"WHILE Thee I seek, protecting Power," was the first hymn1 on this particular Sunday morning, and it usually held Patty's rather vagrant2 attention to the end, though it failed to do so to-day. The Baxters occupied one of the wing pews, a position always to be envied, as one could see the singers without turning around, and also observe everybody in the congregation,--their entrance, garments, behavior, and especially their bonnets,--without being in the least indiscreet, or seeming to have a roving eye.
Lawyer Wilson's pew was the second in front of the Baxters in the same wing, and Patty, seated decorously but unwillingly4 beside her father, was impatiently awaiting the entrance of the family, knowing that Mark would be with them if he had returned from Boston. Timothy Grant, the parish clerk, had the pew in between, and afforded a most edifying5 spectacle to the community, as there were seven young Grants of a church-going age, and the ladies of the congregation were always counting them, reckoning how many more were in their cradles at home and trying to guess from Mrs. Grant's lively or chastened countenance6 whether any new ones had been born since the Sunday before.
Patty settled herself comfortably, and put her foot on the wooden "cricket," raising her buff calico a little on the congregation side, just enough to show an inch or two of petticoat. The petticoat was as modestly long as the frock itself, and disclosing a bit of it was nothing more heinous7 than a casual exhibition of good needlework. Deacon Baxter furnished only the unbleached muslin for his daughters' undergarments; but twelve little tucks laboriously8 done by hand, elaborate inch-wide edging, crocheted9 from white spool10 cotton, and days of bleaching11 on the grass in the sun, will make a petticoat that can be shown in church with some justifiable12 pride.
The Wilsons came up the aisle13 a moment later than was their usual habit, just after the parson had ascended14 the pulpit. Mrs. Wilson always entered the pew first and sat in the far end. Patty had looked at her admiringly, and with a certain feeling of proprietorship15, for several Sundays. There was obviously no such desirable mother-in-law in the meeting-house. Her changeable silk dress was the latest mode; her shawl of black llama lace expressed wealth in every delicate mesh16, and her bonnet3 had a distinction that could only have emanated17 from Portland or Boston. Ellen Wilson usually came in next, with as much of a smile to Patty in passing as she dared venture in the Deacon's presence, and after her sidled in her younger sister Selina, commonly called "Silly," and with considerable reason.
Mark had come home! Patty dared not look up, but she felt his approach behind the others, although her eyes sought the floor, and her cheeks hung out signals of abashed18 but certain welcome. She heard the family settle in their seats somewhat hastily, the click of the pew door and the sound of Lawyer Wilson's cane19 as he stood it in the corner; then the parson rose to pray and Patty closed her eyes with the rest of the congregation.
Opening them when Elder Boone rose to announce the hymn, they fell--amazed, resentful, uncomprehending--on the spectacle of Mark Wilson finding the place in the book for a strange young woman who sat beside him. Mark himself had on a new suit and wore a seal ring that Patty had never observed before; while the dress, pelisse, and hat of the unknown were of a nature that no girl in Patty's position, and particularly of Patty's disposition20, could have regarded without a desire to tear them from her person and stamp them underfoot; or better still, flaunt21 them herself and show the world how they should be worn!
Mark found the place in the hymn-book for the--creature, shared it with her, and once, when the Grant twins wriggled22 and Patty secured a better view, once, Mark shifted his hand on the page so that his thumb touched that of his pretty neighbor, who did not remove hers as if she found the proximity23 either unpleasant or improper24. Patty compared her own miserable25 attire26 with that of the hated rival in front, and also contrasted Lawyer Wilson's appearance with that of her father; the former, well dressed in the style of a gentleman of the time, in broadcloth, with fine linen27, and a tall silk hat carefully placed on the floor of the pew; while Deacon Baxter wore homespun made of wool from his own sheep, spun28 and woven, dyed and finished, at the fulling-mill in the village, and carried a battered29 felt hat that had been a matter of ridicule30 these dozen years. (The Deacon would be buried in two coats, Jed Morrill always said, for he owned just that number, and would be too mean to leave either of 'em behind him!)
The sermon was fifty minutes long, time enough for a deal of thinking. Many a housewife, not wholly orthodox, cut and made over all her children's clothes, in imagination; planned the putting up of her fruit, the making of her preserves and pickles31, and arranged her meals for the next week, during the progress of those sermons. Patty watched the parson turn leaf after leaf until the final one was reached. Then came the last hymn, when the people stretched their aching limbs, and rising, turned their backs on the minister and faced the choir32. Patty looked at Waitstill and wished that she could put her throbbing33 head on her sisterly shoulder and cry,--mostly with rage. The benediction34 was said, and with the final "Amen" the pews were opened and the worshippers crowded into the narrow aisles35 and moved towards the doors.
Patty's plans were all made. She was out of her pew before the Wilsons could possibly leave theirs, and in her progress down the aisle securely annexed36 her great admirer, old Dr. Perry, as well as his son Philip. Passing the singing-seats she picked up the humble37 Cephas and carried him along in her wake, chatting and talking with her little party while her father was at the horse-sheds, making ready to go home between services as was his habit, a cold bite being always set out on the kitchen table according to his orders. By means of these clever manoeuvres Patty made herself the focus of attention when the Wilson party came out on the steps, and vouchsafed38 Mark only a nonchalant nod, airily flinging a little greeting with the nod,--just a "How d'ye do, Mark? Did you have a good time in Boston?"
Patty and Waitstill, with some of the girls who had come long distances, ate their luncheon39 in a shady place under the trees behind the meeting-house, for there was an afternoon service to come, a service with another long sermon. They separated after the modest meal to walk about the Common or stray along the road to the Academy, where there was a fine view.
Two or three times during the summer the sisters always went quietly and alone to the Baxter burying-lot, where three grassgrown graves lay beside one another, unmarked save by narrow wooden slabs40 so short that the initials painted on them were almost hidden by the tufts of clover. The girls had brought roots of pansies and sweet alyssum, and with a knife made holes in the earth and planted them here and there to make the spot a trifle less forbidding. They did not speak to each other during this sacred little ceremony; their hearts were too full when they remembered afresh the absence of headstones, the lack of care, in the place where the three women lay who had ministered to their father, borne him children, and patiently endured his arbitrary and loveless rule. Even Cleve Flanders' grave,--the Edgewood shoemaker, who lay next,--even his resting-place was marked and, with a touch of some one's imagination marked by the old man's own lapstone twenty-five pounds in weight, a monument of his work-a-day life.
Waitstill rose from her feet, brushing the earth from her hands, and Patty did the same. The churchyard was quiet, and they were alone with the dead, mourned and unmourned, loved and unloved.
"I planted one or two pansies on the first one's grave," said Waitstill soberly. "I don't know why we've never done it before. There are no children to take notice of and remember her; it's the least we can do, and, after all, she belongs to the family."
"There is no family, and there never was!" suddenly cried Patty. "Oh! Waity, Waity, we are so alone, you and I! We've only each other in all the world, and I'm not the least bit of help to you, as you are to me! I'm a silly, vain, conceited41, ill-behaved thing, but I will be better, I will! You won't ever give me up, will you, Waity, even if I'm not like you? I haven't been good lately!"
"Hush42, Patty, hush!" And Waitstill came nearer to her sister with a motherly touch of her hand. "I'll not have you say such things; you that are the helpfullest and the lovingest girl that ever was, and the cleverest, too, and the liveliest, and the best company-keeper!"
"No one thinks so but you!" Patty responded dolefully, although she wiped her eyes as if a bit consoled.
It is safe to say that Patty would never have given Mark Wilson a second thought had he not taken her to drive on that afternoon in early May. The drive, too, would have quickly fled from her somewhat fickle43 memory had it not been for the kiss. The kiss was, indeed, a decisive factor in the situation, and had shed a rosy44, if somewhat fictitious45 light of romance over the past three weeks. Perhaps even the kiss, had it never been repeated, might have lapsed46 into its true perspective, in due course of time, had it not been for the sudden appearance of the stranger in the Wilson pew. The moment that Patty's gaze fell upon that fashionably dressed, instantaneously disliked girl, Marquis Wilson's stock rose twenty points in the market. She ceased, in a jiffy, to weigh and consider and criticize the young man, but regarded him with wholly new eyes. His figure was better than she had realized, his smile more interesting, his manners more attractive, his eyelashes longer; in a word, he had suddenly grown desirable. A month ago she could have observed, with idle and alien curiosity, the spectacle of his thumb drawing nearer to another (feminine) thumb, on the page of the Watts47 and Select Hymn book; now, at the morning service, she had wished nothing so much as to put Mark's thumb back into his pocket where it belonged, and slap the girl's thumb smartly and soundly as it deserved.
The ignorant cause of Patty's distress48 was a certain Annabel Franklin, the daughter of a cousin of Mrs. Wilson's. Mark had stayed at the Franklin house during his three weeks' visit in Boston, where he had gone on business for his father. The young people had naturally seen much of each other and Mark's inflammable fancy had been so kindled49 by Annabel's doll-like charms that he had persuaded her to accompany him to his home and get a taste of country life in Maine. Such is man, such is human nature, and such is life, that Mark had no sooner got the whilom object of his affections under his own roof than she began to pall50.
Annabel was twenty-three, and to tell the truth she had palled51 before, more than once. She was so amiable52, so well-finished,--with her smooth flaxen hair, her neat nose, her buttonhole of a mouth, and her trim shape,--that she appealed to the opposite sex quite generally and irresistibly53 as a worthy54 helpmate. The only trouble was that she began to bore her suitors somewhat too early in the game, and they never got far enough to propose marriage. Flaws in her apparent perfection appeared from day to day and chilled the growth of the various young loves that had budded so auspiciously55. She always agreed with everybody and everything in sight, even to the point of changing her mind on the instant, if circumstances seemed to make it advisable. Her instinctive56 point of view, when she went so far as to hold one, was somewhat cut and dried; in a word, priggish. She kept a young man strictly57 on his good behavior, that much could be said in her favor; the only criticism that could be made on this estimable trait was that no bold youth was ever tempted58 to overstep the bounds of discretion59 when in her presence. No unruly words of love ever rose to his lips; his hand never stole out involuntarily and imprudently to meet her small chilly60 one; the sight of her waist never even suggested an encircling arm; and as a fellow never desired to kiss her, she was never obliged to warn or rebuke61 or strike him off her visiting list. Her father had an ample fortune and some one would inevitably62 turn up who would regard Annabel as an altogether worthy and desirable spouse63. That was what she had seemed to Mark Wilson for a full week before he left the Franklin house in Boston, but there were moments now when he regretted, fugitively, that he had ever removed her from her proper sphere. She did not seem to fit in to the conditions of life in Edgewood, and it may even be that her most glaring fault had been to describe Patty Baxter's hair at this very Sunday dinner as "carroty," her dress altogether "dreadful," and her style of beauty "unladylike." Ellen Wilson's feelings were somewhat injured by these criticisms of her intimate friend, and in discussing the matter privately64 with her brother he was inclined to agree with her.
And thus, so little do we know of the prankishness65 of the blind god, thus was Annabel Franklin working for her rival's best interests; and instead of reviling66 her in secret, and treating her with disdain67 in public, Patty should have welcomed her cordially to all the delights of Riverboro society.
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1
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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unwillingly
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| adv.不情愿地 | |
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edifying
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| adj.有教训意味的，教训性的，有益的v.开导，启发( edify的现在分词 ) | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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heinous
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| adj.可憎的，十恶不赦的 | |
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laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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crocheted
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| v.用钩针编织( crochet的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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spool
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| n.（缠录音带等的）卷盘（轴）；v.把…绕在卷轴上 | |
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bleaching
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| 漂白法，漂白 | |
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justifiable
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| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
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aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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proprietorship
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| n.所有（权）；所有权 | |
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mesh
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| n.网孔，网丝，陷阱；vt.以网捕捉，啮合，匹配；vi.适合； [计算机]网络 | |
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emanated
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的过去式和过去分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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flaunt
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| vt.夸耀，夸饰 | |
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wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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31
pickles
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| n.腌菜( pickle的名词复数 )；处于困境；遇到麻烦；菜酱 | |
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choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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benediction
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| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
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35
aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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36
annexed
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| [法] 附加的，附属的 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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38
vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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40
slabs
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| n.厚板，平板，厚片( slab的名词复数 )；厚胶片 | |
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conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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42
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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fickle
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| adj.(爱情或友谊上)易变的，不坚定的 | |
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44
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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45
fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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46
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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47
watts
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| （电力计量单位）瓦，瓦特( watt的名词复数 ) | |
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48
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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49
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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50
pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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51
palled
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| v.（因过多或过久而）生厌，感到乏味，厌烦( pall的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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53
irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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54
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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55
auspiciously
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| adv.吉利； 繁荣昌盛； 前途顺利； 吉祥 | |
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56
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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57
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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58
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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60
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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61
rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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63
spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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65
prankishness
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66
reviling
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| v.辱骂，痛斥( revile的现在分词 ) | |
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disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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