There was one watcher of all this, and one listener, outside of the Yellow House, that none of the party suspected, and that was Henry Lord, Ph.D.
When he left Mrs. Carey at the gate at five o'clock, he went back to his own house and ordered his supper to be brought him on a tray in his study. He particularly liked this, always, as it freed him from all responsibility of serving his children, and making an occasional remark; and as a matter of fact everybody was as pleased as he when he ate alone, the occasional meals Olive and Cyril had by themselves being the only ones they ever enjoyed or digested.
He studied and wrote and consulted heavy tomes, and walked up and down the room, and pulled out colored plates from portfolios1, all with great satisfaction until he chanced to look at the clock when it struck ten. He had forgotten to send for the children as he had promised Mother Carey! He went out into the hall and called Mrs. Bangs in a stentorian2 voice. No answer. Irritated, as he always was when crossed in the slightest degree, he went downstairs and found the kitchen empty.
"Her cub3 of a nephew has been staying to supper with her, guzzling4 and cramming5 himself at my expense," he thought, "and now she has walked home with him! It's perfect nonsense to go after a girl of sixteen and a boy of thirteen. As if they couldn't walk along a country road at ten o'clock! Still, it may look odd if some one doesn't go, and I can't lock the house till they come, anyway."
He drew on his great coat, put on his cap, and started down the lane in no good humor. It was a crisp, starlight night and the ground was freezing fast. He walked along, his hands in his pockets, his head bent6. As he went through the gate to the main road he glanced up. The Yellow House, a third of a mile distant, was a blaze of light! There must have been a candle or a lamp in every one of its windows, he thought. The ground rose a little where the house stood, and although it could not be seen in summer because of the dense7 foliage8 everywhere, the trees were nearly bare now.
"My handsome neighbor is extravagant," he said to himself with a grim smile. "Is the illumination for Thanksgiving, I wonder? Oh, no, I remember she said the party was in the nature of a housewarming."
As he went up the pathway he saw that the shades were up and no curtains drawn9 anywhere. The Yellow House had no intention of hiding its lights under bushels that evening, of all others; besides, there were no neighbors within a long distance.
Standing10 on the lowest of the governor's "circ'lar steps" he could see the corner where the group stood singing, with shining faces:--
"Once more the liberal year laughs out
O'er richer stores than gems11 or gold."
Mother Carey's fine head rose nobly from her simple black dress, and her throat was as white as the deep lace collar that was her only ornament12.
Nancy he knew by sight, and Nancy in a crimson13 dress was singing her thankful heart out. Who was the dark-haired girl standing by her side, the two with arms round each other's waists,--his own Olive! He had always thought her unattractive, but her hair was smoothly14 braided and her eyes all aglow15. Cyril stood between Gilbert and Mother Carey. Cyril, he knew, could not carry a tune16 to save his life, but he seemed to be opening his lips and uttering words all the same. Where was the timid eye, the "hangdog look," the shrinking manner, he so disliked in his son? Great Heavens! the boy laid his hand on Mrs. Carey's shoulder and beat time there gently with a finger, as if a mother's shoulder could be used for any nice, necessary sort of purpose.
If he knocked at the door now, he thought, he should interrupt the party; which was seemingly at its height. He, Henry Lord, Ph.D., certainly had no intention of going in to join it, not with Ossian Popham and Bill Harmon as fellow guests.
He made his way curiously17 around the outside of the house, looking in at all the windows, and by choosing various positions, seeing as much as he could of the different rooms. Finally he went up on the little back piazza18, attracted by the firelight in the family sitting room. There was a noble fire, and once, while he was looking, Digby Popham stole quietly in, braced19 up the logs with a proprietary20 air, swept up the hearth21, replaced the brass22 wire screen, and stole out again as quickly as possible, so that he might not miss too much of the party.
"They seem to feel pretty much at home," thought Mr. Lord.
The fire blazed higher and brighter. It lighted up certain words painted in dark green and gold on the white panel under the mantelpiece. He pressed his face quite close to the window, thinking that he must be mistaken in seeing such unconnected letters as T-i-b-i, but gradually they looked clearer to him and he read distinctly "Tibi splendet focus."
"Somebody knows his Horace," thought Henry Lord, Ph.D., as he stumbled off the piazza. "'For you the hearth-fire glows,' I shan't go in; not with that crew; let them wait; and if it gets too late, somebody else will walk home with the children."
"For you the hearth-fire glows."
He picked his way along the side of the house to the front, every window sending out its candle gleam.
"For you the hearth-fire glows."
From dozens of windows the welcome shone. Its gleams and sparkles positively23 pursued him as he turned his face towards the road and his own dark, cheerless house. Perhaps he had better, on the whole, keep one lamp burning in the lower part after this, to show that the place was inhabited?
"For you the hearth-fire glows."
He had "bricked up" the fireplace in his study and put an air-tight stove in, because it was simply impossible to feed an open fire and write a book at the same time. He didn't know that you could write twice as good a book in half the time with an open fire to help you! He didn't know any single one of the myriad24 aids that can come to you from such cheery, unexpected sources of grace and inspiration!
"For you the hearth-fire glows."
Would the words never stop ringing in his ears? Perhaps, after all, it would look queer to Mrs. Carey (he cared nothing for Popham or Harmon opinion) if he left the children to get home by themselves. Perhaps--
"FOR YOU THE HEARTH-FIRE GLOWS."
Henry Lord, Ph.D., ascended25 the steps, and plied26 the knocker. Digby Popham came out of the parlor27 and opened the front door.
Everybody listened to see who was the late comer at the party.
"Will you kindly28 tell Miss Olive and Master Cyril Lord that their father has called for them?"
Mr. Lord's cold, severe voice sounded clearly in the parlor, and every word could be distinctly heard.
Gilbert and Nancy were standing together, and Gilbert whispered instantly to his sister: "The old beast has actually called for Olive and Cyril!"
"Hush29, Gilly! He must be a 'new beast' or he wouldn't have come at all!" answered Nancy.
1 portfolios | |
n.投资组合( portfolio的名词复数 );(保险)业务量;(公司或机构提供的)系列产品;纸夹 | |
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2 stentorian | |
adj.大声的,响亮的 | |
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3 cub | |
n.幼兽,年轻无经验的人 | |
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4 guzzling | |
v.狂吃暴饮,大吃大喝( guzzle的现在分词 ) | |
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5 cramming | |
n.塞满,填鸭式的用功v.塞入( cram的现在分词 );填塞;塞满;(为考试而)死记硬背功课 | |
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6 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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7 dense | |
a.密集的,稠密的,浓密的;密度大的 | |
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8 foliage | |
n.叶子,树叶,簇叶 | |
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9 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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10 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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11 gems | |
growth; economy; management; and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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12 ornament | |
v.装饰,美化;n.装饰,装饰物 | |
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13 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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14 smoothly | |
adv.平滑地,顺利地,流利地,流畅地 | |
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15 aglow | |
adj.发亮的;发红的;adv.发亮地 | |
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16 tune | |
n.调子;和谐,协调;v.调音,调节,调整 | |
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17 curiously | |
adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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18 piazza | |
n.广场;走廊 | |
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19 braced | |
adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 );撑牢;使自己站稳;振作起来 | |
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20 proprietary | |
n.所有权,所有的;独占的;业主 | |
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21 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
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22 brass | |
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器 | |
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23 positively | |
adv.明确地,断然,坚决地;实在,确实 | |
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24 myriad | |
adj.无数的;n.无数,极大数量 | |
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25 ascended | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26 plied | |
v.使用(工具)( ply的过去式和过去分词 );经常供应(食物、饮料);固定往来;经营生意 | |
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27 parlor | |
n.店铺,营业室;会客室,客厅 | |
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28 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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29 hush | |
int.嘘,别出声;n.沉默,静寂;v.使安静 | |
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