"On hospitable1 thoughts intent."
"Who?" asks Molly, curiously4, pausing with her toast in mid-air (they are at breakfast), and with her lovely eyes twice their usual goodly size. Her lips, too, are apart; but whether in anticipation5 of the news or of the toast, it would be difficult to decide. "Is any one coming here?"
"Even here. This letter"—regarding, with a stricken conscience, the elegant scrawl6 in his hand—"is from Tedcastle George Luttrell (he is evidently proud of his name), declaring himself not only ready but fatally willing to accept my invitation to spend a month with me."
"A month!" says Molly, amazed. "And you never said a word about it, John."
"A month!" says Letitia, dismayed. "What on earth, John, is any one to do with any one for a month down here?"
"I wish I knew," replies Mr. Massereene, getting more and more stricken as he notices his wife's dejection, and gazing at Molly as though for inspiration. "What evil genius possessed7 me that I didn't say a fortnight? But, to tell you the honest truth, Letty, it never occurred to me that he might come."
"Then why did you ask him?" says Letitia, as sharply as is possible for her. "When writing, you might have anticipated so much: people generally do."
"Do they?" says Mr. Massereene, with an irrepressible glance at Molly. "Then you must only put me down as an exception to the general rule. I thought it only civil to ask him, but I certainly never believed he would be rash enough to go in for voluntary exile. I should have remembered how unthinking he always was."
"But who is he?" asks Molly, impatiently, full of keen and pleasurable excitement. "I die of vulgar curiosity. What is he like? Is he young, handsome? Oh, John, do say he is young and good-looking."
"He was at school with me."
"Does that groan9 proceed from a conviction that I am in the last stage of decay?" demands Mr. Massereene. "Anything so rude as you, Molly, has not as yet been rivaled. However, I am at a disadvantage: so I forgive, and will proceed. Though at school with me, he is at least nine years my junior, and can't be more than twenty-seven."
"Ah!" says Molly. To an Irish girl alone is given the power to express these two exclamations10 with proper effect.
"He is a hussar, of a good family, sufficiently11 good looks, and, I think, no fortune," says Mr. Massereene, as though reading from a doubtful guide-book.
"How delightful12!" says Molly.
"How terrific!" sighs Letitia. "Fancy a hussar finding amusement in lambs, and cows, and fat pigs, and green fields!"
"'Green fields and pastures new,'" quotes Mr. Massereene. "He will have them in abundance. He ought to be happy, as they say there is a charm in variety."
"Perhaps he will find some amusement in me," suggests Molly, modestly. "Can it be possible that he is really coming? Oh, the glory of having a young man to talk to, and that young man a soldier! Letitia," to her sister-in-law, "I warn you it will be no use for you to look shocked, because I have finally made up my mind to flirt13 every day, and all day long, with Tedcastle George Luttrell."
"Shocked!" says Letitia, gravely. "I would be a great deal more shocked if you had said you wouldn't; for what I should do with him, if you refused to take him in hand, is a thing on which I shudder14 to speculate. John is forever doing questionable15 things, and repenting16 when it is too late. Unless he means to build a new wing—" with a mild attempt at sarcasm,—"I don't know where Mr. Luttrell is to sleep."
"I fear I would not have time," says Massereene, meekly17; "the walls would scarcely be dry, as he is coming—the day after to-morrow."
"Not until then?" says Letitia, ominously18 calm. "Why did you not make it to-day? That would have utterly19 precluded20 the possibility of my getting things into any sort of order."
"Letitia, if you continue to address me in your present heartless style for one minute longer, I shall burst into tears," says Mr. Massereene. And then they all laugh.
"He shall have my room," says Molly, presently, seeing that perplexity still adorns21 Letitia's brows, "and I can have Lovat's."
"Oh, Molly, I will not have you turned out of your room for any one," says Letitia; but she says it faintly, and is conscious of a feeling of relief at her heart as she speaks.
"But indeed he shall. It is such a pretty room that he cannot fail to be impressed. Any one coming from a hot city, and proving insensible to the charms of the roses that are now creeping into my window, would be unfit to live. Even a hussar must have a soft spot somewhere. I foresee those roses will be the means of reducing him to a lamb-like meekness22."
"You are too good, Molly. It seems a shame," says Letitia, patting her sister-in-law's hand, and still hesitating, through a sense of duty; "does it not, John?"
"It is so difficult to know what a woman really means by the word, 'shame,'" replies John, absently, being deep in the morning's paper. "You said it was a shame yesterday when the cat drank all the cream; and Molly said it was a shame when Wyndham ran away with Crofton's wife."
"Don't take any notice of him, Letty," says Molly, with a scornful shrug23 of her pretty shoulders, turning her back on her brother, and resuming the all-important subject of the expected visitor.
"Another railway accident, and twenty men killed," says Mr. Massereene, in a few minutes, looking up from his Times, and adopting the lugubrious24 tone one always assumes on such occasions, whether one cares or not.
"Wasn't it fortunate we put up those curtains clean last week?" murmurs25 Letitia, in a slow, self-congratulatory voice.
"More than fortunate," says Molly.
"Twenty men killed, Letty!" repeats Mr. Massereene, solemnly.
"I don't believe there is a spare bath in the house," exclaims Letitia, again sinking into the lowest depth of despair.
"You forget the old one in the nursery. It will do for the children very well, and he can have the new one," says Molly.
"Twenty men killed, Molly!" reiterates26 Mr. Massereene, a faint gleam of surprised disgust creeping into his eyes.
"So it will, dear. Molly, you are an immense comfort. What did you say, John? Twenty men killed? Dreadful! I wonder, Molly, if I might suggest to him that I would not like him to smoke in bed? I hear a great many young men have that habit; indeed, a brother of mine, years ago, at home, nearly set the house on fire one night with a cigar."
"Let me do all the lecturing," says Molly, gayly; "there is nothing I should like better."
"Talk of ministering angels, indeed!" mutters Mr. Massereene, rising, and making for the door, paper and all. "I don't believe they would care if England was swamped, so long as they had clean curtains for Luttrell's bed."
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收听单词发音
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1
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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scrawl
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| vt.潦草地书写；n.潦草的笔记，涂写 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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8
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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11
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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15
questionable
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| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
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repenting
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的现在分词 ) | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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precluded
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| v.阻止( preclude的过去式和过去分词 )；排除；妨碍；使…行不通 | |
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21
adorns
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| 装饰，佩带( adorn的第三人称单数 ) | |
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meekness
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| n.温顺，柔和 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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lugubrious
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| adj.悲哀的，忧郁的 | |
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murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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reiterates
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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