"He set her on a coal-black steed,
Himsel lap on behind her,
An' he's awa' to the Hieland hills
Whare her frien's they canna find her."
Rob Roy.
The occupants of Bide-a-Wee Cottage awoke in anything but a Jubilee1 humor, next day. Willie had intended to come at nine, but of course did not appear. Francesca took her breakfast in bed, and came listlessly into the sitting-room2 at ten o'clock, looking like a ghost. Jean's ankle was much better,--the sprain3 proved to be not even a strain,--but her wrist was painful. It was drizzling4, too, and we had promised Miss Ardmore and Miss Macrae to aid with the last Jubilee decorations, the distribution of medals at the church, and the children's games and tea on the links in the afternoon.
We had determined5 not to desert our beloved Pettybaw for the metropolis6 on this great day, but to celebrate it with the dear fowk o' Fife who had grown to be a part of our lives.
Bide-a-Wee Cottage does not occupy an imposing7 position in the landscape, and the choice of art fabrics8 at the Pettybaw draper's is small, but the moment it should stop raining we were intending to carry out a dazzling scheme of decoration that would proclaim our affectionate respect for the "little lady in black" on her Diamond Jubilee. But would it stop raining?--that was the question. The draper wasna certain that so licht a shoo'r could richtly be called rain. The village weans were yearning9 for the hour to arrive when they might sit on the wet golf-course and have tea; manifestly, therefore, it could not be a bad day for Scotland; but if it should grow worse, what would become of our mammoth10 subscription11 bonfire on Pettybaw Law,--the bonfire that Brenda Macrae was to light, as the lady of the manor12?
There were no deputations to request the honor of Miss Macrae's distinguished13 services on this occasion; that is not the way the self-respecting villager comports14 himself in Fifeshire. The chairman of the local committee, a respectable gardener, called upon Miss Macrae at Pettybaw House, and said, "I'm sent to tell ye ye're to have the pleesure an' the honor of lightin' the bonfire the nicht! Ay, it's a grand chance ye're havin', miss; ye'll remember it as long as ye live, I'm thinkin'!"
When I complimented this rugged15 soul on his decoration of the triumphal arch under which the schoolchildren were to pass, I said, "I think if her Majesty16 could see it, she would be pleased with our village to-day, James."
"Ay, ye're richt, miss," he replied complacently17. "She'd see that Inchcawdy canna compeer wi' us; we've patronized her weel in Pettybaw!"
Truly, as Stevenson says, "he who goes fishing among the Scots peasantry with condescension18 for a bait will have an empty basket by evening."
At eleven o'clock a boy arrived at Bide-a-Wee with an interesting-looking package, which I promptly19 opened. That dear foolish lover of mine (whose foolishness is one of the most adorable things about him) makes me only two visits a day, and is therefore constrained20 to send me some reminder21 of himself in the intervening hours, or minutes,--a book, a flower, or a note. Uncovering the pretty box, I found a long, slender--something--of sparkling silver.
"What is it?" I exclaimed, holding it up. "It is too long and not wide enough for a paper-knife, although it would be famous for cutting magazines. Is it a _baton_? Where did Willie find it, and what can it be? There is something engraved22 on one side, something that looks like birds on a twig,--yes, three little birds; and see the lovely cairngorm set in the end! Oh, it has words cut in it: '_To Jean: From Hynde Horn_'--Goodness me! I've opened Miss Dalziel's package!"
Francesca made a sudden swooping23 motion, and caught box, cover, and contents in her arms.
"It is mine! I know it is mine!" she cried. "You really ought not to claim everything that is sent to the house, Penelope,--as if nobody had any friends or presents but you!" and she rushed upstairs like a whirlwind.
I examined the outside wrapper, lying on the floor, and found, to my chagrin24, that it did bear Miss Monroe's name, somewhat blotted25 by the rain; but if the box were addressed to her, why was the silver thing inscribed26 to Miss Dalziel? Well, Francesca would explain the mystery within the hour, unless she had become a changed being.
Fifteen minutes passed. Salemina was making Jubilee sandwiches at Pettybaw House, Miss Dalziel was asleep in her room, I was being devoured27 slowly by curiosity, when Francesca came down without a word, walked out of the front door, went up to the main street, and entered the village post-office without so much as a backward glance. She was a changed being, then! I might as well be living in a Gaboriau novel, I thought, and went up into my little painting and writing room to address a programme of the Pettybaw celebration to Lady Baird, watch for the first glimpse of Willie coming down the loaning, and see if I could discover where Francesca went from the post-office.
Sitting down by my desk, I could find neither my wax nor my silver candlestick, my scissors nor my ball of twine28. Plainly, Francesca had been on one of her borrowing tours; and she had left an additional trace of herself--if one were needed--in a book of old Scottish ballads30, open at Hynde Horn. I glanced at it idly while I was waiting for her to return. I was not familiar with the opening verses, and these were the first lines that met my eye:--
"Oh, he gave to his love a silver wand,
Her sceptre of rule over fair Scotland;
With three singing laverocks set thereon
For to mind her of him when he was gone.
"And his love gave to him a gay gold ring
With three shining diamonds set therein;
Oh, his love gave to him this gay gold ring,
Of virtue31 and value above all thing."
A light dawned upon me! The silver mystery, then, was intended for a wand,--and a very pretty way of making love to an American girl, too, to call it a "sceptre of rule over fair Scotland;" and the three birds were three singing laverocks "to mind her of him when he was gone!"
But the real Hynde Horn in the dear old ballad29 had a true love who was not captious32 and capricious and cold like Francesca. His love gave him a gay gold ring,--
"Of virtue and value above all thing."
Yet stay: behind the ballad book flung heedlessly on my desk was--what should it be but the little morocco case, empty now, in which our Francesca keeps her dead mother's engagement ring,--the mother who died when she was a wee child. Truly a very pretty modern ballad to be sung in these unromantic, degenerate33 days!
Francesca came in at the door behind me, saw her secret reflected in my telltale face, saw the sympathetic moisture in my eyes, and, flinging herself into my willing arms, burst into tears.
"Oh, Pen, dear, dear Pen, I am so miserable34 and so happy; so afraid that he won't come back, so frightened for fear that he will! I sent him away because there were so many lions in the path, and I didn't know how to slay35 them. I thought of my f-father; I thought of my c-c-country. I didn't want to live with him in Scotland, I knew that I couldn't live without him in America, and there I was! I didn't think I was s-suited to a minister, and I am not; but oh! this p-particular minister is so s-suited to me!" and she threw herself on the sofa and buried her head in the cushions.
She was so absurd even in her grief that I had hard work to keep from smiling.
"Let us talk about the lions," I said soothingly36. "But when did the trouble begin? When did he speak to you?"
"After the tableaux38 last night; but of course there had been other--other--times--and things."
"Of course. Well?"
"He had told me a week before that he should go away for a while, that it made him too wretched to stay here just now; and I suppose that was when he got the silver wand ready for me. It was meant for the Jean of the poem, you know. Of course he would not put my own name on a gift like that."
"You don't think he had it made for Jean Dalziel in the first place?" I asked this, thinking she needed some sort of tonic39 in her relaxed condition.
"You know him better than that, Penelope! I am ashamed of you! We had read Hynde Horn together ages before Jean Dalziel came; but I imagine, when we came to acting40 the lines, he thought it would be better to have some other king's daughter; that is, that it would be less personal. And I never, never would have been in the tableau37, if I had dared refuse Lady Ardmore, or could have explained; but I had no time to think. And then, naturally, he thought by my being there as the king's daughter that--that--the lions were slain41, you know; instead of which they were roaring so that I could hardly hear the orchestra."
"Francesca, look me in the eye! Do--you--love him?"
"Love him? I adore him!" she exclaimed in good clear decisive English, as she rose impetuously and paced up and down in front of the sofa. "But in the first place there is the difference in nationality."
"I have no patience with you. One would think he was a Turk, an Esquimau, or a cannibal. He is white, he speaks English, and he believes in the Christian42 religion. The idea of calling such a man a foreigner!"
"Oh, it didn't prevent me from loving him," she confessed, "but I thought at first it would be unpatriotic to marry him."
"Did you think Columbia could not spare you even as a rare specimen43 to be used for exhibition purposes?" I asked wickedly.
"You know I am not so conceited44 as that! No," she continued ingenuously45, "I feared that if I accepted him it would look, over here, as if the home supply of husbands were of inferior quality; and then we had such disagreeable discussions at the beginning, I simply could not bear to leave my nice new free country, and ally myself with his aeons of tiresome46 history. But it came to me in the night, a week ago, that after all I should hate a man who didn't love his fatherland; and in the illumination of that new idea Ronald's character assumed a different outline in my mind. How could he love America when he had never seen it? How could I convince him that American women are the most charming in the world in any better way than by letting him live under the same roof with a good example? How could I expect him to let me love my country best unless I permitted him to love his best?"
"You needn't offer so many apologies for your infatuation, my dear," I answered dryly.
"I am not apologizing for it!" she exclaimed impulsively47. "Oh, if you could only keep it to yourself, I should like to tell you how I trust and admire and reverence48 Ronald Macdonald, but of course you will repeat everything to Willie Beresford within the hour! You think he has gone on and on loving me against his better judgment49. You believe he has fought against it because of my unfitness, but that I, poor, weak, trivial thing, am not capable of deep feeling and that I shall never appreciate the sacrifices he makes in choosing me! Very well, then, I tell you plainly that if I had to live in a damp manse the rest of my life, drink tea and eat scones50 for breakfast, and--and buy my hats of the Inchcaldy milliner, I should still glory in the possibility of being Ronald Macdonald's wife,--a possibility hourly growing more uncertain, I am sorry to say!"
"And the extreme aversion with which you began," I asked,--"what has become of that, and when did it begin to turn in the opposite direction?"
"Aversion!" she cried, with convincing and unblushing candor51. "That aversion was a cover, clapped on to keep my self-respect warm. I abused him a good deal, it is true, because it was so delightful52 to hear you and Salemina take his part. Sometimes I trembled for fear you would agree with me, but you never did. The more I criticised him, the louder you sang his praises,--it was lovely! The fact is,--we might as well throw light upon the whole matter, and then never allude53 to it again; and if you do tell Willie Beresford, you shall never visit my manse, nor see me preside at my mothers' meetings, nor hear me address the infant class in the Sunday-school,--the fact is I liked him from the beginning at Lady Baird's dinner. I liked the bow he made when he offered me his arm (I wish it had been his hand); I liked the top of his head when it was bowed; I liked his arm when I took it; I liked the height of his shoulder when I stood beside it; I liked the way he put me in my chair (that showed chivalry), and unfolded his napkin (that was neat and businesslike), and pushed aside all his wineglasses but one (that was temperate); I liked the side view of his nose, the shape of his collar, the cleanness of his shave, the manliness55 of his tone,--oh, I liked him altogether, you must know how it is, Penelope,--the goodness and strength and simplicity56 that radiated from him. And when he said, within the first half-hour, that international alliances presented even more difficulties to the imagination than others, I felt, to my confusion, a distinct sense of disappointment. Even while I was quarreling with him, I said to myself, 'You poor darling, you cannot have him even if you should want him, so don't look at him much!'--But I did look at him; and what is worse, he looked at me; and what is worse yet, he curled himself so tightly round my heart that if he takes himself away, I shall be cold the rest of my life!"
"Then you are really sure of your love this time, and you have never advised him to wed54 somebody more worthy57 than yourself?" I asked.
"Not I!" she replied. "I wouldn't put such an idea into his head for worlds! He might adopt it!"
收听单词发音 |
1
jubilee
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| n.周年纪念；欢乐 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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sprain
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| n.扭伤,扭筋 | |
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drizzling
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| 下蒙蒙细雨，下毛毛雨( drizzle的现在分词 ) | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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fabrics
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| 织物( fabric的名词复数 )； 布； 构造； （建筑物的）结构（如墙、地面、屋顶）：质地 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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mammoth
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| n.长毛象；adj.长毛象似的，巨大的 | |
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subscription
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| n.预订，预订费，亲笔签名，调配法，下标（处方） | |
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manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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comports
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| v.表现( comport的第三人称单数 ) | |
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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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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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condescension
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| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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swooping
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的现在分词 ) | |
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chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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twine
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| v.搓，织，编饰；（使）缠绕 | |
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ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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ballads
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| 民歌，民谣，特别指叙述故事的歌( ballad的名词复数 )； 讴 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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captious
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| adj.难讨好的，吹毛求疵的 | |
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degenerate
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| v.退步，堕落；adj.退步的，堕落的；n.堕落者 | |
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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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slay
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| v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮 | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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tableau
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| n.画面，活人画（舞台上活人扮的静态画面） | |
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tableaux
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| n.舞台造型，（由活人扮演的）静态画面、场面；人构成的画面或场景( tableau的名词复数 )；舞台造型；戏剧性的场面；绚丽的场景 | |
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tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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ingenuously
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| adv.率直地，正直地 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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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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candor
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| n.坦白，率真 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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wed
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| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
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manliness
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| 刚毅 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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