The play was set for Tuesday. Monday afternoon and evening were to be the final rehearsals2, but Gardley did not come to them. Fiddling3 Boss came late and said the men had been off all day and had not yet returned. He himself found it hard to come at all. They had important work on. But there was no word from Gardley.
Margaret was disappointed. She couldn't get away from it. Of course they could go on with the rehearsal1 without him. He had done his work well, and there was no real reason why he had to be there. He knew every part by heart, and could take any boy's place if any one failed in any way. There was nothing further really for him to do until the performance, as far as that was concerned, except be there and encourage her. But she missed him, and an uneasiness grew in her mind. She had so looked forward to seeing him, and now to have no word! He might at least have sent her a note when he found he could not come.
Still she knew this was unreasonable4. His work, whatever it was—he had never explained it very thoroughly5 to her, perhaps because she had never asked—must, of course, have kept him. She must excuse him without question and go on with the business of the hour.
Her hands were full enough, for Forsythe came presently and was more trying than usual. She had to be very decided6 and put her foot down about one or two things, or some of her actors would have gone home in the sulks, and Fiddling Boss, whose part in the program meant much to him, would have given it up entirely7.
She hurried everything through as soon as possible, knowing she was weary, and longing8 to get to her room and rest. Gardley would come and explain to-morrow, likely in the morning on his way somewhere.
But the morning came and no word. Afternoon came and he had not sent a sign yet. Some of the little things that he had promised to do about the setting of the stage would have to remain undone9, for it was too late now to do it herself, and there was no one else to call upon.
Into the midst of her perplexity and anxiety came the news that Jed on his way home had been thrown from his horse, which was a young and vicious one, and had broken his leg. Jed was to act the part of Nick Bottom that evening, and he did it well! Now what in the world was she to do? If only Gardley would come!
Just at this moment Forsythe arrived.
"Oh, it is you, Mr. Forsythe!" And her tone showed plainly her disappointment. "Haven't you seen Mr. Gardley to-day? I don't know what I shall do without him."
"I certainly have seen Gardley," said Forsythe, a spice of vindictiveness10 and satisfaction in his tone. "I saw him not two hours ago, drunk as a fish, out at a place called Old Ouida's Cabin, as I was passing. He's in for a regular spree. You'll not see him for several days, I fancy. He's utterly11 helpless for the present, and out of the question. What is there I can do for you? Present your request. It's yours—to the half of my kingdom."
Margaret's heart grew cold as ice and then like fire. Her blood seemed to stop utterly and then to go pounding through her veins12 in leaps and torrents13. Her eyes grew dark, and things swam before her. She reached out to a desk and caught at it for support, and her white face looked at him a moment as if she had not heard. But when in a second she spoke14, she said, quite steadily15:
"I thank you, Mr. Forsythe; there is nothing just at present—or, yes, there is, if you wouldn't mind helping16 Timothy put up those curtains. Now, I think I'll go home and rest a few minutes; I am very tired."
It wasn't exactly the job Forsythe coveted17, to stay in the school-house and fuss over those curtains; but she made him do it, then disappeared, and he didn't like the memory of her white face. He hadn't thought she would take it that way. He had expected to have her exclaim with horror and disgust. He watched her out of the door, and then turned impatiently to the waiting Timothy.
Margaret went outside the school-house to call Bud, who had been sent to gather sage-brush for filling in the background, but Bud was already out of sight far on the trail toward the camp on Forsythe's horse, riding for dear life. Bud had come near to the school-house door with his armful of sage-brush just in time to hear Forsythe's flippant speech about Gardley and see Margaret's white face. Bud had gone for help!
But Margaret did not go home to rest. She did not even get half-way home. When she had gone a very short distance outside the school-house she saw some one coming toward her, and in her distress18 of mind she could not tell who it was. Her eyes were blinded with tears, her breath was constricted19, and it seemed to her that a demon20 unseen was gripping her heart. She had not yet taken her bearings to know what she thought. She had only just come dazed from the shock of Forsythe's words, and had not the power to think. Over and over to herself, as she walked along, she kept repeating the words: "I do not believe it! It is not true!" but her inner consciousness had not had time to analyze22 her soul and be sure that she believed the words wherewith she was comforting herself.
So now, when she saw some one coming, she felt the necessity of bringing her telltale face to order and getting ready to answer whoever she was to meet. As she drew nearer she became suddenly aware that it was Rosa Rogers coming with her arms full of bundles and more piled up in front of her on her pony23. Margaret knew at once that Rosa must have seen Forsythe go by her house, and had returned promptly24 to the school-house on some pretext25 or other. It would not do to let her go there alone with the young man; she must go back and stay with them. She could not be sure that if she sent Rosa home with orders to rest she would be obeyed. Doubtless the girl would take another way around and return to the school again. There was nothing for it but to go back and stay as long as Rosa did.
Margaret stooped and, hastily plucking a great armful of sage-brush, turned around and retraced26 her steps, her heart like lead, her feet suddenly grown heavy. How could she go back and hear them laugh and chatter27, answer their many silly, unnecessary questions, and stand it all? How could she, with that great weight at her heart?
She went back with a wonderful self-control. Forsythe's face lighted, and his reluctant hand grew suddenly eager as he worked. Rosa came presently, and others, and the laughing chatter went on quite as Margaret had known it would. And she—so great is the power of human will under pressure—went calmly about and directed here and there; planned and executed; put little, dainty, wholly unnecessary touches to the stage; and never let any one know that her heart was being crushed with the weight of a great, awful fear, and yet steadily upborne by the rising of a great, deep trust. As she worked and smiled and ordered, she was praying: "Oh, God, don't let it be true! Keep him! Save him! Bring him! Make him true! I know he is true! Oh, God, bring him safely soon!"
Meantime there was nothing she could do. She could not send Forsythe after him. She could not speak of the matter to one of those present, and Bud—where was Bud? It was the first time since she came to Arizona that Bud had failed her. She might not leave the school-house, with Forsythe and Rosa there, to go and find him, and she might not do anything else. There was nothing to do but work on feverishly28 and pray as she had never prayed before.
By and by one of the smaller boys came, and she sent him back to the Tanners' to find Bud, but he returned with the message that Bud had not been home since morning; and so the last hours before the evening, that would otherwise have been so brief for all there was to be done, dragged their weary length away and Margaret worked on.
She did not even go back for supper at the last, but sent one of the girls to her room for a few things she needed, and declined even the nice little chicken sandwich that thoughtful Mrs. Tanner sent back along with the things. And then, at last, the audience began to gather.
By this time her anxiety was so great for Gardley that all thought of how she was to supply the place of the absent Jed had gone from her mind, which was in a whirl. Gardley! Gardley! If only Gardley would come! That was her one thought. What should she do if he didn't come at all? How should she explain things to herself afterward29? What if it had been true? What if he were the kind of man Forsythe had suggested? How terrible life would look to her! But it was not true. No, it was not true! She trusted him! With her soul she trusted him! He would come back some time and he would explain all. She could not remember his last look at her on Sunday and not trust him. He was true! He would come!
Somehow she managed to get through the terrible interval30, to slip into the dressing-room and make herself sweet and comely31 in the little white gown she had sent for, with its delicate blue ribbons and soft lace ruffles32. Somehow she managed the expected smiles as one and another of the audience came around to the platform to speak to her. There were dark hollows under her eyes, and her mouth was drawn33 and weary, but they laid that to the excitement. Two bright-red spots glowed on her cheeks; but she smiled and talked with her usual gaiety. People looked at her and said how beautiful she was, and how bright and untiring; and how wonderful it was that Ashland School had drawn such a prize of a teacher. The seats filled, the noise and the clatter34 went on. Still no sign of Gardley or any one from the camp, and still Bud had not returned! What could it mean?
But the minutes were rushing rapidly now. It was more than time to begin. The girls were in a flutter in one cloak-room at the right of the stage, asking more questions in a minute than one could answer in an hour; the boys in the other cloak-room wanted all sorts of help; and three or four of the actors were attacked with stage-fright as they peered through a hole in the curtain and saw some friend or relative arrive and sit down in the audience. It was all a mad whirl of seemingly useless noise and excitement, and she could not, no, she could not, go on and do the necessary things to start that awful play. Why, oh, why had she ever been left to think of getting up a play?
Forsythe, up behind the piano, whispered to her that it was time to begin. The house was full. There was not room for another soul. Margaret explained that Fiddling Boss had not yet arrived, and caught a glimpse of the cunning designs of Forsythe in the shifty turning away of his eyes as he answered that they could not wait all night for him; that if he wanted to get into it he ought to have come early. But even as she turned away she saw the little, bobbing, eager faces of Pop and Mom Wallis away back by the door, and the grim, towering figure of the Boss, his fiddle35 held high, making his way to the front amid the crowd.
She sat down and touched the keys, her eyes watching eagerly for a chance to speak to the Boss and see if he knew anything of Gardley; but Forsythe was close beside her all the time, and there was no opportunity. She struck the opening chords of the overture36 they were to attempt to play, and somehow got through it. Of course, the audience was not a critical one, and there were few real judges of music present; but it may be that the truly wonderful effect she produced upon the listeners was due to the fact that she was playing a prayer with her heart as her fingers touched the keys, and that instead of a preliminary to a fairy revel37 the music told the story of a great soul struggle, and reached hearts as it tinkled38 and rolled and swelled39 on to the end. It may be, too, that Fiddling Boss was more in sympathy that night with his accompanist than was the other violinist, and that was why his old fiddle brought forth40 such weird41 and tender tones.
Almost to the end, with her heart sobbing42 its trouble to the keys, Margaret looked up sadly, and there, straight before her through a hole in the curtain made by some rash youth to glimpse the audience, or perhaps even put there by the owner of the nose itself, she saw the little, freckled43, turned-up member belonging to Bud's face. A second more and a big, bright eye appeared and solemnly winked44 at her twice, as if to say, "Don't you worry; it's all right!"
She almost started from the stool, but kept her head enough to finish the chords, and as they died away she heard a hoarse45 whisper in Bud's familiar voice:
"Whoop46 her up, Miss Earle. We're all ready. Raise the curtain there, you guy. Let her rip. Everything's O. K."
With a leap of light into her eyes Margaret turned the leaves of the music and went on playing as she should have done if nothing had been the matter. Bud was there, anyway, and that somehow cheered her heart. Perhaps Gardley had come or Bud had heard of him—and yet, Bud didn't know he had been missing, for Bud had been away himself.
Nevertheless, she summoned courage to go on playing. Nick Bottom wasn't in this first scene, anyway, and this would have to be gone through with somehow. By this time she was in a state of daze21 that only thought from moment to moment. The end of the evening seemed now to her as far off as the end of a hale old age seems at the beginning of a lifetime. Somehow she must walk through it; but she could only see a step at a time.
Once she turned half sideways to the audience and gave a hurried glance about, catching47 sight of Fudge's round, near-sighted face, and that gave her encouragement. Perhaps the others were somewhere present. If only she could get a chance to whisper to some one from the camp and ask when they had seen Gardley last! But there was no chance, of course!
The curtain was rapidly raised and the opening scene of the play began, the actors going through their parts with marvelous ease and dexterity48, and the audience silent and charmed, watching those strangers in queer costumes that were their own children, marching around there at their ease and talking weird language that was not used in any class of society they had ever come across on sea or land before.
But Margaret, watching her music as best she could, and playing mechanically rather than with her mind, could not tell if they were doing well or ill, so loudly did her heart pound out her fears—so stoutly49 did her heart proclaim her trust.
And thus, without a flaw or mistake in the execution of the work she had struggled so hard to teach them, the first scene of the first act drew to its close, and Margaret struck the final chords of the music and felt that in another minute she must reel and fall from that piano-stool. And yet she sat and watched the curtain fall with a face as controlled as if nothing at all were the matter.
A second later she suddenly knew that to sit in that place calmly another second was a physical impossibility. She must get somewhere to the air at once or her senses would desert her.
With a movement so quick that no one could have anticipated it, she slipped from her piano-stool, under the curtain to the stage, and was gone before the rest of the orchestra had noticed her intention.
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1
rehearsal
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| n.排练，排演；练习 | |
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rehearsals
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| n.练习( rehearsal的名词复数 )；排练；复述；重复 | |
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fiddling
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| 微小的 | |
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4
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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5
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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6
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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7
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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8
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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vindictiveness
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| 恶毒；怀恨在心 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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13
torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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14
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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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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16
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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18
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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constricted
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| adj.抑制的，约束的 | |
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demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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daze
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| v.(使)茫然，(使)发昏 | |
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22
analyze
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| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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retraced
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| v.折回( retrace的过去式和过去分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
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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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28
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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29
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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30
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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31
comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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32
ruffles
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| 褶裥花边( ruffle的名词复数 ) | |
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33
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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34
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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35
fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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36
overture
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| n.前奏曲、序曲，提议，提案，初步交涉 | |
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37
revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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38
tinkled
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| （使）发出丁当声，（使）发铃铃声( tinkle的过去式和过去分词 )； 叮当响着发出，铃铃响着报出 | |
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39
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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40
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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41
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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42
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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43
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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44
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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45
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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46
whoop
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| n.大叫，呐喊，喘息声；v.叫喊，喘息 | |
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47
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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48
dexterity
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| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
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49
stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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