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Lady Baltimore-Part37_Owen Wister(1860-1938)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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aspect of Kings Port, spread out before us in a long white line against



the blue water.

The General immediately seized his opportunity. "'Sweet Auburn, loveliest



village of the plain!' You are acquainted with the works of Goldsmith,

sir?"



I professed some knowledge of this author also, and the General's talk

flowed ornately onward. Though I had little to say to him about his



daughter's marriage, he had much to say to me. Miss Josephine St. Michael

would have been gratified to hear that her family was considered suitable



for Hortense to contract an alliance with. "My girl is not stepping down,

sir," the father assured me; and he commended the St. Michaels and the



whole connection. He next alluded tragically but vaguely to misfortunes

which had totally deprived him of income. I could not precisely fix what



his inheritance had been; sometimes he spoke of cotton, but next it would

be rice, and he touched upon sugar more than once; but, whatever it was,



it had been vast and was gone. He told me that I could not imagine the

feelings of a father who possessed a jewel and no dowry to give her. "A



queen's estate should have been hers," he said. "But what! 'Who steals my

purse steals trash.'" And he sat up, nobly braced by the philosophic



thought. But he soon was shaking his head over his enfeebled health. Was

I aware that he had been the cause of postponing the young people's joy



twice? Twice had the doctors forbidden him to risk the emotions that

would attend his giving his jewel away. He dwelt upon his shattered



system to me, and, indeed, it required some dwelling on, for he was the

picture of admirablepreservation. "But I know what it is myself," he



declared, "to be a lover and have bliss delayed. They shall be united

now. A soldier must face all arrows. What!"



I had hoped he might quote something here, but was disappointed. His

conversation would soon cease to interest me, should I lose the ex-



citement of watching for the next classic; and my eye wandered from the

General to the water, where, happily, I saw John Mayrant coming in the



launch. I briskly called the General's attention to him, and was

delighted with the unexpected result.



"'Oh, young Lochinvar has come out of the West,'" said the General,

lifting his glass.



I touched it ceremoniously with mine. "The day will be hot," I said;

"'The boy stood on the burning deck.'"



On this I made my escape from him, and, leaving him to his whiskey and

his contemplating, I became aware that the eyes of the rest of the party



were eager to watch the greeting between Hortense and John. But there was

nothing to see. Hortense waited until her lover had made his apologies to



Charley for being late, and, from the way they met, she might have been

no more to him than Kitty was. Whatever might be thought, whatever might



be known, by these onlookers, Hortense set the pace of how the open

secret was to be taken. She made it, for all of us, as smooth and smiling



as the waters of Kings Port were this fine day. How much did they each

know? I asked myself how much they had shared in common. To these



Replacers Kings Port had opened no doors; they and their automobile had

skirted around the outside of all things. And if Charley knew about the



wedding, he also knew that it had been already twice postponed. He, too,

could have said, as Miss Eliza had once said to me, "The cake is not



baked yet." The General's talk to me (I felt as I took in how his health

had been the centred point) was probably the result of previous



arrangements with Hortense herself; and she quite as certainly inspired

whatever she allowed him to say to Charley.



As for Kitty, she knew that her brother was "set"; she always came back

to that.



If Hortense found this Sunday morning a passage of particularly delicate

steering, she showed it in no way, unless by that heightened radiance and



triumph of beauty which I had seen in her before. No; the splendor of the

day, the luxuries of the Hermana, the conviviality of the Replacers--all



melted the occasion down to an ease and enjoyment in which even John

Mayrant, with his grave face, was not perceptible, unless, like myself,



one watched him.

It was my full expectation that we should now get under way and proceed



among the various historic sights of Kings Port harbor, but of this I saw

no signs anywhere on board the Hermana. Abeam of the foremast her boat



booms remained rigged out on port and starboard, her boats riding to

painters, while her crew wore a look as generally lounging as that of her



passengers. Beverly Rodgers told me the reason: we had no pilot; the

negro Waterman engaged for this excursion in the upper waters had failed



of appearance, and when Charley was for looking up another, Kitty, Bohm,

and Gazza had dissuaded him.



"Kitty," said Beverly, "told me she didn't care about the musty old forts

and things, anyhow."






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