marjorie daw-第2章

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Dictionnaire　Universel；　if　I　had　it。　These　small　Balzac　books
somehow　do　not　quite　fit　my　hand；　but　I　shall　fetch　him　yet。　I've
an　idea　that　Watkins　is　tapping　the　old　gentleman's　Chateau　Yquem。
Duplicate　key　of　the　wine…cellar。　Hibernian　swarries　in　the　front
basement。　Young　Cheops　up　stairs；　snug　in　his　cerements。　Watkins
glides　into　my　chamber；　with　that　colorless；　hypocritical　face　of
his　drawn　out　long　like　an　accordion；　but　I　know　he　grins　all　the
way　down　stairs；　and　is　glad　I　have　broken　my　leg。　Was　not　my　evil
star　in　the　very　zenith　when　I　ran　up　to　town　to　attend　that　dinner
at　Delmonico's？　I　didn't　come　up　altogether　for　that。　It　was　partly
to　buy　Frank　Livingstone's　roan　mare　Margot。　And　now　I　shall　not　be
able　to　sit　in　the　saddle　these　two　months。　I'll　send　the　mare　down
to　you　at　The　Pinesis　that　the　name　of　the　place？

Old　Dillon　fancies　that　I　have　something　on　my　mind。　He　drives　me
wild　with　lemons。　Lemons　for　a　mind　diseased！　Nonsense。　I　am　only
as　restless　as　the　devil　under　this　confinementa　thing　I'm　not
used　to。　Take　a　man　who　has　never　had　so　much　as　a　headache　or　a
toothache　in　his　life；　strap　one　of　his　legs　in　a　section　of　water…
spout；　keep　him　in　a　room　in　the　city　for　weeks；　with　the　hot
weather　turned　on；　and　then　expect　him　to　smile　and　purr　and　be
happy！　It　is　preposterous。　I　can't　be　cheerful　or　calm。

Your　letter　is　the　first　consoling　thing　I　have　had　since　my
disaster；　ten　days　ago。　It　really　cheered　me　up　for　half　an　hour。
Send　me　a　screed；　Ned；　as　often　as　you　can；　if　you　love　me。
Anything　will　do。　Write　me　more　about　that　little　girl　in　the
hammock。　That　was　very　pretty；　all　that　about　the　Dresden　china
shepherdess　and　the　pond…lily；　the　imagery　a　little　mixed；　perhaps；
but　very　pretty。　I　didn't　suppose　you　had　so　much　sentimental
furniture　in　your　upper　story。　It　shows　how　one　may　be　familiar　for
years　with　the　reception…room　of　his　neighbor；　and　never　suspect
what　is　directly　under　his　mansard。　I　supposed　your　loft　stuffed
with　dry　legal　parchments；　mortgages；　and　affidavits；　you　take　down
a　package　of　manuscript；　and　lo！　there　are　lyrics　and　sonnets　and
canzonettas。　You　really　have　a　graphic　descriptive　touch；　Edward
Delaney；　and　I　suspect　you　of　anonymous　love…tales　in　the
magazines。

I　shall　be　a　bear　until　I　hear　from　you　again。　Tell　me　all　about
your　pretty　inconnue　across　the　road。　What　is　her　name？　Who　is　she？
Who's　her　father？　Where's　her　mother？　Who's　her　lover？　You　cannot
imagine　how　this　will　occupy　me。　The　more　trifling；　the　better。　My
imprisonment　has　weakened　me　intellectually　to　such　a　degree　that　I
find　your　epistolary　gifts　quite　considerable。　I　am　passing　into　my
second　childhood。　In　a　week　or　two　I　shall　take　to　India　rubber
rings　and　prongs　of　coral。　A　silver　cup；　with　an　appropriate
inscription；　would　be　a　delicate　attention　on　your　part。　In　the
mean　time；　write！


IV。

EDWARD　DELANEY　TO　JOHN　FLEMMING。

August　12；　1872。

The　sick　pasha　shall　be　amused。　Bismillah！　he　wills　it　so。　If　the
story…teller　becomes　prolix　and　tediousthe　bow…string　and　the
sack；　and　two　Nubians　to　drop　him　into　the　Piscataqua！　But　truly；
Jack；　I　have　a　hard　task。　There　is　literally　nothing　hereexcept
the　little　girl　over　the　way。　She　is　swinging　in　the　hammock　at
this　moment。　It　is　to　me　compensation　for　many　of　the　ills　of　life
to　see　her　now　and　then　put　out　a　small　kid　boot；　which　fits　like　a
glove；　and　set　herself　going。　Who　is　she；　and　what　is　her　name？　Her
name　is　Daw。　Only　daughter　if　Mr。　Richard　W。　Daw；　ex…colonel　and
banker。　Mother　dead。　One　brother　at　Harvard；　elder　brother　killed
at　the　battle　of　Fair　Oaks；　ten　years　ago。　Old；　rich　family；　the
Daws。　This　is　the　homestead；　where　father　and　daughter　pass　eight
months　of　the　twelve；　the　rest　of　the　year　in　Baltimore　and
Washington。　The　New　England　winter　too　many　for　the　old　gentleman。
The　daughter　is　called　MarjorieMarjorie　Daw。　Sounds　odd　at　first；
doesn't　it？　But　after　you　say　it　over　to　yourself　half　a　dozen
times；　you　like　it。　There's　a　pleasing　quaintness　to　it；　something
prim　and　violet…like。　Must　be　a　nice　sort　of　girl　to　be　called
Marjorie　Daw。

I　had　mine　host　of　The　Pines　in　the　witness…box　last　night；　and
drew　the　foregoing　testimony　from　him。　He　has　charge　of　Mr。　Daw's
vegetable…garden；　and　has　known　the　family　these　thirty　years。　Of
course　I　shall　make　the　acquaintance　of　my　neighbors　before　many
days。　It　will　be　next　to　impossible　for　me　not　to　meet　Mr。　Daw　or
Miss　Daw　in　some　of　my　walks。　The　young　lady　has　a　favorite　path　to
the　sea…beach。　I　shall　intercept　her　some　morning；　and　touch　my　hat
to　her。　Then　the　princess　will　bend　her　fair　head　to　me　with
courteous　surprise　not　unmixed　with　haughtiness。　Will　snub　me；　in
fact。　All　this　for　thy　sake；　O　Pasha　of　the　Snapt　Axle…tree！。　。　。
How　oddly　things　fall　out！　Ten　minutes　ago　I　was　called　down　to　the
parloryou　know　the　kind　of　parlors　in　farm…houses　on　the　coast；　a
sort　of　amphibious　parlor；　with　sea…shells　on　the　mantel…piece　and
spruce　branches　in　the　chimney…placewhere　I　found　my　father　and
Mr。　Daw　doing　the　antique　polite　to　each　other。　He　had　come　to　pay
his　respects　to　his　new　neighbors。　Mr。　Daw　is　a　tall；　slim
gentleman　of　about　fifty…five；　with　a　florid　face　and　snow…white
mustache　and　side…whiskers。　Looks　like　Mr。　Dombey；　or　as　Mr。　Dombey
would　have　looked　if　he　had　served　a　few　years　in　the　British　Army。
Mr。　Daw　was　a　colonel　in　the　late　war；　commanding　the　regiment　in
which　his　son　was　a　lieutenant。　Plucky　old　boy；　backbone　of　New
Hampshire　granite。　Before　taking　his　leave；　the　colonel　delivered
himself　of　an　invitation　as　if　he　were　issuing　a　general　order。
Miss　Daw　has　a　few　friends　coming；　at　4　p。m。；　to　play　croquet　on
the　lawn　（parade…ground）　and　have　tea　（cold　rations）　on　the　piazza。
Will　we　honor　them　with　our　company？　（or　be　sent　to　the　guard…
house。）　My　father　declines　on　the　plea　of　ill…health。　My　father's
son　bows　with　as　much　suavity　as　he　knows；　and　accepts。

In　my　next　I　shall　have　something　to　tell　you。　I　shall　have　seen
the　little　beauty　face　to　face。　I　have　a　presentiment；　Jack；　that
this　Daw　is　a　rara　avis！　Keep　up　your　spirits；　my　boy；　until　I
write　you　another　letterand　send　me　along　word　how's　your　leg。


V。

EDWARD　DELANEY　TO　JOHN　FLEMMING。

August　13；　1872。

The　party；　my　dear　Jack；　was　as　dreary　as　possible。　A　lieutenant　of
the　navy；　the　rector　of　the　Episcopal　Church　at　Stillwater；　and　a
society　swell　from　Nahant。　The　lieutenant　looked　as　if　he　had
swallowed　a　couple　of　his　buttons；　and　found　the　bullion　rather
indigestible；　the　rector　was　a　pensive　youth；　of　the　daffydowndilly
sort；　and　the　swell　from　Nahant　was　a　very　weak　tidal　wave　indeed。
The　women　were　much　better；　as　they　always　are；　the　two　Miss
Kingsburys　of　Philadelphia；　staying　at　the　Seashell　House；　two
bright　and　engaging　girls。　But　Marjorie　Daw！

The　company　broke　up　soon　after　tea；　and　I　remained　to　smoke　a
cigar　with　the　colonel　on　the　piazza。　It　was　like　seeing　a　picture；
to　see　Miss　Marjorie　hovering　around　the　old　soldier；　and　doing　a
hundred　gracious　little　things　for　him。　She　brought　the　cigars　and
lighted　the　tapers　with　her　own　delicate　fingers；　in　the　most
enchanting　fashion。　As　we　sat　there；　she　came　and　went　in　the
summer　twilight；　and　seemed；　with　her　white　dress　and　pale　gold
hair；　like　some　lovely　phantom　that　had　sprung　into　existence
out　of　the　smokewreaths。　If　she　had　melted　into　air；　like　the
statue　of　Galatea　in　the　play；　I　should　have　been　more　sorry　than
surprised。

It　was　easy　to　perceive　that　the　old　colonel　worshipped　her　and　she
him。　I　think　the　relation　between　an　elderly　father　and　a　daughter
just　blooming　into　womanhood　the　most　beautiful　possible。　There　is
in　it　a　subtile　sentiment　that　cannot　exist　in　the　case　of　mother
and　daughter；　or　that　of　son　and　mother。　But　this　is　getting　into
deep　water。

I　sat　with　the　Daws　until　half　past　ten；　and　saw　the　moon　rise　on
the　sea。　The　ocean；　that　had　stretched　motionless　and　black　against
the　horizon；　was　changed　by　magic　into　a　broken　field　of　glittering
ice；　interspersed　with　marvellous　silvery　fjords。　In　the　far
distance　the　Isle　of　Shoals　loomed　up　like　a