Major Burnaby drew on his gum boots, buttoned his overcoat collar roundhis neck, took from a shelf near the door a hurricane lantern, and cau-tiously opened the front door of his little bungalow1 and peered out.
The scene that met his eyes was typical of the English countryside as de-picted on Xmas cards and in old-fashioned melodramas2. Everywhere wassnow, deep drifts of it—no mere3 powdering an inch or two thick. Snowhad fallen all over England for the last four days, and up here on thefringe of Dartmoor it had attained5 a depth of several feet. All over Englandhouseholders were groaning6 over burst pipes, and to have a plumberfriend (or even a plumber’s mate) was the most coveted7 of all distinctions.
Up here, in the tiny village of Sittaford, at all times remote from theworld, and now almost completely cut off, the rigours of winter were avery real problem.
Major Burnaby, however, was a hardy8 soul. He snorted twice, gruntedonce, and marched resolutely9 out into the snow.
His destination was not far away. A few paces along a winding10 lane,then in at a gate, and so up a drive partially11 swept clear of snow to a houseof some considerable size built of granite12.
The door was opened by a neatly13 clad parlourmaid. The Major was di-vested of his British Warm, his gum boots and his aged14 scarf.
A door was flung open and he passed through it into a room which con-veyed all the illusion of a transformation15 scene.
Although it was only half past three the curtains had been drawn16, theelectric lights were on and a huge fire blazed cheerfully on the hearth17.
Two women in afternoon frocks rose to greet the staunch old warrior18.
“Splendid of you to turn out, Major Burnaby,” said the elder of the two.
“Not at all, Mrs. Willett, not at all. Very good of you to ask me.” He shookhands with them both.
“Mr. Garfield is coming,” went on Mrs. Willett, “and Mr. Duke, and Mr.
Rycroft said he would come—but one can hardly expect him at his age insuch weather. Really, it is too dreadful. One feels one must do something tokeep oneself cheerful. Violet, put another log on the fire.”
The Major rose gallantly19 to perform this task.
“Allow me, Miss Violet.”
He put the log expertly in the right place and returned once more to thearmchair his hostess had indicated. Trying not to appear as though hewere doing so, he cast surreptitious glances round the room. Amazinghow a couple of women could alter the whole character of a room—andwithout doing anything very outstanding that you could put your fingeron.
Sittaford House had been built ten years ago by Captain Joseph Trev-elyan, R.N., on the occasion of his retirement20 from the Navy. He was aman of substance, and he had always had a great hankering to live onDartmoor. He had placed his choice on the tiny hamlet of Sittaford. It wasnot in a valley like most of the villages and farms, but perched right on theshoulder of the moor4 under the shadow of Sittaford Beacon21. He had pur-chased a large tract22 of ground, had built a comfortable house with its ownelectric light plant and an electric pump to save labour in pumping water.
Then, as a speculation23, he had built six small bungalows24, each in itsquarter acre of ground, along the lane.
The first of these, the one at his very gates, had been allotted25 to his oldfriend and crony, John Burnaby—the others had by degrees been sold,there being still a few people who from choice or necessity like to liveright out of the world. The village itself consisted of three picturesque26 butdilapidated cottages, a forge and a combined post office and sweet shop.
The nearest town was Exhampton, six miles away, a steady descent whichnecessitated the sign, “Motorists engage your lowest gear,” so familiar onthe Dartmoor roads.
Captain Trevelyan, as has been said, was a man of substance. In spite ofthis—or perhaps because of it—he was a man who was inordinately27 fondof money. At the end of October a house agent in Exhampton wrote to himasking if he would consider letting Sittaford House. A tenant28 had made in-quiries concerning it, wishing to rent it for the winter.
Captain Trevelyan’s first impulse was to refuse, his second to demandfurther information. The tenant in question proved to be a Mrs. Willett, awidow with one daughter. She had recently arrived from South Africa andwanted a house on Dartmoor for the winter.
“Damn it all, the woman must be mad,” said Captain Trevelyan. “Eh,Burnaby, don’t you think so?”
Burnaby did think so, and said so as forcibly as his friend had done.
“Anyway, you don’t want to let,” he said. “Let the fool woman go some-where else if she wants to freeze. Coming from South Africa too!”
But at this point Captain Trevelyan’s money complex asserted itself. Notonce in a hundred times would you get a chance of letting your house inmid-winter. He demanded what rent the tenant was willing to pay.
An offer of twelve guineas a week clinched29 matters. Captain Trevelyanwent into Exhampton, rented a small house on the outskirts30 at twoguineas a week, and handed over Sittaford House to Mrs. Willett, half therent to be paid in advance.
“A fool and her money are soon parted,” he growled31.
But Burnaby was thinking this afternoon as he scanned Mrs. Willett cov-ertly, that she did not look a fool. She was a tall woman with a rather sillymanner—but her physiognomy was shrewd rather than foolish. She wasinclined to overdress, had a distinct Colonial accent, and seemed perfectlycontent with the transaction. She was clearly very well-off and that—asBurnaby had reflected more than once — really made the whole affairmore odd. She was not the kind of woman one would credit with a passionfor solitude32.
As a neighbour she had proved almost embarrassingly friendly. Invita-tions to Sittaford House were rained on everybody. Captain Trevelyan wasconstantly urged to “Treat the house as though we hadn’t rented it.” Trev-elyan, however, was not fond of women. Report went that he had beenjilted in his youth. He persistently33 refused all invitations.
Two months had passed since the installation of the Willetts and thefirst wonder at their arrival had passed away.
Burnaby, naturally a silent man, continued to study his hostess, oblivi-ous to any need for small talk. Liked to make herself out a fool, but wasn’treally. So he summed up the situation. His glance shifted to Violet Willett.
Pretty girl—scraggy, of course—they all were nowadays. What was thegood of a woman if she didn’t look like a woman? Papers said curves werecoming back. About time too.
He roused himself to the necessity of conversation.
“We were afraid at first that you wouldn’t be able to come,” said Mrs.
Willett. “You said so, you remember. We were so pleased when you saidthat after all you would.”
“Friday,” said Major Burnaby, with an air of being explicit34.
Mrs. Willett looked puzzled.
“Friday?”
“Every Friday go to Trevelyan’s. Tuesday he comes to me. Both of usdone it for years.”
“Oh! I see. Of course, living so near—”
“Kind of habit.”
“But do you still keep it up? I mean now that he is living in Exhampton—”
“Pity to break a habit,” said Major Burnaby. “We’d both of us miss thoseevenings.”
“You go in for competitions, don’t you?” asked Violet. “Acrostics andcrosswords and all those things.”
Burnaby nodded.
“I do crosswords36. Trevelyan does acrostics. We each stick to our ownline of country. I won three books last month in a crossword35 competition,”
he volunteered.
“Oh! really. How nice. Were they interesting books?”
“Don’t know. Haven’t read them. Looked pretty hopeless.”
“It’s the winning them that matters, isn’t it?” said Mrs. Willett vaguely37.
“How do you get to Exhampton?” asked Violet. “You haven’t got a car.”
“Walk.”
“What? Not really? Six miles.”
“Good exercise. What’s twelve miles? Keeps a man fit. Great thing to befit.”
“Fancy! Twelve miles. But both you and Captain Trevelyan were greatathletes, weren’t you?”
“Used to go to Switzerland together. Winter sports in winter, climbing insummer. Wonderful man on ice, Trevelyan. Both too old for that sort ofthing nowadays.”
“You won the Army Racquets Championship, too, didn’t you?” asked Vi-olet.
The Major blushed like a girl.
“Who told you that?” he mumbled38.
“Captain Trevelyan.”
“Joe should hold his tongue,” said Burnaby. “He talks too much. What’sthe weather like now?”
Respecting his embarrassment39, Violet followed him to the window. Theydrew the curtain aside and looked out over the desolate40 scene.
“More snow coming,” said Burnaby. “A pretty heavy fall too, I shouldsay.”
“Oh! how thrilling,” said Violet. “I do think snow is so romantic. I’venever seen it before.”
“It isn’t romantic when the pipes freeze, you foolish child,” said hermother.
“Have you lived all your life in South Africa, Miss Willett?” asked MajorBurnaby.
Some of the girl’s animation41 dropped away from her. She seemed al-most constrained42 in her manner as she answered.
“Yes—this is the first time I’ve ever been away. It’s all most frightfullythrilling.”
Thrilling to be shut away like this in a remote moorland village? Funnyideas. He couldn’t get the hang of these people.
The door opened and the parlourmaid announced:
“Mr. Rycroft and Mr. Garfield.”
There entered a little elderly, dried-up man and a fresh-coloured, boyishyoung man. The latter spoke43 first.
“I brought him along, Mrs. Willett. Said I wouldn’t let him be buried in asnowdrift. Ha, ha. I say, this all looks simply marvellous. Yule logs burn-ing.”
“As he says, my young friend very kindly44 piloted me here,” said Mr.
Rycroft as he shook hands somewhat ceremoniously. “How do you do,Miss Violet? Very seasonable weather—rather too seasonable, I fear.”
He moved to the fire talking to Mrs. Willett. Ronald Garfield buttonholedViolet.
“I say, can’t we get up any skating anywhere? Aren’t there some pondsabout?”
“I think path digging will be your only sport.”
“I’ve been at it all the morning.”
“Oh! you he-man.”
“Don’t laugh at me. I’ve got blisters45 all over my hands.”
“How’s your aunt?”
“Oh! she’s always the same—sometimes she says she’s better and some-times she says she’s worse, but I think it’s all the same really. It’s a ghastlylife, you know. Each year, I wonder how I can stick it—but there it is—ifone doesn’t rally round the old bird for Xmas—why, she’s quite capable ofleaving her money to a Cat’s Home. She’s got five of them, you know. I’malways stroking the brutes46 and pretending I dote upon them.”
“I like dogs much better than cats.”
“So do I. Any day. What I mean is a dog is—well, a dog’s a dog, youknow.”
“Has your aunt always been fond of cats?”
“I think it’s just a kind of thing old maids grow into. Ugh! I hate thebrutes.”
“Your aunt’s very nice, but rather frightening.”
“I should think she was frightening. Snaps my head off sometimes.
Thinks I’ve got no brains, you know.”
“Not really?”
“Oh! look here, don’t say it like that. Lots of fellows look like fools andare laughing underneath47.”
“Mr. Duke,” announced the parlourmaid.
Mr. Duke was a recent arrival. He had bought the last of the six bunga-lows in September. He was a big man, very quiet and devoted48 to garden-ing. Mr. Rycroft who was an enthusiast49 on birds and who lived next doorto him had taken him up, overruling the section of thought which voicedthe opinion that of course Mr. Duke was a very nice man, quite unassum-ing, but was he, after all, quite—well, quite? Mightn’t he, just possibly, be aretired tradesman?
But nobody liked to ask him—and indeed it was thought better not toknow. Because if one did know, it might be awkward, and really in such asmall community it was best to know everybody.
“Not walking to Exhampton in this weather?” he asked of Major Burn-aby.
“No, I fancy Trevelyan will hardly expect me tonight.”
“It’s awful, isn’t it?” said Mrs. Willett with a shudder50. “To be buried uphere, year after year—it must be ghastly.”
Mr. Duke gave her a quick glance. Major Burnaby too stared at her curi-ously.
But at that moment tea was brought in.
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收听单词发音
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1
bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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melodramas
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| 情节剧( melodrama的名词复数 ) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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8
hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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beacon
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| n.烽火，（警告用的）闪火灯，灯塔 | |
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tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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bungalows
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| n.平房( bungalow的名词复数 )；单层小屋，多于一层的小屋 | |
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allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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inordinately
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| adv.无度地，非常地 | |
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tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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clinched
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| v.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的过去式和过去分词 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议） | |
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outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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explicit
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| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
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crossword
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| n.纵横字谜，纵横填字游戏 | |
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crosswords
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| 纵横填字谜( crossword的名词复数 ) | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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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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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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45
blisters
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| n.水疱( blister的名词复数 )；水肿；气泡 | |
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46
brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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enthusiast
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| n.热心人，热衷者 | |
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50
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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