Fortunately, Christmas preparations gave us no rest for the soles of our feet, and thus we had little time to moon about such things: in addition, uncle Jay–Jay was preparing for a trip, and fussed so that the whole place was kept in a state of ferment12.
We had fun, feasting, and company to no end on Christmas Day. There were bank clerks and young fellows out of offices from Gool–Gool, jackeroos and governesses in great force from neighbouring holdings, and we had a merry time.
On Boxing Day uncle Jay–Jay set out on a tour to New Zealand, intending to combine business with pleasure, as he meant to bring back some stud stock if he could make a satisfactory bargain. Boxing Day had fallen on a Saturday that year, and the last of our guests departed on Sunday morning. It was the first time we had had any quietude for many weeks, so in the afternoon I went out to swing in my hammock and meditate13 upon things in general. Taking with me a bountiful supply of figs14, apricots, and mulberries, I laid myself out for a deal of enjoyment15 in the cool dense16 shade under the leafy kurrajong — and cedar-trees.
To begin with, Harold Beecham was gone, and I missed him at every turn. I need not worry about being engaged to be married, as four years was a long, long time. Before that Harold might take a fancy to someone else, and leave me free; or he might die, or I might die, or we both might die, or fly, or cry, or sigh, or do one thing or another, and in the meantime that was not the only thing to occupy my mind: I had much to contemplate17 with joyful18 anticipation19.
Towards the end of February a great shooting and camping party, organized by grannie, was to take place. Aunt Helen, grannie, Frank Hawden, myself, and a number of other ladies and gentlemen, were going to have ten days or a fortnight in tents among the blue hills in the distance, which held many treasures in the shape of lyrebirds, musk20, ferns, and such scenery as would make the thing perfection. After this auntie and I were to have our three months’ holiday in Sydney, where, with Everard Grey in the capacity of showman, we were to see everything from Manly8 to Parramatta, the Cyclorama to the Zoo, the theatres to the churches, the restaurants to the jails, and from Anthony Hordern’s to Paddy’s Market. Who knows what might happen then? Everard had promised to have my talents tested by good judges. Might it not be possible for me to attain21 one of my ambitions — enter the musical profession? joyful dream! Might I not be able to yet assist Harold in another way than matrimony?
Yes, life was a pleasant thing to me now. I forgot all my wild unattainable ambitions in the little pleasures of everyday life. Such a thing as writing never entered my head. I occasionally dreamt out a little yarn22 which, had it appeared on paper, would have brimmed over with pleasure and love — in fact, have been redolent of life as I found it. It was nice to live in comfort, and among ladies and gentlemen — people who knew how to conduct themselves properly, and who paid one every attention without a bit of fear of being twitted with “laying the jam on”.
I ate another fig11 and apricot, a mulberry or two, and was interrupted in the perusal23 of my book by the clatter24 of galloping25 hoofs26 approaching along the road. I climbed on to the fence to see who it could be who was coming at such a breakneck pace. He pulled the rein27 opposite me, and I recognized a man from Dogtrap. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his horse was all in a lather28, and its scarlet29 nostrils30 were wide open, and its sides heaving rapidly.
“I say, miss, hunt up the men quickly, will you?” he said hurriedly. “There’s a tremenjous fire on Wyambeet, and we’re short-handed. I’m goin’ on to knock them up at Bimbalong.”
“Hold hard,” I replied. “We haven’t a man on the place, only Joe Slocombe, and I heard him say he would ride down the river and see what the smoke was about; so he will be there. Mr Hawden and the others have gone out for the day. You go back to the fire at once; I’ll rouse them up at Birribalong.”
“Right you are, miss. Here’s a couple of letters. My old moke flung a shoe and went dead lame31 at Dogtrap; an’ wile32 I was saddlun another, Mrs Butler stuffed ’em in me pocket.”
He tossed them over the fence, and, wheeling his mount, galloped33 the way he had come. The letters fell, address upwards34, on the ground — one to myself and one to grannie, both in my mother’s handwriting. I left them where they lay. The main substance of mother’s letters to me was a hope that I was a better girl to my grannie than I had been to her — a sentiment which did not interest me.
“Where are you off to?” inquired grannie, as I rushed through the house.
I explained.
“What horse are you going to take?”
“Old Tadpole35. He’s the only one available.”
“Well, you be careful and don’t push him too quickly up that pinch by Flea36 Creek37, or he might drop dead with you. He’s so fat and old.”
“All right,” I replied, snatching a bridle38 and running up the orchard, where old Tadpole had been left in case of emergency. I clapped a side-saddle on his back, a hat on my head, jumped on just as I was, and galloped for my life in the direction of Bimbalong, seven miles distant. I eased my horse a little going up Flea Creek pinch, but with this delay reached my destination in half an hour, and sent the men galloping in the direction of the fire. I lingered for afternoon tea, and returned at my leisure.
It was sundown when I got in sight of Caddagat. Knowing the men would not be home for some time, I rode across the paddock to yard the cows. I drove them home and penned the calves39, unsaddled my horse and returned him to the orchard, then stood upon the hillside and enjoyed the scene. It had been a fearfully hot day, with a blasting, drought-breathed wind; but the wind had dropped to sleep with the sunlight, and now the air had cooled. Blue smoke wreathed hill and hollow like a beauteous veil. I had traversed drought-baked land that afternoon, but in the immediate40 vicinity of Caddagat house there was no evidence of an unkind season. Irrigation had draped the place with beauty, and I stood ankle-deep in clover. Oh, how I loved the old irregularly built house, with here and there a patch of its low iron roof peeping out of a mass of greenery, flowers, and fruit — the place where I was born — home! Save for the murmur41 of the creek, the evening was wrapped in silence — sweet-breathed, balmy-browed, summer quietude. I stretched out my hand and stained my fingers, next my lips and teeth, with the sweet dark fruit of a mulberry-tree beside me. The shadows deepened; I picked up my saddle, and, carrying it housewards, put it in its place in the harness-room among the fig — and apricot-trees — laden42 to breaking point with ripe and ripening43 fruit. The two servant girls had departed on their Christmas holiday that morning, so grannie and auntie were the only members of the family at home. I could not see or hear them anywhere, so, presuming they were out walking, I washed my hands, lit a lamp, and sat down to my tea, where it had been left for me on the dining-table. I remembered — wonderful aberration44 from my usual thoughtlessness — that the book I had left in the hammock had a beautiful cover which the dew would spoil, so I left my tea to bring it in. Two little white squares struck my eye in the gathering45 dusk. I picked them up also, and, bringing them to the light, opened the one addressed to me, and read:
No doubt what I have to write will not be very palatable46 to you; but it is time you gave up pleasuring and began to meet the responsibilities of life. Your father is lazier if anything, and drinks more than ever. He has got himself into great debt and difficulties, and would have been sold off again but for Peter M’Swat. You will remember Peter M’Swat? Well, he has been good enough to lend your father 500 pounds at 4 per cent, which means 20 pounds per year interest. Your father would have no more idea of meeting this amount than a cat would have. But now I am coming to the part of the matter which concerns you. Out of friendship to your father, Mr M’Swat is good enough to accept your services as governess to his children, in lieu of interest on the money. I have told him you will be in Yarnung In Friday the 8th of January 1897, where he will meet you. Be careful to remember the date. I am sorry I could not give you more notice; but he wants his children to commence school as soon as possible, and he deserves every consideration in the matter. Perhaps you will not find it as pleasant as Caddagat; but he has been very good, and offers you a fair number of holidays, and what he will give you is equal to 20 pounds. That is a lot in these times, when he could easily get so many better girls than you are in every way for half the money, and make your father pay the interest, and thereby47 be 10 pounds in pocket. You will have to help Mrs M’Swat with the work and sewing; but that will do you good, and I hope you will try hard to give every satisfaction. I have also written to your grandmother.
That letter wiped away ever vestige48 of my appetite for the dainties before me. M’Swat’s! Send — me — to M’Swat’s! I could not believe it! It must be a nightmare! M’Swat’s!
Certainly, I had never been there; but all those who had gave graphic49 descriptions of the total ignorance of Mrs M’Swat. Why, the place was quite tabooed on account of its squalor and dirt!
The steel of my mother’s letter entered my soul. Why had she not expressed a little regret at the thing she was imposing50 on me? Instead, there was a note of satisfaction running through her letter that she was able to put an end to my pleasant life at Caddagat. She always seemed to grudge51 me any pleasure. I bitterly put it down as accruing52 from the curse of ugliness, as, when mentioning Gertie, it was ever, “I have let Gertie go to such and such an entertainment. We could not very well afford it, but the poor little girl does not have many pleasures for her years.” I was smaller than Gertie, and only eleven months older; but to me it was “You must think of something besides pleasure.”
The lot of ugly girls is not joyful, and they must be possessed53 of natures very absurdly sanguine54 indeed ever to hope for any enjoyment in life.
It was cruel, base, horrible of my mother to send me to M’Swat’s. I would not go — not for 50 pounds a day! I would not go! I would not! not for any consideration.
I stamped about in a fever of impatience55 until grannie appeared, when I handed both letters to her, and breathlessly awaited her verdict.
“Well, child, what do you say?”
“Say? I won’t go! I can’t! I won’t! Oh, grannie, don’t send me there — I would rather die.”
“My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circumstances, but I cannot interfere56 between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting57 the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter. However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done.”
The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities58, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also — pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and assured her I could never succeed at M’Swat’s.
I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters.
We got an answer to them sooner than we expected — at least grannie did. Mother did not deign59 to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably60 selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M’Swat’s, as mother had given her word.
“I am sorry for you,” said grannie, “but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again.”
I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay–Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me.
It was a great wrench61 to be torn away from Caddagat — from refinement62 and comfort — from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one’s weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched63 my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I worshipped, and turn my back on Caddagat!
I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly64 around the quaint65 old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream — I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda66, before which the station hands were wont67 to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me! Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty68, so that I cannot see the paper.
The day for my departure arrived — hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool–Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o’clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M’Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day.
My trunks and other belongings69 were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked70 the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins71 and waited for me.
I rushed frantically72 round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying:
“The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I’m sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them.”
I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful noble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang73 of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet.
Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses — a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone — gone from Caddagat!
We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn — last native flower of the season — put forth74 their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered75 on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five–Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss?
It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy76 line of blue.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
hospitable
|
|
| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
pending
|
|
| prep.直到，等待…期间；adj.待定的；迫近的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
insolvency
|
|
| n.无力偿付，破产 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
orchard
|
|
| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
kennels
|
|
| n.主人外出时的小动物寄养处，养狗场；狗窝( kennel的名词复数 )；养狗场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
manly
|
|
| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
strapping
|
|
| adj. 魁伟的, 身材高大健壮的 n. 皮绳或皮带的材料, 裹伤胶带, 皮鞭 动词strap的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
fig
|
|
| n.无花果(树) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
ferment
|
|
| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
meditate
|
|
| v.想，考虑，（尤指宗教上的）沉思，冥想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
figs
|
|
| figures 数字，图形，外形 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
dense
|
|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
contemplate
|
|
| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
joyful
|
|
| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
anticipation
|
|
| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
musk
|
|
| n.麝香, 能发出麝香的各种各样的植物，香猫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
attain
|
|
| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
yarn
|
|
| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
perusal
|
|
| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
clatter
|
|
| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
galloping
|
|
| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
hoofs
|
|
| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
rein
|
|
| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
lather
|
|
| n.(肥皂水的)泡沫，激动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
scarlet
|
|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
nostrils
|
|
| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
lame
|
|
| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
wile
|
|
| v.诡计，引诱；n.欺骗，欺诈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
galloped
|
|
| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
upwards
|
|
| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
tadpole
|
|
| n.[动]蝌蚪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
flea
|
|
| n.跳蚤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
creek
|
|
| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
bridle
|
|
| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
calves
|
|
| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
laden
|
|
| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
ripening
|
|
| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的现在分词 )；熟化；熟成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
aberration
|
|
| n.离开正路，脱离常规，色差 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
palatable
|
|
| adj.可口的，美味的；惬意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
thereby
|
|
| adv.因此，从而 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
vestige
|
|
| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
graphic
|
|
| adj.生动的，形象的，绘画的，文字的，图表的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
imposing
|
|
| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
grudge
|
|
| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
accruing
|
|
| v.增加( accrue的现在分词 )；（通过自然增长）产生；获得；（使钱款、债务）积累 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
sanguine
|
|
| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
interfere
|
|
| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
propensities
|
|
| n.倾向，习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
deign
|
|
| v. 屈尊, 惠允 ( 做某事) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
abominably
|
|
| adv. 可恶地，可恨地，恶劣地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
wrench
|
|
| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
refinement
|
|
| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
drenched
|
|
| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
caressingly
|
|
| 爱抚地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
quaint
|
|
| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
veranda
|
|
| n.走廊；阳台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
misty
|
|
| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
belongings
|
|
| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
flicked
|
|
| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
reins
|
|
| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
frantically
|
|
| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
pang
|
|
| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
flickered
|
|
| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
hazy
|
|
| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |