the fortunes of oliver horn-第50章

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for　an　　instant　in　her　own；　bent　her　head　and　touched　them　with　her　lips。




CHAPTER　XVI

SOME　DAYS　AT　BROOKFIELD　FARM



Brookfield　village　lay　in　a　great　wide　meadow　through　which　strayed　one　of　Moose　Hillock's　lost　brooksa　brook　tired　out　with　leaping　from　bowlder　to　bowlder　and　taking　headers　into　deep　pools；　and　plunging　down　between　narrow　walls　of　rock。　Here　in　the　meadow　it　caught　its　breath　and　rested；　idling　along；　stopping　to　bathe　a　clump　of　willows；　whispering　to　the　shallows；　laughing　gently　with　another　brook　that　had　locked　arms　with　it；　the　two　gossiping　together　under　their　breath　as　they　floated　on　through　the　tall　grasses　fringing　the　banks；　or　circled　about　the　lily…pads　growing　in　the　eddies。　In　the　middle　of　the　meadow；　just　where　two　white　ribbons　of　roads　crossed；　was　a　clump　of　trees　pierced　by　a　church…spire。　Outside　of　this　bower　of　greena　darker　green　than　the　velvet　meadow…　grass　about　itglistened　the　roofs　and　windows　of　the　village　houses。

All　this　Oliver　saw；　at　a　distance；　from　the　top　of　the　stage。

As　he　drew　nearer　and　entered　the　main　street；　the　clump　of　trees　became　giant　elms；　their　interlaced　branches　making　shaded　cloisters　of　the　village　streets。　The　buildings　now　became　more　distinct；　first　a　tavern　with　a　swinging　sign；　and　across　the　open　common　a　quaint　church　with　a　white　tower。

At　the　end　of　the　avenue　of　trees；　under　the　biggest　　of　the　elms；　stood　an　old…fashioned　farmhouse；　its　garden…gate　opening　on　the　highway；　and　its　broad　acresone　hundred　or　morereaching　to　the　line　of　the　vagabond　brook。

This　was　Margaret's　home。

The　stage　stopped；　the　hair…trunk　and　sketch…trap　were　hauled　out　of　the　dust…begrimed　boot　and　deposited　　on　the　sidewalk　at　the　foot　of　the　giant　elm。　Oliver　swung　back　the　gate　and　walked　up　the　path　in　the　direction　of　the　low…roofed　porch；　upon　which　lay　a　dog；　which　raised　its　head　and　at　the　first　click　of　the　latch　came　bounding　toward　him；　barking　with　every　leap。

〃Needn't　be　afraid；　she　won't　hurt　you！〃　shouted　a　gray…haired　man　in　his　shirt…sleeves；　who　had　risen　from　his　seat　on　the　porch　and　who　was　now　walking　down　the　garden…path。　〃Get　out；　Juno！　I　guess　you're　the　young　man　that's　been　painting　with　our　Margaret　up　in　the　Gorge。　She's　been　expecting　you　all　morning。　Little　dusty；　warn't　it？〃

Oliver's　face　brightened　up。　This　must　be　Margaret's　　father！

〃Mr。　Grant；　I　suppose？〃

〃Yes；　that's　what　they　call　meSilas　Grant。　Let　me　take　your　bag。　My　son　John　will　be　here　in　a　minute；　and　will　help　you　in　with　your　trunk。　Needn't　worry；　it's　all　right　where　it　is。　Folks　are　middling　honest　about　here；〃　he　added；　with　a　dry　laugh；　and　his　hand　closed　on　his　guest'sa　cold　limp；　dead…fish　sort　of　a　hand；　Oliver　thought。

Oliver　said　he　was　sure　of　it；　and　that　he　hoped　Miss　Margaret　was　well；　and　the　old　man　said　she　was；　〃Thank　you；〃　and　Oliver　surrendered　the　bag　it　was　his　sketch…trapand　the　two　walked　toward　the　house。　During　the　mutual　greetings　the　dog　sniffed　at　Oliver's　knees　and　looked　up　into　his　face。

〃And　I　suppose　this　is　Juno；〃　our　hero　said；　stopping　　to　pat　her　head。　〃Good　dogyou　don't　remember　　me？〃　It　seemed　easier　somehow　to　converse　　with　Juno　than　with　her　master。　The　dog　wagged　her　tail；　but　gave　no　indications　of　　uncontrollable　joy　at　meeting　her　rescuer　again。

〃Oh；　you've　seen　her？　She's　Margaret's　dog；　you　know。〃

〃Yes；　I　know；　but　she's　forgotten　me。　I　saw　her　before　I　ever　knewyour　daughter。〃　It　was　a　narrow　　escape；　but　he　saved　himself　in　time。　〃　Blessed　old　dog；〃　he　said　to　himself；　and　patted　her　again。

By　the　time　he　had　reached　the　porch…steps　he　had　made；　unconsciously　to　himself；　a　mental　inventory　of　his　host's　special　features：　tall；　sparsely　built；　with　stooping　shoulders　and　long　arms；　the　big　hands　full　of　cold　knuckles　with　rough　finger…tips　（Oliver　found　that　out　when　his　own　warm　fingers　closed　over　them）；　thin　face；　with　high　cheek…bones　showing　above　his　closely…cropped　beard　and　whiskers；　gray　eyessteady；　steel…gray　eyes；　hooded　by　white　eyebrows　　stuck　on　like　two　tufts　of　cotton…wool；　nose　big　and　strong；　square　jaw　hanging　on　a　hinge　that　opened　and　shut　with　each　sentence；　the　upper　part　of　the　face　remaining　motionless　as　a　mask。　Oliver　remembered　having　once　seen　a　toy　ogre　with　a　jaw　and　face　that　worked　in　the　same　way。　He　had　caught；　too；　the　bend　of　his　thin　legs；　the　hump　of　the　high　shoulders；　and　saw　the　brown　skin　of　the　neck　showing　through　the　close…cut　white　hair。　Suddenly　　a　feeling　of　repugnance　amounting　almost　to　a　shrinking　dislike　of　the　man　took　possession　of　him　it　is　just　such　trifles　that　turn　the　scales　of　likes　and　dislikes　for　all　of　us。　〃Could　this　really　be　Margaret's　father？〃　he　said　to　himself。　Through　whose　veins；　then；　had　all　her　charm　and　loveliness　come？　Certainly　not　from　this　cold　man　without　grace　of　speech　or　polish　of　manner。

This　feeling　of　repugnance　had　come　with　a　flash；　and　in　a　flash　it　was　gone。　On　the　top　step　of　the　low　piazza　stood　a　young　girl　in　white；　a　rose　in　her　hair；　her　arm　around　a　silver…haired　old　lady　in　gray　silk；　With　a　broad　white　handkerchief　crossed　over　her　bosom。

Oliver's　hat　was　off　in　an　instant。

Margaret　came　down　one　step　to　greet　him　and　held　out　both　her　hands。　〃Oh；　we　are　so　glad　to　welcome　you！〃　Then　turning　to　her　companion　she　said：　〃Mother；　this　is　Mr。　Horn；　who　has　been　so　good　to　me　all　summer。〃

The　old　ladyshe　was　very　deafcupped　one　hand　behind　her　ear；　and　with　a　gracious　smile　extended　　the　other　to　Oliver。

〃I　am　so　pleased　you　came；　sir；　and　I　want　to　thank　you　for　being　so　kind　to　our　daughter。　Her　brother　John　could　not　go　with　her；　and　husband　and　I　are　most　too　old　to　leave　home　now。〃　The　voice　was　as　sweet　and。　musical　as　a　child's；　not　the　high…keyed；　strained　tone　of　most　deaf　people。　When　they　all　stood　on　the　porch　level　Margaret　touched　Oliver's　arm。

〃Speak　slowly　and　distinctly；　Ollie；〃　she　whispered；　　〃then　mother　can　hear　you。〃

Oliver　smiled　in　assent；　took　the　old　lady's　thin　fingers；　and　with　a　cordiality　the　more　pronounced　because　of　a　certain　guilty　sense　he　had　for　his　feeling　　of　repugnance　to　her　father；　said：

〃Oh；　but　think　what　a　delight　it　was　for　me　to　be　with　her。　Every　day　we　painted　together；　and　you　can't　imagine　how　much　she　taught　me；　you　know　there　is　nobody　in　the　Academy　class　who　draws　as　well　as　your　daughter。〃　A　light　broke　in　Margaret's　eyes　at　this；　but　she　let　him　go　on。　〃She　has　told　you；　of　course；　of　all　the　good　times　we　have　had　while　we　were　at　work〃　（Margaret　had；　but　not　all　of　them）。　〃It　is　I　who　should　thank　YOU；　not　only　for　letting　Miss　Margaret　stay　so　long；　but　for　wanting　　me　to　come　to　you　here　in　your　beautiful　home。　It　is　my　first　visit　to　thisbut　you　are　standing；　I　beg　your　pardon；〃　and　he　looked　about　for　a　chair。

There　was　only　one　chair　on　the　porchit　was　under　Silas　Grant。

〃No；　don't　disturb　yourself；　Mr。　Horn；　I　prefer　standing；〃　Mrs。　Grant　answered；　with　a　deprecatory　gesture　as　if　to　detain　Oliver。　No　one　in　Brookfield　ever　intruded　on　Silas　Grant's　rights　to　his　chair；　not　even　his　wife。

Silas　heard；　but　he　did　not　move；　he　had　performed　his　duty　as　host；　it　was　the　women…folk's　turn　now　to　be　pleasant。　What　he　wanted　was　to　be　let　alone。　All　this　was　in　his　face；　as　he　sat　hunched　up　between　　the　arms　of　the　splint　rocker。

Despite　the　old　lady's　protest；　Oliver　made　a　step　toward　the　seated　man。　His　impulse　was　to　suggest　　to　his　host　that　the　lady　whom　he　had　honored　by　making　his　wife　was　at　the　moment　standing　on　her　two　little　feet　while　the　lord　of　the　manor　was　quietly　reposing　upon　the　only　chair　on　the　piazza；　a　fact　doubtless　forgotten　by　his　Imperial　Highness。

Mr。　Grant　had　read　at　a　glance　the　workings　of　the　young　man's　mind；　and　knew　exactly　what　Oliver　wanted；　but　he　did　not　move。　Something　in　the　bend　of　Oliver's　back　as　he　bowed　to　his　wife　had　irritated　him。　He　had　rarely　met　Southerners　of　Oliver's　classnever　one　so　youngand　was　unfamiliar　　with　their　ways。　This　one；　he　thought；　had　evidently　copied　the　airs　of　a　dancing…master；　the　wave　of　Oliver's　handit　was　Richard's　in　reality；　as　were　all　the　boy's　gesturesand　the　fine　speech　he　had　just　made　to　his