章节正文
than bearing it alone."
"Thank God for that!" said Henderson sitting beside
her. "Shall I talk to you?"
She shook her head. So they sat by the hour. At last
she spoke: "Of course, you know there is something I
have got to do, Hart!"
"You have not!" cried Henderson, violently.
"That's all nonsense! Give me just one word
of permission. That is all that is required of you."
"`Required?' You grant, then, that there is something `required?'"
"One word. Nothing more."
"Did you ever know one word could be so big, so black,
so desperately bitter? Oh, Hart!"
"No."
"But you know it now, Hart!"
"Yes."
"And still you say that it is `required?'"
Henderson suffered unspeakably. At last he said: "If you
had seen and heard him, Edith, you, too, would feel that
it is `required.' Remember----"
"No! No! No!" she cried. "Don't ask me to remember even
the least of my pride and folly. Let me forget!"
She sat silent for a long time.
"Will you go with me?" she whispered.
"Of course."
At last she arose.
"I might as well give up and have it over," she faltered.
That was the first time in her life that Edith Carr ever
had proposed to give up anything she wanted.
"Help me, Hart!"
Henderson started around the beach assisting her all he could.
Finally he stopped.
"Edith, there is no sense in this! You are too tired to go.
You know you can trust me. You wait in any of these lovely
places and send me. You will be safe, and I'll run.
One word is all that is necessary."
"But I've got to say that word myself, Hart!"
"Then write it, and let me carry it. The message is not
going to prove who went to the office and sent it."
"That is quite true," she said, dropping wearily, but she
made no movement to take the pen and paper he offered.
"Hart, you write it," she said at last.
Henderson turned away his face. He gripped the pen,
while his breath sucked between his dry teeth.
"Certainly!" he said when he could speak. "Mackinac,
August 27, 1908. Philip Ammon, Lake Shore Hospital, Chicago."
He paused with suspended pen and glanced at Edith. Her white
lips were working, but no sound came. "Miss Comstock is with
the Terence O'Mores, on Mackinac Island," prompted Henderson.
Edith nodded.
"Signed, Henderson," continued the big man.
Edith shook her head.
"Say, `She is well and happy,' and sign, Edith Carr!"
she panted.
"Not on your life!" flashed Henderson.
"For the love of mercy, Hart, don't make this any harder!
It is the least I can do, and it takes every ounce of
strength in me to do it."
"Will you wait for me here?" he asked.
She nodded, and, pulling his hat lower over his eyes,
Henderson ran around the shore. In less than an hour he
was back. He helped her a little farther to where the
Devil's Kitchen lay cut into the rocks; it furnished places
to rest, and cool water. Before long his man came with
the boat. From it they spread blankets on the sand for
her, and made chafing-dish tea. She tried to refuse it,
but the fragranceovercame her for she drank ravenously.
Then Henderson cooked several dishes and spread an
appetizing lunch. She was young, strong, and almost
famished for food. She was forced to eat. That made
her feel much better. Then Henderson helped her into the
boat and ran it through shady coves of the shore, where
there were refreshingbreezes. When she fell asleep the
girl did not know, but the man did. Sadly in need of rest
himself, he ran that boat for five hours through quiet bays,
away from noisy parties, and where the shade was cool
and deep. When she awoke he took her home, and as they
went she knew that she had been mistaken. She would
not die. Her heart was not even broken. She had suffered
horribly; she would suffer more; but eventually the pain
must wear out. Into her head crept a few lines of an
old opera:
"Hearts do not break, they sting and ache,
For old love's sake, but do not die,
As witnesseth the living I."
That evening they were sailing down the Straits before
a stiff breeze and Henderson was busy with the tiller when
she said to him: "Hart, I want you to do something more
for me."
"You have only to tell me," he said.
"Have I only to tell you, Hart?" she asked softly.
"Haven't you learned that yet, Edith?"
"I want you to go away."
"Very well," he said quietly, but his face whitened visibly.
"You say that as if you had been expecting it."
"I have. I knew from the beginning that when this
was over you would dislike me for having seen you suffer.
I have grown my Gethsemane in a full realization of what
was coming, but I could not leave you, Edith, so long as it
seemed to me that I was serving you. Does it make any
difference to you where I go?"
"I want you where you will be loved, and good care
taken of you."
"Thank you!" said Henderson, smiling grimly. "Have you
any idea where such a spot might be found?"
"It should be with your sister at Los Angeles. She always
has seemed very fond of you."
"That is quite true," said Henderson, his eyes brightening
a little. "I will go to her. When shall I start?"
"At once."
Henderson began to tack for the landing, but his hands
shook until he scarcely could manage the boat. Edith Carr
sat watching him indifferently, but her heart was
throbbing painfully. "Why is there so much suffering in
the world?" she kept whispering to herself. Inside her
door Henderson took her by the shoulders almost roughly.
"For how long is this, Edith, and how are you going to
say good-bye to me?"
She raised tired, pain-filled eyes to his.
"I don't know for how long it is," she said. "It seems
now as if it had been a slow eternity. I wish to my soul
that God would be merciful to me and make something
`snap' in my heart, as there did in Phil's, that would give
me rest. I don't know for how long, but I'm perfectly
shameless with you, Hart. If peace ever comes and I want
you, I won't wait for you to find it out yourself, I'll cable,
Marconigraph, anything. As for how I say good-bye; any
way you please, I don't care in the least what happens to me."
Henderson studied her intently.
"In that case, we will shake hands," he said. "Good-bye, Edith.
Don't forget that every hour I am thinking of you and hoping
all good things will come to you soon."
CHAPTER XXV
WHEREIN PHILIP FINDS ELNORA,
AND EDITH CARR OFFERS A YELLOW EMPEROR
Oh, I need my own violin," cried Elnora. "This one
may be a thousand times more expensive, and much older
than mine; but it wasn't inspired and taught to sing
by a man who knew how. It doesn't know `beans,' as
mother would say, about the Limberlost."
The guests in the O'More music-room laughed appreciatively.
"Why don't you write your mother to come for a visit
and bring yours?" suggested Freckles.
"I did that three days ago," acknowledged Elnora.
"I am half expecting her on the noon boat. That is
one reason why this violin grows worse every minute.
There is nothing at all the matter with me."
"Splendid!" cried the Angel. "I've begged and begged
her to do it. I know how anxious these mothers become.
When did you send? What made you? Why didn't you
tell me?"
"`When?' Three days ago. `What made me?' You. `Why didn't
I tell you?' Because I can't be sure in the least that she
will come. Mother is the most individual person. She never
does what every one expects she will.
She may not come, and I didn't want you to be disappointed."
"How did I make you?" asked the Angel.
"Loving Alice. It made me realize that if you cared for
your girl like that, with Mr. O'More and three other
children, possibly my mother, with no one, might like to
see me. I know I want to see her, and you had told me to
so often, I just sent for her. Oh, I do hope she comes!
I want her to see this lovely place."
"I have been wondering what you thought of Mackinac,"
said Freckles.
"Oh, it is a perfect picture, all of it! I should like to
hang it on the wall, so I could see it whenever I wanted to;
but it isn't real, of course; it's nothing but a picture."
"These people won't agree with you," smiled Freckles.
"That isn't necessary," retorted Elnora. "They know
this, and they love it; but you and I are acquainted with
something different. The Limberlost is life. Here it is
a carefully kept park. You motor, sail, and golf, all so
secure and fine. But what I like is the excitement of
choosing a path carefully, in the fear that the quagmire
may reach out and suck me down; to go into the swamp
naked-handed and wrest from it treasures that bring me
books and clothing, and I like enough of a fight for things
that I always remember how I got them. I even enjoy
seeing a canny old vulture eyeing me as if it were saying:
`Ware the sting of the rattler, lest I pick your bones as I
did old Limber's.' I like sufficient danger to put an edge
on life. This is so tame. I should have loved it when all
the homes were cabins, and watchers for the stealthy
Indian canoes patrolled the shores. You wait until
mother comes, and if my violin isn't angry with me for
leaving it, to-night we shall sing you the Song of
the Limberlost. You shall hear the big gold bees over the
red, yellow, and purple flowers, bird song, wind talk, and
the whispers of Sleepy Snake Creek, as it goes past you.
You will know!" Elnora turned to Freckles.
He nodded. "Who better?" he asked. "This is secure
while the children are so small, but when they grow larger,
we are going farther north, into real forest, where they can
learn self-reliance and develop backbone."
Elnora laid away the violin. "Come along, children,"
she said. "We must get at that backbone business at once.
Let's race to the playhouse."
With the brood at her heels Elnora ran, and for an hour
lively sounds stole from the remaining spot of forest on the
Island, which lay beside the O'More cottage. Then Terry
"Thank God for that!" said Henderson sitting beside
her. "Shall I talk to you?"
She shook her head. So they sat by the hour. At last
she spoke: "Of course, you know there is something I
have got to do, Hart!"
"You have not!" cried Henderson, violently.
"That's all nonsense! Give me just one word
of permission. That is all that is required of you."
"`Required?' You grant, then, that there is something `required?'"
"One word. Nothing more."
"Did you ever know one word could be so big, so black,
so desperately bitter? Oh, Hart!"
"No."
"But you know it now, Hart!"
"Yes."
"And still you say that it is `required?'"
Henderson suffered unspeakably. At last he said: "If you
had seen and heard him, Edith, you, too, would feel that
it is `required.' Remember----"
"No! No! No!" she cried. "Don't ask me to remember even
the least of my pride and folly. Let me forget!"
She sat silent for a long time.
"Will you go with me?" she whispered.
"Of course."
At last she arose.
"I might as well give up and have it over," she faltered.
That was the first time in her life that Edith Carr ever
had proposed to give up anything she wanted.
"Help me, Hart!"
Henderson started around the beach assisting her all he could.
Finally he stopped.
"Edith, there is no sense in this! You are too tired to go.
You know you can trust me. You wait in any of these lovely
places and send me. You will be safe, and I'll run.
One word is all that is necessary."
"But I've got to say that word myself, Hart!"
"Then write it, and let me carry it. The message is not
going to prove who went to the office and sent it."
"That is quite true," she said, dropping wearily, but she
made no movement to take the pen and paper he offered.
"Hart, you write it," she said at last.
Henderson turned away his face. He gripped the pen,
while his breath sucked between his dry teeth.
"Certainly!" he said when he could speak. "Mackinac,
August 27, 1908. Philip Ammon, Lake Shore Hospital, Chicago."
He paused with suspended pen and glanced at Edith. Her white
lips were working, but no sound came. "Miss Comstock is with
the Terence O'Mores, on Mackinac Island," prompted Henderson.
Edith nodded.
"Signed, Henderson," continued the big man.
Edith shook her head.
"Say, `She is well and happy,' and sign, Edith Carr!"
she panted.
"Not on your life!" flashed Henderson.
"For the love of mercy, Hart, don't make this any harder!
It is the least I can do, and it takes every ounce of
strength in me to do it."
"Will you wait for me here?" he asked.
She nodded, and, pulling his hat lower over his eyes,
Henderson ran around the shore. In less than an hour he
was back. He helped her a little farther to where the
Devil's Kitchen lay cut into the rocks; it furnished places
to rest, and cool water. Before long his man came with
the boat. From it they spread blankets on the sand for
her, and made chafing-dish tea. She tried to refuse it,
but the fragranceovercame her for she drank ravenously.
Then Henderson cooked several dishes and spread an
appetizing lunch. She was young, strong, and almost
famished for food. She was forced to eat. That made
her feel much better. Then Henderson helped her into the
boat and ran it through shady coves of the shore, where
there were refreshingbreezes. When she fell asleep the
girl did not know, but the man did. Sadly in need of rest
himself, he ran that boat for five hours through quiet bays,
away from noisy parties, and where the shade was cool
and deep. When she awoke he took her home, and as they
went she knew that she had been mistaken. She would
not die. Her heart was not even broken. She had suffered
horribly; she would suffer more; but eventually the pain
must wear out. Into her head crept a few lines of an
old opera:
"Hearts do not break, they sting and ache,
For old love's sake, but do not die,
As witnesseth the living I."
That evening they were sailing down the Straits before
a stiff breeze and Henderson was busy with the tiller when
she said to him: "Hart, I want you to do something more
for me."
"You have only to tell me," he said.
"Have I only to tell you, Hart?" she asked softly.
"Haven't you learned that yet, Edith?"
"I want you to go away."
"Very well," he said quietly, but his face whitened visibly.
"You say that as if you had been expecting it."
"I have. I knew from the beginning that when this
was over you would dislike me for having seen you suffer.
I have grown my Gethsemane in a full realization of what
was coming, but I could not leave you, Edith, so long as it
seemed to me that I was serving you. Does it make any
difference to you where I go?"
"I want you where you will be loved, and good care
taken of you."
"Thank you!" said Henderson, smiling grimly. "Have you
any idea where such a spot might be found?"
"It should be with your sister at Los Angeles. She always
has seemed very fond of you."
"That is quite true," said Henderson, his eyes brightening
a little. "I will go to her. When shall I start?"
"At once."
Henderson began to tack for the landing, but his hands
shook until he scarcely could manage the boat. Edith Carr
sat watching him indifferently, but her heart was
throbbing painfully. "Why is there so much suffering in
the world?" she kept whispering to herself. Inside her
door Henderson took her by the shoulders almost roughly.
"For how long is this, Edith, and how are you going to
say good-bye to me?"
She raised tired, pain-filled eyes to his.
"I don't know for how long it is," she said. "It seems
now as if it had been a slow eternity. I wish to my soul
that God would be merciful to me and make something
`snap' in my heart, as there did in Phil's, that would give
me rest. I don't know for how long, but I'm perfectly
shameless with you, Hart. If peace ever comes and I want
you, I won't wait for you to find it out yourself, I'll cable,
Marconigraph, anything. As for how I say good-bye; any
way you please, I don't care in the least what happens to me."
Henderson studied her intently.
"In that case, we will shake hands," he said. "Good-bye, Edith.
Don't forget that every hour I am thinking of you and hoping
all good things will come to you soon."
CHAPTER XXV
WHEREIN PHILIP FINDS ELNORA,
AND EDITH CARR OFFERS A YELLOW EMPEROR
Oh, I need my own violin," cried Elnora. "This one
may be a thousand times more expensive, and much older
than mine; but it wasn't inspired and taught to sing
by a man who knew how. It doesn't know `beans,' as
mother would say, about the Limberlost."
The guests in the O'More music-room laughed appreciatively.
"Why don't you write your mother to come for a visit
and bring yours?" suggested Freckles.
"I did that three days ago," acknowledged Elnora.
"I am half expecting her on the noon boat. That is
one reason why this violin grows worse every minute.
There is nothing at all the matter with me."
"Splendid!" cried the Angel. "I've begged and begged
her to do it. I know how anxious these mothers become.
When did you send? What made you? Why didn't you
tell me?"
"`When?' Three days ago. `What made me?' You. `Why didn't
I tell you?' Because I can't be sure in the least that she
will come. Mother is the most individual person. She never
does what every one expects she will.
She may not come, and I didn't want you to be disappointed."
"How did I make you?" asked the Angel.
"Loving Alice. It made me realize that if you cared for
your girl like that, with Mr. O'More and three other
children, possibly my mother, with no one, might like to
see me. I know I want to see her, and you had told me to
so often, I just sent for her. Oh, I do hope she comes!
I want her to see this lovely place."
"I have been wondering what you thought of Mackinac,"
said Freckles.
"Oh, it is a perfect picture, all of it! I should like to
hang it on the wall, so I could see it whenever I wanted to;
but it isn't real, of course; it's nothing but a picture."
"These people won't agree with you," smiled Freckles.
"That isn't necessary," retorted Elnora. "They know
this, and they love it; but you and I are acquainted with
something different. The Limberlost is life. Here it is
a carefully kept park. You motor, sail, and golf, all so
secure and fine. But what I like is the excitement of
choosing a path carefully, in the fear that the quagmire
may reach out and suck me down; to go into the swamp
naked-handed and wrest from it treasures that bring me
books and clothing, and I like enough of a fight for things
that I always remember how I got them. I even enjoy
seeing a canny old vulture eyeing me as if it were saying:
`Ware the sting of the rattler, lest I pick your bones as I
did old Limber's.' I like sufficient danger to put an edge
on life. This is so tame. I should have loved it when all
the homes were cabins, and watchers for the stealthy
Indian canoes patrolled the shores. You wait until
mother comes, and if my violin isn't angry with me for
leaving it, to-night we shall sing you the Song of
the Limberlost. You shall hear the big gold bees over the
red, yellow, and purple flowers, bird song, wind talk, and
the whispers of Sleepy Snake Creek, as it goes past you.
You will know!" Elnora turned to Freckles.
He nodded. "Who better?" he asked. "This is secure
while the children are so small, but when they grow larger,
we are going farther north, into real forest, where they can
learn self-reliance and develop backbone."
Elnora laid away the violin. "Come along, children,"
she said. "We must get at that backbone business at once.
Let's race to the playhouse."
With the brood at her heels Elnora ran, and for an hour
lively sounds stole from the remaining spot of forest on the
Island, which lay beside the O'More cottage. Then Terry
- permission [pə´miʃən]
n.允许；同意；许可 (初中英语单词) - movement [´mu:vmənt] n.活动；运动；动作 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- working [´wə:kiŋ] a.工人的；劳动的 (初中英语单词)
- breeze [bri:z] n.微风；不费力的事 (初中英语单词)
- beginning [bi´giniŋ] n.开始，开端；起源 (初中英语单词)
- dislike [dis´laik] vt.&n.不喜爱，厌恶 (初中英语单词)
- realization [,riəlai´zeiʃən] n.实现；认识 (初中英语单词)
- suffering [´sʌfəriŋ] n.痛苦；灾害 (初中英语单词)
- expensive [ik´spensiv] a.费钱的，昂贵的 (初中英语单词)
- anxious [´æŋkʃəs] a.担忧的；渴望的 (初中英语单词)
- whenever [wen´evə] conj.&ad.无论何时 (初中英语单词)
- excitement [ik´saitmənt] n.兴奋；骚动；煽动 (初中英语单词)
- purple [´pə:pl] n.紫色 a.紫(红)的 (初中英语单词)
- cottage [´kɔtidʒ] n.村舍；小屋；小别墅 (初中英语单词)
- bearing [´beəriŋ] n.举止；忍耐；关系 (高中英语单词)
- desperately [´despəritli] ad.绝望地；拼命地 (高中英语单词)
- fragrance [´freigrəns] n.芬芳，芳香 (高中英语单词)
- mistaken [mis´teikən] mistake的过去分词 (高中英语单词)
- learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
- grimly [´grimli] ad.严厉地；坚强地 (高中英语单词)
- eternity [i´tə:niti] n.永恒，来世，无穷 (高中英语单词)
- studied [´stʌdid] a.故意的；有计划的 (高中英语单词)
- sleepy [´sli:pi] a.困的，想睡的 (高中英语单词)
- wearily [´wiərili] ad.疲倦地；厌烦地 (英语四级单词)
- overcame [,əuvə´keim] overcome的过去式 (英语四级单词)
- eventually [i´ventʃuəli] ad.最后，终于 (英语四级单词)
- painfully [´peinfuli] ad.痛苦地；费力地 (英语四级单词)
- violin [,vaiə´lin] n.(小)提琴 (英语四级单词)
- backbone [´bækbəun] n.脊骨；骨干；支柱 (英语四级单词)
- refreshing [ri´freʃiŋ] a.使心神爽快的 (英语六级单词)
- landing [´lændiŋ] n.登陆；降落；楼梯平台 (英语六级单词)
- indifferently [in´difrəntli] ad.不关心地；冷淡地 (英语六级单词)
- merciful [´mə:sifəl] a.仁慈的；宽大的 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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