The next day, when Vance got out of the train at Paul’s Landing, the old horses in the broken-down carry-alls were still standing1 in the station square, shaking their heads despondently2.
He jumped on board a passing trolley3 and was carried out of the town. At the foot of a familiar lane overhung by bare maple4 boughs5 he got out and began to climb to the Willows6. Laura Lou had said she would bring the key of the gate with her. She couldn’t let him into the house, she explained: since the theft of the books (which had been brought back, as she supposed Vance knew) Mrs. Tracy had kept the house key hidden away where no one could get it. But Vance was determined7 at least to see the garden and the outside of the house again, and the day was so windless and mild that they would be able to sit in the sun on the verandah. He wanted to relive his first visit to the Willows, when he had accompanied Laura Lou and Upton, and had lingered spellbound in the library while Laura Lou, her hair covered with a towel, went off with Upton to dust and air the rooms. That day Vance had hardly noticed her, had felt her presence only as that of a tiresome8 schoolgirl, butting9 in where she wasn’t wanted, like his own sisters, Pearl and Mae — especially Pearl. And now —!
She was at the gate already; he caught sight of her through the branches, in the powdery gold of the autumn light. She waved to him, and opened the gate; and he followed her in. “No, you mustn’t!” she whispered, as his arms went out, and added, laughing: “With all the leaves off the bushes — and that hired man around.”
“Curse the hired man! Can’t we go and talk quietly somewhere?”
He was looking at her as though to store up the sight against a coming separation, and yet he knew already that he never meant to leave her again. “Can’t I hold your hand, at least?” he asked, awed11 by something so tender and immature12 in her that it curbed13 his impetuousness.
“Oh, well — ” she conceded; and hand in hand, like two children, they began to walk toward the house. Barely screened by its tracery of leafless willows it stood out more prominent and turreted14 than he had remembered; but if less romantic, it still seemed to him as mysterious. Treading noiselessly on the rain~flattened yellowish grass they passed around to the other front, where the projecting verandah and obliquely15 set balconies, clutched in the bare gnarled arms of the wistaria, stood out like the torso of an old Laoco?n.
A few oaks still held their foliage16, and the evergreen17 clumps18 stood out blue-black and solid. But the fall of the leaves revealed, at the end of a path, a rickety trellised arbour which Vance had never before noticed. “Let’s go and sit there.” They crossed the wet cobwebby lawn and entered the arbour. The old hired man was nowhere to be seen, and Vance drew Laura Lou to him and laid his lips on her eyelids19. “Ever since yesterday I’ve wanted to kiss your eyes.” She laughed under her breath, and they sat close to each other on the mouldy bench.
“You never used to take any notice of me in old times,” she said; and he answered: “I was nothing but a blind puppy then. Puppies are all born blind . . . .” He wanted to let his kiss glide20 down to her lips, but she put him from her. The gentleness of her touch controlled him; but he whispered rebelliously21: “Why — why?”
She answered that all she had promised was to come and talk things over with him, and he mustn’t tease, or she’d have to go away; and why couldn’t they just sit there quietly, when there was so much to say and so little time? He hardly heard what she said, but there was a power in her softness — or in her beauty, perhaps — which held him subdued22. “Your hand, then —?” “Yes.” She gave it back, with one of those smiles which made her mouth like the inside of a flower. Oh, idle metaphors23! . . .
“Now tell me.” And she told him how upset her mother had been when he went away so suddenly (“She never meant you to, Vance — but she got frightened . . . .”), and how surprised they were when the basket of flowers with the dove was brought the next day, and how Mrs. Tracy had first been angry, and said: “Is he crazy?” and then cried, and said: “But he must have spent all the money I gave him back,” and then been angry again because she was so sure he’d be the cause of their losing their job at the Willows — and they did lose it, and only got it back after Miss Halo had intervened, and the books were returned, and old Mr. Lorburn had been quieted down again. (“But the dove was lovely, Vance. I’ve got it over my looking glass . . . .”) And at the thought of this miraculous24 reward he had to clench25 her hand hard to keep himself from warmer endearments26. How little he had dreamed, when he bought it, that the dove would be Venus’s messenger!
She went on to say that things had been very hard for a time, because they had been out of their job for six months. It wasn’t so much the money, though they needed that too; he gathered that Mrs. Tracy’s pride had been wounded, and that she had declared, when Miss Halo tried to fix it up, that it was no use, as she would never let her children go back to the Willows if they had forfeited27 their cousin’s confidence. But Miss Halo always somehow managed to put things right, and had finally persuaded Mrs. Tracy to relent; and she had continued to help them after that, and had found a fine situation for Upton as undergardener with some friends of hers who had a big place at Tarrytown. So everything was going better now; and she, Laura Lou, was at Saint Elfrida’s School, at Peapack, for a six months’ course, to learn French and literature and a little music — because her mother wanted her to be educated, like her father’s folks were . . . .
Laura Lou was not endowed with the narrative28 gift; only bit by bit, in answer to Vance’s questions (when he was not too absorbed in her to put any) did she manage, in fragmentary communications, to bridge over the interval29 which had turned the gawky girl into the miracle of young womanhood before him.
When she wanted to hear what had happened to him since they had parted he found it even harder to tell his story than to piece hers together. While she talked he could spin about her a silken cocoon30 of revery, made out of her soft drawl, the throb31 of her hand, the fruitlike curve of her cheeks and eyelids; but when he tried to withdraw his attention from her long enough to put his words in order he lost himself in a blur32. . . . Really, he said, nothing much had happened to him, nothing that he specially10 remembered. He’d been a reporter in the principal Euphoria newspaper, and hated it; and he had taken a post-graduate course in philosophy and literature at the state college; but the lecturers somehow didn’t get hold of him. Reading in a library was what suited him, he guessed. (Her lashes33 were planted like the double row of microscopic34 hummingbird35 feathers in a South American embroidery36 he’d seen somewhere . . . .) But Euphoria was over and done with; he’d got a job in New York . . . a job on a swell37 magazine, a literary review they called it, but they published short stories too, they’d already published one of his, and wanted as many more as he could write . . . and the editor, Lewis Tarrant, had written to him to come to New York . . . .
“Lewis Tarrant! But he’s the one Miss Halo married!” Laura Lou exclaimed.
“Did she?” Vance absently rejoined. All his attention was on her hands now; he was separating the fingers one by one, lifting them up and watching them drop back, as though he were playing on some fairy instrument. He hardly noticed the mention of Halo Spear.
“Why, didn’t you know? They were married the year you went away, I guess. I know it was ever so long ago.”
“Does it seem to you ever so long since I went away?”
“Oh, Vance, I’ve told you you mustn’t . . . or I’ll have to go . . . .”
He drew back, dropping her hands, and restricting himself to the more delicate delight of looking at her. “What’s the use of trying to write poetry, when she IS?” he mused38. Yet in another moment he was again seeking rhymes and metaphors for her. He tried to explain to himself what it was that kept him thus awestruck and submissive, as if there were a latent majesty39 in her sweetness. With that girl on Thundertop it had been different; the shock of ideas, the stimulus40 of the words she used, the allusions41 she made, the sense of an unknown world of beauty and imagination widening about him as she talked — all this had subdued his blood while it set his brain on fire. But when Laura Lou spoke42 she became a child to him again. His allusions to his literary plans and ambitions filled her eyes with a radiant sympathy, but evoked43 nothing more definite than: “Isn’t that too lovely, Vance?” Yet his feeling for her was not the sensual hunger excited by girls like Floss Delaney. It was restrained by something new in this tender creature; as if the contending elements of body and soul were so harmonized in her that to look at her was almost to clasp her.
But the air grew chilly44; Vance noticed that she had turned paler; she coughed once or twice. The instinct of protection woke in him. “See here, we mustn’t go on sitting here till you catch cold. Where’ll we go? Why don’t we walk back to the town to warm ourselves up, and have a cup of hot coffee before I catch my train?” She assented45, and they turned toward the gate. As Laura Lou stooped to the padlock Vance looked back yearningly46 at the old house. “We’ll come here often now, won’t we?”
The gate had closed on them, and Laura Lou walked on a few steps before answering. “Oh, I don’t know about coming again, Vance. I had hard work getting the key out of Mother’s drawer without her seeing me. . . . Besides, I’m not here weekdays; I’m at school.”
“Your mother can’t object to our coming here after we’re married,” Vance tranquilly47 rejoined.
“Married?” she stood still in the lane and looked at him with wide incredulous eyes. Her pale pink lips began to tremble. “Why, how can we be, Vance?”
“Why can’t we be, I’d like to know? I’ll be earning enough soon.” (He was sincerely convinced of it.) “See here, Laura Lou, I want to begin life in New York married to you. I’m coming out to tell your mother and Upton about it tomorrow. You won’t go back to school till Monday, will you? Can I come out early tomorrow, and have dinner with you?”
A shade of apprehension48 crossed her face. “Oh, Vance darling — not tomorrow.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s Sunday, and Sunday’s Bunty’s day.” She made the statement with a sort of tragic49 simplicity50, as a fact to be neither disguised nor eluded51.
“Bunty’s day?” Wrath52 descended53 on him like a thunderclap. “How dare you, after this afternoon — how dare you speak to me as if you belonged to that fellow and not to me? Don’t you know we’re each other’s forever, Laura Lou? Say you do — say you’ve always known it!” he commanded her.
“Well, I WAS engaged to him,” she murmured, with her gentle obstinacy54.
“If you were, you’re not now. How could your mother ever have let you go with a fellow like that anyhow? She thought poorly enough of him when I was with you.”
“Well, she didn’t fancy him at first; she thought he was a bad companion for Upton. But you don’t know how changed he is, Vance. He helped Mother when she lost her job here; and it’s him who’s paying for my year at Saint Elfrida’s. You see, he’s real cultured himself, and he wants I should be cultured too, so that by and by we can take those personally conducted parties to Europe for one of the big travel bureaus, and earn a lot of money. That’s what first reconciled Mother to him, I guess, his being so cultured. She’s always wanted I should marry somebody in the same class as Father’s.”
Vance stood listening in a tumult55 of anger and amazement56. He had never heard her say as much at one time, and every word she spoke was pure anguish57 to him. He had the same sense of the world’s essential vileness58 as had swept over him that day by the Crampton riverside. Life tasted like cinders59 on his lips. At length his indignation broke out in a burst of scattered60 ejaculations. “He’s been paying for you at school — that lowdown waster? Laura Lou, you don’t know what you’re saying! Culture — him? In your father’s class? Oh, God! You’d make me laugh if it wasn’t so sickening. . . . I’m coming back to see your mother tomorrow whether you want me or not — understand? And if that Hayes fellow wants to come too, let him. I’ll be there to talk to him. And I’ll work day and night till I pay him back what he’s paid your mother for you. And you’ve got to leave that school tomorrow, Laura Lou . . . do you hear me?”
“No, no, Vance.” Her little pale face had grown curiously61 resolute62, and her voice too. “You mustn’t come tomorrow — it would kill me if you did. You must give me time . . . you must do as I tell you . . . .”
“What ARE you telling me? That I’m not to see you till it suits this gentleman’s convenience? Is that it?”
Her head drooped63, and there was a glitter of tears on her lashes; but in a moment she looked up, and her gaze rested full on his. “Vance, if you’ll give me your promise not to come tomorrow I’ll promise to go and see you next week in New York. I’ll slip off somehow. . . . Because now, Vance,” she cried, “whatever happens, I’ll never marry anybody but you — never, never, not even if we have to wait for each other years and years.”
Dizzy with joy, he stood looking at her as if he were looking into the sun; then he caught her to him, and their youth and passion flowed together like spring streams. “Laura Lou . . . Laura Lou . . . Only we won’t wait any years and years,” he cried; for at that moment it really seemed to him that achievement lay in his hand.
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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despondently
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| adv.沮丧地，意志消沉地 | |
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trolley
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| n.手推车，台车；无轨电车；有轨电车 | |
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maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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butting
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| 用头撞人（犯规动作） | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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immature
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| adj.未成熟的，发育未全的，未充分发展的 | |
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curbed
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| v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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turreted
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| a.(像炮塔般)旋转式的 | |
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obliquely
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| adv.斜； 倾斜； 间接； 不光明正大 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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evergreen
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| n.常青树；adj.四季常青的 | |
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clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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rebelliously
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| adv.造反地，难以控制地 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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metaphors
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| 隐喻( metaphor的名词复数 ) | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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clench
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| vt.捏紧（拳头等），咬紧（牙齿等），紧紧握住 | |
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endearments
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| n.表示爱慕的话语，亲热的表示( endearment的名词复数 ) | |
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forfeited
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| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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cocoon
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| n.茧 | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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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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microscopic
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| adj.微小的，细微的，极小的，显微的 | |
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hummingbird
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| n.蜂鸟 | |
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embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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allusions
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| 暗指，间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
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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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evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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yearningly
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| 怀念地，思慕地，同情地； 渴 | |
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tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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51
eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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53
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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vileness
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| n.讨厌，卑劣 | |
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cinders
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| n.煤渣( cinder的名词复数 )；炭渣；煤渣路；煤渣跑道 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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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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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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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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