Grandmother Derwent had contrived1 to purchase implements2 for spinning and weaving the coarse cloth, which constituted the principal clothing of the settlers. The inhabitants gave her plenty of work, and produce from her farm supplied her household with grain and vegetables.
Even the little girls, who under many circumstances would have been a burden, were in reality an assistance to her.
Jane was a bright and beautiful child, with dark silky hair, pleasant eyes, and lips like the damp petals3 of a red rose. She was, withal, a tidy, active little maiden4, and, as Mrs. Derwent was wont5 to say, “saved grandma a great many steps” by running to the spring for water, winding6 quills7, and doing what Miss Sedgwick calls the “odds and ends of housework.”
Jane led a pleasant life on the island. She was a frank, mirthful creature, and it suited her to paddle her canoe on the bosom8 of the river, or even to urge it down the current, when “grandma” wanted a piece of cloth carried to the village, or was anxious to procure9 tea and other delicacies10 for her household.
When Mrs. Derwent’s quill-box was full, and “the work all done up,” Jane might be found clambering among the wild rocks, which frowned along the eastern shore, looking over the face of some bold precipice11 at her image reflected in the stream below; or, perchance, perched in the foliage12 of a grape-vine, with her rosy13 face peering out from the leaves, and her 8laugh ringing merrily from cliff to cliff, while her little hands showered down the purple clusters to her sister below.
Such was Jane Derwent, at the age of fourteen; but poor little Mary Derwent! nature grew more and more cruel to her. While each year endowed her sister with new beauty and unclouded cheerfulness, she, poor delicate thing, was kept instinctively15 from the notice of her fellow-creatures. The inmates16 of that little cabin could not bear that strange eyes should gaze on her deformity—for it was this deformity which had ever made the child an object of such tender interest.
From her infancy17 the little girl had presented a strange mixture of the hideous18 and the beautiful. Her oval face, with its marvellous symmetry of features, might have been the original from which Dubufe drew the chaste19 and heavenly features of Eve, in his picture of the “Temptation.” The same sweetness and purity was there, but the expression was chastened and melancholy20. Her soft blue eyes were always sad, and almost always moist; the lashes21 drooped22 over them, an expression of languid misery23. A smile seldom brightened her mouth—the same mournful expression of hopelessness sat forever on that calm, white forehead; the faint color would often die away from her cheek, but it seldom deepened there.
Mary was fifteen before any person supposed her conscious of her horrible malformation, or was aware of the deep sensitiveness of her nature. The event which brought both to life occurred a few years after the death of her father. Both the children had been sent to school, and her first trial came on the clearing, before the little log schoolhouse of the village. Mary was chosen into the centre of the merry ring by Edward Clark, a bright-eyed, handsome boy, with manners bold and frank almost to carelessness.
The kind-hearted boy drew her gently into the ring, 9and joined the circle, without the laugh and joyous24 bound which usually accompanied his movements. There was an instinctive14 feeling of delicacy25 and tenderness towards the little girl which forbade all boisterous26 merriment when she was by his side. It was her turn to select a partner; she extended her hand timidly towards a boy somewhat older than herself—the son of a rich landholder in the valley; but young Wintermoot drew back with an insulting laugh, and refused to stand up with the hunchback.
Instantly the ring was broken up. Edward Clark leaped forward, and with a blow, rendered powerful by honest indignation, smote27 the insulter to the ground. For one moment Mary looked around bewildered, as if she did not comprehend the nature of the taunt28; then the blood rushed up to her face, her soft blue eyes blazed with a sudden flash of fire, the little hand was clenched29, and her distorted form dilated30 with passion. Instantly the blood flowed back upon her heart, her white lips closed over her clenched teeth, and she fell forward with her face upon the ground, as one stricken by unseen lightning.
The group gathered around her, awe31-stricken and afraid. They could not comprehend this fearful burst of passion in a creature habitually32 so gentle and sweet-tempered. It seemed as if the insolent33 boy had crushed her to death with a sneer34.
Her brave defender35 knelt and raised her head to his bosom, tears of generous indignation still lingered on his burning cheek, and his form shook with scarcely abated36 excitement.
At length Mary Derwent arose with the calmness of a hushed storm upon her face, and turning to her inevitable37 solitude38 walked silently away.
There was something terrible in the look of anguish39 with which she left her companions, taking, as it were, a silent and eternal farewell of all the joys that belong 10to childhood. The coarse taunt of the boy had been a cruel revelation, tearing away all the tender shields and loving delusions40 with which home-affection had so long sheltered her. She did not know what meaning lay in the word hunchback, but felt, with a sting of unutterable shame, that it was applied41 to her because she was unlike other girls. That she must never be loved as they were—never hope to be one of them again.
The school-children looked on this intense passion with silent awe. Even Jane dared not utter the sympathy that filled her eyes with tears, or follow after her sister.
So with terror and shame at the cruel discovery at her heart, Mary went away. The blood throbbed42 in her temples and rushed hotly through all her veins43. An acute sense of wrong seized upon her, and thirsting to be alone she fled to the woods like a hunted animal, recoiling44 alike from her playfellows and her home.
Through the thick undergrowth and over wild rocks the poor creature tore her way, struggling and panting amid the thorny45 brushwood, as if life and death depended upon her progress.
A striped squirrel ran along the boughs46 of a chestnut48-tree and peered down upon her from among the long green leaves and tassel-like blossoms. A flush came to her beautiful forehead, and with a cry that seemed in itself a pang49, she tore up a stone to fling at it. The squirrel started away, uttering a broken noise that fell upon her sore heart like a taunt. Why did the little creature follow her? Why did it bend those sharp, black eyes upon her, with its head turned so mockingly upon one side? Was she never to be alone? Was the cruel animal still gibing50 at her through the chestnut-leaves?
The squirrel darted51 from bough47 to bough, and at last ran down the trunk of the chestnut. Mary followed it with eager glances till her eyes fell upon the 11root of the tree. The stone dropped from her hand, the angry color fled from her face, and stretching out her arms with a cry that perished on her lips she waited for the missionary52 to descend53.
He came rather quickly, and the gentle serenity54 of his countenance55 was disturbed, but still a look of unutterable goodness rested upon it. When he reached Mary her eyes were flooded with tears, and she trembled from head to foot. His sympathy she could endure. His very look had opened the purest fountains of her heart again. She was not altogether alone.
“Crying, Mary, crying?” he said, in a tone of inquiry56, rather than of reproach. “Who has taught you to weep?”
“Oh! father, father, what can I do? Where can I hide myself?” cried the poor girl, lifting her clasped hands piteously upward.
The missionary saw it all. For a moment the color left his lips, and his eyes were full of trouble to their azure57 depths. He sat down by her side, and drew her gently towards him.
“And this has driven you so far from home?” he said, smoothing her hair with one hand, which trembled among the golden tresses, for never had his sympathies been drawn58 more powerfully forth59. “Who has done this cruel thing, Mary?”
“Was it your playfellows at school?”
“I shall never have playfellows again,” broke from the trembling lips which seemed torn apart by the desolating61 words; “never again, for where does another girl like me live in the world? God has made no playfellow for me!”
The missionary allowed her to weep. He knew that a world of bitterness would be carried from her bosom with those tears.
12“But God has made us for something better than playfellows to each other,” he said at last, taking her little hand in his.
She looked at him wistfully, and answered with unutterable sadness, “But I cannot be even that; I am alone!”
“No,” answered the missionary, “not alone—not alone, though you never heard another human voice—even here in the deep woods you would find something to love and help, too—never think yourself alone, Mary, while any creature that God has made is near.”
“But who will love me? Who will help me?” cried the girl, with a burst of anguish.
“Who will love you, Mary! Do not I love you? Does not your grandmother and sister love you?”
“But now—now that they know about this—that I am a hunchback, it will be all over.”
“But they have known it, Mary, ever since you were a little child. Well, well! we must not talk about it, but think how much every one at home has loved you.”
“And they knew it all—they saw it while I was blind, and loved me still,” murmured the girl, while great tears of gratitude62 rolled down her cheeks, “and they will love me always just the same—you promise me this?”
“Always the same, Mary!”
“Yes, yes—I see they have loved me always, more than if I were ever so beautiful—they were sorry for me; I understand!” There was a sting of bitterness in her voice. The love which came from compassion63 wounded her.
“But our Saviour64 loves his creatures most for this very reason. Their imperfections and feebleness appeal like an unuttered prayer to him. It is a beautiful love, Mary, that which strength gives to dependence65, 13for it approaches nearest to that heavenly benevolence66 which the true soul always thirsts for.”
Mary lifted her eyes to his face as he spoke67. The unshed tears trembled like diamonds within them. She became very thoughtful, and drooped slowly downward, coloring faintly beneath his eyes, as maidens68 sometimes blush at their own innocent thoughts when nothing but the eye of God is upon them.
“But there is another love, my father; I have seen it at the school and in the cabins, I have watched it as I have the mountain flowers, and thought that God meant this love for me, like the rest; but when I go among other girls, no one will ever think that I am one of them—no one but Edward Clark, and he only feels pity-love for me; to all the rest I am a hunchback.”
A look of great trouble came upon the face of the missionary. For some moments he did not answer, and the poor girl drooped by his side. The blush faded from the snow of her forehead, and she trembled all over with vague shame of the words she had spoken. His silence seemed like a reproach to her.
“My child!”—oh! with what holy sweetness the words fell from his lips—“my child, it is true; this love must never be yours.”
“Never!” echoed the pale lips of the child. “Never!”
“This dream of love, give it up, Mary, while it is but a dream,” added the missionary, in a firmer voice. “To many more than yourself it is a hope never, never realized. Do not struggle for it—do not pine for it—God help you! child—God help us all!”
The anguish in his voice thrilled her to the soul. She bent69 her forehead meekly70 to his knee, murmuring:
“I will try to be patient—but, oh! do not look at me so mournfully.”
He laid his hands softly under her forehead, and, 14lifting her face to his gazed mournfully upon it, as if his soul were looking far away through her eyes into the dim past.
“Father, believe me, I will try.”
His hands dropped downward at the sound of her voice, and his lips began to move, as if unuttered words were passing through them. Mary knew that he was praying, and her face drooped reverently71 downward. When or how this silence broke into words she never knew, but over her soul went the burning eloquence72 of his voice, carried heavenward by prayer—by the wind, and the rush of the mountain stream. The very breath lay still upon her lips as she listened, and she felt more like a winged angel close to the gate of heaven than the poor deformed73 girl, whose soul had, a few hours before, been so full of bitterness.
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1
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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2
implements
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| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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3
petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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4
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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5
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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6
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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7
quills
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| n.（刺猬或豪猪的）刺( quill的名词复数 )；羽毛管；翮；纡管 | |
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8
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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9
procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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10
delicacies
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| n.棘手( delicacy的名词复数 )；精致；精美的食物；周到 | |
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11
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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12
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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13
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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14
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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15
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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16
inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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17
infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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18
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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19
chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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21
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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22
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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24
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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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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26
boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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27
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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28
taunt
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| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
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29
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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32
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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33
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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34
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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35
defender
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| n.保卫者，拥护者，辩护人 | |
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36
abated
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| 减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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37
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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38
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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39
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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40
delusions
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| n.欺骗( delusion的名词复数 )；谬见；错觉；妄想 | |
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41
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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42
throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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43
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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44
recoiling
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| v.畏缩( recoil的现在分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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45
thorny
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| adj.多刺的，棘手的 | |
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46
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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47
bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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48
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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49
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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50
gibing
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| adj.讥刺的，嘲弄的v.嘲笑，嘲弄( gibe的现在分词 ) | |
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51
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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52
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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53
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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54
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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55
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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56
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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57
azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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58
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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59
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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60
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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61
desolating
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| 毁坏( desolate的现在分词 )； 极大地破坏； 使沮丧； 使痛苦 | |
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62
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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63
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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64
saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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65
dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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66
benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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67
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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68
maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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69
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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70
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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71
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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72
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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73
deformed
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| adj.畸形的；变形的；丑的，破相了的 | |
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