But early in the fall he appeared among them again, assuming his old friendly attitude towards the whole family, dropping in to lunch or dinner whenever it suited his fancy. He seemed to choose to forget what had passed between Hazel and himself, to act as though it had not been, and resumed his former playful attitude of extreme interest in the girl of whom he had always been fond. Hazel, however, found a certain air of proprietorship2 in his gaze, a too-open expression of his admiration3 which was offensive. She[181] could not forget, try as hard as she might for her father's sake to forgive. She shrank away from the man's company, avoided him whenever possible, and at last when he seemed to be almost omnipresent, and growing every day more insistent4 in his attentions, she cast about her for some absorbing interest which would take her out of his sphere.
Then a strange fancy took her in its possession.
It was in the middle of the night when it came to her, where she had been turning her luxurious5 pillow for two hours trying in vain to tempt6 a drowsiness7 that would not come, and she arose at once and wrote a brief and businesslike letter to the landlord of the little New Hampshire inn where she had been delayed for a couple of hours in the fall. In the morning, true to her impulsive8 nature, she besieged9 her father until he gave his permission for her to take her maid and a quiet elderly cousin of his and go away for a complete rest before the society season began.
It was a strange whim10 for his butterfly daughter to take but the busy man saw no harm in it, and was fully11 convinced that it was merely her way of punishing some over ardent12 follower13 for a few days; and feeling sure she would soon return, he let her go. She had had her way all her life, and why should he cross her in so simple a matter as a few days' rest in a country inn with a respectable chaperone?
The letter to the landlord was outtravelled by a telegram whose answer sent Hazel on her way the next morning, thankful that she had been able to get away during a temporary absence of Milton Hamar, and that her father had promised not to let any of her friends know of her whereabouts. His eye had twinkled as he made the promise. He was quite sure which of her many admirers was being punished, but he did not tell her so. He intended to be most judicious14 with all her young men friends. He so confided15 his intentions to Milton Hamar that evening, having no thought that Hazel would mind their old friend's knowing.
Two days later Hazel, after establishing her little party comfortably in the best rooms the New Hampshire inn afforded, putting a large box of new novels at their disposal, and another of sweets, and sending orders for new magazines to be forwarded, went over to call on the sweet old lady towards whom her heart had been turning eagerly, with a longing16 that would not be put away, ever since that first accidental, or providential, meeting.
When she came back, through the first early snow-storm, with her cheeks like winter roses and her furry17 hat all feathered with great white flakes18, she found Milton Hamar seated in front of the open fire in the office making the air heavy with his best tobacco, and frowning impatiently through the small-paned windows.
The bright look faded instantly from her face and the peace which she had almost caught from the woman across the way. Her eyes flashed indignantly, and her whole small frame stiffened19 for the combat that she knew must come now. There was no mistaking her look. Milton Hamar knew at once that he was not welcome. She stood for an instant with the door wide open, blowing a great gust20 of biting air across the wide room and into his face. A cloud of smoke sprang out from the fireplace to meet it and the two came together in front of the man, and made a visible wall for a second between him and the girl.
He sprang to his feet, cigar in hand, and an angry exclamation21 upon his lips. The office, fortunately, was without other occupant.
"Why in the name of all that's unholy did you lead me a race away off to this forsaken22 little hole in midwinter, Hazel?" he cried.
Hazel drew herself to her full height and with the dignity that well became her, answered him:
"Really, Mr. Hamar, what right have you to speak to me in that way? And what right had you to follow me?"
"The right of the man who is going to marry you!" he answered fiercely; "and I think it's about time this nonsense stopped. It's nothing but coquettish foolishness, your coming here. I hate coquettish fools. I didn't think you had it in you to coquet, but it seems all women are alike."
"Mr. Hamar, you are forgetting yourself," said the girl quietly, turning to shut the door that she might gain time to get control of her shaken nerves. She had a swift vision of what it would be if she were married to a man like that. No wonder his wife was entirely23 willing to give him a divorce. But she shuddered24 as she turned back and faced him bravely.
"Well, what did you come here for?" he asked in a less fierce tone.
"I came because I wanted to be quiet,"Hazel said trying to steady her voice, "and—I will tell you the whole truth. I came because I wanted to get away from—you! I have not liked the way you acted towards me since—that day—in Arizona."
The man's fierce brows drew together, but a kind of mask of apology overspread his features. He perceived that he had gone too far with the girl whom he had thought scarcely more than a child. He had thought he could mould her like wax, and that his scorn would instantly wither25 her wiles26. He watched her steadily27 for a full minute; the girl, though trembling in every nerve, sending back a steady, haughty28 gaze.
"Do you mean that?" he said at last.
"Well, perhaps we'd better talk it over. I see I've taken too much for granted. I thought you'd understood for a year or more what was going on—what I was doing it for."
"You thought I understood! You thought I would be willing to be a party to such an awful thing as you have done!" Hazel's eyes were flashing fire now. The tears were scorched30 away.
"Sit down! We'll talk it over," said the man moving a great summer chair nearer to his own. His eyes were on her face approvingly and he was thinking what a beautiful picture she made in her anger.
"Never!" said the girl quickly. "It is not a thing I could talk over. I do not wish to speak of it again. I wish you to leave this place at once," and she turned with a quick movement and fled up the quaint31 old staircase.
She stayed in her room until he left, utterly32 refusing to see him, refusing to answer the long letters he wrote and sent up to her; and finally, after another day, he went away. But he wrote to her several times, and came again twice, each time endeavouring to surprise her into talking with him. The girl grew to watch nervously33 every approach of the daily stage which brought stray travellers from the station four miles distant, and was actually glad when a heavy snow-storm shut them in and made it unlikely that her unwelcome visitor would venture again into the country.
The last time he came Hazel saw him descending34 from the coach, and without a word to any one, although it was almost supper time, and the early winter twilight35 was upon them, she seized her fur cloak and slipped down the back stairs, out through the shadows, across the road, where she surprised good Amelia Ellen by flinging her arms about her neck and bursting into tears right in the dark front hall, for the gust of wintry wind from the open door blew the candle out, and Amelia Ellen stood astonished and bewildered for a moment in the blast of the north wind with the soft arms of the excited girl in her furry wrappings clinging about her unaccustomed shoulders.
Amelia Ellen had never had many beautiful things in her life, the care of her Dresden-china mistress, and her brilliant garden of flowers, having been the crowning of her life hitherto. This beautiful city girl with her exquisite36 garments and her face like a flower, flung upon her in sudden appeal, drew out all the latent love and pity and sympathy of which Amelia Ellen had a larger store than most, hidden under a simple and severe exterior37.
"Fer the land's sake! Whatever ails38 you!" she exclaimed when she could speak for astonishment39, and to her own surprise her arm enclosed the sobbing40 girl in a warm embrace while with the other hand she reached to close the door. "Come right in to my kitchen and set in the big chair by the cat and let me give you a cup o' tea. Then you can tell Mis' Brownleigh what's troublin' you. She'll know how to talk to you. I'll git you some tea right away."
She drew the shrinking girl into the kitchen and ousting41 the cat from a patchwork42 rocker pushed her gently into it. It was characteristic of Amelia Ellen that she had no thought of ministering to her spiritual needs herself, but knew her place was to bring physical comfort.
She spoke1 no word save to the cat, admonishing43 him to mend his manners and keep out from under foot, while she hurried to the tea canister, the bread box, the sugar bowl, and the china closet. Soon a cup of fragrant44 tea was set before the unexpected guest, and a bit of delicate toast browning over the coals, to be buttered and eaten crisp with the tea; and the cat nestled comfortably at Hazel's feet while she drank the tea and wiped away the tears.
"You'll think I'm a big baby, Amelia Ellen!" cried Hazel trying to smile shamedly, "but I'm just so tired of the way things go. You see somebody I don't a bit like has come up from New York on the evening coach, and I've run away for a little while. I don't know what made me cry. I never cry at home, but when I got safely over here a big lump came in my throat and you looked so nice and kind that I couldn't keep the tears back."
From that instant Amelia Ellen, toasting fork in hand, watching the sweet blue eyes and the tear-stained face that resembled a drenched45 pink bud after a storm, loved Hazel Radcliffe. Come weal, come woe46, Amelia Ellen was from henceforth her staunch admirer and defendant47.
"Never you mind, honey, you just eat your tea an' run in to Mis' Brownleigh, an' I'll get my hood48 an' run over to tell your folks you've come to stay all night over here. Then you'll have a cozy49 evenin' readin' while I sew, an' you can sleep late come mornin', and go back when you're ready. Nobody can't touch you over here. I'm not lettin' in people by night 'thout I know 'em," and she winked50 knowingly at the girl by way of encouragement. Well she knew who the unwelcome stranger from New York was. She had keen eyes, and had watched the coach from her well-curtained kitchen window as it came in.
That night Hazel told her invalid51 friend all about Milton Hamar, and slept in the pleasant bed that Amelia Ellen had prepared for her, with sheets of fragrant linen52 redolent of sweet clover. Her heart was lighter53 for the simple, kindly54 advice and the gentle love that had been showered upon her. She wondered, as she lay half dozing55 in the morning with the faint odour of coffee and muffins penetrating56 the atmosphere, why it was that she could love this beautiful mother of her hero so much more tenderly than she had ever loved any other woman. Was it because she had never known her own mother and had longed for one all her life, or was it just because she was his dear mother? She gave up trying to answer the question and went smiling down to breakfast, and then across the road to face her unwelcome lover, strong in the courage that friendly counsel had given her.
Milton Hamar left before dinner, having been convinced at last of the uselessness of his visit. He hired a man with a horse and cutter to drive him across country to catch the New York evening express, and Hazel drew a breath of relief and began to find new pleasure in life. Her father was off on a business trip for some weeks; her brother had gone abroad for the winter with a party of college friends. There was no real reason why she should return to New York for some time, and she decided57 to stay and learn of this saintly woman how to look wisely on the things of life. To her own heart she openly acknowledged that there was a deep pleasure in being near one who talked of the man she loved.
So the winter settled down to business, and Hazel spent happy days with her new friends, for Amelia Ellen had become a true friend in the best sense of the word.
The maid had found the country winter too lonely and Hazel had found her useless and sent her back to town. She was learning by association with Amelia Ellen to do a few things for herself. The elderly cousin, whose years had been a long strain of scrimping to present a respectable exterior, was only too happy to have leisure and quiet to read and embroider58 to her heart's content. So Hazel was free to spend much time with Mrs. Brownleigh.
They read together, at least Hazel did the reading, for the older eyes were growing dim, and had to be guarded to prevent the terrible headaches which came at the slightest provocation59 and made the days a blank of suffering for the lovely soul where patience was having its perfect work.
The world of literature opened through a new door to the eager young mind now.[192] Books of which she had never heard were at her hand. New thoughts and feelings were stirred by them. A few friends who knew Mrs. Brownleigh through their summer visits, and others who had known her husband, kept her well supplied with the latest and always the best of everything—history, biography, essays and fiction. But there were also books of a deep spiritual character, and magazines that showed a new world, the religious world, to the girl. She read with zest60 all of them, and enjoyed deeply the pleasant converse61 concerning each. Her eyes were being opened to new ways of living. She was beginning to know that there was an existence more satisfying than just to go from one round of amusement to another. And always, more than in any other thing she read, she took a most unusual interest in home missionary62 literature. It was not because it was so new and strange and like a fairy tale, nor because she knew her friend enjoyed hearing all this news so much, but because it held for her the story of the man she now knew she loved, and who had said he loved her. She wanted to put herself into touch with surroundings like his, to understand better what he had to endure, and why he had not dared to ask her to share his life, his hardship—most of all why he had not thought her worthy63 to suffer with him.
When she grew tired of reading she would go out into the kitchen and help Amelia Ellen. It was her own whim that she should learn how to make some of the good things to eat for which Amelia Ellen was famous. So while her society friends at home went from one gay scene to another, dancing and frivolling through the night and sleeping away the morning, Hazel bared her round white arms, enveloped64 herself in a clean blue-checked apron65, and learned to make bread and pies and gingerbread and puddings and doughnuts and fruit-cake, how to cook meats and vegetables and make delicious broths66 from odds67 and ends, and to concoct68 the most delectable69 desserts that would tempt the frailest70 appetite. Real old country things they were—no fancy salads and whips and froths that society has hunted out to tempt its waning71 taste till everything has palled72. She wrote to one of her old friends, who demanded to know what she was doing so long up there in the country in the height of the season, that she was taking a course in Domestic Science and happily recounted her menu of accomplishments73. Secretly her heart rejoiced that she was become less and less unworthy of the love of the man in whose home and at whose mother's side she was learning sweet lessons.
There came letters, of course, from the far-away missionary. Hazel stayed later in the kitchen the morning of their arrival, conscious of a kind of extra presence in his mother's room when his letters arrived. She knew the mother liked to be alone with her son's letters, and that she saved her eyes from other reading for them alone. Always the older face wore a kind of glorified74 look when the girl entered after she had been reading her letter. The letter itself would be hidden away out of sight in the bosom75 of her soft gray gown, to be read again and again when she was alone, but seldom was it brought out in the presence of the visitor, much as the mother was growing to love this girl. Frequently there were bits of news.
"My son says he is very glad I am having such delightful76 company this winter, and he wants me to thank you from him for reading to me," she said once, patting Hazel's hand as she tucked the wool robe about her friend's helpless form. And again:
"My son is starting to build a church. He is very happy about it. They have heretofore held worship in a schoolhouse. He has collected a good deal of the money himself, and he will help to put up the building with his own hands. He is going to send me a photograph when it is up. I would like to be present when it is dedicated77. It makes me very proud to have my son doing that."
The next letter brought a photograph, a small snapshot of the canyon78, tiny, but clear and distinct. Hazel's hand trembled when the mother gave it to her to look at, for she knew the very spot. She fancied it was quite near the place where they had paused for water. She could feel again the cool breath of the canyon, the damp smell of the earth and ferns, and hear the call of the wild bird.
Then one day there came a missionary magazine with a short article on the work of Arizona and a picture of the missionary mounted on Billy, just ready to start from his little shack79 on a missionary tour.
Hazel, turning the leaves, came upon the picture and held her breath with astonishment and delight; then rapidly glanced over the article, her heart beating wildly as though she had heard his voice suddenly calling to her out of the distances that separated them. She had a beautiful time surprising the proud mother with the picture and reading the article. From that morning they seemed to have a tenderer tie between them, and once, just before Hazel was leaving for the night, the mother reached out a detaining hand and laid it on the girl's arm. "I wish my boy and you were acquainted, dear," she said wistfully. And Hazel, the rich colour flooding her face at once, replied hesitatingly:
"Oh, why—I—feel—almost—as—though—we were!" Then she kissed her friend on the soft cheek and hurried back to the inn.
It was that night that the telegram came to say that her father had been seriously injured in a railway accident and would be brought home at once. She had no time to think of anything then but to hurry her belongings80 together and hasten to New York.
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1
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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2
proprietorship
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| n.所有（权）；所有权 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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8
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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11
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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13
follower
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| n.跟随者；随员；门徒；信徒 | |
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judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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15
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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16
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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furry
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| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
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18
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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19
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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21
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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22
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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23
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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24
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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25
wither
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| vt.使凋谢，使衰退，(用眼神气势等)使畏缩；vi.枯萎，衰退，消亡 | |
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26
wiles
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| n.（旨在欺骗或吸引人的）诡计，花招；欺骗，欺诈( wile的名词复数 ) | |
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27
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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30
scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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31
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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32
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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35
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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36
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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38
ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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39
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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40
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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41
ousting
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| 驱逐( oust的现在分词 )； 革职； 罢黜； 剥夺 | |
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42
patchwork
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| n.混杂物；拼缝物 | |
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43
admonishing
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| v.劝告( admonish的现在分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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44
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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45
drenched
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| 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） | |
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46
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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47
defendant
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| n.被告；adj.处于被告地位的 | |
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48
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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49
cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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50
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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51
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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52
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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53
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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54
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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55
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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56
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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embroider
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| v.刺绣于(布)上；给…添枝加叶，润饰 | |
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provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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broths
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| n.肉汤( broth的名词复数 )；厨师多了烧坏汤；人多手杂反坏事；人多添乱 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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concoct
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| v.调合，制造 | |
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delectable
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| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
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frailest
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| 脆弱的( frail的最高级 )； 易损的； 易碎的 | |
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waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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palled
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| v.（因过多或过久而）生厌，感到乏味，厌烦( pall的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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75
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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canyon
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| n.峡谷，溪谷 | |
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shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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