The tenth of July was always a momentous1 date in Gilead local history. Every year on that day, down in the little church on the Plains, the grand old guard of '83 held their Carberry Reunion.
The girls had heard of it first through Cousin Roxy, who had been one of the pupils of Professor Carberry in the old days at the Gayhead schoolhouse.
"Land, girls, if we didn't have our reunion every year, we'd begin to feel some of us were growing old," she had said laughingly. "The Professor's class has held that reunion every year since he had to give up the school in '89. There are a few empty places with the coming around of each July, but I guess we'll keep on holding them as long as the Professor holds out."
It was quite an exclusive affair in its way, so that this year, when they were both invited to attend with their mother, Jean and Kit2 felt the honor. Long afterwards, when she had attained3 her assured place in the world of art, Jean exhibited a painting which won her her first medal. It was only a shadowy interior of an old meetinghouse. The sunshine filtered through half-closed green blinds at the long windows. Up on the platform there sat Professor Carberry, a little, shrunken figure in black broadcloth, the lean, scholarly old face, blanched4 with the snows of eighty-odd years, filled with eagerness as he looked down on the little assembled remnant of the old guard.
Cousin Bethiah Newell always said that this picture was Jean's masterpiece, and she got the inspiration for it on this day. Kit sat very erect5 at her end of the pew, but even she, who prided herself on being unemotional, had tears on her lashes6 listening to these dear old-time scholars reciting the poetry out of their old fourth and fifth readers.
Judge Ellis rose with a radiant light in his eyes and spouted7, "At midnight in his guarded tent, the Turk lay dreaming of the hour," and for an encore he rolled out "Old Ironsides."
Long has it waved on high."
Cousin Roxy obliged with "Woodman, spare that tree," but for an encore she gave a tender poem of old-time days, called "Twenty Years Ago." Its verses rang in Kit's head all the way home, and when she learned that Miss Daphne, too, had been one of the old Professor's scholars, she wrote them down and sent them west to her.
"I've wandered to the village, Tom,
I've sat beneath the tree,
Upon that schoolhouse playground,
That sheltered you and me.
But few were there to greet me, Tom,
And few were left we know,
Who played with us upon the green,
Just twenty years ago."
"I'll never forget it as long as I live, Cousin Roxy," Kit declared, fervently9; "talk about the twanging of heart strings10; why, it seemed to me as though I could just feel the way you all felt as you sat there. It was the queerest thing, because Mrs. Peckham is stout11 and getting gray, and yet when she got up to recite she actually looked like a plump little girl with her brown eyes and rosy12 cheeks. And Deacon Simmons was as boyish as could be, when he stood there blushing and reading his class paper on 'Old Friendships.'"
"Well, child," said Mrs. Ellis, "I'm glad that you could see a little of the glory that gave light to us. You'll find out as you grow older and stand upon life's hills of rest that the days of childhood and going to school are the sweetest and best that life gives to you. I don't mind saying that I love every clapboard in the little old red schoolhouse, and when I read in a magazine the other day that such things were a thing of the past I wanted to call out that it wasn't any such thing. We had one right here at our crossroads over a hundred and thirty years old, and still turning out its hundred per cent. graduates."
The next morning, just after Shad had gone whistling up to the barn, Doris spied a familiar figure coming along the side drive towards the well sweep, and leaned out of the window, calling with all her heart:
"Hello, Billie!"
Billie waved back with a cheery greeting that brought the other girls hurrying to the window, too.
"The camp's immense," he said. "We got in late last night and I knew the way down, so we didn't disturb anybody. Even found the old boat in the same place, Kit."
"Well, you wouldn't have if I hadn't hauled it there, where I knew you could lay your hand right on it. I rather thought it would be just like you to arrive by the light of the moon and try to swim over."
Billie chuckled13. He knew from old, past experience that Kit's scoldings didn't amount to any more than the perturbed14 clucking of a hen. They had brought up a load of supplies with them, but huckleberry pancakes with honey lured15 them both up for breakfast that first morning. And even Kit was silent as Stanley related all of his adventures during the year. It seemed to her that she had never really looked at him before, that is, to get the best impression, without prejudice. Somehow, he looked younger and more boyish this year, anyway, in his camper's low-necked sport shirt and khaki riding breeches. Kit noted16 for the first time his crispy, curly yellow hair, and long, half-closed blue eyes, that always seemed to be laughing at you. He had dimples, too, and these Kit resented.
"I can't abide17 dimples in a boy or a man's face," she declared, privately18, to Helen, when the latter was dwelling19 on Stanley's good looks.
"But, Kit, all of the Roman emperors had dimples in their chins."
"What if they did? They're a fine lot to judge by." Kit meditated20 for a moment and then added, "I don't think I like blonde, curly hair either."
"Well, I do," Helen answered, placidly21. "I think he'd look wonderful in doublet and hose with a long cloak thrown around him. I think he's much better looking than Ralph."
"You'd better not let Jean hear you say so," Kit told her sagely22. "I wouldn't be very much surprised if something mighty23 interesting happened here this summer. I heard mother and Cousin Roxy talking about Ralph and Jean the other day."
"Oh, Kit, don't be mean. Tell me what they said, please. I won't tell."
"Impossible, child," returned Kit, loftily. "In fact, it was only what I might call a family rumor24. But, I can tell you this much, I know perfectly25 well that Ralph MacRae has asked Dad for his eldest26 daughter's hand, and I don't know a blessed thing more."
Helen sighed happily.
"I hope she has a September wedding, all gold and purple. It would just suit Jean. If one could only dress her in violet velvet27 with a girdle of amethysts28 set with pearls, and braid her hair with strands29 of jewels, too. Jean always has that far-away look, in her eyes that princesses should have."
"Well, I don't see where you get your princess pattern from," remarked Kit. "From all the recent pictures that I've seen, they're a very ordinary, old-fashioned lot of young persons, and decidedly at the dumpling stage. Besides, Jean herself might have something to say about it. It will be her wedding, you know, Helen."
They had walked down to the Peckham mill after supper to get some supplies that Danny Peckham had promised to bring up from Nantic. Just as they came to the turn of the road there came a strange sound from the direction of the waterfall tent, deep, rich strains of music, almost as low pitched and thrilling as the sound of the water itself. Both girls stood stock still listening, until Helen whispered:
"It must be Mr. Ormond. He's playing on something, isn't he?"
"A 'cello30, child," Kit said, drawing in a deep breath as though she could fairly inhale31 the sweetness of the music on the night air. "I haven't heard one since we left the Cove32, and it's mother's favorite music. I wish I knew what he's playing. It sounds like Solveig's song from Peer Gynt, and I love that."
"Then, that's what he does." Helen's tone held a touch of admiring awe33 as she listened. "And we thought he might be anything from a counterfeiter34 to an escaped convict hiding away up here. Oh, Kit, why do you suppose he keeps away from every one?"
"Probably got a hidden sorrow," Kit answered. "Still he's got a terrible appetite. Mrs. Gorham says she doesn't see how he ever puts away the amount of food he does. He buys whole roast chickens and eats them all himself."
Just then the music ceased suddenly. The flap of the tent lifted towards the roadway, and Mr. Ormond sent a hail across the twilight35 gloom.
"Is that you, Shad?"
"No, sir, it's just us girls," answered Kit. "We're going down to the mill."
"Would you mind so very much, Miss Kit, asking if any one has telephoned a telegram up for me from the station? I am expecting one."
"There, you see," Helen said, dubiously36, as they went on down the road. "We just get rid of one mystery, and he hands us another one to solve. Who on earth would he be getting a telegram from?"
Kit laughed and slipped her arm around the slender shoulders that were growing so quickly up to her own.
"You're getting just as bad as every one else here in Gilead, Helenita. I thought only Mr. Ricketts took an interest in telegrams and post-cards."
Nevertheless, when Sally told them that there had been a message 'phoned up from Nantic, even Kit showed quick interest.
It was signed "Concetta," and the message read:
"Arrive Nantic, ten-two. All love and tenderness. Contract signed."
The girls returned after delivering the message, brimful of the news, but Mr. Robbins laughed at them.
"Why, bless your hearts," he said, "I could have told you long ago all about Bryan Ormond. He is one of the greatest 'cellists we have, and is married to Madame Concetta Doria, the grand-opera singer. He told me when he first took the tent for the summer, but as he was composing a new opera, he wanted absolute solitude37 up here, and asked me not to let any one know who they were."
"Talk about entertaining an angel unawares," Jean exclaimed. "Now, Helen, you'll have your chance, if you can only get acquainted with her. I can see you perched on their threshold drinking in trills and quavers the rest of the summer."
Helen only smiled happily. It was she who had pleaded most for the preservation39 of the empire grand piano. The one in the gold case with all the Watteau figures and garlands painted on it, that had been saved as one of the "white hyacinths" from the old home. After the day's work was over, it was always Helen who stole into the dim front room to listen while her mother played over favorite airs from the old grand-operas. Perhaps only Helen really understood how at this time Gilead and all its rural delights vanished, and in their place came memories of the days back at the Cove, when the season tickets at the opera had been as natural a part of the year's pleasures as setting hens were here.
"Have you ever heard her sing, mother?" she asked, that first evening, after Mrs. Robbins had played the "Shadow Dance" from "Dinorah" and the trio from "Traviata."
"I heard her in both of these, dear, and ever so many more. I think my favorite was Rigoletto. She was a beautiful, girlish Gilda, but that is years ago. You girls will love her."
"And just to think of her coming to live in a tent at Greenacre Farms," Helen said, almost in a hushed whisper. "It seems as if we ought to offer them the royal suite40."
"If you did, they would run away. That is just what they have come here to escape from, all the royal suites41 and pomp."
Even Jean was on the tiptoe of expectancy42 to get her first look at Madame Ormond. While not one of the girls could have explained just exactly how they suspected she would look, still they held a blurred43 picture of a picturesque44 mortal set apart from ordinary home folks, who would probably dress more or less eccentrically.
Kit was in the kitchen making scones45 for lunch, when a shadow fell across the entry threshold. Doris sat on the edge of the table by the window picking over blackberries, and the two stared fixedly46 at the intruder. She was frankly47 over forty, a large buoyant type of woman with a mass of curly ashen48 blonde hair and sparkling black eyes, the north of Italy type, with a wonderful complexion49, as Helen said later, like the skin of a yellow peach. Perhaps it was her smile that charmed the girls mostly, though, at that first glance. It was such a radiant smile of good fellowship when she peered into the shadowy interior of the old kitchen.
"Good-morning, everybody. I have come for butter and eggs, and milk." She spied the two-quart pail of berries on the table, and gave a little cry of interest. "Where do you find those, my dear?"
Doris told her shyly that they came from the rock pasture on the hill behind the house.
"Will you come down to the tent this afternoon and take me there? Mr. Ormond is very, very busy working on his new opera, and I must be away and let him write in peace, so you and I will have to follow the trails together, yes?" She smiled down into Doris' piquant50, freckled51 little face, and just at this moment there came from the living-room, where Helen was dusting, Dinorah's Shadow Song, sung in a clear, girlish soprano.
Madame Ormond laid her finger on her lips and listened, her eyes bright with attention and interest.
"It is still another one of you?" she asked, softly, when the melody died away. "You shall bring her down to the tent to me and let my husband try her voice with the 'cello. It is his big baby, that 'cello, but it is very wise; it never gives the wrong decision on a voice, and she has a very beautiful one."
"Well," Kit declared, with a deep sigh, after the diva had gone on down towards the road with her butter, eggs and milk, "we've always believed we were an exceptional family. In fact Mrs. Gorham told me once she thought every last one of us had very intelligent faces, but now we know we are budding geniuses. Of course, Dorrie, you and I haven't budded very much so far, but with an artist and a prima donna in a family, we'll have to begin our song of triumph pretty soon. I'll bet a cookie she'll go up there in the pasture every day and do her vocal52 practicing out of hearing of the 'cello, and Helenita will perch38 on the nearest rock and play echo."
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1
momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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blanched
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| v.使变白( blanch的过去式 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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7
spouted
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| adj.装有嘴的v.（指液体）喷出( spout的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地讲；喋喋不休地说；喷水 | |
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8
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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18
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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sagely
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| adv. 贤能地，贤明地 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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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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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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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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amethysts
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| n.紫蓝色宝石( amethyst的名词复数 )；紫晶；紫水晶；紫色 | |
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strands
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| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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cello
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| n.大提琴 | |
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inhale
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| v.吸入(气体等)，吸(烟) | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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counterfeiter
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| n.伪造者 | |
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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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dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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suites
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| n.套( suite的名词复数 )；一套房间；一套家具；一套公寓 | |
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expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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43
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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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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scones
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| n.烤饼，烤小圆面包( scone的名词复数 ) | |
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fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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piquant
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| adj.辛辣的，开胃的，令人兴奋的 | |
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51
freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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