章节正文
curved, and the pearls in her big ears brought out every ugly
spot on her face. Her lips were thin, and her neck, hung with
diamonds, looked like a bed with bolsters and pillows piled high,
and her eyes--oh, Tom, her eyes! They were little and very gray,
and they bored their way straight through the windows--hers and
ours--and hit the Bishop plumb in the face.
My, if I could only have laughed! The Bishop, the dear, prim
little Bishop in his own carriage, with his arm about a young
woman in red and chinchilla, offering her a bank-note, and Mrs.
Dowager Diamonds, her eyes popping out of her head at the sight,
and she one of the lady pillars of his church--oh, Tom! it took
all of this to make that poor innocent next to me realize how he
looked in her eyes.
But you see it was over in a minute. The carriage wheels were
unlocked, and the blue coupe went whirling away, and we in the
plum-cushioned carriage followed slowly.
I decided that I'd had enough. Now and here in the middle of all
these carriages was a bully good time and place for me to get
away. I turned to the Bishop. He was blushing like a boy.
I blushed, too. Yes, I did, Tom Dorgan, but it was because I was
bursting with laughter.
"Oh, dear!" I exclaimed in sudden dismay. "You're not my
father."
"No--no, my dear, I--I'm not," he stammered, his face purple
now with embarrassment. "I was just trying to tell you, you poor
little girl, of your mistake and planning a way to help you,
when--"
He made a gesture of despair toward the side where the coupe had
been.
I covered my face with my hands, and shrinking over into the
corner, I cried:
"Let me out! let me out! You're not my father. Oh, let me out!"
"Why, certainly, child. But I'm old enough, surely, to be, and I
wish--I wish I were."
"You do!"
The dignity and tenderness and courtesy in his voice sort of
sobered me. But all at once I remembered the face of Mrs. Dowager
Diamonds, and I understood.
"Oh, because of her," I said, smiling and pointing to the side
where the coupe had been.
My, but it was a rotten bad move! I ought to have been strapped
for it. Oh, Tom, Tom, it takes more'n a red coat with chinchilla
to make a black-hearted thing like me into the girl he thought I
was.
He stiffened and sat up like a prim little school-boy, his soft
eyes hurt like a dog's that's been wounded.
I won't tell you what I did then. No, I won't. And you won't
understand, but just that minute I cared more for what he thought
of me than whether I got to the Correction or anywhere else.
It made us friends in a minute, and when he stopped the carriage
to let me out, my hand was still in his. But I wouldn't go. I'd
made up my mind to see him out of his part of the scrape, and
first thing you know we were driving up toward the Square, if you
please, to Mrs. Dowager Diamonds' house.
He thought it was his scheme, the poor lamb, to put me in her
charge till my lost daddy could send for me. He'd no more idea
that I was steering him toward her, that he was doing the only
thing possible, the only square thing by his reputation, than he
had that Nance Olden had been raised by the Cruelty, and then
flung herself away on the first handsome Irish boy she met.
That'll do, Tom.
Girls, if you could have seen Mrs. Dowager Diamonds' face when
she came down the stairs, the Bishop's card in her hand, and into
the gorgeousparlor, it'd have been as good as a front seat at
the show.
She was mad, and she was curious, and she was amazed, and she was
disarmed; for the very nerve of his bringing me to her staggered
her so that she could hardly believe she'd seen what she had.
"My dear Mrs. Ramsay," he began, confused a bit by his
remembrance of how her face had looked fifteen minutes before,
"I bring to you an unfortunate child, who mistook my carriage
for her father's this afternoon at the station. She is a college
girl, a stranger in town, and till her father claims her--"
Oh, the baby! the baby! She was stiffening like a rod before his
very eyes. How did his words explain his having his arm round the
unfortunate child? His conscience was so clean that the dear
little man actually overlooked the fact that it wasn't my
presence in the carriage, but his conduct there that had excited
Mrs. Dowager Diamonds.
And didn't the story sound thin? I tell you, Tom, when it comes
to lying to a woman you've got to think up something stronger
than it takes to make a man believe in you--if you happen to be
female yourself.
I didn't wait for him to finish, but waltzed right in. I danced
straight up to that side of beef with the diamonds still on it,
and flinging my arms about her, turned a coy eye on the Bishop.
"You said your wife was out of town, daddy," I cried gaily.
"Have you got another wife besides mummy?"
The poor Bishop! Do you think he tumbled? Not a bit--not a bit.
He sat there gasping like a fish, and Mrs. Dowager Diamonds,
surprised by my sudden attack, stood bolt upright, about as
pleasant to hug as--as you are, Tom, when you're jealous.
The trouble with the Bishop's set is that it's deadly slow. Now,
if I had really been the Bishop's daughter--all right, I'll go
on.
"Oh, mummy," I went on quickly. You know how I said it,
Tom--the way I told you after that last row that Dan Christensen
wasn't near so good-looking as you--remember? "Oh, mummy, you
don't know how good it feels to get home. Out there at that awful
college, studying and studying and studying, sometimes I thought
I'd lose my senses. There's a girl out there now suffering from
nervous prostration. She worked so hard preparing for the
mid-years. What's her name? I can't think--I can't think, my
head's so tired. But it sounds like mine, a lot like mine.
Once--I think it was yesterday--I thought it was mine, and I made
up my mind suddenly to come right home and bring it with me. But
it can't be mine, can it? It can't be my name she's got. It can't
be, mummy, say it can't, say it can't!"
Tom, I ought to have gone on the stage. I'll go yet, when you're
sent up some day. Yes, I will. You'll be where you can't stop me.
I couldn't see the Bishop, but the Dowager--oh, I'd got her. Not
so bad an old body, either, if you only take her the right way.
First, she was suspicious, and then she was scared. And then, bit
by bit, the stiffness melted out of her, her arms came up about
me, and there I was, lying all comfy, with the diamonds on her
neck boring rosettes in my cheeks, and she a-sniffling over me
and patting me and telling me not to get excited, that it was all
right, and now I was home mummy would take care of me, she would,
that she would.
She did. She got me on to a lounge, soft as--as marshmallows, and
she piled one silk pillow after another behind my back.
"Come, dear, let me help you off with your coat," she cooed,
bending over me.
"Oh, mummy, it's so cold! Can't I please keep it on?"
To let that coat off me was to give the whole thing away. My rig
underneath, though good enough for your girl, Tom, on a holiday,
wasn't just what they wear in the Square. And, d'ye know, you'll
say it's silly, but I had a conviction that with that coat I
should say good-by to the nerve I'd had since I got into the
Bishop's carriage,--and from there into society. I let her take
the hat, though, and I could see by the way she handled it that
it was all right--the thing; her kind, you know. Oh, the girl I
got it from had good taste, all right.
I closed my eyes for a moment as I lay there and she stood
stroking my hair. She must have thought I'd fallen asleep, for
she turned to the Bishop, and holding out her hand, she said
softly:
"My dear, dear Bishop, you are the best-hearted, the saintliest
man on earth. Because you are so beautifully clean-souled
yourself, you must pardon me. I am ashamed to say it, but I shall
have no rest till I do. When I saw you in the carriage downtown,
with that poor, demented child, I thought, for just a moment--oh,
can you forgive me? It shows what an evil mind I have. But you,
who know so well what Edward is, what my life has been with him,
will see how much reason I have to be suspicious of all men!"
I shook, I laughed so hard. What a corker her Edward must be!
See, Tom, poor old Mrs. Dowager up in the Square having the same
devil's luck with her man as Molly Elliott down in the Alley has
with hers. I wonder if you're all alike. No, for there's the
Bishop. He had taken her hand sympathizingly, forgivingly, but
his silence made me curious. I knew he wouldn't let the old lady
believe for a moment I was luny, if once he could be sure himself
that I wasn't. You lie, Tom Dorgan, he wouldn't! Well--But the
poor baby, how could he expect to see through a game that had
caught the Dowager herself? Still, I could hear him walking
softly toward me, and I felt him looking keenly down at me long
before I opened my eyes.
When I did, you should have seen him jump. Guilty he felt.
I could see the blood rush up under his clear, thin old skin, soft
as a baby's, to find himself caught trying to spy out my secret.
I just looked, big-eyed, up at him. You know; the way Molly's
kid does, when he wakes. I looked a long, long time, as though I
was puzzled.
"Daddy," I said slowly, sitting up. "You--you are my daddy,
ain't you?"
"Yes--yes, of course." It was the Dowager who got between him
and me, hinting heavily at him with nods and frowns. But the dear
old fellow only got pinker in the effort to look a lie and not
say it. Still, he looked relieved. Evidently he thought I was
luny all right, but that I had lucid intervals. I heard him
whisper something like this to the Dowager just before the maid
came in with tea for me.
Yes, Tom Dorgan, tea for Nancy Olden off a silver salver, out of
a cup like a painted eggshell. My, but that almost floored me!
I was afraid I'd give myself dead away with all those little jars
and jugs. So I said I wasn't hungry, though, Lord knows, I hadn't
had anything to eat since early morning. But the Dowager sent the
maid away and took the tray herself, operating all the jugs and
pots for me, and then tried to feed me the tea. She was about as
handy as Molly's little sister is with the baby--but I allowed
myself to be coaxed, and drank it down.
Tea, Tom Dorgan. Ever taste tea? If you knew how to behave
yourself in polite society, I'd give you a card to my friend, the
Dowager, up in the Square.
How to get away! That was the thing that worried me. I'd just
made up my mind to have a lucid interval, when cr-creak, the
front door opened, and in walked--
Tom, you're mighty cute--so cute you'll land us both behind bars
some day--but you can't guess who came in on our little family
party. Yes--oh, yes, you've met him.
Well, the old duffer whose watch was ticking inside my waist
that very minute! Yes, sir, the same red-faced, big-necked fellow
we'd spied getting full at the little station in the country.
Only, he was a bit mellower than when you grabbed his chain.
Well, he was Edward.
I almost dropped the cup when I saw him. The Dowager took it
from me, saying:
"There, dear, don't be nervous. It's only--only--"
She got lost. It couldn't be my daddy--the Bishop was that. But
it was her husband, so who could it be?
"Evening, Bishop. Hello, Henrietta, back so soon from the
spot on her face. Her lips were thin, and her neck, hung with
diamonds, looked like a bed with bolsters and pillows piled high,
and her eyes--oh, Tom, her eyes! They were little and very gray,
and they bored their way straight through the windows--hers and
ours--and hit the Bishop plumb in the face.
My, if I could only have laughed! The Bishop, the dear, prim
little Bishop in his own carriage, with his arm about a young
woman in red and chinchilla, offering her a bank-note, and Mrs.
Dowager Diamonds, her eyes popping out of her head at the sight,
and she one of the lady pillars of his church--oh, Tom! it took
all of this to make that poor innocent next to me realize how he
looked in her eyes.
But you see it was over in a minute. The carriage wheels were
unlocked, and the blue coupe went whirling away, and we in the
plum-cushioned carriage followed slowly.
I decided that I'd had enough. Now and here in the middle of all
these carriages was a bully good time and place for me to get
away. I turned to the Bishop. He was blushing like a boy.
I blushed, too. Yes, I did, Tom Dorgan, but it was because I was
bursting with laughter.
"Oh, dear!" I exclaimed in sudden dismay. "You're not my
father."
"No--no, my dear, I--I'm not," he stammered, his face purple
now with embarrassment. "I was just trying to tell you, you poor
little girl, of your mistake and planning a way to help you,
when--"
He made a gesture of despair toward the side where the coupe had
been.
I covered my face with my hands, and shrinking over into the
corner, I cried:
"Let me out! let me out! You're not my father. Oh, let me out!"
"Why, certainly, child. But I'm old enough, surely, to be, and I
wish--I wish I were."
"You do!"
The dignity and tenderness and courtesy in his voice sort of
sobered me. But all at once I remembered the face of Mrs. Dowager
Diamonds, and I understood.
"Oh, because of her," I said, smiling and pointing to the side
where the coupe had been.
My, but it was a rotten bad move! I ought to have been strapped
for it. Oh, Tom, Tom, it takes more'n a red coat with chinchilla
to make a black-hearted thing like me into the girl he thought I
was.
He stiffened and sat up like a prim little school-boy, his soft
eyes hurt like a dog's that's been wounded.
I won't tell you what I did then. No, I won't. And you won't
understand, but just that minute I cared more for what he thought
of me than whether I got to the Correction or anywhere else.
It made us friends in a minute, and when he stopped the carriage
to let me out, my hand was still in his. But I wouldn't go. I'd
made up my mind to see him out of his part of the scrape, and
first thing you know we were driving up toward the Square, if you
please, to Mrs. Dowager Diamonds' house.
He thought it was his scheme, the poor lamb, to put me in her
charge till my lost daddy could send for me. He'd no more idea
that I was steering him toward her, that he was doing the only
thing possible, the only square thing by his reputation, than he
had that Nance Olden had been raised by the Cruelty, and then
flung herself away on the first handsome Irish boy she met.
That'll do, Tom.
Girls, if you could have seen Mrs. Dowager Diamonds' face when
she came down the stairs, the Bishop's card in her hand, and into
the gorgeousparlor, it'd have been as good as a front seat at
the show.
She was mad, and she was curious, and she was amazed, and she was
disarmed; for the very nerve of his bringing me to her staggered
her so that she could hardly believe she'd seen what she had.
"My dear Mrs. Ramsay," he began, confused a bit by his
remembrance of how her face had looked fifteen minutes before,
"I bring to you an unfortunate child, who mistook my carriage
for her father's this afternoon at the station. She is a college
girl, a stranger in town, and till her father claims her--"
Oh, the baby! the baby! She was stiffening like a rod before his
very eyes. How did his words explain his having his arm round the
unfortunate child? His conscience was so clean that the dear
little man actually overlooked the fact that it wasn't my
presence in the carriage, but his conduct there that had excited
Mrs. Dowager Diamonds.
And didn't the story sound thin? I tell you, Tom, when it comes
to lying to a woman you've got to think up something stronger
than it takes to make a man believe in you--if you happen to be
female yourself.
I didn't wait for him to finish, but waltzed right in. I danced
straight up to that side of beef with the diamonds still on it,
and flinging my arms about her, turned a coy eye on the Bishop.
"You said your wife was out of town, daddy," I cried gaily.
"Have you got another wife besides mummy?"
The poor Bishop! Do you think he tumbled? Not a bit--not a bit.
He sat there gasping like a fish, and Mrs. Dowager Diamonds,
surprised by my sudden attack, stood bolt upright, about as
pleasant to hug as--as you are, Tom, when you're jealous.
The trouble with the Bishop's set is that it's deadly slow. Now,
if I had really been the Bishop's daughter--all right, I'll go
on.
"Oh, mummy," I went on quickly. You know how I said it,
Tom--the way I told you after that last row that Dan Christensen
wasn't near so good-looking as you--remember? "Oh, mummy, you
don't know how good it feels to get home. Out there at that awful
college, studying and studying and studying, sometimes I thought
I'd lose my senses. There's a girl out there now suffering from
nervous prostration. She worked so hard preparing for the
mid-years. What's her name? I can't think--I can't think, my
head's so tired. But it sounds like mine, a lot like mine.
Once--I think it was yesterday--I thought it was mine, and I made
up my mind suddenly to come right home and bring it with me. But
it can't be mine, can it? It can't be my name she's got. It can't
be, mummy, say it can't, say it can't!"
Tom, I ought to have gone on the stage. I'll go yet, when you're
sent up some day. Yes, I will. You'll be where you can't stop me.
I couldn't see the Bishop, but the Dowager--oh, I'd got her. Not
so bad an old body, either, if you only take her the right way.
First, she was suspicious, and then she was scared. And then, bit
by bit, the stiffness melted out of her, her arms came up about
me, and there I was, lying all comfy, with the diamonds on her
neck boring rosettes in my cheeks, and she a-sniffling over me
and patting me and telling me not to get excited, that it was all
right, and now I was home mummy would take care of me, she would,
that she would.
She did. She got me on to a lounge, soft as--as marshmallows, and
she piled one silk pillow after another behind my back.
"Come, dear, let me help you off with your coat," she cooed,
bending over me.
"Oh, mummy, it's so cold! Can't I please keep it on?"
To let that coat off me was to give the whole thing away. My rig
underneath, though good enough for your girl, Tom, on a holiday,
wasn't just what they wear in the Square. And, d'ye know, you'll
say it's silly, but I had a conviction that with that coat I
should say good-by to the nerve I'd had since I got into the
Bishop's carriage,--and from there into society. I let her take
the hat, though, and I could see by the way she handled it that
it was all right--the thing; her kind, you know. Oh, the girl I
got it from had good taste, all right.
I closed my eyes for a moment as I lay there and she stood
stroking my hair. She must have thought I'd fallen asleep, for
she turned to the Bishop, and holding out her hand, she said
softly:
"My dear, dear Bishop, you are the best-hearted, the saintliest
man on earth. Because you are so beautifully clean-souled
yourself, you must pardon me. I am ashamed to say it, but I shall
have no rest till I do. When I saw you in the carriage downtown,
with that poor, demented child, I thought, for just a moment--oh,
can you forgive me? It shows what an evil mind I have. But you,
who know so well what Edward is, what my life has been with him,
will see how much reason I have to be suspicious of all men!"
I shook, I laughed so hard. What a corker her Edward must be!
See, Tom, poor old Mrs. Dowager up in the Square having the same
devil's luck with her man as Molly Elliott down in the Alley has
with hers. I wonder if you're all alike. No, for there's the
Bishop. He had taken her hand sympathizingly, forgivingly, but
his silence made me curious. I knew he wouldn't let the old lady
believe for a moment I was luny, if once he could be sure himself
that I wasn't. You lie, Tom Dorgan, he wouldn't! Well--But the
poor baby, how could he expect to see through a game that had
caught the Dowager herself? Still, I could hear him walking
softly toward me, and I felt him looking keenly down at me long
before I opened my eyes.
When I did, you should have seen him jump. Guilty he felt.
I could see the blood rush up under his clear, thin old skin, soft
as a baby's, to find himself caught trying to spy out my secret.
I just looked, big-eyed, up at him. You know; the way Molly's
kid does, when he wakes. I looked a long, long time, as though I
was puzzled.
"Daddy," I said slowly, sitting up. "You--you are my daddy,
ain't you?"
"Yes--yes, of course." It was the Dowager who got between him
and me, hinting heavily at him with nods and frowns. But the dear
old fellow only got pinker in the effort to look a lie and not
say it. Still, he looked relieved. Evidently he thought I was
luny all right, but that I had lucid intervals. I heard him
whisper something like this to the Dowager just before the maid
came in with tea for me.
Yes, Tom Dorgan, tea for Nancy Olden off a silver salver, out of
a cup like a painted eggshell. My, but that almost floored me!
I was afraid I'd give myself dead away with all those little jars
and jugs. So I said I wasn't hungry, though, Lord knows, I hadn't
had anything to eat since early morning. But the Dowager sent the
maid away and took the tray herself, operating all the jugs and
pots for me, and then tried to feed me the tea. She was about as
handy as Molly's little sister is with the baby--but I allowed
myself to be coaxed, and drank it down.
Tea, Tom Dorgan. Ever taste tea? If you knew how to behave
yourself in polite society, I'd give you a card to my friend, the
Dowager, up in the Square.
How to get away! That was the thing that worried me. I'd just
made up my mind to have a lucid interval, when cr-creak, the
front door opened, and in walked--
Tom, you're mighty cute--so cute you'll land us both behind bars
some day--but you can't guess who came in on our little family
party. Yes--oh, yes, you've met him.
Well, the old duffer whose watch was ticking inside my waist
that very minute! Yes, sir, the same red-faced, big-necked fellow
we'd spied getting full at the little station in the country.
Only, he was a bit mellower than when you grabbed his chain.
Well, he was Edward.
I almost dropped the cup when I saw him. The Dowager took it
from me, saying:
"There, dear, don't be nervous. It's only--only--"
She got lost. It couldn't be my daddy--the Bishop was that. But
it was her husband, so who could it be?
"Evening, Bishop. Hello, Henrietta, back so soon from the
- bishop [´biʃəp]
n.主教 (初中英语单词) - carriage [´kæridʒ] n.马车；客车；货运 (初中英语单词)
- innocent [´inəsənt] a.无罪的；单纯的 (初中英语单词)
- dismay [dis´mei] n.惊慌 vt.使惊慌 (初中英语单词)
- gesture [´dʒestʃə] n.手势 v.打手势 (初中英语单词)
- despair [di´speə] vi.&n.绝望 (初中英语单词)
- dignity [´digniti] n.尊严，尊贵；高官显贵 (初中英语单词)
- anywhere [´eniweə] ad.无论何处；任何地方 (初中英语单词)
- scheme [ski:m] n.计划；阴谋，诡计 (初中英语单词)
- parlor [´pɑ:lə] n.客厅；起居室 (初中英语单词)
- unfortunate [ʌn´fɔ:tʃunit] a.不幸的，运气差的 (初中英语单词)
- conscience [´kɔnʃəns] n.良心；道德心 (初中英语单词)
- actually [´æktʃuəli] ad.事实上；实际上 (初中英语单词)
- deadly [´dedli] a.致命的 ad.死一般地 (初中英语单词)
- suffering [´sʌfəriŋ] n.痛苦；灾害 (初中英语单词)
- conviction [kən´vikʃən] n.定罪；确信，信服 (初中英语单词)
- pardon [´pɑ:dən] n.&vt.原谅；饶恕；赦免 (初中英语单词)
- ashamed [ə´ʃeimd] a.惭愧；不好意思 (初中英语单词)
- forgive [fə´giv] vt.原谅，谅解，宽恕 (初中英语单词)
- keenly [´ki:nli] ad.敏锐地；强烈地 (初中英语单词)
- guilty [´gilti] a.有罪的；心虚的 (初中英语单词)
- evidently [´evidəntli] ad.明显地 (初中英语单词)
- polite [pə´lait] a.有礼貌的；温和的 (初中英语单词)
- interval [´intəvəl] n.间隙；(工间)休息 (初中英语单词)
- nervous [´nə:vəs] a.神经的；神经过敏的 (初中英语单词)
- offering [´ɔfəriŋ] n.提供；礼物；捐献 (高中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- tenderness [´tendənis] n.娇嫩；柔软；温柔 (高中英语单词)
- courtesy [´kə:tisi] n.礼貌；殷勤；好意 (高中英语单词)
- rotten [´rɔtn] a.腐烂的；腐朽的 (高中英语单词)
- cruelty [´kru:əlti] n.残忍；残酷行为 (高中英语单词)
- gorgeous [´gɔ:dʒəs] a.华丽的；宜人的 (高中英语单词)
- upright [´ʌprait] a.直立的 ad.直立地 (高中英语单词)
- suspicious [sə´spiʃəs] a.可疑的，多疑的 (高中英语单词)
- mighty [´maiti] a.强有力的 ad.很 (高中英语单词)
- embarrassment [im´bærəsmənt] n.窘迫；困惑；为难 (英语四级单词)
- trying [´traiiŋ] a.难堪的；费劲的 (英语四级单词)
- correction [kə´rekʃən] n.改正，纠正，修改 (英语四级单词)
- scrape [skreip] v.&n.刮，削，擦；搔 (英语四级单词)
- reputation [repju´teiʃən] n.名誉；名声；信誉 (英语四级单词)
- lounge [laundʒ] n.懒洋洋的姿势；闲逛 (英语四级单词)
- beautifully [´bju:tifəli] ad.美丽地；优美地 (英语四级单词)
- good-looking [] a.漂亮的，美貌的 (英语六级单词)
- holding [´həuldiŋ] n.保持，固定，存储 (英语六级单词)
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