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The Golden Road-Part14_L.Maud Montgomery(1874-1942)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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did he would keep the secret "in violets." Cyrus probably meant

"inviolate" but Cecily thought it was intended for a poetical



touch. He signed himself "your troo lover, Cyrus Brisk" and added

in a postcript that he couldn't eat or sleep for thinking of her.



"Are you going to answer it?" asked Dan.

"Certainly not," said Cecily with dignity.



"Cyrus Brisk wants to be kicked," growled Felix, who never seemed

to be any particular friend of Willy Fraser's either. "He'd



better learn how to spell before he takes to writing love

letters."



"Maybe Cyrus will starve to death if you don't," suggested Sara

Ray.



"I hope he will," said Cecily cruelly. She was truly vexed over

the letter; and yet, so contradictory a thing is the feminine



heart, even at twelve years old, I think she was a little

flattered by it also. It was her first love letter and she



confided to me that it gives you a very queer feeling to get it.

At all events--the letter, though unanswered, was not torn up. I



feel sure Cecily preserved it. But she walked past Cyrus next

morning at school with a frozencountenance, evincing not the



slightest pity for his pangs of unrequited affection. Cecily

winced when Pat caught a mouse, visited a school chum the day the



pigs were killed that she might not hear their squealing, and

would not have stepped on a caterpillar for anything; yet she did



not care at all how much she made the brisk Cyrus suffer.

Then, suddenly, all our spring gladness and Maytime hopes were



blighted as by a killing frost. Sorrow and anxiety pervaded our

days and embittered our dreams by night. Grim tragedy held sway



in our lives for the next fortnight.

Paddy disappeared. One night he lapped his new milk as usual at



Uncle Roger's dairy door and then sat blandly on the flat stone

before it, giving the world assurance of a cat, sleek sides



glistening, plumy tail gracefully folded around his paws,

brilliant eyes watching the stir and flicker of bare willow boughs



in the twilight air above him. That was the last seen of him. In

the morning he was not.



At first we were not seriously alarmed. Paddy was no roving

Thomas, but occasionally he vanished for a day or so. But when



two days passed without his return we became anxious, the third

day worried us greatly, and the fourth found us distracted.



"Something has happened to Pat," the Story Girl declared

miserably. "He never stayed away from home more than two days in



his life."

"What could have happened to him?" asked Felix.



"He's been poisoned--or a dog has killed him," answered the Story

Girl in tragic tones.



Cecily began to cry at this; but tears were of no avail. Neither

was anything else, apparently. We searched every nook and cranny



of barns and out-buildings and woods on both the King farms; we

inquired far and wide; we roved over Carlisle meadows calling



Paddy's name, until Aunt Janet grew exasperated and declared we

must stop making such exhibitions of ourselves. But we found and



heard no trace of our lost pet. The Story Girl moped and refused

to be comforted; Cecily declared she could not sleep at night for



thinking of poor Paddy dying miserably in some corner to which he

had dragged his failing body, or lying somewhere mangled and torn



by a dog. We hated every dog we saw on the ground that he might

be the guilty one.



"It's the suspense that's so hard," sobbed the Story Girl. "If I

just knew what had happened to him it wouldn't be QUITE so hard.



But I don't know whether he's dead or alive. He may be living and

suffering, and every night I dream that he has come home and when



I wake up and find it's only a dream it just breaks my heart."

"It's ever so much worse than when he was so sick last fall," said



Cecily drearily. "Then we knew that everything was done for him

that could be done."



We could not appeal to Peg Bowen this time. In our desperation we

would have done it, but Peg was far away. With the first breath



of spring she was up and off, answering to the lure of the long

road. She had not been seen in her accustomed haunts for many a



day. Her pets were gaining their own living in the woods and her

house was locked up.



CHAPTER XI

THE WITCH'S WISHBONE



When a fortnight had elapsed we gave up all hope.




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