The library of Mr. Legare was a favorite resort for his sister-in-law, Mrs. Louisa Emory—or Aunt Louisa, as Frank and Lizzie delighted to call her. In his books, and also in the paintings, she found joys which none but an intellectual woman could find, and here, even in her most melancholy1 moods, she would brighten up.
Frank and Lizzie, who thought there was no one on earth like their aunt, were with her when Mr. Legare came into the library with the portfolio2 just received from Mr. W——.
“Come, sister, come, children, and look at my new treasures with me,” cried the old gentleman, taking a seat at his private writing and reading-table, and opening the portfolio.
“What are these?” asked Mrs. Emory, as he spread out the drawings all over the table.
“Sketches from the pencil of that wonderful girl in the book-bindery—the one I have already talked to you about. Look at this caricature—a fashionable belle4 and a poor street-sweeper. Is it not almost a speaking sketch3? See the abject5, almost hopeless look in the face of the poor girl. Who would believe a pencil, without color, could give so much expression?”
“Your protege has wonderful talent,” said Mrs. Emory, her interest awakened6. “Here is a portrait—merely a face—that of a young girl? Is it that of the artist herself?”
“No, it is not at all like her,” said the old gentleman,[98] looking at it closely. “This is a picture of a young girl, pretty, but thin and weary-looking. Hattie Butler is not only very handsome, but very lady-like. Louisa, you would be proud of her if she were your daughter.”
A look of agony passed over the face of the lady; she turned deathly pale, and for an instant she looked as if she would faint.
A cry of alarm broke from the young people, and Mr. Legare cried out:
“Are you ill, dear sister, are you ill?”
“A spasm7. It will soon pass away,” she said, and with a sad smile she tried to still the alarm of her anxious relatives.
“I should like to see this gifted young woman,” she said, after regaining8 her composure. “Do you think you could induce her to call upon me here? I do not want to go to that bindery; and if she is as proud and independent as you say, it might wound her feelings to have me go unannounced, and without an introduction, to her boarding-house.”
“I will see her when I make a selection of these drawings for purchase, and try and induce her to visit you,” said Mr. Legare.
“Take them all, dear father. They are really very, very fine,” cried Frank, who had been looking them over with unwonted attention for him. “Here is a gem—it is sarcastic9, but so true. A foppishly-dressed fellow is leaving his seat in the car, and handing a well-dressed lady into it, while a poor old woman on crutches10 stands close by. She has eyes, that girl has, and knows how to use them. If I were in your place, father, and had influence with her, I should get her to make art her profession.[99] One who draws so well would soon take to color, even if she has not already tried it.”
“I’ll warrant she paints,” said Lizzie, rather satirically, looking at her brother to see if he would feel the shaft11.
“Not in the sense you mean,” he said, indignantly. “It takes the daughters of rich fathers to use cosmetics12 and other necessary articles to enhance their beauty. The poor toiler14 gets her color from exercise and honorable labor15.”
“Well met, my little lady. Frank rather had you there,” said Mr. Legare, laughing.
“Oh, yes, papa, you’ll side with him, because you think so much of her. You’d better change me off for her,” cried Lizzie, angrily, and then she fell to weeping.
As I heard a Western man say, “that was her best hold;” she always conquered with it.
“Dear child, do not be so silly. No one wishes to supplant16 you. And I am sure your brother had no wish to wound your feelings,” said Mr. Legare, tenderly.
“No, indeed, sis, not a thought of it. If it will make you feel any easier in your mind, I’ll vow17 that I believe this low-born beauty paints and powders, too.”
“How do we know she is low-born?” asked Mrs. Emory, gravely, but kindly18. “Her education and gifts—her very genius would speak to the contrary. Many a well-born person, by a sudden change of fortune, has been reduced to labor. And I, for one, do not consider labor dishonorable. It is hard to be forced to toil13 for one’s daily bread, if one has to come to it from affluence19, but it is not evil. It must[100] be very inconvenient20 to be poor; but surely in a grand republic like this it is not a disgrace.”
“Huzza for Aunt Louisa! That’s my philosophy, too,” cried Frank.
Lizzie laughed. She couldn’t cry over three minutes at a time, and then smiles followed, just as the sunlight comes after an April shower.
“Your Aunt Louisa always takes a sensible view of things, my dear children, and though she makes no boasts of it, I dare say few persons more often extend the full hand of Christian21 charity.”
“That’s the hand to play,” cried Frank, thinking of his last rubber of whist at the club-room.
“The hand which helps us forward on the road to Heaven,” said his father, in a grave tone. “And I wish my dear children to feel that while they are living in luxury, knowing no sorrow or grief but what in imagination they make for themselves, heavy hearts and fainting spirits are all around them. That kind words, followed by kindly deeds, will brighten their way as they go onward22 and upward in life, even as I feel that such things are softening23 my descent toward the grave.”
Both son and daughter drew near their good old father and kissed him reverently24. His words had fallen on their hearts at the right moment.
“Forgive me, papa, because I spoke25 slightingly of the poor girl in whom you have justly taken such an interest. If she comes here to Aunt Louisa, I will treat her just as well as I would my dearest school-mate or best friend.”
“There spoke my own blessed girl,” said Mr. Legare, proudly. “Your heart is in the right place, little one, though we have petted you so much that you forget it sometimes.”
[101]
“Sis, you’re a trump—that’s what you are. And I love you—just bet all you have I do.”
“Frank, I know you love me—but there is that lunch-bell again. Come, Aunt Louisa, I ordered oyster26 patties, because I know you like them so.”
“And we’ve a brace27 of partridges, father, that Egbert Tripp sent down from Ulster County to me, and I told the cook to lard them with bacon and broil28 them brown for you,” added Frank.
“They’re good children, Louisa—a little spoiled, but at heart real good children,” said the proud father, as he offered his sister-in-law his arm.
“It is true, brother, and I love my niece and nephew dearly,” said Mrs. Emory. “They make my visits here very pleasant. It would be a dreary29 world to me were it not for you and them.”
“Forward two!” cried Frank, as he clasped Lizzie around the waist and waltzed into the lunch-room.
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1
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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2
portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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3
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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4
belle
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| n.靓女 | |
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abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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6
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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7
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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8
regaining
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| 复得( regain的现在分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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10
crutches
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| n.拐杖, 支柱 v.支撑 | |
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11
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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12
cosmetics
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| n.化妆品 | |
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13
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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14
toiler
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| 辛劳者，勤劳者 | |
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15
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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16
supplant
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| vt.排挤；取代 | |
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17
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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18
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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affluence
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| n.充裕，富足 | |
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inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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23
softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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25
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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26
oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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27
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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28
broil
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| v.烤，烧，争吵，怒骂；n.烤，烧，争吵，怒骂 | |
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29
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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