Mary Cary opened her shutters2 and with hands on the window-sill leaned out and took a deep breath, then she laughed and nodded her head. "Good-morning sun," she said, "good-morning birds, good-morning everything!" Her eyes swept the scene before her, adsorbed greedily its every detail, then rested on the orchard3 to the right.
"Oh, you beautiful apple blossoms! You beautiful, beautiful apple blossoms!" She threw them a kiss. "And to think you are mine—mine!"
In her voice was a quivering little catch, and presently she dropped on her knees by the open window and rested her arms on the sill. Again her eyes swept sky and field, now glancing at the lawn of velvet4 green, now at the upturned earth on the left, the or hard on the right, the thread of water in the distance winding5 lazily in and out at the foot of low hills, and now at the sun, well up from the soft dawning of another day, and suddenly she stretched out her arms.
"God," she said, "God, I am so glad—so glad!"
For some minutes she knelt, her chin in the palms of her hands, her gaze wandering down the road to the little town less than a mile away, and presently she laughed again as if at some dear memory. It was so good to be among the old loved things, the straggling streets and shabby houses, the buttercups and dandelions, and the friends of other days. It was good, and out loud she said again: "I am so glad."
"Your bath, mein Fraulein."
She got up; the soft gown falling from bare shoulders stirred in the light breeze. She pulled the ribbons from the long braids of hair, and coiled them round her head, but she did not leave the window.
"All right, I'll be there in a minute." Then: "Hedwig?"
"Yes, mein Fraulein."
"Do you think I could have the day to myself? I have something important to do, and I can't do it if constantly interrupted. If any one comes, could you keep me from knowing it?"
"I think so, mein Fraulein."
"Everybody! Of course not Miss Gibbie, but everybody else. I shall not be at home, you see. I will be down in the orchard, and if Miss Gibbie comes bring her there, but never, never let any one else come there, Hedwig."
"I understand, mein Fraulein."
The door was closed quietly, and the girl now standing7 in front of her mirror looked into it first with unseeing eyes, then suddenly with critical ones.
"You must look you best to-night, Mary Cary. You don't want to go to that meeting. You don't like to do a lot of things you've got to do if you're to be a brave lady, but Martha knows nothing is accomplished8 by wanting only, and Martha is going to make you talk to those men to-night." She leaned closer to the mirror. "I wonder how you happened to have light eyes when you like dark ones so much better, and brown hair when black is so much prettier? You should be thankful you don't have to use curlers, and that you have plenty of color, but every now and then I wish you were a raging beauty, so men would do what you want."
Her brow ridged in fine upright folds as if thinking, then she turned, nodding her head in decision. "I will ear that white embroidered9 mull to-night. It is so soft and sweet and silly, and men like things like that."
Some hours later, household duties having been attended to, fresh flowers cut and the stable visited, the little vine-draped shelter made of saplings, stripped of branch but not of bark, and canvas-covered on the top, was the point of destination; but first she stood on the front porch and looked up and down the sandy road which could be well seen from the hilltop. No sign of life upon it, she turned and went through the hall to the back porch and down the steps to the orchard, in one hand writing-materials, in the other pieces of stale bread for the birds; and as she walked she hummed a gay little tune10 to whose rhythm she unconsciously kept step.
Many of the trees were old and bent11 and twisted in fantastic shapes— some were small and partly dead, but most were fit for some festival of the gods; and as she went in and out among them, her feet making but slight impression on the moist springy soil, grass-grown and sprinkled with petals12, pink and white, she stopped now and then and touched first one and then the other, for a swift moment laid her cheek on the rough bark as if to send a message to its heart.
From the shelter she drew out a rug, spread it close to her best-loved tree, then sitting upon it leaned against the trunk, feet crossed and hands clasped loosely behind her head. The chirp13 of sparrows and twitter of small birds, the clear song of robin14 and the cat-bird's call fell after a while unheeding on her ears, and the drowsy15 hum of insects was lost in the dreaming that possessed16 her. From the garden of old-fashioned flowers some distance off the soft breeze flung fragrance17 faint and undefined, and for a while she was a child again—the child who used to run away in the springtime and hide in the orchard, that she might say her prayers before a shrine18 of unknown name.
Presently she sat upright and opened her portfolio19. "And now to think it is mine, Aunt Katherine, mine!" she began. "At last everything is ready, everything is finished, and I am in my own home. I am still full of wonder and unbelief, still not understanding how Tree Hill is my property. The quaint20 old house is not degraded by its changes, and already I love its every room, its every outlook; and if you and Uncle Parke and the children do not soon come I shall be of all creatures the most disappointed and indignant. I want you to see the beautiful things Miss Gibbie has done. Of course, Yorkburg doesn't understand; doesn't know why I am back, and why I am living alone save for the servants; and some don't approve. That the once charity child who lived at the asylum21 should now own Tree Hill is something of a trial, and that it could happen without their knowledge or consent is grievous unto them. But they have been so good to me, all the old friends; are glad, they say, to have me back, and I am so happy to be back. There have been changes, but not many. The mills and factories have brought new people, some of the old ones have died, the little ones grown up, several have married and gone away to live, but it is the same sunshiny little place, and I love it. In the months spent with Miss Gibbie, waiting for Tree Hill to be made ready to live in, there was the restless feeling that belongs to temporary arrangement, but now I am home; here to live and work, and the only shadow is that the big and little Aldens are not here, too. And what a relief to Miss Gibbie to be once more by herself! I couldn't keep people away, and I was constantly afraid she would take a broom and sweep them out. How she does hate to have people in her house unless she sends for them! Man may not have been meant to live alone, but Miss Gibbie was—"
The rustle22 of skirts made her look up, and quickly she was on her feet, her arms around her visitor's waist, cheek pressed close to cheek.
"Oh, dear, I am so glad you've come. I was going—"
"To choke me, crush me, knock me down and sit on me, were you?
Well, you're to do nothing of the kind. And it's too hot to embrace.
Stand straight and let me look at you. How did you sleep last night?"
"I don't know. Wasn't awake long enough to find out. Oh, Miss Gibbie,
if you were a little girl I'd play all around the green grass with you!
Apple-Blossom Land is the place to play it in, and this is Apple-Blossom
Land! And to think—to think that it is mine!"
"Why not? Why shouldn't what you want be yours? Heaven knows an old house on a hilltop, with some twisted trees on the side and cornfields at the back, isn't much to dance over; but things have in them what we get out of them, and if you will stop hugging me and get me something to sit on I will be obliged."
"Will the rug do?"
"Rug? How could I get up if I every got down? No. Get me a chair. What are you out here for, anyhow? Bugs23 and bees and birds may like such places, but being a mere24 human being I prefer indoors."
"Then we will go in. I came out here so as to be not at home if any one came up to see me."
"Hiding, are you? If you don't want to see people, why see them?" She waved her turkey-wing fan inquiringly. "Nonsense such as this will force you on the roof, if you'd say your prayers in private, and you're making a bad beginning. Have you got that list of the councilmen? I want to see it again."
Mary Cary picked up her writing-materials, crumbled25 the bread and threw it to the birds, and, with arm in Miss Gibbie's, turned toward the house.
"It's on the library table. I've seen every one of them. I'm sure it's going to be all right."
"You are? That's because you are yet young. Never be sure a man in politics is going to do what he says until he does it. When he makes you a promise, just ask him to kindly26 put his name to it. I'm like a darkey—I've more confidence in a piece of paper with some writing on it than in the spoken word. Men mean well, and they'll promise a woman heaven or hell to get rid of her, but you can't trust them. How about Mr. Chinn?"
"Hardest of all. He can't speak correctly, and has never been out of Yorkburg a week in his life. And yet he says we've got as good streets as we need, and he doesn't approve of all this education, anyhow."
"Naturally. People are generally opposed to things they know nothing about. Here, Hedwig, take my hat and bring me some iced tea—and next time your Fraulein hides in the orchard you can find her and not send me there."
Blowing somewhat from her walk, Miss Gibbie dropped in a chair in the hall, unfastened the strings27 of her broad-brimmed hat and handed it to Hedwig. Spreading out her ample skirts, she pulled off her white cotton gloves, opened the bag hanging from her waist, took from it a handkerchief of finest thread, and with it wiped her face. After a moment she glanced around. "A house knows when it is occupied. Sleeping here has given things a different air." She looked at the girl standing in front of her, hands clasped behind, and the turkey-wing fan stopped on its backward motion. "You are sure you will not be lonely? Sure you will not be afraid?"
"Afraid! I'm not just Mary Cary, I'm Martha Cary also. Martha has never been afraid, and Mary has never been lonely in her life. And I love it so, my little Harmony House! Oh, Miss Gibbie, you have been so good, so precious good!" The strong young arms reached down, and on her warm breast she drew the anxious face of the older woman, kissed it swiftly, then pushed her back against the cushions. "If only you would let me tell how good you've been!"
"If only you would behave yourself and get me some tea I would think more of you. There are many things I might forgive, but never the telling of my private affairs. Where is that list of City Fathers? Here, get me another chair. One feels like a kitty puss on a feather-bed in a thing of this kind. I prefer to sit like a human being."
With an effort she extricated28 herself from the depths of the big chintz-covered chair and took a tall straight one near the table on which Hedwig was placing iced tea and sandwiches, and as she reached for the tea with her right hand, she held out her left for the paper Mary Cary was bringing to her.
She glanced down its length, and for some moments drank her tea in silence save for an occasional grunt29 which was half sniff30, half snort; then as she put down her glass and took up a sandwich she waved the paper in good-natured derision.
"And that's what governs us—that!
"Oh, august body of assembled men,
The gods in thee have come to earth again!"
She bit into the sandwich and again skimmed the paper. "These are the individuals who make our local laws and do with our taxes what they will. Listen:
"'1. Josiah Chinn, Undertaker.' Deals with the dead. An eye single to the grave.
"'2. Franklin Semph, Machine Agent.' Travels. Sleeps home two nights in the week. Drinks.
"'3. Richard Moon, President Woolen31 Mills.' In council as matter of conscience. Only attends when Mary Cary makes him.
"'4. Jefferson Mowry. Chewer and spitter.' Livery business. Reads less than he writes—never writes.
"'5. Jacob Walstein, born Pawnbroker32, now Banker.' Rich and rising.
"'6. Williamson Brent, General Merchandise.' Votes as he's told by the last person who tells. Putty man.
"'7. Blacker Ash, Secretary and Treasurer33 of Yorkburg Shoe Factory.' Sensible and good worker. Bachelor. Does as Miss Cary tells him.
"'8. John Armitage. Soap-box politician.' Clerk in Mr. Blick's grocery store. Salary eight dollars per week. When it's ten he will marry; told me so.
"'9. Robertson Grey, Lawyer.' Well born and lazy.
"'10. Patrick Milligan.' Whiskey business and good talker. Slippery."
She crumpled34 the paper and threw it at the girl standing in front of her. "There," she said, "there's the list of your Yorkburg Fathers. I hope Hedwig will fumigate35 you when you get home to-night."
"She will if necessary." The crumpled paper was smoothed and folded carefully. "But I don't believe it will be. I've taken tea with most of their families."
"You've taken /what?/" Miss Gibbie bounced half-way out of her chair.
"Tea." Mary Cary's head nodded affirmatively. "That's what I said, tea—I mean supper. I invited myself to some of the places, but some of the people invited me themselves. I'm afraid I did hint a little. But we had a good time, and I've got my little piece of paper—see!"
She held a note-book toward Miss Gibbie, but the latter waved it back.
"Do you mean you sat down at the table and ate with them?"
"That's what I did. It would have been better could they have sat down at my table and eaten with me, for then I could have selected the things to eat, and food makes such a difference in a man's feelings. But there isn't such a great difference in people when you know them through and through, and I had a lovely time taking supper with them. I really did. I told you about the Milligans. Don't you remember I was sick the next day?"
Miss Gibbie shook her head. "Never told me. Glad you were sick."
"Not sick enough to hurt, or to keep me from the Mowrys the next night. The Mowrys didn't have but four kinds of bread and three kinds of cake and two kinds of meats and some other things, but you couldn't see a piece of Mrs. Milligan's table-cloth as big as a salt-cellar, it was so full of food. I took some of everything on the table. Mr. Milligan kept handing me things from his end and Mrs. Milligan from her end, and the little Milligans from the sides, and we laughed so much and I tried so hard to eat I got really excited about it, and of course I was sick the next day. But it didn't matter. We had a beautiful time, and I learned things I never knew before."
She dropped on her knees by the older woman and crossed her arms on her lap. "When I was a little girl, Miss Gibbie, and lived here in the asylum, I used to wish I was a fairy or a witch or a wizard, or something that could make great changes, could turn things round and upside down; could put poor people where were rich, put sad ones where were happy, put the lowly where were the high, and see what they would do. And in the years I have been away, almost ten years, I have been thinking and watching and wondering if half the trouble in the world is not from misunderstanding, from not knowing each other better. And how can we know if each stays in his own little world, never touches the other's life?" She laughed, nodding her head. "I wouldn't discuss Flaubert with Mr. Milligan or Greek Art with Mr. Chinn, but they can tell me a good deal about Yorkburg's needs; and, after all, a person's heart is more important than his head. We are educating people at a terrible rate, but what are we going to do about it if we're not friends when we're through? Of course you can't see my way. You hate dirty people to come near you, but how get them clean if we keep from them?"
Miss Gibbie took up her fan and used it as if already the atmosphere were affected36, then she tapped the face in front of her. "I used to be young once and dreamed dreams, but I dreamed them in my own house. I might understand how you could eat with any sort of sinner—I've eaten with all sorts—but with people who put their knives in their mouths and don't clean their finger-nails!"
She lay back in her chair, chin up and eyebrows37 lifted, and Mary Cary, getting on her feet, laughed, then leaned over and kissed her.
"To-morrow night I am going to the McDougals'. Susie McDougal's beau, Mr. John Armitage, the soap-box politician, is to be there. You don't mind, do you?"
Miss Gibbie's mouth, eyes, and nose all screwed together, and the turkey-wing fan was held at arm's-length. "He uses hair-oil. Yes, I mind, but I remember I was not to interfere38."
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收听单词发音
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1
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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3
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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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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7
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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8
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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9
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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10
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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11
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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12
petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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13
chirp
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| v.(尤指鸟)唧唧喳喳的叫 | |
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14
robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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15
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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16
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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17
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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18
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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19
portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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20
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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21
asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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22
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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23
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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24
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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25
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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26
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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27
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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28
extricated
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| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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30
sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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31
woolen
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| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
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32
pawnbroker
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| n.典当商，当铺老板 | |
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treasurer
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| n.司库，财务主管 | |
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34
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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35
fumigate
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| v.烟熏；用香薰 | |
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36
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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37
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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38
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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