That was a meal never to be forgotten. It was served on china with a magnificent amount of gold decoration, and three glasses and a champagne2 bottle stood at every place but two—those of Louise and of her father. A sumptuous3 boiled ham appeared immediately, along with a baked ’possum and sweet potatoes; and in a torrent4, it seemed, with these came sweet potatoes boiled, fried and preserved in sirup, mashed5 Irish potatoes, okra, rice, olives, salad, hot biscuits, and several kinds of cornbread.
Jackson Power opened the wine, with a great popping and joviality8. It was extremely effervescent and sweet, and was probably synthetic9, though the label was printed in French. The boys drank it in quantity; Hanna more sparingly. Louise took only water, and old Henry consumed large cups of strong black coffee.
Hanna sat directly opposite Lockwood, and the woods rider compelled himself to meet his enemy’s eye with coolness. Hanna had changed little since he was McGibbon; he was handsome as ever, and as suave10 and dignified11, but Lockwood had the key to that face now, and he read behind the hard mouth, the hard, watchful12 gray eyes. Hanna, for his part, had been observing Lockwood with a good deal of unobtrusive curiosity, though they had hardly exchanged three sentences. At last he said, across the table:
“You’re not an Alabama man, Mr. Lockwood?”
“No. Blue-grass Kentuckian,” Lockwood answered.
“I know that country well. Were you ever in Virginia?”
“I’ve been in Richmond and Norfolk.”
“There are Lockwoods in Richmond. No kin6 of yours, are they? No? Well, it’s not an uncommon13 name.”
The conversation turned, but Lockwood caught Hanna’s slightly puzzled expression turned upon him at intervals14. Some chord of memory had been touched, if not fully15 sounded. The danger had perhaps been greater than he thought; but he felt it was past now; and he was not afraid of being severely16 catechised at any Southern dinner table.
For he was evidently the guest of honor to-night, and they watched over his welfare assiduously. Preserved figs17, pie with whipped cream, and an ethereal sort of pudding finished the repast; and then Tom passed a box of cigars and one of cigarettes. The men drifted back to the front gallery to smoke, and Louise disappeared somewhere. It was dark and warm on the gallery now, and fragrant18 with honeysuckle. Lockwood found no enjoyment19 in the situation; he was afraid that Hanna would come over to talk to him, and when he had finished his cigar he spoke20 of leaving. At the camp he had to be out at daylight.
“Well——” Lockwood hesitated.
“Mr. Lockwood’ll play or not, jest as he damn well likes,” said Henry effectively.
“Then I reckon I won’t play to-night,” said Lockwood, who had heard too many tall tales of the sort of poker played in this house. “I’ll watch you for a while, maybe.”
Shortly after this there was a halloo down the road, and they heard the soft trampling22 as the Fenway boys rode into the yard—a pair of brown-faced, handsome young giants, in careful black coats and collars, the sons of a well-to-do planter five miles back from the river, where the land was better. Thereupon the whole party, excepting the old man, returned to the dining room, where the table had been cleared.
Drinks were handed round, cards and chips produced. Lockwood declined a hand, but sat back and looked on with interest. It was no large game—a ten-cent ante and dollar limit—but from the first it was apparent that Tom Power was disposed to force the pace. He lost a hundred dollars in half an hour; then won a jack7 pot of sixty dollars, and began to regain23, and to go ahead. Corn whisky was going now, and he was recklessly ready to make or break himself or anybody else.
But it was Hanna’s game that Lockwood watched most closely. He had a suspicion that Hanna was playing the card sharper in this house, winning great sums from the Powers, but he was forced to admit that he could see no indication of it to-night.
Luck was tending to drift toward one of the Fenway boys, who accumulated a great stack of chips before him. Tom cursed freely but cheerfully, and took another drink. Lose or win, he was enjoying himself. His brother was playing recklessly also, but winning a little. The room was growing thick with smoke, in spite of the open windows; the players were all inclined to grow a little noisy, and eventually Lockwood’s interest waned24.
He went to the open window to breathe, and on the dim gallery he perceived Henry Power, his feet on the railing, a pipe in his mouth. A little farther away he saw the gleam of a white dress in the faintly sweet darkness.
He went quietly around to the door and upon the gallery. It was a hot, dark evening, with the moon not yet risen. Overhead the stars glowed like white fires, and low in the south, over the vast pine forests, there was a rapid intermittence25 of distance, silent lightning.
“May I come out?” he asked, feeling for a chair. “Aren’t you a poker player, either, Mr. Power?”
“Papa’s asleep,” said Louise in an undertone. “He doesn’t very often play cards, except a very small game sometimes with old friends. Not like this.”
“It does look like a pretty fast game to-night,” Lockwood admitted. Louise turned her face toward him, and even in the gloom he thought it looked extraordinarily26 serious. Through the open window came a tremendous burst of laughter. Somebody’s bluff27 had been called.
Away from the gallery the night lay black and hot and impenetrable. At moments of stillness in the cardroom the silence was like a material heaviness. Then suddenly and sweetly, far away through the woods, sounded the mellow28, musical call of a horn, a hunter’s horn, such as is still used in southern Alabama. The nocturnal fox hunters use them—a horn made of a cow horn scraped thin, without reeds or anything inside it. It needs training to make it sound at all, but an expert can make its note carry five miles. The long, plaintive29 call sounded again, curiously30 repeated.
“Seems like I heard a horn blowin’,” he said drowsily33. “Some fellers gittin’ up a fox-chase? But thar ain’t no moon.”
The most hardened English fox-hunter would pale at these mild midnight fox-chases of Alabama, in which horsemen and hounds tear madly through the densest34 woods, through swamps, jungles, bayous and sloughs35, by moonlight generally too pale to show the perils36. It was just the sport, Lockwood, thought, that would appeal to the Power boys, and at that moment Jackson came quickly out upon the gallery, and listened. Again the far-away horn blew.
“Like to be out on a fox-chase to-night myself,” he remarked. “Want to go, when the moon gits up? We kin let you have a horse. No? Well, I reckon I’ll just give ’em a call myself.”
He took down a horn that Lockwood had noticed hanging by the doorway37, and went down the steps, listening. A third time the distant call blew, and Jackson answered it in a series of rising and long-falling notes that echoed far away through the pine woods. There was another blast from the distant hunter, and the boy came back and replaced the instrument.
“Show ’em that somebody else kin blow a horn,” he said cheerfully; but as he passed into the light Lockwood noticed that his face was serious. Perhaps he had been losing heavily.
The far-away blowing of the horn of the invisible hunter, the extraordinary wildness and remoteness of the whole scene, the whole episode struck Lockwood’s imagination powerfully.
“Not much like New Orleans, is it?” he remarked, thinking of the rattle39 and racket of the street past Lyman & Fourget’s motor shop.
“I was thinking of that,” said Louise. “It all seems so strange, though I was brought up in these woods. I never thought it would seem so strange when I came back.”
“How long were you in New Orleans?” he asked.
“Mr. Lockwood, what have you heard about me?” she countered suddenly.
“Why—not much,” he stammered40. “I heard that you went away to the city, some years ago. Mighty41 courageous42 thing to do, it seems to me.”
“A wild and rash thing, you mean. So it surely was; but it turned out all right, and I’m glad I did it. Of course you know our story. All the country is talking of it. We lived ten miles up the river, in a cabin, very little better than niggers. I couldn’t stand it. There was no life for me, no future. I was only seventeen when I went away. I never expected to come back. Think of it—a country girl from the big swamps. I’d only once been on a railway train in my life. It makes me tremble to think what might have happened to me, but I must have had luck, for I never had any great amount of trouble. Everybody was nice to me—almost. It’s only in the South that a girl could have got through so well.”
“You found the life you wanted?”
“Well—not to perfection. You were at Lyman & Fourget’s, too, you know. But it was a better life, and I might have stayed. Then came the great change in our fortunes. But it wasn’t the money that brought me back. Everybody thinks it was, but it wasn’t. There were more reasons than one. I knew that papa and the boys wanted me back, and they needed me mighty bad—worse than when we were poor. Mamma has been dead for years, you know, and I don’t know what this place would have come to, if I hadn’t taken the helm.”
In the dining room there was another great burst of laughter, and a crash of falling chips. The pungent43 cigar smoke floated out through the window.
“Do you like it here?” said Lockwood gently.
“Yes—but I didn’t think it would be like this,” with a gesture toward the open window.
“Poker?”
“Yes—everything. You’ve seen something; you’ll see more. I can’t blame the boys so much. They’re the best fellows in the world. But they haven’t a thing to do; they grew up idle, and now their pockets are full of money, and they’re bursting with life, and they’re always looking for something new to play with. And Mr. Hanna——”
“Yes?” said Lockwood, with intense interest.
Just then old Power awoke with a sudden snort. He took down his feet from the railing, yawned and looked about confusedly.
“You-all must ’scuse me. Reckon I’ve sure enough been asleep. I’m used ter goin’ to bed with the birds an’ gittin’ up with the sun. I reckon I’m a-goin’ to bed now. You’ll ’scuse me, Mr. Lockwood, sir. You young folks stay up long’s you want to. Good night, sir.”
He went indoors, yawning. But the thread of confidence was broken, and a not quite comfortable silence ensued.
“I have to be up at daylight, too,” Lockwood said at last. “So I reckon I’d better slip quietly away without disturbing the card party.”
The girl did not make any objection. She arose as he did.
“Well, I hope you’ll come again to see us,” she said, just a little hesitantly. “You must get to know the boys better. You know, they’ve both taken a great liking44 to you.”
“I like them both immensely,” Lockwood assured her sincerely.
“The fact is,” she went on, “I do hope you get to be friends with them. I think it would be good for them to have you for a friend. You’ll think it’s strange for me to say this, but after all we’ve known each other a long time—in New Orleans. You see, Mr. Hanna is the only friend we have here who knows anything of the world. I know far more than the boys do, but, of course, I’m only their sister, and they wouldn’t take my opinion on anything. But Mr. Hanna——”
“You don’t trust his opinion?”
“No—no! I don’t say that. But still, two opinions are always better than one, and I’d like the boys to get your view of things. We can’t have too many friends, anyway.”
“I’ll certainly be delighted if your brothers will count me a friend,” said Lockwood. “I hope that you, too, will count me so?”
Louise did not make any answer whatever to this. Lockwood secured his hat and prepared to go, feeling that he had perhaps said too much. But she gave him her hand at the steps with a charming smile and answered him.
“Certainly I’ll count you as a friend, and we’ll expect you to drop in at any time, whenever you happen to be riding past. The boys will look for you.”
“And you, too?”
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收听单词发音
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1
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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2
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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mashed
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| a.捣烂的 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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7
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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8
joviality
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| n.快活 | |
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synthetic
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| adj.合成的，人工的；综合的；n.人工制品 | |
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10
suave
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| adj.温和的；柔和的；文雅的 | |
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11
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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14
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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15
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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17
figs
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| figures 数字，图形，外形 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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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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poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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waned
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| v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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intermittence
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| n.间断；间歇 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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28
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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29
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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30
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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32
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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33
drowsily
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| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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34
densest
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| 密集的( dense的最高级 )； 密度大的； 愚笨的； （信息量大得）难理解的 | |
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35
sloughs
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| n.沼泽( slough的名词复数 )；苦难的深渊；难以改变的不良心情；斯劳(Slough)v.使蜕下或脱落( slough的第三人称单数 )；舍弃；除掉；摒弃 | |
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perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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38
dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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40
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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42
courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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43
pungent
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| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
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44
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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45
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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