"Thank you!" said Hilda. "I am not at all hungry; I could not possibly eat anything. My head aches badly!" she added, nervously10 forestalling11 her hostess's protestations. "Perhaps a cup of tea later, thank you! I should like to rest now. And I shall not want any dinner."
"Oh! you'll feel better, dear, when you have rested a bit," said Dame Hartley, smoothing the girl's fair hair with a motherly touch, and not seeming to notice her angry shrinking away. "It's the best thing you can do, to lie down and take a good nap; then you'll wake up fresh as a lark12, and ready to enjoy yourself. Good-by, dearie! I'll bring up your tea in an hour or so." And with a parting nod and smile, the good woman departed, leaving Hilda, like the heroine of a three-volume novel, "alone with her despair."
Very tragic13 indeed the maiden14 looked as she tossed off her hat and flung herself face downward on the bed, refusing to cast even a glance at the cell which was to be her hateful prison. "For of course I shall spend my time here!" she said to herself. "They may send me here, keep me here for years, if they will; but they cannot make me associate with these people." And she recalled with a shudder15 the gnarled, horny hand which she had touched in jumping from the cart,—she had never felt anything like it; the homely16 speech, and the nasal twang with which it was delivered; the uncouth17 garb18 (good stout19 butternut homespun!) and unkempt hair and beard of the "odious20 old savage," as she mentally named Farmer Hartley.
After all, however, Hilda was only fifteen; and after a few minutes, Curiosity began to wake; and after a short struggle with Despair, it conquered, and she sat up on the bed and looked about her.
It was not a very dreadful cell. A bright, clean, fresh little room, all white and blue. White walls, white bedstead, with oh! such snowy coverings, white dimity curtains at the windows, with old-fashioned ball fringes, a little dimity-covered toilet-table, with a quaint21 looking-glass framed with fat gilt22 cherubs23, all apparently24 trying to fold their wings in such a way as to enable them to get a peep at themselves in the mirror, and not one succeeding. Then there was a low rocking-chair, and another chair of the high-backed order, and a tall chest of drawers, all painted white, and a wash-hand-stand with a set of dark-blue crockery on it which made the victim of despair open her eyes wide. Hilda had a touch of china mania26, and knew a good thing when she saw it; and this deep, eight-sided bowl, this graceful27 jug28 with the quaint gilt dragon for a handle, these smaller jugs29, boxes, and dishes, all of the same pattern, all with dark-blue dragons (no cold "Canton" blue, but a rich, splendid ultramarine), large and small, prancing30 and sprawling31 on a pale buff ground,—what were these things doing in the paltry32 bedroom of a common farm-house? Hilda felt a new touch of indignation at "these people" for presuming to have such things in their possession.
When her keen eyes had taken in everything, down to the neat rag-carpet on the floor, the girl bethought her of her trunk. She might as well unpack33 it. Her head could not ache worse, whatever she did; and now that that little imp1 Curiosity was once awake, he prompted her to wonder what the trunk contained. None of the dresses she had been wearing, she was sure of that; for they were all hanging safely in her wardrobe at home. What surprise had mamma been planning? Well, she would soon know. Hastily unlocking the trunk, she lifted out one tray after another and laid them on the bed. In the first were piles of snowy collars and handkerchiefs, all of plain, fine linen34, with no lace or embroidery35; a broad-brimmed straw hat with a simple wreath of daisies round it; another hat, a small one, of rough gray felt, with no trimming at all, save a narrow scarlet ribbon; a pair of heavy castor gloves; a couple of white aprons36, and one of brown holland, with long sleeves. The next tray was filled with dresses,—dresses which made Hilda's eyes open wide again, as she laid them out, one by one, at full length. There was a dark blue gingham with a red stripe, a brown gingham dotted with yellow daisies, a couple of light calicoes, each with a tiny figure or flower on it, a white lawn, and a sailor-suit of rough blue flannel37. All these dresses, and among them all not an atom of trimming. No sign of an overskirt, no ruffle38 or puff39, plaiting or ruching, no "Hamburg" or lace,—nothing! Plain round waists, neatly40 stitched at throat and wrists; plain round skirts, each with a deep hem25, and not so much as a tuck by way of adornment41.
Hildegarde drew a deep breath, and looked at the simple frocks with kindling42 eyes and flushing cheeks. These were the sort of dresses that her mother's servants wore at home. Why was she condemned43 to wear them now,—she, who delighted in soft laces and dainty embroideries44 and the clinging draperies which she thought suited her slender, pliant45 figure so well? Was it a part of this whole scheme; and was the object of the scheme to humiliate46 her, to take away her self-respect, her proper pride?
Mechanically, but carefully, as was her wont47, Hilda hung the despised frocks in the closet, put away the hats, after trying them on and approving of them, in spite of herself ("Of course," she said, "mamma could not get an ugly hat, if she tried!"), and then proceeded to take out and lay in the bureau drawers the dainty under-clothing which filled the lower part of the trunk. Under all was a layer of books, at sight of which Hilda gave a little cry of pleasure. "Ah!" she said, "I shall not be quite alone;" for she saw at a glance that here were some old and dear friends. Lovingly she took them up, one by one: "Romances of the Middle Ages," Percy's "Reliques," "Hereward," and "Westward48, Ho!" and, best-beloved of all, the "Adventures of Robin49 Hood," by grace of Howard Pyle made into so strong an enchantment50 that the heart thrills even at sight of its good brown cover. And here was her Tennyson and her Longfellow, and Plutarch's Lives, and the "Book of Golden Deeds." Verily a goodly company, such as might even turn a prison into a palace. But what was this, lying in the corner, with her Bible and Prayer-book, this white leather case, with—ah! Hilda—with blue forget-me-nots delicately painted on it? Hastily Hilda took it up and pressed the spring. Her mother's face smiled on her! The clear, sweet eyes looked lovingly into hers; the tender mouth, which had never spoken a harsh or unkind word, seemed almost to quiver as if in life. So kind, so loving, so faithful, so patient, always ready to sympathize, to help, to smile with one's joy or to comfort one's grief,—her own dear, dear mother! A mist came before the girl's eyes. She gazed at the miniature till she could no longer see it; and then, flinging herself down on the pillow again, she burst into a passion of tears, and sobbed52 and wept as if her heart would break. No longer Queen Hildegardis, no longer the outraged53 and indignant "prisoner," only Hilda,—Hilda who wanted her mother!
Finally she sobbed herself to sleep,—which was the very best thing she could have done. By and by Dame Hartley peeped softly in, and seeing the child lying "all in a heap," as she said to herself, with her pretty hair all tumbled about, brought a shawl and covered her carefully up, and went quietly away.
"Pretty lamb!" said the good woman. "She'll sleep all the afternoon now, like enough, and wake up feeling a good bit better,—though I fear it will be a long time before your girlie feels at home with Nurse Lucy, Miss Mildred, dear!"
Sure enough, Hilda did sleep all the afternoon; and the soft summer twilight54 was closing round the farm-house when she woke with a start from a dream of home.
"Mamma!" she called quickly, raising herself from the bed. For one moment she stared in amazement55 at the strange room, with its unfamiliar56 furnishing; but recollection came only too quickly. She started up as a knock was heard at the door, and Dame Hartley's voice said:
"Hilda, dear, supper is ready, and I am sure you must be very hungry. Will you come down with me?"
"Oh! thank you, presently," said Hildegarde, hastily. "I am not—I haven't changed my dress yet. Don't wait for me, please!"
"Dear heart, don't think of changing your dress!" said Dame Hartley. "You are a country lassie now, you know, and we are plain farm people. Come down just as you are, there's a dear!"
Hilda obeyed, only waiting to wash her burning face and hot, dry hands in the crystal-cold water which she poured out of the blue dragon pitcher57. Her hair was brushed back and tied with a ribbon, the little curls combed and patted over her forehead; and in a few minutes she followed her hostess down the narrow staircase, with a tolerably resigned expression on her pretty face. To tell the truth, Hilda felt a great deal better for her long nap; moreover she was a little curious, and very, very hungry,—and oh, how good something did smell!
Mrs. Hartley led the way into the kitchen, as the chief room at Hartley Farm was still called, though the cooking was now done by means of a modern stove in the back kitchen, while the great fireplace, with the crane hanging over it, and the brick oven by its side, was used, as a rule, only to warm the room. At this season the room needed no warming, and feathery asparagus crowned the huge back-log, and nodded between the iron fire-dogs. Ah! it was a pleasant room, the kitchen at Hartley Farm,—wide and roomy, with deep-seated windows facing the south and west; with a floor of dark oak, which shone with more than a century of scrubbing. The fireplace, oven, and cupboards occupied one whole side of the room. Along the other ran a high dresser, whose shelves held a goodly array of polished pewter and brass58, shining glass, and curious old china and crockery. Overhead were dark, heavy rafters, relieved by the gleam of yellow "crook-neck" squashes, bunches of golden corn, and long festoons of dried apples. In one window stood the good dame's rocking-chair, with its gay patchwork59 cushion; and her Bible, spectacles, and work-basket lay on the window-seat beside it. In another was a huge leather arm-chair, which Hilda rightly supposed to be the farmer's, and a wonderful piece of furniture, half desk, half chest of drawers, with twisted legs and cupboards and pigeon-holes and tiny drawers, and I don't know what else. The third window Hilda thought was the prettiest of all. It faced the west, and the full glory of sunset was now pouring through the clustering vines which partly shaded it. The sash was open, and a white rose was leaning in and nodding in a friendly way, as if greeting the new-comer. A low chair and a little work-table, both of quaint and graceful fashion, stood in the recess60; and on the window-seat stood some flowering-plants in pretty blue and white pots.
"I suppose I am expected to sit there!" said Hilda to herself. "As if I should sit down in a kitchen!" But all the while she knew in her heart of hearts that this was one of the most attractive rooms she had ever seen, and that that particular corner was pretty enough and picturesque61 enough for a queen to sit in. You are not to think that she saw all these things at the first glance; far from it. There was something else in the room which claimed the immediate62 attention of our heroine, and that was a square oak table, shining like a mirror, and covered with good things,—cold chicken, eggs and bacon, golden butter and honey, a great brown loaf on a wonderful carved wooden platter, delicate rolls piled high on a shallow blue dish, and a portly glass jug filled with rich, creamy milk. Here was a pleasant sight for a hungry heroine of fifteen! But alas63! at the head of this inviting64 table sat Farmer Hartley, the "odious savage," in his rough homespun coat, with his hair still very far from smooth (though indeed he had brushed it, and the broad, horny hands were scrupulously65 clean). With a slight shudder Hilda took the seat which Dame Hartley offered her.
"Well, Huldy," said the farmer, looking up from his eggs and bacon with a cheery smile, "here ye be, eh? Rested after yer journey, be ye?"
"Yes, thank you!" said Hilda, coldly.
"Have some chick'n!" he continued, putting nearly half a chicken on her plate. "An' a leetle bacon, jes' ter liven it up, hey? That's right! It's my idee thet most everythin' 's the better for a bit o' bacon, unless it's soft custard. I d' 'no ez thet 'ud go with it pitickler. Haw! haw!"
Hilda kept her eyes on her plate, determined66 to pay no attention to the vulgar pleasantries of this unkempt monster. It was hard enough to eat with a steel fork, without being further tormented67. But the farmer seemed determined to drag her into conversation.
"I am quite well!" It was Queen Hildegarde who spoke51 now, in icy tones; but her coldness had no effect on her loquacious69 host.
"I s'pose ye'll want ter lay by a day or two, till ye git used ter things, like; but then I sh'll want ye ter take holt. We're short-handed now, and a smart, likely gal70 kin be a sight o' help. There's the cows ter milk—the' ain't but one o' them thet's real ugly, and she only kicks with the off hind-leg; so 't's easy enough ter look out for her."
Hilda looked up in horror and amazement, and caught a twinkle in the farmer's eye which told her that he was quizzing her. The angry blood surged up even to the roots of her hair; but she disdained71 to reply, and continued to crumble72 her bread in silence.
"Father, what ails73 you?" said kind Dame Hartley. "Why can't you let the child alone? She's tired yet, and she doesn't understand your joking ways.—Don't you mind the farmer, dear, one bit; his heart's in the right place, but he do love to tease."
But the good woman's gentle words were harder to bear, at that moment, than her husband's untimely jesting. Hilda's heart swelled74 high. She felt that in another moment the tears must come; and murmuring a word of excuse, she hastily pushed back her chair and left the room.
An hour after, Hilda was sitting by the window of her own room, looking listlessly out on the soft summer evening, and listening to the melancholy76 cry of the whippoorwill, when she heard voices below. The farmer was sitting with his pipe in the vine-clad porch just under the window; and now his wife had joined him, after "redding up" the kitchen, and giving orders for the next morning to the tidy maidservant.
"Well, Marm Lucy," said Farmer Hartley's gruff, hearty77 voice, "now thet you have your fine bird, I sh'd like to know what you're a-goin' to do with her. She's as pretty as a pictur, but a stuck-up piece as ever I see. Don't favor her mother, nor father either, as I can see."
"Poor child!" said Dame Hartley, with a sigh, "I fear she will have a hard time of it before she comes to herself. But I promised Miss Mildred that I would try my best; and you said you would help me, Jacob."
"So I did, and so I will!" replied the farmer. "But tell me agin, what was Miss Mildred's idee? I got the giner'l drift of it, but I can't seem to put it together exactly. I didn't s'pose the gal was this kind, anyhow."
"She told me," Dame Hartley said, "that this child—her only one, Jacob! you know what that means—was getting into ways she didn't like. Going about with other city misses, who cared for nothing but pleasure, and who flattered and petted her because of her beauty and her pretty, proud ways (and maybe because of her father's money too; though Miss Mildred didn't say that), she was getting to think too much of herself, and to care too much for fine dresses and sweetmeats and idle chatter78 about nothing at all." (How Hilda's cheeks burned as she remembered the long séances in her room, she on the sofa, and Madge in the arm-chair, with the box of Huyler's or Maillard's best always between them! Had they ever talked of anything "worth the while," as mamma would say? She remembered mamma's coming in upon them once or twice, with her sweet, grave face. She remembered, too, a certain uneasy feeling she had had for a moment—only for a moment—when the door closed behind her mother. But Madge had laughed, and said, "Isn't your mother perfectly79 sweet? She doesn't mind a bit, does she?" and she had answered, "Oh, no!" and had forgotten it in the account of Helen McIvor's new bonnet80.) "And then Miss Mildred said, 'I had meant to take her into the country with me this summer, and try to show the child what life really means, and let her learn to know her brothers and sisters in the different walks of this life, and how they live, and what they do. I want her to see for herself what a tiny bit of the world, and what a silly, useless, gilded81 bit, is the little set of fashionable girls whom she has chosen for her friends. But this sudden call to California has disarranged all my plans. I cannot take her with me there, for the child is not well, and country air and quiet are necessary for her bodily health. And so, Nurse Lucy,' she says, 'I want you to take my child, and do by her as you did by me!'
"'Oh! Miss Mildred,' I said, 'do you think she can be happy or contented82 here? I'll do my best; I'm sure you know that! But if she's as you say, she is a very different child to what you were, Miss Mildred dear.'
"'She will not be happy at first,' says Miss Mildred. 'But she has a really noble nature, Nurse Lucy, and I am very sure that it will triumph over the follies83 and faults which are on the outside.'
"And then she kissed me, the dear! and came up and helped me set the little room to rights, and kissed the pillows, sweet lady, and cried over them a bit. Ah me! 'tis hard parting from our children, even for a little while, that it is."
Dame Hartley paused and sighed. Then she said: "And so, here the child is, for good or for ill, and we must do our very best by her, Jacob, you as well as I. What ailed84 you to-night, to tease her so at supper? I thought shame of you, my man."
"Well, Marm Lucy," said the farmer, "I don't hardly know what ailed me. But I tell ye what, 'twas either laugh or cry for me, and I thought laughin' was better nor t'other. To see that gal a-settin' there, with her pretty head tossed up, and her fine, mincin' ways, as if 'twas an honor to the vittles to put them in her mouth; and to think of my maid—" He stopped abruptly85, and rising from the bench, began to pace up and down the garden-path. His wife joined him after a moment, and the two walked slowly to and fro together, talking in low tones, while the soft summer darkness gathered closer and closer, and the pleasant night-sounds woke, cricket and katydid and the distant whippoorwill filling the air with a cheerful murmur75.
Long, long sat Hildegarde at the window, thinking more deeply than she had ever thought in her life before. Different passions held her young mind in control while she sat motionless, gazing into the darkness with wide-open eyes. First anger burned high, flooding her cheek with hot blushes, making her temples throb86 and her hands clench87 themselves in a passion of resentment88. But to this succeeded a mood of deep sadness, of despair, as she thought; though at fifteen one knows not, happily, the meaning of despair.
Was this all true? Was she no better, no wiser, than the silly girls of her set? She had always felt herself so far above them mentally; they had always so frankly89 acknowledged her supremacy90; she knew she was considered a "very superior girl:" was it true that her only superiority lay in possessing powers which she never chose to exert? And then came the bitter thought: "What have I ever done to prove myself wiser than they?" Alas for the answer! Hilda hid her face in her hands, and it was shame instead of anger that now sent the crimson91 flush over her cheeks. Her mother despised her! Her mother—perhaps her father too! They loved her, of course; the tender love had never failed, and would never fail. They were proud of her too, in a way. And yet they despised her; they must despise her! How could they help it? Her mother, whose days were a ceaseless round of work for others, without a thought of herself; her father, active, energetic, business-like,—what must her life seem to them? How was it that she had never seen, never dreamed before, that she was an idle, silly, frivolous92 girl? The revelation came upon her with stunning93 force. These people too, these coarse country people, despised her and laughed at her! The thought was more than she could bear. She sprang up, feeling as if she were suffocating94, and walked up and down the little room with hurried and nervous steps. Then suddenly there came into her mind one sentence of her mother's that Dame Hartley had repeated: "Hilda has a really noble nature—" What was the rest? Something about triumphing over the faults and follies which lay outside. Had her mother really said that? Did she believe, trust in, her silly daughter? The girl stood still, with clasped hands and bowed head. The tumult95 within her seemed to die away, and in its place something was trembling into life, the like of which Hilda Graham had never known, never thought of, before; faint and timid at first, but destined96 to gain strength and to grow from that one moment,—a wish, a hope, finally a resolve.
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imp
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| n.顽童 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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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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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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scarlet
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thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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dame
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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victuals
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nervously
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forestalling
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| v.先发制人，预先阻止( forestall的现在分词 ) | |
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lark
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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shudder
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homely
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uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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garb
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odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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gilt
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cherubs
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| 小天使，胖娃娃( cherub的名词复数 ) | |
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apparently
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hem
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mania
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graceful
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jug
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jugs
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prancing
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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paltry
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unpack
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| vt.打开包裹（或行李），卸货 | |
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linen
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embroidery
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aprons
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flannel
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ruffle
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puff
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neatly
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adornment
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| n.装饰；装饰品 | |
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kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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embroideries
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| 刺绣( embroidery的名词复数 )； 刺绣品； 刺绣法 | |
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pliant
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| adj.顺从的；可弯曲的 | |
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humiliate
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| v.使羞辱，使丢脸[同]disgrace | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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spoke
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| 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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sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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patchwork
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| n.混杂物；拼缝物 | |
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recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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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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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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scrupulously
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| adv.一丝不苟地；小心翼翼地，多顾虑地 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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loquacious
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| adj.多嘴的，饶舌的 | |
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gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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disdained
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| 鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
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crumble
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| vi.碎裂，崩溃；vt.弄碎，摧毁 | |
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ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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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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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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ailed
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| v.生病( ail的过去式和过去分词 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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clench
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| vt.捏紧（拳头等），咬紧（牙齿等），紧紧握住 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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supremacy
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| n.至上；至高权力 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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93
stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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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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