CHAPTERI
Ifithadnotrainedona
bestemt
certainMaymorningValancyStirling’swholelifewouldhavebeenentirelydifferent.Shewouldhavegone,withtherestofherclan,to
Tante
AuntWellington’sengagementpicnicandDr.TrentwouldhavegonetoMontreal.Butitdidrainandyoushallhearwhathappenedtoherbecauseofit.
Valancywakened
tidligt
early,inthelifeless,hopelesshourjustprecedingdawn.Shehadnotsleptverywell.
Onedoesnotsleepwell,sometimes,whenoneistwenty-nineonthemorrow,andunmarried,inacommunityandconnectionwheretheunmarriedare
simpelthen
simplythosewhohavefailedtogetaman.DeerwoodandtheStirlingshadlongsincerelegatedValancytohopelessoldmaidenhood.
ButValancyherselfhadneverquiterelinquisheda
vis
certainpitiful,shamed,littlehopethatRomancewouldcomeherwayyet—never,untilthiswet,horriblemorning,whenshewakenedtothefactthatshewastwenty-nineandunsoughtbyanyman.Ay,therelaythesting.
Valancydidnotmindsomuchbeinganoldmaid.
Afterall,shethought,beinganoldmaidcouldn’tpossiblybeasdreadfulasbeingmarriedtoanUncleWellingtonoranUncleBenjamin,orevenanUncleHerbert.
Whathurtherwasthatshehadneverhadachancetobeanythingbutanoldmaid.
Nomanhadeverdesiredher.
Thetearscameintohereyesasshelaytherealoneinthefaintlygreyingdarkness.
She
turde
darednotletherselfcryashardasshewantedto,fortworeasons.Shewasafraidthatcryingmightbringonanother
angreb
attackofthatpainaroundtheheart.Shehadhadaspellofitaftershehadgotintobed—rather
værre
worsethananyshehadhadyet.Andshewasafraidhermotherwould
bemærke
noticeherredeyesatbreakfastandkeepatherwithminute,persistent,mosquito-likequestionsregardingthecausethereof.“Suppose,”thoughtValancywithaghastlygrin,“Iansweredwiththeplaintruth,‘Iam
græder
cryingbecauseIcannotgetmarried.’HowhorrifiedMotherwouldbe—thoughsheisashamedeverydayofherlifeofheroldmaiddaughter.”Butofcourseappearancesshouldbekeptup.
“Itisnot,”Valancycouldhearhermother’sprim,dictatorial
stemme
voiceasserting,“itisnotmaidenlytothinkaboutmen.”Thethoughtofhermother’sexpressionmadeValancylaugh—forshehada
sans
senseofhumournobodyinherclansuspected.Forthatmatter,therewereagoodmanythingsaboutValancythatnobodysuspected.
Butherlaughterwasverysuperficialandpresentlyshelaythere,ahuddled,futilelittle
figur
figure,listeningtotherainpouringdownoutsideandwatching,withasickdistaste,thechill,mercilesslightcreepingintohergrimme
ugly,sordidroom.Sheknewtheuglinessofthatroombyheart—knewitandhatedit.
Theyellow-painted
gulv
floor,withonehideous,“hooked”rugbythebed,withagrotesque,“hooked”dogonit,alwaysgrinningatherwhensheawoke;thefaded,dark-red
papir
paper;theceilingdiscolouredbyoldleaksand
krydset
crossedbycracks;thenarrow,pinchedlittlewashstand;
thebrown-paperlambrequinwithpurplerosesonit;
thespottedoldlooking-glasswiththecrackacrossit,proppedupontheinadequatedressing-table;
thejarofancientpotpourrimadebyhermotherinhermythicalhoneymoon;
theshell-covered
kasse
box,withoneburstcorner,whichFætter
CousinStickleshadmadeinherequallymythicalgirlhood;thebeadedpincushionwithhalfitsbeadfringegone;
theonestiff,yellowchair;
thefadedoldmotto,“Gonebutnotforgotten,”workedincolouredyarnsaboutGreat-grand-motherStirling’sgrimoldface;
theoldphotographsofancientrelativeslongbanishedfromtheroomsbelow.
Therewereonlytwopicturesthatwerenotofrelatives.
One,anoldchromoofapuppysittingonarainydoorstep.
That
billede
picturealwaysmadeValancyunhappy.Thatforlornlittledogcrouchedonthedoorstepinthedriving
regnvejr
rain!Whydidn’tsomeoneopenthedoorandlethimin?
Theother
billede
picturewasafaded,passe-partoutedengravingofDronning
QueenLouisecomingdownastairway,whichTante
AuntWellingtonhadlavishlygivenheronhertenthfødselsdag
birthday.Fornineteenyearsshehadlookedatitandhatedit,beautiful,smug,self-satisfied
Dronning
QueenLouise.Butshenever
turde
dareddestroyitorremoveit.Motherand
Fætter
CousinStickleswouldhavebeenaghast,or,asValancyirreverentlyexpresseditinherthoughts,wouldhavehadafit.Everyroominthehousewas
grimme
ugly,ofcourse.Butdownstairsappearanceswerekeptupsomewhat.
Therewasnomoneyforroomsnobodyeversaw.
Valancysometimesfeltthatshecouldhavedonesomethingforherroomherself,evenwithoutmoney,ifshewerepermitted.
ButhermotherhadnegativedeverytimidsuggestionandValancydidnotpersist.
Valancyneverpersisted.
Shewasafraidto.
Hermothercouldnotbrookopposition.
Mrs.Stirlingwouldsulkfordaysifoffended,withtheairsofaninsultedduchess.
TheonlythingValancylikedaboutherroomwasthatshecouldbealonethereatnightto
græde
cryifshewantedto.But,afterall,whatdiditmatterifaroom,whichyouusedfornothingexceptsleepingand
klæde
dressingin,wereugly?Valancywasneverpermittedtostayaloneinherroomforanyotherpurpose.
Peoplewhowantedtobealone,soMrs.FrederickStirlingand
Fætter
CousinSticklesbelieved,couldonlywanttobealoneforsomesinisterpurpose.Butherroominthe
Blå
BlueCastlewaseverythingaroomshouldbe.Valancy,socowedandsubduedandoverriddenandsnubbedinreallife,waswonttoletherselfgo
temmelig
rathersplendidlyinherday-dreams.NobodyintheStirlingclan,oritsramifications,suspectedthis,leastofallhermotherand
Fætter
CousinStickles.TheyneverknewthatValancyhadtwohomes—the
grimme
uglyredbrickboxofahome,onElmStreet,andtheBlueCastleinSpain.Valancyhadlivedspirituallyinthe
Blå
BlueCastleeversinceshecouldremember.Shehadbeenaverytinychildwhenshefoundherselfpossessedofit.
Always,whensheshuthereyes,shecouldseeitplainly,withitsturretsandbannersonthepine-cladmountainheight,wrappedinitsfaint,
blå
blueloveliness,againstthesunsetskiesofafairandunknownland
land.Everythingwonderfulandbeautifulwasinthatcastle.
Jewelsthatqueensmighthave
båret
worn;robesofmoonlightandfire;
couchesofrosesand
guld
gold;longflightsofshallowmarblesteps,withgreat,whiteurns,andwithslender,mist-cladmaidensgoingupanddownthem;
courts,marble-pillared,whereshimmeringfountainsfellandnightingalessangamongthemyrtles;
hallsofmirrorsthatreflectedonlyhandsomeknightsandlovelywomen—herselftheloveliestofall,for
hvis
whoseglancemendied.Allthat
støttede
supportedherthroughtheboredomofherdayswasthehopeofgoingonadreamspreeatnight.Most,ifnotall,oftheStirlingswouldhavediedofhorroriftheyhadknownhalfthethingsValancydidinher
Blå
BlueCastle.Foronethingshehadquiteafewloversinit.
Oh,onlyoneatatime.
Onewhowooedherwithalltheromanticardourofthe
tidsalder
ageofchivalryandwonherafterlongdevotionandmanydeedsofderring-do,andwasweddedtoherwithpompandcircumstanceinthegreat,banner-hungchapeloftheBlueCastle.Attwelve,thisloverwasafairladwithgoldencurlsandheavenly
blå
blueeyes.Atfifteen,hewastalland
mørk
darkandpale,butstillnecessarilyhandsome.Attwenty,hewasascetic,dreamy,spiritual.
Attwenty-five,hehadaclean-cutjaw,slightlygrim,andafacestrongandrugged
snarere
ratherthanhandsome.Valancynevergrewolderthantwenty-fiveinher
Blå
BlueCastle,butrecently—veryrecently—herhelt
herohadhadreddish,tawnyhair,atwistedsmil
smileandamysteriouspast.Idon’tsayValancydeliberately
myrdede
murderedtheseloversassheoutgrewthem.One
simpelthen
simplyfadedawayasanothercame.Thingsareveryconvenientinthis
henseende
respectinBlueCastles.But,onthismorningofherdayoffate,Valancycouldnotfindthe
nøglen
keyofherBlueCastle.Realitypressedonhertoohardly,barkingatherheelslikeamaddeninglittledog.
Shewastwenty-nine,lonely,undesired,ill-favoured—theonlyhomelygirlinahandsomeclan,withnopastandno
fremtid
future.Asfarasshecouldlookback,lifewasdrabandcolourless,withnotonesinglecrimsonorpurple
plet
spotanywhere.Asfarasshecouldlook
fremad
forwarditseemedcertaintobejustthesameuntilshewasnothingbutasolitary,littlewitheredleafclingingtoawintrybough.Themomentwhenawomanrealisesthatshehasnothingtolivefor—neitherlove,
pligt
duty,purposenorhope—holdsforherthebitternessofdeath.“AndIjusthavetogoonlivingbecauseIcan’tstop.
Imayhavetoliveeightyyears,”thoughtValancy,inakindofpanic.
“We’reallhorriblylong-lived.
Itsickensmetothinkofit.”
Shewas
glad
gladitwasraining—orrather,shewasdrearilysatisfiedthatitwasraining.Therewouldbenopicnicthatday.
Thisannualpicnic,whereby
Tante
AuntandUncleWellington—onealwaysthoughtoftheminthatsuccession—inevitablycelebratedtheirengagementatapicnicthirtyyearsbefore,hadbeen,oflateyears,averitablenightmaretoValancy.Byanimpishcoincidenceitwasthesamedayasher
fødselsdag
birthdayand,aftershehadpassedtwenty-five,nobodyletherforgetit.Muchasshehatedgoingtothepicnic,itwouldneverhaveoccurredtohertorebelagainstit.
Thereseemedtobenothingoftherevolutionaryinher
natur
nature.Andsheknewexactlywhateveryonewouldsaytoheratthepicnic.
UncleWellington,whomshedislikedanddespisedeventhoughhehadfulfilledthehighestStirlingaspiration,“marryingmoney,”wouldsaytoherinapig’swhisper,“Notthinkingofgettingmarriedyet,mydear?”
andthengooffintothebellowoflaughterwithwhichheinvariablyconcludedhisdullremarks.
Tante
AuntWellington,ofwhomValancystoodinabjectawe,wouldtellheraboutOlive’snewchiffonkjole
dressandCecil’slastdevotedbrev
letter.Valancywouldhavetolookaspleasedand
interesseret
interestedasifthedressandbrevet
letterhadbeenhersorelseTante
AuntWellingtonwouldbeoffended.AndValancyhadlongago
besluttet
decidedthatshewouldratheroffendGodthanTante
AuntWellington,becauseGodmighttilgive
forgiveherbutAuntWellingtonneverwould.Tante
AuntAlberta,enormouslyfat,withanamiablehabitofalwaysreferringtoherhusbandas“he,”asifheweretheonlymalecreatureintheworld,whocouldneverforgetthatshehadbeenagreatskønhed
beautyinheryouth,wouldcondolewithValancyonhersallowhud
skin—.“Idon’tknowwhyallthegirlsoftodayaresosunburned.
WhenIwasagirlmy
hud
skinwasrosesandcream.IwascountedtheprettiestgirlinCanada,mydear.”
PerhapsUncleHerbertwouldn’tsayanything—orperhapshewouldremarkjocularly,“Howfatyou’regetting,Doss!”
Andtheneverybodywould
grine
laughovertheexcessivelyhumorousideaofpoor,scrawnylittleDossgettingfat.Handsome,solemnUncleJames,whomValancydislikedbut
respekterede
respectedbecausehewasreputedtobeverycleverandwasthereforetheclanoracle—brainsbeingingen
nonetooplentifulintheStirlingconnection—wouldprobablyremarkwiththeowl-likesarcasmthathadwonhimhisreputation,“Isupposeyou’reoptaget
busywithyourhope-chestthesedays?”AndUncleBenjaminwouldasksomeofhisabominableconundrums,betweenwheezychuckles,andanswerthemhimself.
“WhatisthedifferencebetweenDossandamouse?
“ThemousewishestoharmthecheeseandDosswishestocharmthehe’s.”
Valancyhadheardhimaskthatriddlefiftytimesandeverytimeshewantedto
kaste
throwsomethingathim.Butsheneverdid.
Inthefirstplace,theStirlings
simpelthen
simplydidnotthrowthings;inthesecondplace,UncleBenjaminwasawealthyandchildlessoldwidowerandValancyhadbeenbroughtupinthe
frygt
fearandadmonitionofhismoney.Ifsheoffendedhimhewouldcutheroutofhiswill—supposingshewereinit.
ValancydidnotwanttobecutoutofUncleBenjamin’swill.
Shehadbeenpoorallherlifeandknewthegallingbitternessofit.
Sosheenduredhisriddlesandevensmiledtorturedlittlesmilesoverthem.
Tante
AuntIsabel,downrightanddisagreeableasaneastwind,wouldcriticiseherinsomeway—Valancycouldnotpredictjusthow,forTante
AuntIsabelneverrepeatedacriticism—shefoundsomethingnewwithwhichtojabyoueverytime.Tante
AuntIsabelpridedherselfonsayingwhatshethought,butdidn’tlikeitsowellwhenotherpeoplesaidwhattheythoughttoher.Valancyneversaidwhatshethought.
Fætter
CousinGeorgiana—namedafterhergreat-great-grand-mother,whohadbeennamedafterGeorgetheFourth—wouldrecountdolorouslythenamesofallrelativesandfriendswhohaddiedsincethelastpicnicandundre
wonder“whichofuswillbethefirsttogonext.”Oppressivelycompetent,
Tante
AuntMildredwouldtalkendlesslyofherhusbandandherodiousprodigiesofbabiestoValancy,becauseValancywouldbetheonlyoneshecouldfindtoputupwithit.Forthesamereason,
Fætter
CousinGladys—reallyFirstCousinGladysonceremoved,overensstemmelse
accordingtothestrictwayinwhichtheStirlingstabulatedrelationship—atall,thinladywhoadmittedshehadasensitivedisposition,woulddescribeminutelythetorturesofherneuritis.AndOlive,thewondergirlofthewholeStirlingclan,whohadeverythingValancyhadnot—beauty,popularity,love,—wouldshowoffher
skønhed
beautyandpresumeonherpopularityandflauntherdiamondinsigniaofloveinValancy’sdazzled,enviouseyes.Therewouldbenoneofallthistoday.
Andtherewouldbenopackingupofteaspoons.
ThepackingupwasalwaysleftforValancyand
Fætter
CousinStickles.Andonce,sixyearsago,asilverteaspoonfrom
Tante
AuntWellington’sweddingsethadbeenlost.Valancyneverheardthelastofthatsilverteaspoon.
Its
spøgelse
ghostappearedBanquo-likeateverysubsequentfamilyfeast.Oh,yes,Valancyknewexactlywhatthepicnicwouldbelikeandsheblessedthe
regnen
rainthathadsavedherfromit.Therewouldbenopicnicthisyear.
If
Tante
AuntWellingtoncouldnotcelebrateonthesacreddayitselfshewouldhavenocelebrationatall.Thankwhatevergodstherewereforthat.
Sincetherewouldbenopicnic,Valancymadeuphermindthat,ifthe
regnen
rainheldupintheom eftermiddagen
afternoon,shewouldgouptothelibraryandgetanotherofJohnFoster’sbooks.Valancywasneverallowedtoreadnovels,butJohnFoster’sbookswerenotnovels.
Theywere“naturebooks”—sothelibrariantoldMrs.FrederickStirling—“allaboutthewoodsandbirdsandbugsandthingslikethat,youknow.”
SoValancywasallowedtoreadthem—underprotest,foritwasonlytooevidentthatshe
nød
enjoyedthemtoomuch.Itwaspermissible,evenlaudable,toreadtoimproveyourmindandyourreligion,butabookthatwasenjoyablewas
farlig
dangerous.Valancydidnotknow
om
whetherhermindwasbeingimprovedornot;butshefeltvaguelythatifshehadcomeacrossJohnFoster’sbooksyearsagolifemighthavebeenadifferentthingforher.
Theyseemedtohertoyieldglimpsesofaworldintowhichshemightoncehaveentered,thoughthedoorwas
evigt
foreverbarredtohernow.ItwasonlywithinthelastyearthatJohnFoster’sbookshadbeenintheDeerwoodlibrary,thoughthelibrariantoldValancythathehadbeenawell-knownwriterfor
flere
severalyears.“Wheredoeshelive?”
Valancyhadasked.
“Nobodyknows.
FromhisbookshemustbeaCanadian,butnomore
oplysninger
informationcanbehad.Hispublisherswon’tsayaword.
QuitelikelyJohnFosterisanomdeplume.
Hisbooksaresopopularwecan’tkeeptheminatall,thoughIreallycan’tseewhatpeoplefindinthemtoraveover.”
“Ithinkthey’rewonderful,”saidValancy,timidly.
“Oh—well—”
MissClarkson
smilede
smiledinapatronisingfashionthatrelegatedValancy’sopinionstolimbo,“Ican’tsayIcaremuchforbugsmyself.ButcertainlyFoster
synes
seemstoknowallthereistoknowaboutthem.”Valancydidn’tknow
om
whethershecaredmuchforbugseither.ItwasnotJohnFoster’suncannyknowledgeof
vilde
wildcreaturesandinsectlifethatenthralledher.Shecouldhardlysaywhatitwas—sometantalisinglureofamysteryneverrevealed—somehintofagreat
hemmelighed
secretjustalittlefurtheron—somefaint,elusiveechoofdejlige
lovely,forgottenthings—JohnFoster’smagicwasindefinable.Yes,shewouldgetanewFosterbook.
Itwasa
måned
monthsinceshehadThistleHarvest,sosurelyMothercouldnotobject.Valancyhadreaditfourtimes—sheknewwholepassagesoffbyheart.
And—shealmostthoughtshewouldgoandseeDr.Trentaboutthatqueer
smerte
painaroundtheheart.Ithadcome
temmelig
ratheroftenlately,andthepalpitationswerebecomingannoying,nottospeakofanoccasionaldizzymomentandaqueershortnessofbreath.Butcouldshegotoseehimwithouttellinganyone?
Itwasamostdaringthought.
Ingen
NoneoftheStirlingseverconsultedadoctorwithoutholdingafamilycouncilandgettingUncleJames’approval.Then,theywenttoDr.AmbroseMarshofPortLawrence,whohadmarriedSecond
Fætter
CousinAdelaideStirling.ButValancydislikedDr.AmbroseMarsh.
And,
desuden
besides,shecouldnotgettoPortLawrence,fifteenmilesaway,withoutbeingtakenthere.Shedidnotwantanyonetoknowaboutherheart.
Therewouldbesuchafussmadeandeverymemberofthefamilywouldcomedownandtalkitoverandadviseherandcautionherandwarnherandtellherhorribletalesofgreat-auntsandcousinsfortytimesremovedwhohadbeen“justlikethat”and“droppeddeadwithoutamoment’swarning,mydear.”
Tante
AuntIsabelwouldrememberthatshehadalwayssaidDosslookedlikeagirlwhowouldhavehearttrouble—“sopinchedandpeakedalways”;andUncleWellingtonwouldtakeitasa
personlig
personalinsult,when“noStirlingeverhadheartdiseasebefore”;andGeorgianawouldforebodeinperfectlyaudibleasidesthat“poor,dearlittleDossisn’tlongforthisworld,I’mafraid”;
and
Fætter
CousinGladyswouldsay,“Why,myhearthasbeenlikethatforyears,”inatonethatimpliednooneelsehadanybusinesseventohaveaheart;andOlive—Olivewouldmerelylookbeautifulandsuperioranddisgustinglyhealthy,asiftosay,“WhyallthisfussoverafadedsuperfluitylikeDosswhenyouhaveme?”
Valancyfeltthatshecouldn’ttellanybody
medmindre
unlessshehadto.Shefeltquitesuretherewasnothingatall
alvorligt
seriouslywrongwithherheartandnoneedofallthepotherthatwouldensueifshenævnte
mentionedit.ShewouldjustslipupquietlyandseeDr.Trentthatveryday.
Asforhisbill,shehadthetwo
hundrede
hundreddollarsthatherfatherhadputinthebanken
bankforherthedayshewasfødt
born.Shewasneverallowedtouseeventheinterestofthis,butshewouldsecretlytakeoutenoughtopayDr.Trent.
Dr.
Trentwasagruff,outspoken,absent-mindedoldfellow,buthewasarecognisedauthorityonheartdisease,evenifhewereonlyageneralpractitionerinout-of-the-worldDeerwood.
Dr.Trentwasoverseventyandtherehadbeenrumoursthathemeanttoretiresoon.
Ingen
NoneoftheStirlingclanhadevergonetohimsincehehadtoldKusine
CousinGladys,tenyearsbefore,thatherneuritiswasallimaginaryandthatshenød
enjoyedit.Youcouldn’tpatroniseadoctorwhoinsultedyourfirst-cousin-once-removedlikethat—notto
nævne
mentionthathewasaPresbyterianwhenalltheStirlingswenttotheAnglicankirke
church.CHAPTERII
WhenCousinStickles
bankede
knockedatherdoor,Valancyknewitwashalf-pastsyv
sevenandshemustgetup.Aslongasshecouldremember,
Fætter
CousinStickleshadknockedatherdoorathalf-pastsyv
seven.CousinSticklesandMrs.FrederickStirlinghadbeenupsince
syv
seven,butValancywasallowedtolieabedhalfanhourlongerbecauseofafamilytraditionthatshewasdelicate.Valancygotup,thoughshehatedgettingupmorethismorningthanevershehadbefore.