Love is made a vague regret,
Eyes with idle tears are wet."
—The Miller's Daughter.
It is evening; the shadows are swiftly gathering2. Already the dusk—sure herald3 of night—is here. Above in the trees the birds are crooning their last faint songs and ruffling4 their feathers on their night-perches.
How short the days have grown! Even into the very morning of sweet September there has fallen a breath of winter,—a chill, cold breath that tells us summer lies behind.
Luttrell, with downcast eyes and embittered5 heart, tramples6 through the same green wood (now, alas7, fuller of fallen leaves) where first, at Herst, he and Molly re-met.
With a temperament8 as warm but less hopeful than hers, he sees the imaginary end that lies before him and his beloved. She has forsaken9 him, she is the bride of another,—that other is Shadwell. She is happy with him. This last thought, strange to say, is the unkindest cut of all.
He has within his hand a stout10 stick he took from a tree as he walked along; at this point of the proceeding11 he breaks it in two and flings it to one side. Happy! away from him, with perhaps only a jesting recollection of all the sweet words, the tender thoughts he has bestowed12 upon her! The thought is agony; and, if so, what will the reality be?
At all events he need not witness it. He will throw up his commission, and go abroad,—that universal refuge for broken hearts; though why we must intrude14 our griefs and low spirits and general unpleasantnesses upon our foreign neighbors is a subject not yet sufficiently15 canvassed16. It seems so unkind toward our foreign neighbors.
A rather shaky but consequently picturesque17 bridge stretches across a little stream that slowly, lovingly babbles18 through this part of the wood. Leaning upon its parapet, Luttrell gives himself up a prey19 to gloomiest forebodings, and with the utmost industry calls up before him all the most miserable20 possibilities. He has reached the verge21 of suicide,—in a moment more (in his "mind's eye") he will be over, when a delicious voice behind him says, demurely22:
"May I pass, please?"
It is Molly: such a lovely Molly!—such a naughty unrepentant, winsome23 Molly, with the daintiest and widest of straw hats, twined with wild flowers, thrown somewhat recklessly toward the back of her head.
"I am sorry to disturb you," says this apparition24, gazing at him unflinchingly with big, innocent eyes, "but I do not think there is room on this bridge for two to pass."
Luttrell instantly draws his tall, slight, handsome figure to its fullest height, and, without looking at her, literally25 crushes himself against the frail26 railing behind him, lest by any means he should touch her as she passes. But she seems in no hurry to pass.
"It is my opinion," she says, in a matter-of-fact tone of warning, "that those wooden railings have seen their best days; and if you try them much harder you will find, if not a watery27 grave, at all events an exceedingly moist coat."
There is so much truth in this remark that Luttrell sees the wisdom of abstaining28 from further trial of their strength, and, falling into an easier position, makes as though he too would leave the bridge by the side from which she came on it. This brings them nearly face to face.
Now, dear reader, were you ever in the middle of a crossing, eager to reach the other side of the street? And did you ever meet anybody coming toward you on that crossing, also anxious to reach his other side of the street? And did you ever find yourself and that person politely dancing before each other for a minute or so, debarring each other's progress, because, unhappily, both your thoughts led you in the same direction? And did you ever feel an irresistible29 desire to stop short and laugh aloud in that person's face? Because now all this happens to Molly and Luttrell.
Each appears full of a dignified30 haste to quit the other's society. Molly steps to the right, so does Luttrell to the left, at the very same instant; Luttrell, with angry correction of his first movement, steps again to his first position, and so, without pausing, does Molly. Each essay only leaves them as they began, looking fair into each other's eyes. When this has happened three times, Molly stops short and bursts into a hearty31 laugh.
"Do try to stay still for one second," she says, with a smile, "and then perhaps we shall manage it. Thank you."
Then, being angry with herself, for her mistaken merriment, like a true woman she vents13 her displeasure upon him.
"I suppose you knew I was coming here this evening," she exclaims, with ridiculous injustice32, "and followed to spoil any little peace I might have?"
"I did not know you were coming here. Had I known it——"
A pause.
"Well,"—imperiously,—"why do you hesitate? Say the unkind thing. I hate innuendoes33. Had you known it——"
"I should certainly have gone the other way." Coldly: "Meanly as you may think of me, I have not fallen so low that I should seek to annoy you by my presence."
"Then without doubt you have come to this quiet place searching for solitude34, in which to think out all your hard thoughts of me."
"I never think hardly of you, Molly."
Now, he might easily have abashed36 her at this point by asking "where was the necessity to think of her at all?" but there is an innate37 courtesy, a natural gentleness about Luttrell that utterly38 forbids him.
"And," goes on his tormentor40, the more angry that she cannot induce him to revile41 her, "I do not wish you to call me 'Molly' any more. Only those who—who love me call me by that name. Marcia and my grandfather (two people I detest) call me Eleanor. You can follow their example for the future."
"There will not be any future. I have been making up my mind, and—I shall sell out and go abroad immediately."
"Indeed!" There was a slight, a very slight, tremble in her saucy42 tones. "What a sudden determination! Well, I hope you will enjoy yourself. It is charming weather for a pleasure-trip."
"It is."
"You shouldn't lose much more time, however. Winter will soon be here; and it must be dismal43 in the extreme traveling in frost and snow."
"I assure you"—bitterly—"there is no occasion to hurry me. I am as anxious to go as ever you could desire."
"May I ask when you are going, and where?"
"No, you may not," cries he, at length fiercely goaded44 past endurance; "only, be assured of this: I am going as far from you as steam can take me; I am going where your fatal beauty and heartlessness cannot touch me; where I shall not be maddened day by day by your coquetry, and where perhaps—in time—I may learn to forget you."
His indignation has made him appear at least two inches taller than his ordinary six feet. His face is white as death, his lips are compressed beneath his blonde moustache, his dark blue eyes—not unlike Molly's own—are flashing fire.
"Thank you," says his companion, with exaggerated emphasis and a graceful45 curtsey; "thank you very much, Mr. Luttrell. I had no idea, when I lingered here for one little moment, I was going to hear so many home truths. I certainly do not want to hear any more."
"I would—only—perhaps you may not be aware of it, but you have your foot exactly on the very end of my gown."
Luttrell raises his foot and replaces it upon the shaking planks47 with something that strongly resembles a stamp,—so strongly as to make the treacherous48 bridge quake and tremble; while Molly moves slowly away from him until she reaches the very edge of their uncertain resting-place.
Here she pauses, glances backward, and takes another step, only to pause again,—this time with decision.
"Teddy," she says, softly.
No answer.
"Dear Teddy," more softly still.
No answer.
"Dearest Teddy."
Still no answer.
"Teddy—darling!" murmurs49 Molly, in the faintest, fondest tone, using toward him for the first time this tenderest of all tender love words.
In another moment his arms are around her, her head is on his breast. He is vanquished,—routed with slaughter50.
In the heart of this weak-minded, infatuated young man there lingers not the slightest thought of bitterness toward this girl who has caused him so many hours of torment39, and whose cool, soft cheek now rests contentedly52 against his.
"My love,—my own,—you do care for me a little?" he asks, in tones that tremble with gladness and sorrow, and disbelief.
"Of course, foolish boy." With a bright smile that revives him. "That is, at times, when you do not speak to me as though I were the fell destroyer of your peace or the veriest shrew that ever walked the earth. Sometimes, you know,"—with a sigh,—"you are a very uncomfortable Teddy."
She slips a fond warm arm around his shoulder and caresses53 the back of his neck with her soft fingers. Coquette she may be, flirt54 she is to her finger-tips, but nothing can take away from her lovableness. To Luttrell she is at this moment the most charming thing on which the sun ever shone.
"How can you be so unkind to me," he says, "so cold? Don't you know it breaks my heart?"
"I cold!" With reproachful wonder. "I unkind! Oh, Teddy! and what are you? Think of all you said to me yesterday and this morning; and now, now you called me a coquette! What could be worse than that? To say it of me, of all people! Ted,"—with much solemnity,—"stare at me,—stare hard,—and see do I look the very least bit in the world like a coquette?"
He does stare hard, and doing so forgets the question in hand, remembering only that her eyes, her lips, her hair are all the most perfect of their kind.
"My beloved," he whispers, caressingly55.
"It is all your own fault," goes on Circe, strong in argument. "When I provoke you I care nothing for Philip Shadwell, or your Mr. Potts, or any of them: but when you are uncivil to me, what am I to do? I am driven into speaking to some one, although I don't in the least care for general admiration56, as you well know."
He does not know; common sense forbids him to know; but she is telling her fibs with so much grace of feature and voice that he refuses to see her sin. He tries, therefore, to look as if he agreed with her, and succeeds very fairly.
"Then you did not mean anything you said?" he asks, eagerly.
"Not a syllable," says Molly. "Though even if I did you will forgive me, won't you? You always do forgive me, don't you?"
It would be impossible to describe the amount of pleading, sauciness57, coaxing58 she throws into the "won't you?" and "don't you?" holding up her face, too, and looking at him out of half-shut, laughing, violet eyes.
"I suppose so," he says, smiling. "So abject59 a subject have I become that I can no longer conceal60 even from myself the fact that you can wind me round your little finger."
He tightens61 his arm about her, and considering, I dare say, she owes him some return for so humble62 a speech—stoops as though to put his lips to hers.
"Not yet," she says, pressing her fingers against his mouth. "I have many things to say to you yet before—— For one, I am not a coquette?"
"No."
"And you are not going abroad to—forget me? Oh, Teddy!"
"If I went to the world's end I could not compass that. No, I shall not go abroad now."
"And"—half removing the barring fingers—"I am the dearest, sweetest, best Molly to be found anywhere?"
"Oh, darling! don't you know I think so?" says Luttrell, with passionate63 fondness.
"And you will never forgive yourself for making me so unhappy?"
"Never."
So their quarrel ends, as all her quarrels do, by every one being in the wrong except herself. It is their first bad quarrel; and although we are told "the falling out of faithful friends is but the renewal64 of love," still, believe me, each angry word creates a gap in the chain of love,—a gap that widens and ever widens more and more, until at length comes the terrible day when the cherished chain falls quite asunder65. A second coldness is so much easier than a first!
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1
fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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ruffling
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| 弄皱( ruffle的现在分词 )； 弄乱； 激怒； 扰乱 | |
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embittered
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| v.使怨恨，激怒( embitter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tramples
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| 踩( trample的第三人称单数 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vents
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| （气体、液体等进出的）孔、口( vent的名词复数 )； （鸟、鱼、爬行动物或小哺乳动物的）肛门； 大衣等的)衩口； 开衩 | |
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intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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canvassed
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| v.（在政治方面）游说( canvass的过去式和过去分词 )；调查（如选举前选民的）意见；为讨论而提出（意见等）；详细检查 | |
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17
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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18
babbles
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| n.胡言乱语( babble的名词复数 )；听不清的声音；乱哄哄的说话声v.喋喋不休( babble的第三人称单数 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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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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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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winsome
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| n.迷人的，漂亮的 | |
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apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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26
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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28
abstaining
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| 戒（尤指酒），戒除( abstain的现在分词 )； 弃权（不投票） | |
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29
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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32
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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33
innuendoes
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| n.影射的话( innuendo的名词复数 )；讽刺的话；含沙射影；暗讽 | |
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34
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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35
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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36
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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37
innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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39
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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tormentor
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| n. 使苦痛之人, 使苦恼之物, 侧幕 =tormenter | |
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41
revile
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| v.辱骂，谩骂 | |
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42
saucy
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| adj.无礼的；俊俏的；活泼的 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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44
goaded
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| v.刺激( goad的过去式和过去分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
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45
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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46
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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47
planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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48
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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49
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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50
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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51
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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52
contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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53
caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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54
flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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55
caressingly
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| 爱抚地，亲切地 | |
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56
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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57
sauciness
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| n.傲慢，鲁莽 | |
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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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abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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61
tightens
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| 收紧( tighten的第三人称单数 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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62
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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63
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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64
renewal
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| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
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asunder
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| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
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