When John Massereene was seven years old his mother died. When he was seventeen his father had the imprudence to run away with the favorite daughter of a rich man,—which crime was never forgiven. Had there been the slightest excuse for her conduct it might have been otherwise, but in the eyes of her world there was none. That an Amherst of Herst Royal should be guilty of such a plebeian2 trick as "falling passionately3 in love" was bad enough, but to have her bestow4 that love upon a man at least eighteen years her senior, an Irishman, a mere5 engineer, with no money to speak of, with nothing on earth to recommend him beyond a handsome face, a charming manner, and a heart too warm ever to grow old, was not to be tolerated for a moment. And Eleanor Amherst, from the hour of her elopement, was virtually shrouded6 and laid within her grave so far as her own family was concerned.
Not that they need have hurried over her requiem7, as the poor soul was practically laid there in the fourth year of her happy married life, dying of the same fever that had carried off her husband two days before, and leaving her three-year-old daughter in the care of her step-son.
At twenty-one, therefore, John Massereene found himself alone in the world, with about three hundred pounds a year and a small, tearful, clinging, forlorn child. Having followed his father's profession, more from a desire to gratify that father than from direct inclination8, he found, when too late, that he neither liked it nor did it like him. He had, as he believed, a talent for farming; so that when, on the death of a distant relation, he found himself, when all was told, the possessor of seven hundred pounds a year, he bought Brooklyn, a modest place in one of the English shires, married his first love, and carried her and Molly home to it.
Once or twice in the early part of her life he had made an appeal to old Mr. Amherst, Molly's grandfather, on her behalf,—more from a sense of duty owing to her than from any desire to rid himself of the child, who had, indeed, with her pretty, coaxing9 ways, made a very cozy10 nest for herself in the deepest recesses11 of his large heart. But all such appeals had been unavailing. So that Molly had grown from baby to child, from child to girl, without having so much as seen her nearest relations, although Herst Royal was situated12 in the very county next to hers.
Even now, in spite of her having attained13 her eighteenth year, this ostracism14 is a matter of the most perfect indifference15 to Molly. She has been bred in a very sound contempt for the hard old man who so cruelly neglected her mother,—the poor mother whose love she never missed, so faithfully has John fulfilled her dying wishes. There is no poverty about this love, in which she has grown and strengthened: it is rich, all-sufficing. Even Letitia's coming only added another ray to its brightness.
They are a harmonious16 family, the Massereenes; they blend; they seldom disagree. Letitia, with her handsome English face, her tall, posée figure, and ready smile, makes a delicious centre-piece; John a good background; Molly a bit of perfect sunlight; the children flecks17 of vivid coloring here and there. They are an easy, laughter-loving people, with a rare store of contentment. They are much affected18 by those in their immediate19 neighborhood. Their servants have a good time of it. They are never out of temper when dinner is a quarter of an hour late. They all very much admire Molly, and Molly very much agrees with them. They are fond of taking their tea in summer in the open air; they are not fond of over-early rising; they never bore you with a description of the first faint beams of dawn; they fail to see any beauty in the dew at five o'clock in the morning; they are very reasonable people.
Yet the morning after his arrival, Luttrell, jumping out of his bed at eight o'clock, finds, on looking out of his window that overhangs the garden, Flora20 already among her flowers. Drawing back hastily,—he is a modest young man,—he grows suddenly energetic and makes good speed with his toilet.
When he is half dressed—that is, when his hair is brushed; but as yet his shirt is guiltless of a waistcoat—he cannot refrain from looking forth21 again, to see if she may yet be there, and, looking, meets her eyes.
He is slightly abashed22; she is not. Mr. Massereene in his shirt and trousers is a thing very frequently seen at his window during the summer mornings. Mr. Luttrell presents much the same appearance. It certainly does occur to Molly that of the two men the new-comer is decidedly the better looking of the two, whereat, without any treachery toward John, she greatly rejoices. It does not occur to her that a blush at this moment would be a blush in the right place. On the contrary, she nods gayly at him, and calls out:
"Hurry! You cannot think what a delicious morning it is." And then goes on with her snipping23 and paring with the heartiest24 unconcern. After which Luttrell's method of getting into the remainder of his clothes can only be described as a scramble25.
"How did you sleep?" asks Molly, a few minutes later, when he has joined her, looking up from the rose-bush over which she is bending, that holds no flower so sweet as her own self. "Well, I hope?"
"You look suspicious," says she, with a little laugh. "Are you thinking my question odd? I know when people are put over-night in a haunted chamber they are always asked the next morning whether they 'slept well,' in the fond hope that they didn't. But you need not be nervous. Nothing so inspiriting——"
"Is that a joke?" demands he, interrupting her, gravely.
"Eh? Oh, no! how could you think me guilty of such a thing? I mean that nothing so hopeful as an undeniable ghost has ever yet appeared at Brooklyn."
"Are you sure? Perhaps, then, I am to be the happy discoverer, as this morning early, about dawn, there came an unearthly tapping at my window that woke me, much to my disgust. I got up, but when I had opened the shutters28 could see nothing. Was not that a visitation? I looked at my watch, and found it was past four o'clock. Then I crept into my bed again, crestfallen,—'sold' with regard to an adventure."
"That was my magpie," cries Molly, with a merry laugh: "he always comes pecking at that hour, naughty fellow. Oh, what a tame ending to your romance! Your beautiful ghost come to visit you from unknown regions, clad in white and rustling29 garments, has resolved itself into a lame30 bird, rather poverty-stricken in the matter of feathers."
"I take it rather hardly that your dependent should come to disturb me," says Luttrell, reproachfully. "What have I done to him, or how have I ingratiated myself, that he should forsake31 you for me? I did not think even a meagre bird could have shown such outre taste. What fancy has he for my window?"
"Your window?" says Molly, quickly; then as quickly recollecting32, she stops short, blushing a warm and lovely crimson33. "Oh, of course,—yes, it was odd," she says, and, breaking down under the weight of her unhappy blush, busies herself eagerly with her flowers.
"Have I taken your bedroom?" asks he, anxiously, watching with cruel persistency34 the soft roses that bloom again at his words. "Yes, I see I have. That is too bad; and any room would have been good enough for a soldier. Are you sure you don't hate me for all the inconvenience I have caused you?"
"I can't be sure," says Molly, "yet. Give me time. But this I do know, that John will quarrel with us if we remain out here any longer, as breakfast must be quite ready by this. Come."
"When you spoke35 of my chamber as being haunted, a little time ago," says Luttrell, walking beside her on the gravel27 path, his hands clasped behind his back, "you came very near the truth. After what you have just told me, how shall I keep from dreaming about you?"
"Don't keep from it," says she, sweetly; "go on dreaming about me as much as ever you like. I don't mind."
"But I might," says Luttrell, "when it was too late."
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1
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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plebeian
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| adj.粗俗的；平民的；n.平民；庶民 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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7
requiem
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| n.安魂曲，安灵曲 | |
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8
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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9
coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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10
cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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12
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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13
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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14
ostracism
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| n.放逐；排斥 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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harmonious
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| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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flecks
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| n.斑点，小点( fleck的名词复数 )；癍 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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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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flora
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| n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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22
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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23
snipping
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| n.碎片v.剪( snip的现在分词 ) | |
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24
heartiest
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| 亲切的( hearty的最高级 )； 热诚的； 健壮的； 精神饱满的 | |
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25
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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26
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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27
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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28
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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29
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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30
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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31
forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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32
recollecting
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| v.记起，想起( recollect的现在分词 ) | |
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33
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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34
persistency
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| n. 坚持(余辉, 时间常数) | |
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35
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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36
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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