Miss Jilian soon recovered from her faint in the great hall at Hardacre, thanks to sprinklings with scent1 and the immediate2 application of a smelling-bottle to her nose. Miss Hardacre had seen nothing of the foolish quarrel between Dick Wilson and Mr. Lot, and with true discretion3 she insisted on dancing the night out, vowing4 that she had only temporarily succumbed5 to the heat. A few words passed between brother and sister before the musicians struck up in the gallery, and Mr. Lancelot led out his sister to a country-dance. Though Sir Peter busied himself ostentatiously in seeing that certain of the hall windows were opened for the sake of ventilation, there was much secret wagging of tongues amid the company, much bobbing of plumes6, much wise gossip. Several reasons were spread abroad to account for the affair and the sudden departure of the party for Rodenham. Miss Jilian, however, rose bravely superior to the past, smiled and swept courtesies, drank wine to give herself a color. She even coquetted with Mr. Gedge, one of her brother’s boon7 comrades, for the rest of the evening, carrying her amber8 head very high, and showing no symptoms of cowardice9 or distress10.
The following morning, however, Miss Hardacre was very viciously afflicted11 with the vapors12. She kept her bed, would not so much as suffer her maid to draw her curtains, and left untouched the chocolate the sympathetic handmaid pressed upon her. Her one command was that Sir Peter should be informed that she was vaporish, and would be pleased to see him if he would walk up-stairs. The baronet, after finishing his breakfast and swearing at Lot for making such a pother the preceding night, gathered himself together and tramped up the broad staircase to pay his respects to his daughter.
The red curtains were half drawn13 across the windows of Miss Jilian’s room. An odor of lavender pervaded14 the atmosphere, and the four-post bed, with its pink-and-white hangings, looked like a shrine15 where love might claim sanctuary16. Miss Hardacre’s ball dress lay thrown across a chair. Her cosmetics17 and wash-balls were untouched on the table below her mirror. The fair Jilian herself lay back on her belaced pillows, looking rather thin and old, her tawny18 hair in a tangle19, her mouth adroop in her white face.
Sir Peter thrust a pair of satin slippers20 aside with his foot, gurgled, took snuff, tossed sundry21 belaced vestments from a chair, and sat himself down beside the bed. The baronet gazed at his daughter with stupid gravity, and heaved a sigh under his snuffy waistcoat.
“Well, lass, how are you feeling?”
There was some rustling22 of the belaced bed-gown, a pair of shoulders began to twitch23 spasmodically, a handkerchief fluttered out, a pathetic signal of distress.
“Damn it, Jill, don’t let’s play at snivelling.”
Sir Peter’s irritable24 method of showing his sympathy only distressed25 the sweet martyr26 the more. There were chokings and moist miseries27 under the pink-and-white canopy28. Miss Hardacre’s pretty feet twitched29 and fidgeted under the clothes, while she half buried her face in the pillow and sobbed30 with unction.
“Bless my soul, Jill, you ain’t a baby no longer—to play at the snivels.”
“Drat it, lass, what are you blubbering for? There’s no great harm done, eh? Lot will see to the Hardacre honor.”
Miss Hardacre’s sobs33 seemed to grow less hysterical34. She thrust a bare arm out of the bed, a wealth of lace hanging about the elbow. Sir Peter, who looked hot, angry, and unhappy, was at some pains to console his daughter. He took her hand and patted it parentally.
“There, there, lass; what shall we do for ye, eh?”
“Tell Lot—”
“Tell Lot. What am I to tell Lot, eh?”
“Not to quarrel with poor Richard—”
“Damn the lad, Jilian, don’t you take on so. Richard Jeffray’s a little gentleman, and I’ll take my immortal35 oath that it was all that old she-dog’s doing. Lot is for riding to Rodenham to demand an explanation.”
Miss Hardacre pressed her father’s hand and mopped her eyes with her lace handkerchief. Her bones showed somewhat at the base of her neck, and she looked less plump when unadorned.
“La, Sir Peter, I am very miserable36,” she whimpered. “Richard and I were so happy together last night. Why should that old woman try to spoil our happiness? It was cruel of her, sir, to bring that painter fellow to Hardacre. Such an old affair, too; I was only a silly child then.”
“Don’t you eat your heart out, Jill,” he said; “Lot shall see to it. Richard Jeffray shall prove that he is a gentleman.”
Miss Hardacre started up in bed upon her elbow, and held out an appealing hand towards her father.
“Don’t let there be any quarrelling; I couldn’t bear to think—”
“There, there,” interposed the baronet, with a sniff38; “what a tender goose it is! You leave it to me, Jill. We will see that you are treated like a lady.”
Sir Peter kissed his daughter, and trudged39 downstairs, blowing his nose. He found Lot in the dining-room with his feet propped40 against one of the carved jambs of the fireplace, a pipe hanging out of the corner of his mouth, and his rather bleary eyes scanning the pages of a gazette. Lot dropped his feet and swung round in his chair as his father entered, took his pipe from his mouth, and grinned.
“How’s the angelic Jill?” he asked, laconically41.
“Damned vaporish, sir. Hopes you won’t hurt the poor lad. ’Twould break her heart to think of your drawing your sword on him.”
Lot laughed and knocked out his pipe on the heel of his shoe.
“She’s a clever one, is Jilian,” he said. “Egad, sir, she has given me the wink43. Break her sweet heart, the dear, tough wench! I must foot it nobly, sir, before my cousin, the poet, smite44 my brotherly bussum, and cry, ‘Behold, sir, here lies a brother’s honor.’ Richard’s a sweet, trustful lad. Leave him to me, sir; I’ll see that Jill has her husband.”
The baronet chuckled45, and sat down in his leather-bottomed chair before the fire. He lay back, exposing his generous paunch, and winked46 at his son over his shoulder.
“Richard will make a good son-in-law, Lot,” he observed.
“Jill will milk his pockets for him, sir.”
Sir Peter nodded and beamed greedily.
“And we’ll have some of the butter, Lot,” he said; “an easy mortgage would be deuced convenient. What does the young dog want with all his thousands lying idle? They would serve us better than they would him. We want a new coach and a new stud, and, damme, I should like a house in town again. Dick Jeffray’s a nice lad, Lot. When do you think of riding over to Rodenham?”
Mr. Hardacre yawned, stretched his legs, and looked cunningly at his father.
“This afternoon, sir,” he said, with a grin. “The old harridan47 thinks she has spoiled our sport, but I guess she has given us a great opportunity. I will put it to Mr. Richard like a brother. If he don’t see it in the sentimental48 light, sir, I’ll just do a little bullying49.”
“And have Jill weeping over his grave!”
“You’ll do it all right, Lot,” said the baronet; “damme, you will.”
“Leave him to me, sir. Sister Jill shall have her husband.”
Thus, with the wind blowing briskly through Pevensel and the clouds rolling like great purple chariots over the distant downs, Mr. Lancelot rode out in quest of the Hardacre honor, and came trotting51 through Rodenham park betwixt the beeches52 and the cedars53. Mr. Lot was dressed in his best brown riding-suit, with a silver-mounted sword at his side, and a new tie-wig perched on his solid round pate54. His blue eyes twinkled in his fiery55 face, and he swore softly to himself and patted his horse’s neck. Gladden answered the clanging bell with the usual inscrutable smirk56 upon his face. Mr. Hardacre announced the fact that he desired to see Mr. Jeffray alone, his manner demanding unequivocal obedience57 on the part of the butler. Richard was reading in the library at the moment, having left Dick Wilson at the inn. The Lady Letitia still kept her chamber58, having sent word to her nephew that she was still prostrated59 after the unpleasant experiences of the night.
Mr. Lot had been ushered60 into the red parlor61, and Richard found him strutting62 up and down before the windows that overlooked the park, his sword cocked under his coat-tails in very militant63 fashion. He bowed with unusual courtliness, and posed very creditably as a cavalier without reproach. Richard felt decidedly oppressed by his cousin’s portentous64 dignity. All the evidences of a determination to claim the right of politely murdering him appeared in Mr. Hardacre’s manner.
Jeffray desired Mr. Hardacre to be seated. Lot waved the proffered65 chair aside, and stood to the majestic66 moment with astonishing grandiosity67.
“Cousin Richard,” he said, with another bow, “you doubtless recognize the delicacy68 of the errand that has brought me to Rodenham.”
Richard blushed and looked uncomfortable.
“You refer to the affair of last night, Lot,” he answered.
“Egad, sir, I do. It is my right as Miss Hardacre’s brother to demand an explanation from you, sir, with regard to the unwarrantable introduction of this Mr. Wilson into our house.”
Richard was still blushing and looking honestly distressed. He glanced appealingly at his cousin’s righteous face, and promptly69 plunged70 into a rambling71 and eager explanation of the affair, expressing his ardent72 regret at what had happened, and exonerating73 both Wilson and himself from the charge of premeditated mischief-making. Mr. Lot nodded very solemnly at every sentence, keeping his eyes fixed74 severely75 upon his cousin’s face, and still cocking his sword with aggressive significance.
“So you will see, Lot,” said the lad, frankly76, at the end of his speech, “that I was utterly77 innocent of any desire to offend. God knows, sir, I was as miserable as a man could be over such a regrettable error. I can only offer you my apologies and ask you and Sir Peter to forgive me.”
Mr. Lancelot bowed and smiled with some grimness.
“Egad, cousin,” he said, “I am glad to find you in so reasonable a temper. I can tell you, Richard, my blood was up, and when Lot Hardacre is roused—he is a bit of a devil, sir.”
Richard, hot and eager, like the generous fellow he was, to salve the wounded Hardacre pride, held out his hand to Lot with a brave smile.
“Your anger does you honor, Lot,” he said. “Had I such a sister I should be terribly jealous for her.”
Mr. Hardacre glanced at Jeffray’s hand reflectively, and then shook it.
“Deuce take me, Richard,” he said, “I knew you were a lad of the right temper. As for Dick Wilson, I broke his pate once, poor devil, when Jill was a mere78 bread-and-butter simpleton, and he had the impudence79 to fall in love with her. A pretty little jest, Richard, nothing more. It was the old lady above, sir, who poisoned the posset.”
“Poor Wilson was as much concerned as I was, Lot,” he said. “The Lady Letitia fibbed him into believing that he could present himself at Hardacre. I knew nothing of the matter till last night. Wilson is staying for a day at the Wheat Sheaf down in the village to offer you his apologies, or honorable satisfaction, should you require it.”
Mr. Lot laughed good-humoredly, and reduced the cock of his sword.
“I don’t want to quarrel with the poor devil, Richard,” he said. “You were both of you lambs sucking sour milk from the old dam above. I only desired, sir, to see justice done to my sister.”
Richard, blushing guiltily, looked with some shyness at his cousin.
“How is Jilian?” he asked.
Lot’s face seized upon a most lugubrious81 expression. He shook his head, and looked with significant pathos82 at Richard.
“Poor wench, she is in a terrible way—”
“She begged me to make no quarrel in the matter; swore it was no fault of yours; wanted me to promise that I would not lose my temper.”
Richard listened, looking the embodiment of generous contrition84. What an angel this sweet cousin of his was, to be sure! Of course Jilian had had little romances after she had come fresh from school. What girl had not? And had not he, Richard Jeffray, brought all this distress upon her?
“Lot,” he said, “I am not worthy85 to kiss your sister’s hand. Do you think that she will forgive me?”
Mr. Lancelot appeared profoundly serious, and glanced at his cousin under wrinkled brows.
“Jill has a deuced kind heart, Dick,” he said.
“Can I see her to-morrow?”
“The lass has been much shaken, cousin; she kept her bed this morning.”
Richard, looking a fine and honest fellow with his eyes bright in his flushed face, held out his hands to his cousin.
“Be my friend, Lot,” he said, “and persuade Jilian to let me see her. I am a man of honor, sir, and your sister is a saint. Say I will ride over to-morrow in the hope that she will see me.”
Mr. Lot studied his cousin keenly and smiled. The lad was honest and generous enough; there would be no need of bullying.
“Egad, Richard,” he exclaimed, “you are a fine fellow, sir, and Lot Hardacre is with you. Poor Jill has a tender heart, cousin. I’ll try to get her to see you; I will. Sir Peter, too, is in a swearing rage, Richard, but I’ll get old Stott over and have the governor bled.”
Richard, with tears in his eyes, gripped his cousin’s hand.
“Thank you, Lot,” he said—“thank you. You are a friend in need—by Heaven, you are! As for my aunt, she shall leave Rodenham at once.”
Mr. Hardacre clapped Jeffray on the shoulder.
“That’s the tune86, my buck,” he said, heartily87; “be the master in your own house, Richard, and don’t be grandmothered by any old woman. Why, she would quarrel with you if you were for marrying St. Agnes, by gad42, she would. Have it out with her, cousin; she’s been treating you like a foot-boy. I wouldn’t stand it, sir; I wouldn’t.”
Richard smiled a little ruefully, pressed his cousin’s red hand again, and accompanied him to the porch. Mr. Lot mounted on the terrace, flashed a keen look at his cousin, and took leave of him with boisterous88 good-humor.
“Get to the windward of her, Richard,” he said, meaningly. “Give her a broadside or two and she’ll strike. Damn it, cousin, don’t be a charity boy in your own house.”
“To-morrow, Lot—”
“I’ll do my best, Richard, by gad, I will. Lot Hardacre’s your friend, cousin, don’t you doubt it.”
Richard watched his kinsman89 ride away, and then went back to the library somewhat hot about the eyes. He was glad that the quarrel was ending so peaceably, and what an angel of sweetness Miss Jilian was, to be sure! Yes, he was ready to go down on his knees and ask her pardon, yet—why did Bess’s face flash up before him of a sudden? Well, he would go down to the Wheat Sheaf and tell Wilson what had happened. And then—then he must do battle with Aunt Letitia.
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1
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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vowing
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的现在分词形式） | |
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succumbed
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vapors
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| n.水汽，水蒸气，无实质之物( vapor的名词复数 )；自夸者；幻想 [药]吸入剂 [古]忧郁（症）v.自夸，（使）蒸发( vapor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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13
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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cosmetics
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| n.化妆品 | |
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tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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twitch
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| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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miseries
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| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
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canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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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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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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laconically
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| adv.简短地，简洁地 | |
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gad
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| n.闲逛；v.闲逛 | |
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43
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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44
smite
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| v.重击；彻底击败；n.打；尝试；一点儿 | |
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45
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
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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47
harridan
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| n.恶妇；丑老大婆 | |
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48
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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49
bullying
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| v.恐吓，威逼( bully的现在分词 )；豪；跋扈 | |
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50
thumped
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| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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52
beeches
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| n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 )；山毛榉木材 | |
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53
cedars
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| 雪松，西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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54
pate
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| n.头顶；光顶 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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56
smirk
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| n.得意地笑；v.傻笑；假笑着说 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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prostrated
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| v.使俯伏，使拜倒( prostrate的过去式和过去分词 )；（指疾病、天气等）使某人无能为力 | |
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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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62
strutting
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| 加固，支撑物 | |
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militant
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| adj.激进的，好斗的；n.激进分子，斗士 | |
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portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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grandiosity
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| n. 宏伟, 堂皇, 铺张 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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71
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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72
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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73
exonerating
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| v.使免罪，免除( exonerate的现在分词 ) | |
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74
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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76
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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80
mellowing
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| 软化，醇化 | |
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81
lugubrious
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| adj.悲哀的，忧郁的 | |
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82
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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85
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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86
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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87
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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88
boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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