"We must have a fire, that is certain," was our first decision. This entailed1 the abolition2 of our beautiful decorations—our sea-holly and ferns; also some anxious looks from our handmaiden. Apparently3 no fire, had been lit in this rather despised room for many months—years perhaps—and the chimney rather resented being used. A few agonised down-puffs greatly interfered4 with the comfort of the breakfast table, and an insane attempt to open the windows made matters worse.
Which was most preferable—to be stifled5 or deluged6? We were just considering the question, when the chimney took a new and kinder thought, or the wind took a turn—it seemed to blow alternately from every quarter, and then from all quarters at once—the smoke went up straight, the room grew warm and bright, with the cosy7 peace of the first fire of the season. Existence became once more endurable, nay8, pleasant.
"We shall survive, spite of the rain!" And we began to laugh over our lost day which we had meant to begin by bathing in Housel Cove9; truly, just to stand outside the door would give an admirable douche bath in three minutes. "But how nice it is to be inside, with a roof over our heads, and no necessity for travelling. Fancy the unfortunate tourists who have fixed10 on to-day for visiting the Lizard11!" (Charles had told us that Monday was a favourite day for excursions.) "Fancy anybody being obliged to go out such weather as this!"
And in our deep pity for our fellow-creatures we forgot to pity ourselves.
Nor was there much pity needed; we had provided against emergencies, with a good store of needlework and knitting, anything that would pack in small compass, also a stock of unquestionably "light" literature—paper-covered, double-columned, sixpenny volumes, inclosing an amount of enjoyment12 which those only can understand who are true lovers of Walter Scott. We had enough of him to last for a week of wet days. And we had a one-volume Tennyson, all complete, and a "Morte d'Arthur"—Sir Thomas Malory's. On this literary provender13 we felt that as yet we should not starve.
Also, some little fingers having a trifling14 turn for art, brought out triumphantly15 a colour-box, pencils, and pictures. And the wall-paper being one of the very ugliest that ever eye beheld16, we sought and obtained permission to adorn17 it with these, our chefs-d'œuvre, pasted at regular intervals18. Where we hope they still remain, for the edification of succeeding lodgers19.
We read the "Idylls of the King" all through, finishing with "The Passing of Arthur," where the "bold Sir Bedivere" threw Excalibur into the mere—which is supposed to be Dozmare Pool. Here King Arthur's faithful lover was so melted—for the hundredth time—by the pathos20 of the story, and by many old associations, that the younger and more practical minds grew scornful, and declared that probably King Arthur had never existed at all—or if he had, was nothing but a rough barbarian21, unlike even the hero of Sir Thomas Malory, and far more unlike the noble modern gentleman of Tennyson's verse. Maybe: and yet, seeing that
"'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all,"
may it not be better to have believed in an impossible ideal man, than to accept contentedly22 a low ideal, and worship blindly the worldly, the mean, or the base?
This topic furnished matter for so much hot argument, that, besides doing a quantity of needlework, we succeeded in making our one wet day by no means the least amusing of our seventeen days in Cornwall.
Hour after hour we watched the rain—an even down-pour. In the midst of it we heard a rumour23 that Charles had been seen about the town, and soon after he appeared at the door, hat in hand, soaked but smiling, to inquire for and sympathise with his ladies. Yes, he had brought a party to the Lizard that day!—unfortunate souls (or bodies), for there could not have been a dry thread left on them! We gathered closer round our cosy fire; ate our simple dinner with keen enjoyment, and agreed that after all we had much to be thankful for.
In the afternoon the storm abated24 a little, and we thought we would seize the chance of doing some shopping, if there was a shop in Lizard Town. So we walked—I ought rather to say waded25, for the road was literally26 swimming—meeting not one living creature, except a family of young ducks, who, I need scarcely say, were enjoying supreme27 felicity.
"Yes, ladies, this is the sort of weather we have pretty well all winter. Very little frost or snow, but rain and storm, and plenty of it. Also fogs; I've heard there's nothing anywhere like the fogs at the Lizard."
So said the woman at the post-office, which, except the serpentine28 shops, seemed to be the one emporium of commerce in the place. There we could get all we wanted, and a good deal that we were very thankful we did not want, of eatables, drinkables, and wearables. Also ornaments29, china vases, &c., of a kind that would have driven frantic30 any person of æsthetic tastes. Among them an active young Cornishman of about a year old was meandering31 aimlessly, or with aims equally destructive to himself and the community. He all but succeeded in bringing down a row of plates upon his devoted32 head, and then tied himself up, one fat finger after another, in a ball of twine33, upon which he began to howl violently.
"He's a regular little trial," said the young mother proudly. "He's only sixteen months old, and yet he's up to all sorts of mischief34. I don't know what in the world I shall do with he, presently. Naughty boy!" with a delighted scowl35.
"Not naughty, only active," suggested another maternal36 spirit, and pleaded that the young jackanapes should be found something to do that was not mischief, but yet would occupy his energies, and fill his mind. At which, the bright bold face looked up as if he had understood it all—an absolutely fearless face, brimming with fun, and shrewdness too. Who knows? The "regular little trial" may grow into a valuable member of society—fisherman, sailor, coastguardman—daring and doing heroic deeds; perhaps saving many a life on nights such as last night, which had taught us what Cornish coast-life was all winter through.
The storm was now gradually abating37; the wind had lulled38 entirely39, the rain had ceased, and by sunset a broad yellow streak40 all along the west implied that it might possibly be a fine day to-morrow.
But the lane was almost a river still, and the slippery altitudes of the "hedges" were anything but desirable. As the only possible place for a walk I ventured into a field where two or three cows cropped their supper of damp grass round one of those green hillocks seen in every Cornish pasture field—a manure41 heap planted with cabbages, which grow there with a luxuriance that turns ugliness into positive beauty. Very dreary42 everything was—the soaking grass, the leaden sky, the angry-looking sea, over which a rainy moon was just beginning to throw a faint glimmer43; while shorewards one could just trace the outline of Lizard Point and the wheat-field behind it. Yesterday those fields had looked so sunshiny and fair, but to-night they were all dull and grey, with rows of black dots indicating the soppy, sodden44 harvest sheaves.
Which reminded me that to-morrow was the harvest festival at Landewednack, when all the world and his wife was invited by shilling tickets to have tea in the rectory garden, and afterwards to assist at the evening thanksgiving service in the church.
"Thanksgiving! What for?" some poor farmer might well exclaim, especially on such a day as this. Some harvest festivals must occasionally seem a bitter mockery. Indeed, I doubt if the next generation will not be wise in taking our "Prayers for Rain," "Prayers for Fair Weather," clean out of the liturgy45. Such conceited46 intermeddling with the government of the world sounds to some ridiculous, to others actually profane47. "Snow and hail, mists and vapours, wind and storm, fulfilling His Word." And it must be fulfilled, no matter at what cost to individuals or to nations. The laws of the universe must be carried out, even though the mystery of sorrow, like the still greater mystery of evil, remains48 for ever unexplained. "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?"
And how right is His right! How marvellously beautiful He can make this world! until we can hardly imagine anything more beautiful in the world everlasting49. Ay, even after such a day as to-day, when the world seems hardly worth living in, yet we live on, live to wake up unto such a to-morrow—
But I must wait to speak of it in another page.
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1
entailed
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| 使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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2
abolition
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| n.废除，取消 | |
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3
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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4
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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5
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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6
deluged
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| v.使淹没( deluge的过去式和过去分词 )；淹没；被洪水般涌来的事物所淹没；穷于应付 | |
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7
cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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8
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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9
cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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10
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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lizard
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| n.蜥蜴，壁虎 | |
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12
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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13
provender
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| n.刍草；秣料 | |
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14
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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15
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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16
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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17
adorn
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| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
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18
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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19
lodgers
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| n.房客，租住者( lodger的名词复数 ) | |
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20
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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21
barbarian
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| n.野蛮人；adj.野蛮(人)的；未开化的 | |
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22
contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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23
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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24
abated
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| 减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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25
waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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27
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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28
serpentine
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| adj.蜿蜒的，弯曲的 | |
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29
ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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30
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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31
meandering
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| 蜿蜒的河流，漫步，聊天 | |
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32
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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33
twine
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| v.搓，织，编饰；（使）缠绕 | |
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34
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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35
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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36
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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37
abating
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| 减少( abate的现在分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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38
lulled
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| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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39
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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40
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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41
manure
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| n.粪，肥，肥粒；vt.施肥 | |
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42
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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43
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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44
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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45
liturgy
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| n.礼拜仪式 | |
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46
conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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47
profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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48
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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49
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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