陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14 stammered | |
v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15 lame | |
adj.跛的,(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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16 bracing | |
adj.令人振奋的 | |
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17 assent | |
v.批准,认可;n.批准,认可 | |
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18 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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19 crutches | |
n.拐杖, 支柱 v.支撑 | |
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20 peremptory | |
adj.紧急的,专横的,断然的 | |
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21 babbling | |
n.胡说,婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 );作潺潺声(如流水);含糊不清地说话;泄漏秘密 | |
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22 precipitately | |
adv.猛进地 | |
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23 impersonal | |
adj.无个人感情的,与个人无关的,非人称的 | |
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24 queried | |
v.质疑,对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 );询问 | |
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25 triumphant | |
adj.胜利的,成功的;狂欢的,喜悦的 | |
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26 avouched | |
v.保证,断言,承认( avouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27 incorrigible | |
adj.难以纠正的,屡教不改的 | |
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28 stammeringly | |
adv.stammering(口吃的)的变形 | |
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29 ineffable | |
adj.无法表达的,不可言喻的 | |
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