the story of a bad boy(顽童故事)-第36部分
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It was a drizzling； cheerless afternoon towards the end of summer that
a hack drew up at the door of the Nutter House。 The Captain and Miss
Abigail hastened into the hall on hearing the carriage stop。 In a moment
more Miss Nelly Glentworth was seated in our sitting…room undergoing a
critical examination at the hands of a small boy who lounged
uncomfortably on a settee between the windows。
The small boy considered himself a judge of girls； and he rapidly came
to the following conclusions： That Miss Nelly was about nineteen； that she
had not given away much of her back hair； which hung in two massive
chestnut braids over her shoulders； that she was a shade too pale and a
trifle too tall； that her hands were nicely shaped and her feet much too
diminutive for daily use。 He furthermore observed that her voice was
musical； and that her face lighted up with an indescribable brightness
when she smiled。
On the whole； the small boy liked her well enough； and； satisfied that
she was not a person to be afraid of； but； on the contrary； one who might
be made quite agreeable； he departed to keep an appointment with his
friend Sir Pepper Whitcomb。
But the next morning when Miss Glentworth came down to breakfast
in a purple dress； her face 20as fresh as one of the moss…roses on the
bureau upstairs； and her laugh as contagious as the merriment of a robin；
the small boy experienced a strange sensation； and mentally compared her
with the loveliest of Miss Gibbs's young ladies； and found those young
ladies wanting in the balance。
A night's rest had wrought a wonderful change in Miss Nelly。 The
pallor and weariness of the journey had passed away。 I looked at her
through the toast…rack and thought I had never seen anything more
winning than her smile。
After breakfast she went out with me to the stable to see Gypsy； and
the three of us became friends then and there。 Nelly was the only girl that
Gypsy ever took the slightest notice of。
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It chanced to be a half…holiday； and a baseball match of unusual
interest was to come off on the school ground that afternoon； but；
somehow； I didn't go。 I hung about the house abstractedly。 The Captain
went up town； and Miss Abigail was busy in the kitchen making immortal
gingerbread。 I drifted into the sitting…room； and had our guest all to myself
for I don't know how many hours。 It was twilight； I recollect； when the
Captain returned with letters for Miss Nelly。
Many a time after that I sat with her through the dreamy September
afternoons。 If I had played baseball it would have been much better for
me。
Those first days of Miss Nelly's visit are very misty in my
remembrance。 I try in vain to remember just when I began to fall in love
with her。 'Whether the spell worked upon me gradually or fell upon me all
at once； I don't know。 I only know that it seemed to me as if I had always
loved her。 Things that took place before she came were dim to me； like
events that had occurred in the Middle Ages。
Nelly was at least five years my senior。 But what of that？ Adam is the
only man I ever heard of who didn't in early youth fall in love with a
woman older than himself； and I am convinced that he would have done so
if he had had the opportunity。
I wonder if girls from fifteen to twenty are aware of the glamour they
cast over the straggling； awkward boys whom they regard and treat as
mere children？ I wonder； now。 Young women are so keen in such matters。
I wonder if Miss Nelly Glentworth never suspected until the very last
night of her visit at Rivermouth that I was over ears in love with her pretty
self； and was suffering pangs as poignant as if I had been ten feet high and
as old as Methuselah？ For； indeed； I was miserable throughout all those
five weeks。 I went down in the Latin class at the rate of three boys a day。
Her fresh young eyes came between me and my book； and there was an
end of Virgil。
〃O love； love； love！
Love is like a dizziness；
It winna let a body
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Gang aboot his business。〃
I was wretched away from her； and only less wretched in her presence。
The special cause of my woe was this： I was simply a little boy to Miss
Glentworth。 I knew it。 I bewailed it。 I ground my teeth and wept in secret
over the fact。 If I had been aught else in her eyes would she have
smoothed my hair so carelessly； sending an electric shock through my
whole system？ Would she have walked with me； hand in hand； for hours in
the old garden； and once when I lay on the sofa； my head aching with love
and mortification； would she have stooped down and kissed me if I hadn't
been a little boy？ How I despised little boys！ How I hated one particular
little boy…too little to be loved！
I smile over this very grimly even now。 My sorrow was genuine and
bitter。 It is a great mistake on the part of elderly people； male and female；
to tell a child that he is seeing his happiest days。 Don't you believe a word
of it； my little friend。 The burdens of childhood are as hard to bear as the
crosses that weigh us down later in life； while the happinesses of
childhood are tame compared with those of our maturer years。 And even if
this were not so； it is rank cruelty to throw shadows over the young heart
by croaking； 〃Be merry； for to…morrow you die！〃
As the last days of Nelly's visit drew near； I fell into a very unhealthy
state of mind。 To have her so frank and unconsciously coquettish with me
was a daily torment； to be looked upon and treated as a child was bitter
almonds； but the thought of losing her altogether was distraction。
The summer was at an end。 The days were perceptibly shorter； and
now and then came an evening when it was chilly enough to have a wood…
fire in our sitting…room。 The leaves were beginning to take hectic tints； and
the wind was practising the minor pathetic notes of its autumnal dirge。
Nature and myself appeared to be approaching our dissolution
simultaneously…
One evening； the evening previous to the day set for Nelly's departure…
how well I remember it…I found her sitting alone by the wide chimney…
piece looking musingly at the crackling back log。 There were no candles
in the room。 On her face and hands； and on the small golden cross at her
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throat； fell the flickering firelight…that ruddy； mellow firelight in which
one's grandmother would look poetical。
I drew a low stool from the corner and placed it by the side of her
chair。 She reached out her hand to me； as was her pretty fashion； and so we
sat for several moments silently in the changing glow of the burning logs。
At length I moved back the stool so that I could see her face in profile
without being seen by her。 I lost her hand by this movement； but I couldn't
have spoken with the listless touch of her fingers on mine。 After two or
three attempts I said 〃Nelly〃 a good deal louder than I intended。
Perhaps the effort it cost me was evident in my voice。 She raised
herself quickly in the chair and half turned towards me。
〃W'ell； Tom？〃
〃I…I am very sorry you are going away。〃
〃So am I。 I have enjoyed every hour of my visit。〃
〃Do you think you will ever come back here？〃
〃Perhaps；〃 said Nelly； and her eyes wandered off into the fitful
firelight。
〃I suppose you will forget us all very quickly。〃
〃Indeed I shall not。 I shall always have the pleasantest memories of
Rivermouth。〃
Here the conversation died a natural death。 Nelly sank into a sort of
dream； and I meditated。 Fearing every mom
