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Lady Baltimore-Part19_Owen Wister(1860-1938)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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this point--her curiosity was too lively; but Juno was going to risk no

such intervention, and I saw her lay a precautionary hand heavily down



over the bell. "But," she continued, "I did not know that Mr. Mayrant was

a gambler."



"Have you ever seen him intemperate?" I asked.

"That would be quite needless," Juno returned. "And of the gambling I



have ocular proof, since I found him, cards, counters, and money, with

my sick nephew. He had actually brought cards in his pocket."



"I suppose," said the Briton, "your nephew was too sick to resist him."

The male honeymooner, with two of the et ceteras, made such unsteady



demonstrations at this that Mrs. Trevise protracted our sitting no

longer. She rose, and this meant rising for us all.



A sense of regret and incompleteness filled me, and finding the Briton at

my elbow as our company proceeded toward the sitting room, I said: "Too



bad!"

His whisper was confident. "We'll get the rest of it out of her yet."



But the rest of it came without our connivance.

In the sitting room Doctor Beaugarcon sat waiting, and at sight of Juno



entering the door (she headed our irregular procession) he sprang up and

lifted admiring hands. "Oh, why didn't I have an aunt like you!" he



exclaimed, and to Mrs. Trevise as she followed: "She pays her nephew's

poker debts."



"How much, cousin Tom?" asked the upcountry bride.

And the gay old doctor chuckled, as he kissed her: "Thirty dollars this



afternoon, my darling."

At this the Briton dragged me behind a door in the hall, and there we



danced together.

"That Mayrant chap will do," he declared; and we composed ourselves for a



proper entrance into the sitting room, where the introductions had been

made, and where Doctor Beaugarcon and Mrs. Braintree's husband had



already fallen into war reminiscences, and were discovering with mutual

amiability that they had fought against each other in a number of



battles.

"And you generally licked us," smiled the Union soldier.



"Ah! don't I know myself how it feels to run!" laughed the Confederate.

"Are you down at the club?"



But upon learning from the poetess that her ode was now to be read aloud,

Doctor Beaugarcon paid his fourth cousin's daughter a brief, though



affectionate, visit, lamenting that a very ill patient should compel him

to take himself away so immediately, but promising her presently in his



stead two visitors much more interesting.

"Miss Josephine St. Michael desires to call upon you," he said, "and I



fancy that her nephew will escort her."

"In all this rain?" said the bride.



"Oh, it's letting up, letting up! Good night, Mistress Trevise. Good

night, sir; I am glad to have met you." He shook hands with Mrs.



Braintree's husband. "We fellows," he whispered, "who fought in the war

have had war enough." And bidding the general company good night, and



kissing the bride again, he left us even as the poetess returned from her

room with the manuscript.



I soon wished that I had escaped with him, because I feared what Mrs.

Braintree might say when the verses should be finished; and so, I think,



did her husband. We should have taken the hint which tactful Doctor

Beaugarcon had meant, I began to believe, to give us in that whispered



remark of his. But it had been given too lightly, and so we sat and heard

the ode out. I am sure that the poetess, wrapped in the thoughts of her



own composition, had lost sight of all but the phrasing of her poem and

the strong feelings which it not unmusically voiced; there Is no other



way to account for her being willing to read it in Mrs. Braintree's

presence.



Whatever gayety had filled me when the Boston lady had clashed with Juno

was now changed to deprecation and concern. Indeed, I myself felt almost



as if I were being physically struck by the words, until mere

bewilderment took possession of me; and after bewilderment, a little, a



very little, light, which, however, rapidly increased. We were the

victors, we the North, and we had gone upon our way with songs and



rejoicing--able to forget, because we were the victors. We had our

victory; let the vanquished have their memory. But here was the cry of



the vanquished, coming after forty years. It was the time which at first

bewildered me; Juno had seen the war, Juno's bitterness I could



comprehend, even if I could not comprehend her freedom in expressing it,

but the poetess could not be more than a year or two older than I was;






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