章节正文
you came."
"I will if I like you," said the Angel stoutly, "and if I don't, I won't!"
"But I began all wrong, and now I don't know how to make you like
me," said his lordship, with sincere penitence in his tone.
The Angel found herself yielding to his voice. He spoke in a soft,
mellow, smoothly flowing Irish tone, and although his speech was
perfectly correct, it was so rounded, and accented, and the
sentences so turned, that it was Freckles over again. Still, it was
a matter of the very greatest importance, and she must be sure; so
she looked into the beautiful woman's face.
"Are you his wife?" she asked.
"Yes," said the woman, "I am his wife."
"Well," said the Angel judicially, "the Bird Woman says no one in
the whole world knows all a man's bignesses and all his
littlenesses as his wife does. What you think of him should do
for me. Do you like him?"
The question was so earnestly asked that it met with equal earnestness.
The dark head moved caressingly against Lord O'More's sleeve.
"Better than anyone in the whole world," said Lady O'More promptly.
The Angel mused a second, and then her legal tinge came to the fore again.
"Yes, but have you anyone you could like better, if he wasn't all
right?" she persisted.
"I have three of his sons, two little daughters, a father, mother,
and several brothers and sisters," came the quick reply.
"And you like him best?" persisted the Angel with finality.
"I love him so much that I would give up every one of them with dry
eyes if by so doing I could save him," cried Lord O'More's wife.
"Oh!" cried the Angel. "Oh, my!"
She lifted her clear eyes to Lord O'More's and shook her head.
"She never, never could do that!" she said. "But it's a mighty big
thing to your credit that she THINKS she could. I guess I'll tell
you why I came."
She laid down the paper, and touched the portrait.
"When you were only a boy, did people call you Freckles?" she asked.
"Dozens of good fellows all over Ireland and the Continent are
doing it today," answered Lord O'More.
The Angel's face wore her most beautiful smile.
"I was sure of it," she said winningly. "That's what we call him,
and he is so like you, I doubt if any one of those three boys of
yours are more so. But it's been twenty years. Seems to me you've
been a long time coming!"
Lord O'More caught the Angel's wrists and his wife slipped her arms
around her.
"Steady, my girl!" said the man's voice hoarsely. "Don't make me
think you've brought word of the boy at this last hour, unless you
know surely."
"It's all right," said the Angel. "We have him, and there's no
chance of a mistake. If I hadn't gone to that Home for his little
clothes, and heard of you and been hunting you, and had met you on
the street, or anywhere, I would have stopped you and asked you who
you were, just because you are so like him. It's all right. I can
tell you where Freckles is; but whether you deserve to know--that's
another matter!"
Lord O'More did not hear her. He dropped in his chair, and covering
his face, burst into those terrible sobs that shake and rend a
strong man. Lady O'More hovered over him, weeping.
"Umph! Looks pretty fair for Freckles," muttered the Angel.
"Lots of things can be explained; now perhaps they can explain this."
They did explain so satisfactorily that in a few minutes the Angel
was on her feet, hurrying Lord and Lady O'More to reach the hospital.
"You said Freckles' old nurse knew his mother's picture instantly,"
said the Angel. "I want that picture and the bundle of little clothes."
Lady O'More gave them into her hands.
The likeness was a large miniature, painted on ivory, with a frame
of beaten gold. Surrounded by masses of dark hair was a delicately
cut face. In the upper part of it there was no trace of Freckles,
but the lips curving in a smile were his very own. The Angel gazed
at it steadily. Then with a quivering breath she laid the portrait
aside and reached both hands to Lord O'More.
"That will save Freckles' life and insure his happiness," she
said positively. "Thank you, oh thank you for coming!"
She opened the bundle of yellow and brown linen and gave only a
glance at the texture and work. Then she gathered the little
clothes and the picture to her heart and led the way to the cab.
Ushering Lord and Lady O'More into the reception room, she said to
McLean, "Please go call up my father and ask him to come on the
first train."
She closed the door after him.
"These are Freckles' people," she said to the Bird Woman. "You can
find out about each other; I'm going to him."
CHAPTER XIX
Wherein Freckles Finds His Birthright and the Angel Loses Her Heart
The nurse left the room quietly, as the Angel entered, carrying the
bundle and picture. When they were alone, she turned to Freckles
and saw that the crisis was indeed at hand.
That she had good word to give him was his salvation, for despite
the heavy plasterjacket that held his body immovable, his head was
lifted from the pillow. Both arms reached for her. His lips and
cheeks flamed, while his eyes flashed with excitement.
"Angel," he panted. "Oh Angel! Did you find them? Are they white?
Are the little stitches there? OH ANGEL! DID ME MOTHER LOVE ME?"
The words seemed to leap from his burning lips. The Angel dropped
the bundle on the bed and laid the picture face down across his knees.
She gently pushed his head to the pillow and caught his arms in a
firm grasp.
"Yes, dear heart," she said with fullest assurance. "No little
clothes were ever whiter. I never in all my life saw such dainty,
fine, little stitches; and as for loving you, no boy's mother ever
loved him more!"
A nervous trembling seized Freckles.
"Sure? Are you sure?" he urged with clicking teeth.
"I know," said the Angel firmly. "And Freckles, while you rest and
be glad, I want to tell you a story. When you feel stronger we will
look at the clothes together. They are here. They are all right.
But while I was at the Home getting them, I heard of some people
that were hunting a lost boy. I went to see them, and what they
told me was all so exactly like what might have happened to you that
I must tell you. Then you'll understand that things could be very
different from what you always have tortured yourself with thinking.
Are you strong enough to listen? May I tell you?"
"Maybe 'twasn't me mother! Maybe someone else made those little stitches!"
"Now, goosie, don't you begin that," said the Angel, "because I
know that it was!"
"Know!" cried Freckles, his head springing from the pillow. "Know!
How can you know?"
The Angel gently soothed him back.
"Why, because nobody else would ever sit and do it the way it
is done. That's how I know," she said emphatically. "Now you
listen while I tell you about this lost boy and his people, who
have hunted for months and can't find him."
Freckles lay quietly under her touch, but he did not hear a word
that she was saying until his roving eyes rested on her face; he
immediately noticed a remarkable thing. For the first time she was
talking to him and avoiding his eyes. That was not like the Angel
at all. It was the delight of hearing her speak that she looked one
squarely in the face and with perfect frankness. There were no side
glances and down-drooping eyes when the Angel talked; she was
business straight through. Instantly Freckles' wandering thoughts
fastened on her words.
"--and he was a sour, grumpy, old man," she was saying. "He always
had been spoiled, because he was an only son, so he had a title,
and a big estate. He would have just his way, no matter about his
sweet little wife, or his boys, or anyone. So when his elder son
fell in love with a beautiful girl having a title, the very girl of
all the world his father wanted him to, and added a big adjoining
estate to his, why, that pleased him mightily.
"Then he went and ordered his younger son to marry a poky kind of
a girl, that no one liked, to add another big estate on the other
side, and that was different. That was all the world different,
because the elder son had been in love all his life with the girl
he married, and, oh, Freckles, it's no wonder, for I saw her!
She's a beauty and she has the sweetest way.
"But that poor younger son, he had been in love with the village
vicar's daughter all his life. That's no wonder either, for she was
more beautiful yet. She could sing as the angels, but she hadn't a
cent. She loved him to death, too, if he was bony and freckled and
red-haired--I don't mean that! They didn't say what color his hair
was, but his father's must have been the reddest ever, for when he
found out about them, and it wasn't anything so terrible, HE JUST CAVED!
"The old man went to see the girl--the pretty one with no money, of
course--and he hurt her feelings until she ran away. She went to
London and began studying music. Soon she grew to be a fine singer,
so she joined a company and came to this country.
"When the younger son found that she had left London, he followed her.
When she got here all alone, and afraid, and saw him coming to her,
why, she was so glad she up and married him, just like anybody
else would have done. He didn't want her to travel with the troupe,
so when they reached Chicago they thought that would be a good
place, and they stopped, while he hunted work. It was slow
business, because he never had been taught to do a useful thing,
and he didn't even know how to hunt work, least of all to do it
when he found it; so pretty soon things were going wrong. But if he
couldn't find work, she could always sing, so she sang at night,
and made little things in the daytime. He didn't like her to sing
in public, and he wouldn't allow her when he could HELP himself;
but winter came, it was very cold, and fire was expensive.
Rents went up, and they had to move farther out to cheaper and
cheaper places; and you were coming--I mean, the boy that is lost
was coming--and they were almost distracted. Then the man wrote and
told his father all about it; and his father sent the letter back
unopened with a line telling him never to write again. When the
baby came, there was very little left to pawn for food and a
doctor, and nothing at all for a nurse; so an old neighbor woman
went in and took care of the young mother and the little baby,
because she was so sorry for them. By that time they were away in
the suburbs on the top floor of a little wooden house, among a lot
of big factories, and it kept growing colder, with less to eat.
Then the man grew desperate and he went just to find something to
eat and the woman was desperate, too. She got up, left the old
woman to take care of her baby, and went into the city to sing for
some money. The woman became so cold she put the baby in bed and
went home. Then a boiler blew up in a big factory beside the little
house and set it on fire. A piece of iron was pitched across and
broke through the roof. It came down smash, and cut just one little
hand off the poor baby. It screamed and screamed; and the fire kept
coming closer and closer.
"The old woman ran out with the other people and saw what had happened.
She knew there wasn't going to be time to wait for firemen or
anything, so she ran into the building. She could hear the baby
screaming, and she couldn't stand that; so she worked her way to it.
There it was, all hurt and bleeding. Then she was almost scared
to death over thinking what its mother would do to her for
going away and leaving it, so she ran to a Home for little
friendless babies, that was close, and banged on the door. Then she
hid across the street until the baby was taken in, and then she ran
back to see if her own house was burning. The big factory and the
little house and a lot of others were all gone. The people there
told her that the beautiful lady came back and ran into the house
to find her baby. She had just gone in when her husband came, and
he went in after her, and the house fell over both of them."
Freckles lay rigidly, with his eyes on the Angel's face, while she
"I will if I like you," said the Angel stoutly, "and if I don't, I won't!"
"But I began all wrong, and now I don't know how to make you like
me," said his lordship, with sincere penitence in his tone.
The Angel found herself yielding to his voice. He spoke in a soft,
mellow, smoothly flowing Irish tone, and although his speech was
perfectly correct, it was so rounded, and accented, and the
sentences so turned, that it was Freckles over again. Still, it was
a matter of the very greatest importance, and she must be sure; so
she looked into the beautiful woman's face.
"Are you his wife?" she asked.
"Yes," said the woman, "I am his wife."
"Well," said the Angel judicially, "the Bird Woman says no one in
the whole world knows all a man's bignesses and all his
littlenesses as his wife does. What you think of him should do
for me. Do you like him?"
The question was so earnestly asked that it met with equal earnestness.
The dark head moved caressingly against Lord O'More's sleeve.
"Better than anyone in the whole world," said Lady O'More promptly.
The Angel mused a second, and then her legal tinge came to the fore again.
"Yes, but have you anyone you could like better, if he wasn't all
right?" she persisted.
"I have three of his sons, two little daughters, a father, mother,
and several brothers and sisters," came the quick reply.
"And you like him best?" persisted the Angel with finality.
"I love him so much that I would give up every one of them with dry
eyes if by so doing I could save him," cried Lord O'More's wife.
"Oh!" cried the Angel. "Oh, my!"
She lifted her clear eyes to Lord O'More's and shook her head.
"She never, never could do that!" she said. "But it's a mighty big
thing to your credit that she THINKS she could. I guess I'll tell
you why I came."
She laid down the paper, and touched the portrait.
"When you were only a boy, did people call you Freckles?" she asked.
"Dozens of good fellows all over Ireland and the Continent are
doing it today," answered Lord O'More.
The Angel's face wore her most beautiful smile.
"I was sure of it," she said winningly. "That's what we call him,
and he is so like you, I doubt if any one of those three boys of
yours are more so. But it's been twenty years. Seems to me you've
been a long time coming!"
Lord O'More caught the Angel's wrists and his wife slipped her arms
around her.
"Steady, my girl!" said the man's voice hoarsely. "Don't make me
think you've brought word of the boy at this last hour, unless you
know surely."
"It's all right," said the Angel. "We have him, and there's no
chance of a mistake. If I hadn't gone to that Home for his little
clothes, and heard of you and been hunting you, and had met you on
the street, or anywhere, I would have stopped you and asked you who
you were, just because you are so like him. It's all right. I can
tell you where Freckles is; but whether you deserve to know--that's
another matter!"
Lord O'More did not hear her. He dropped in his chair, and covering
his face, burst into those terrible sobs that shake and rend a
strong man. Lady O'More hovered over him, weeping.
"Umph! Looks pretty fair for Freckles," muttered the Angel.
"Lots of things can be explained; now perhaps they can explain this."
They did explain so satisfactorily that in a few minutes the Angel
was on her feet, hurrying Lord and Lady O'More to reach the hospital.
"You said Freckles' old nurse knew his mother's picture instantly,"
said the Angel. "I want that picture and the bundle of little clothes."
Lady O'More gave them into her hands.
The likeness was a large miniature, painted on ivory, with a frame
of beaten gold. Surrounded by masses of dark hair was a delicately
cut face. In the upper part of it there was no trace of Freckles,
but the lips curving in a smile were his very own. The Angel gazed
at it steadily. Then with a quivering breath she laid the portrait
aside and reached both hands to Lord O'More.
"That will save Freckles' life and insure his happiness," she
said positively. "Thank you, oh thank you for coming!"
She opened the bundle of yellow and brown linen and gave only a
glance at the texture and work. Then she gathered the little
clothes and the picture to her heart and led the way to the cab.
Ushering Lord and Lady O'More into the reception room, she said to
McLean, "Please go call up my father and ask him to come on the
first train."
She closed the door after him.
"These are Freckles' people," she said to the Bird Woman. "You can
find out about each other; I'm going to him."
CHAPTER XIX
Wherein Freckles Finds His Birthright and the Angel Loses Her Heart
The nurse left the room quietly, as the Angel entered, carrying the
bundle and picture. When they were alone, she turned to Freckles
and saw that the crisis was indeed at hand.
That she had good word to give him was his salvation, for despite
the heavy plasterjacket that held his body immovable, his head was
lifted from the pillow. Both arms reached for her. His lips and
cheeks flamed, while his eyes flashed with excitement.
"Angel," he panted. "Oh Angel! Did you find them? Are they white?
Are the little stitches there? OH ANGEL! DID ME MOTHER LOVE ME?"
The words seemed to leap from his burning lips. The Angel dropped
the bundle on the bed and laid the picture face down across his knees.
She gently pushed his head to the pillow and caught his arms in a
firm grasp.
"Yes, dear heart," she said with fullest assurance. "No little
clothes were ever whiter. I never in all my life saw such dainty,
fine, little stitches; and as for loving you, no boy's mother ever
loved him more!"
A nervous trembling seized Freckles.
"Sure? Are you sure?" he urged with clicking teeth.
"I know," said the Angel firmly. "And Freckles, while you rest and
be glad, I want to tell you a story. When you feel stronger we will
look at the clothes together. They are here. They are all right.
But while I was at the Home getting them, I heard of some people
that were hunting a lost boy. I went to see them, and what they
told me was all so exactly like what might have happened to you that
I must tell you. Then you'll understand that things could be very
different from what you always have tortured yourself with thinking.
Are you strong enough to listen? May I tell you?"
"Maybe 'twasn't me mother! Maybe someone else made those little stitches!"
"Now, goosie, don't you begin that," said the Angel, "because I
know that it was!"
"Know!" cried Freckles, his head springing from the pillow. "Know!
How can you know?"
The Angel gently soothed him back.
"Why, because nobody else would ever sit and do it the way it
is done. That's how I know," she said emphatically. "Now you
listen while I tell you about this lost boy and his people, who
have hunted for months and can't find him."
Freckles lay quietly under her touch, but he did not hear a word
that she was saying until his roving eyes rested on her face; he
immediately noticed a remarkable thing. For the first time she was
talking to him and avoiding his eyes. That was not like the Angel
at all. It was the delight of hearing her speak that she looked one
squarely in the face and with perfect frankness. There were no side
glances and down-drooping eyes when the Angel talked; she was
business straight through. Instantly Freckles' wandering thoughts
fastened on her words.
"--and he was a sour, grumpy, old man," she was saying. "He always
had been spoiled, because he was an only son, so he had a title,
and a big estate. He would have just his way, no matter about his
sweet little wife, or his boys, or anyone. So when his elder son
fell in love with a beautiful girl having a title, the very girl of
all the world his father wanted him to, and added a big adjoining
estate to his, why, that pleased him mightily.
"Then he went and ordered his younger son to marry a poky kind of
a girl, that no one liked, to add another big estate on the other
side, and that was different. That was all the world different,
because the elder son had been in love all his life with the girl
he married, and, oh, Freckles, it's no wonder, for I saw her!
She's a beauty and she has the sweetest way.
"But that poor younger son, he had been in love with the village
vicar's daughter all his life. That's no wonder either, for she was
more beautiful yet. She could sing as the angels, but she hadn't a
cent. She loved him to death, too, if he was bony and freckled and
red-haired--I don't mean that! They didn't say what color his hair
was, but his father's must have been the reddest ever, for when he
found out about them, and it wasn't anything so terrible, HE JUST CAVED!
"The old man went to see the girl--the pretty one with no money, of
course--and he hurt her feelings until she ran away. She went to
London and began studying music. Soon she grew to be a fine singer,
so she joined a company and came to this country.
"When the younger son found that she had left London, he followed her.
When she got here all alone, and afraid, and saw him coming to her,
why, she was so glad she up and married him, just like anybody
else would have done. He didn't want her to travel with the troupe,
so when they reached Chicago they thought that would be a good
place, and they stopped, while he hunted work. It was slow
business, because he never had been taught to do a useful thing,
and he didn't even know how to hunt work, least of all to do it
when he found it; so pretty soon things were going wrong. But if he
couldn't find work, she could always sing, so she sang at night,
and made little things in the daytime. He didn't like her to sing
in public, and he wouldn't allow her when he could HELP himself;
but winter came, it was very cold, and fire was expensive.
Rents went up, and they had to move farther out to cheaper and
cheaper places; and you were coming--I mean, the boy that is lost
was coming--and they were almost distracted. Then the man wrote and
told his father all about it; and his father sent the letter back
unopened with a line telling him never to write again. When the
baby came, there was very little left to pawn for food and a
doctor, and nothing at all for a nurse; so an old neighbor woman
went in and took care of the young mother and the little baby,
because she was so sorry for them. By that time they were away in
the suburbs on the top floor of a little wooden house, among a lot
of big factories, and it kept growing colder, with less to eat.
Then the man grew desperate and he went just to find something to
eat and the woman was desperate, too. She got up, left the old
woman to take care of her baby, and went into the city to sing for
some money. The woman became so cold she put the baby in bed and
went home. Then a boiler blew up in a big factory beside the little
house and set it on fire. A piece of iron was pitched across and
broke through the roof. It came down smash, and cut just one little
hand off the poor baby. It screamed and screamed; and the fire kept
coming closer and closer.
"The old woman ran out with the other people and saw what had happened.
She knew there wasn't going to be time to wait for firemen or
anything, so she ran into the building. She could hear the baby
screaming, and she couldn't stand that; so she worked her way to it.
There it was, all hurt and bleeding. Then she was almost scared
to death over thinking what its mother would do to her for
going away and leaving it, so she ran to a Home for little
friendless babies, that was close, and banged on the door. Then she
hid across the street until the baby was taken in, and then she ran
back to see if her own house was burning. The big factory and the
little house and a lot of others were all gone. The people there
told her that the beautiful lady came back and ran into the house
to find her baby. She had just gone in when her husband came, and
he went in after her, and the house fell over both of them."
Freckles lay rigidly, with his eyes on the Angel's face, while she
- sincere [sin´siə]
a.真挚的；直率的 (初中英语单词) - continent [´kɔntinənt] n.大陆，陆地 (初中英语单词)
- anywhere [´eniweə] ad.无论何处；任何地方 (初中英语单词)
- deserve [di´zə:v] v.应受；值得 (初中英语单词)
- bundle [´bʌndl] n.包，捆；包袱(裹) (初中英语单词)
- beaten [´bi:tn] beat 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- steadily [´stedili] ad.坚定地；不断地 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- jacket [´dʒækit] n.茄克衫；外套 (初中英语单词)
- gently [´dʒentli] ad.温和地；静静地 (初中英语单词)
- nervous [´nə:vəs] a.神经的；神经过敏的 (初中英语单词)
- firmly [´fə:mli] ad.坚固地，稳定地 (初中英语单词)
- remarkable [ri´mɑ:kəbl] a.值得注意的；显著的 (初中英语单词)
- instantly [´instəntli] ad.立即，立刻 (初中英语单词)
- estate [i´steit] n.财产；庄园；等级 (初中英语单词)
- wooden [´wudn] a.木制的；呆板的 (初中英语单词)
- desperate [´despərit] a.拼死的；绝望的 (初中英语单词)
- lordship [´lɔ:dʃip] n.贵族权力；阁下 (高中英语单词)
- smoothly [´smu:ðli] ad.光滑地；顺利地 (高中英语单词)
- earnestly [´ə:nistli] ad.认真地；急切地 (高中英语单词)
- mighty [´maiti] a.强有力的 ad.很 (高中英语单词)
- ireland [´aiələnd] n.爱尔兰 (高中英语单词)
- likeness [´laiknis] n.相似；肖像；外表 (高中英语单词)
- miniature [´miniətʃə] n.缩样 a.雏型的 (高中英语单词)
- insure [in´ʃuə] vt.给...保险 (高中英语单词)
- positively [´pɔzətivli] ad.确实；断然；绝对 (高中英语单词)
- reception [ri´sepʃən] n.接待；欢迎；招待会 (高中英语单词)
- crisis [´kraisis] n.转折点；危机 (高中英语单词)
- salvation [sæl´veiʃən] n.救助；拯救 (高中英语单词)
- plaster [´plɑ:stə] n.灰泥 vt.厚厚地涂抹 (高中英语单词)
- assurance [ə´ʃuərəns] n.保证；自信；信任 (高中英语单词)
- loving [´lʌviŋ] a.爱的，有爱情的 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- hearing [´hiəriŋ] n.听力；听证会；审讯 (高中英语单词)
- daytime [´deitaim] n.白天 (高中英语单词)
- boiler [´bɔilə] n.锅炉 (高中英语单词)
- texture [´tekstʃə] n.(织物等的)质地 (英语四级单词)
- freckled [´frekld] a.有雀斑的，有斑点的 (英语四级单词)
- chicago [ʃi´kɑ:gəu] n.芝加哥 (英语四级单词)
- hoarsely [´hɔ:sli] ad.嘶哑地 (英语六级单词)
- hunting [´hʌntiŋ] n.打猎 (英语六级单词)
- satisfactorily [sætis´fæktərili] ad.令人满意地 (英语六级单词)
- birthright [´bə:θrait] n.生来就有的权利 (英语六级单词)
- immovable [i´mu:vəbəl] a.不能移动的，固定的 (英语六级单词)
- emphatically [im´fætikəli] ad.强调地；断然地 (英语六级单词)
- frankness [´fræŋknis] n.坦白，直率，真诚 (英语六级单词)
- rigidly [´ridʒidli] ad.坚硬地；不易弯地 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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