CHAPTERI
Ifithadnot
plu
rainedonacertainMaymatin
morningValancyStirling’swholelifeété
wouldhavebeenentirelydifferent.Shewouldhavegone,
avec
withtherestofherclan
clan,toAuntWellington’sengagementpique-nique
picnicandDr.TrentwouldhavegonetoMontreal.Mais
Butitdidrainandyoushallentendrez
hearwhathappenedtohercause
becauseofit.Valancywakenedearly,inthe
sans vie
lifeless,hopelesshourjustprecedingdawn.Shehadnot
dormi
sleptverywell.Onedoesnot
dort
sleepwell,sometimes,whenoneistwenty-nineonthemorrow,et
andunmarried,inacommunityet
andconnectionwheretheunmarriedaresimplyceux
thosewhohavefailedtogetahomme
man.DeerwoodandtheStirlingshad
longtemps
longsincerelegatedValancytosans espoir
hopelessoldmaidenhood.ButValancyherselfhad
jamais
neverquiterelinquishedacertainpitoyable
pitiful,shamed,littlehopethatRomance
Romancewouldcomeherwayyet—never,jusqu'à
untilthiswet,horriblemorning,quand
whenshewakenedtothefait
factthatshewastwenty-nineet
andunsoughtbyanyman.Ay,therelay
le
thesting.Valancydidnotmindsomuchbeing
une
anoldmaid.Afterall,she
pensait
thought,beinganoldmaidcouldn’tpossiblybeasterrible
dreadfulasbeingmarriedtoanOncle
UncleWellingtonoranUncleBenjamin,ou
orevenanUncleHerbert.What
blessait
hurtherwasthatsheeu
hadneverhadachancetobeanythingbutanoldmaid.Aucun
Nomanhadeverdesiredher.Les
Thetearscameintohereyesasshelaytherealoneinles
thefaintlygreyingdarkness.Shedarednot
laisser
letherselfcryashardasshevoulait
wantedto,fortworeasons.Shewas
peur
afraidthatcryingmightbringonautre
anotherattackofthatpainautour
aroundtheheart.Shehad
eu
hadaspellofitaprès
aftershehadgotintobed—ratherpire
worsethananyshehadeu
hadyet.Andshewas
peur
afraidhermotherwouldnoticeherredeyesatpetit déjeuner
breakfastandkeepatherwithminute,persistent,mosquito-likequestionsregardingla
thecausethereof.“Suppose,”thoughtValancy
avec
withaghastlygrin,“Irépondu
answeredwiththeplaintruth,‘Iampleure
cryingbecauseIcannotgetmarried.’HowhorrifiedMotherwouldbe—thoughsheishonte
ashamedeverydayofhervie
lifeofheroldmaiddaughter.”Mais
Butofcourseappearancesshouldbekeptup.“Itisnot,”Valancy
pouvait
couldhearhermother’sprim,dictatorialvoix
voiceasserting,“itisnotmaidenlytopenser
thinkaboutmen.”Thethoughtofhermother’sexpression
faisait
madeValancylaugh—forshehadun
asenseofhumournobodyinherclan
clansuspected.Forthatmatter,therewereagood
beaucoup
manythingsaboutValancythatnobodysoupçonnait
suspected.Butherlaughterwas
très
verysuperficialandpresentlyshelaythere,ahuddled,futile
futilelittlefigure,listeningtola
therainpouringdownoutsideet
andwatching,withasickdistaste,la
thechill,mercilesslightcreepingintoherugly,sordide
sordidroom.Sheknewtheuglinessofthatroombyheart—knewit
et
andhatedit.Theyellow-painted
sol
floor,withonehideous,“hooked”tapis
rugbythebed,withagrotesque
grotesque,“hooked”dogonit,toujours
alwaysgrinningatherwhensheréveille
awoke;thefaded,dark-redpaper;
le
theceilingdiscolouredbyoldleakset
andcrossedbycracks;thenarrow,
pincé
pinchedlittlewashstand;thebrown-paperlambrequin
avec
withpurplerosesonit;thespotted
vieux
oldlooking-glasswiththecrackacrossit,proppedupontheinadéquate
inadequatedressing-table;thejarofancientpotpourri
fait
madebyhermotherinhermythicalhoneymoon;la
theshell-coveredbox,withoneéclaté
burstcorner,whichCousinStickleshadmadeinherequallymythicalgirlhood;thebeadedpincushionwith
moitié
halfitsbeadfringegone;la
theonestiff,yellowchair;thefaded
vieux
oldmotto,“Gonebutnotforgotten,”workedincolouredyarnssur
aboutGreat-grand-motherStirling’sgrimoldvisage
face;theoldphotographsofancientrelatives
longtemps
longbanishedfromtheroomsdessous
below.Therewereonlytwopicturesthatwerenotofrelatives.
One,an
vieux
oldchromoofapuppyassis
sittingonarainydoorstep.That
photo
picturealwaysmadeValancyunhappy.Thatforlorn
petit
littledogcrouchedonthedoorstepinthedrivingpluie
rain!Whydidn’tsomeone
ouvert
openthedoorandlethimin?La
Theotherpicturewasafaded,passe-partoutedengravingofReine
QueenLouisecomingdownastairway,whichTante
AuntWellingtonhadlavishlygivenheronherdixième
tenthbirthday.Fornineteenyearsshehadlookedatit
et
andhatedit,beautiful,smug,self-satisfiedReine
QueenLouise.Butshenever
osé
dareddestroyitorremoveit.Mère
MotherandCousinStickleswouldeu
havebeenaghast,or,asValancyirreverentlyexprimé
expresseditinherthoughts,été
wouldhavehadafit.Everyroominthe
maison
housewasugly,ofcourse.Mais
Butdownstairsappearanceswerekeptupsomewhat.Il
Therewasnomoneyforroomsnobodyeversaw.Valancy
parfois
sometimesfeltthatshecouldhavefaire
donesomethingforherroomherself,même
evenwithoutmoney,ifshewerepermis
permitted.Buthermotherhadnegatived
chaque
everytimidsuggestionandValancydidnotpersisté
persist.Valancyneverpersisted.
Shewas
peur
afraidto.Hermothercouldnotbrookopposition.
Mrs.Stirlingwouldsulkfordays
si
ifoffended,withtheairsofaninsultedduchesse
duchess.TheonlythingValancy
aimait
likedaboutherroomwasque
thatshecouldbealoney
thereatnighttocrysi
ifshewantedto.But,
après
afterall,whatdiditmattersi
ifaroom,whichyouusedfornothingexceptdormir
sleepinganddressingin,wereugly?Valancywas
jamais
neverpermittedtostayaloneinherroomforanyotherpurpose.Gens
Peoplewhowantedtobealone,soMrs.FrederickStirlinget
andCousinSticklesbelieved,couldonlywanttobealoneforsomesinistre
sinisterpurpose.Butherroominthe
Bleu
BlueCastlewaseverythingaroomdevrait
shouldbe.Valancy,socowed
et
andsubduedandoverriddenandsnubbedinrealvie
life,waswonttoletherselfaller
gorathersplendidlyinherday-dreams.Nobodyin
le
theStirlingclan,oritsramifications,soupçonnait
suspectedthis,leastofallhermère
motherandCousinStickles.They
jamais
neverknewthatValancyhaddeux
twohomes—theuglyredbrickboxofamaison
home,onElmStreet,andtheBleu
BlueCastleinSpain.Valancyhad
vécu
livedspirituallyintheBlueChâteau
Castleeversinceshecouldremember.Shehadbeen
une
averytinychildwhenshefoundherselfpossessedofit.Toujours
Always,whensheshuthereyes,shepouvait
couldseeitplainly,withitsturretset
andbannersonthepine-cladmontagne
mountainheight,wrappedinitsfaint,blueloveliness,contre
againstthesunsetskiesofafairet
andunknownland.Everythingwonderful
et
andbeautifulwasinthatchâteau
castle.Jewelsthatqueensmighthave
porter
worn;robesofmoonlightand
feu
fire;couchesofrosesandgold;
longflightsofshallow
marbre
marblesteps,withgreat,whiteurns,et
andwithslender,mist-cladmaidensgoingupet
anddownthem;courts,marble-pillared,
où
whereshimmeringfountainsfellandnightingaleschantaient
sangamongthemyrtles;hallsofmirrorsthat
reflétaient
reflectedonlyhandsomeknightsandbelle
lovelywomen—herselftheloveliestoftoutes
all,forwhoseglancemenmouraient
died.Allthatsupportedherthrough
la
theboredomofherdayswasla
thehopeofgoingonarêver
dreamspreeatnight.Most,
si
ifnotall,oftheStirlingswouldhavemorts
diedofhorroriftheyhadsu
knownhalfthethingsValancyfaites
didinherBlueCastle.Foronethingshehadquiteafewloversinit.
Oh,onlyoneata
fois
time.Onewhowooedher
avec
withalltheromanticardourofla
theageofchivalryandwonheraprès
afterlongdevotionandmanydeedsofderring-do,et
andwasweddedtoheravec
withpompandcircumstanceinla
thegreat,banner-hungchapelofla
theBlueCastle.Attwelve,
cet
thisloverwasafairgarçon
ladwithgoldencurlsandheavenlyblueeyes.Atfifteen,hewas
grand
tallanddarkandpale,mais
butstillnecessarilyhandsome.Attwenty,hewasascetic,
rêveur
dreamy,spiritual.Attwenty-five,hehadaclean-cut
mâchoire
jaw,slightlygrim,andavisage
facestrongandruggedratherque
thanhandsome.Valancynevergrewolderthantwenty-fiveinher
Bleu
BlueCastle,butrecently—veryrecently—herhéros
herohadhadreddish,tawnycheveux
hair,atwistedsmileandun
amysteriouspast.Idon’t
dis
sayValancydeliberatelymurderedtheseloversassheoutgrewles
them.Onesimplyfadedawayasanothercame.
Thingsare
très
veryconvenientinthisrespectinBlueCastles.Mais
But,onthismorningofherjour
dayoffate,Valancycouldnottrouver
findthekeyofherBleu
BlueCastle.Realitypressedonher
trop
toohardly,barkingatherheelscomme
likeamaddeninglittledog.Shewastwenty-nine,lonely,undesired,ill-favoured—the
seule
onlyhomelygirlinabeau
handsomeclan,withnopastet
andnofuture.Asfarasshe
pouvait
couldlookback,lifewasdrabet
andcolourless,withnotonesinglecrimsonou
orpurplespotanywhere.As
loin
farasshecouldlookforwarditsemblait
seemedcertaintobejustle
thesameuntilshewasrien
nothingbutasolitary,littlewitheredfeuille
leafclingingtoawintrybough.Themomentwhen
une
awomanrealisesthatshedevoir
hasnothingtolivefor—neitheramour
love,duty,purposenorhope—holdsforherthebitternessofmort
death.“AndIjusthavetogoon
vivre
livingbecauseIcan’tstop.I
pourrais
mayhavetoliveeightyyears,”pensa
thoughtValancy,inakindofpanique
panic.“We’reallhorriblylong-lived.
Itsickensmeto
penser
thinkofit.”Shewasgladitwasraining—or
plutôt
rather,shewasdrearilysatisfiedthatitwaspleuvrait
raining.Therewouldbeno
pique-nique
picnicthatday.Thisannual
pique-nique
picnic,wherebyAuntandUncleWellington—onetoujours
alwaysthoughtoftheminque
thatsuccession—inevitablycelebratedtheirengagementatun
apicnicthirtyyearsbefore,hadbeen,oflateyears,un
averitablenightmaretoValancy.By
une
animpishcoincidenceitwasthemême
samedayasherbirthdayet
and,aftershehadpassedtwenty-five,nobodylaissait
letherforgetit.Muchasshe
déteste
hatedgoingtothepicnic,italler
wouldneverhaveoccurredtohertorebeller
rebelagainstit.Thereseemedtobe
rien
nothingoftherevolutionaryinhernature
nature.Andsheknewexactlywhateveryonewould
dirait
saytoheratthepique-nique
picnic.UncleWellington,whomshe
détestait
dislikedanddespisedeventhoughhehadrempli
fulfilledthehighestStirlingaspiration,“marryingmoney,”woulddisait
saytoherinapig’schuchotant
whisper,“Notthinkingofgettingmarriedyet,mydear?”et
andthengooffintole
thebellowoflaughterwithwhichheinvariablyconclu
concludedhisdullremarks.AuntWellington,ofwhomValancystoodinabjectawe,wouldtellheraboutOlive’snewchiffon
robe
dressandCecil’slastdevotedlettre
letter.Valancywouldhavetolookaspleased
et
andinterestedasiftherobe
dressandletterhadbeenhersorelseTante
AuntWellingtonwouldbeoffended.Et
AndValancyhadlongagodécidé
decidedthatshewouldratheroffenser
offendGodthanAuntWellington,parce que
becauseGodmightforgivehermais
butAuntWellingtonneverwould.Tante
AuntAlberta,enormouslyfat,withanamiablehabitude
habitofalwaysreferringtohermari
husbandas“he,”asifheweretheseule
onlymalecreatureinthemonde
world,whocouldneverforgetthatshehadbeenagreatbeauté
beautyinheryouth,wouldcondoleavec
withValancyonhersallowpeau
skin—.“Idon’tknowwhy
toutes
allthegirlsoftodayaresosunburned.Quand
WhenIwasagirlmypeau
skinwasrosesandcream.Iwascounted
la
theprettiestgirlinCanada,mydear.”Peut-être
PerhapsUncleHerbertwouldn’tsayanything—orpeut-être
perhapshewouldremarkjocularly,“Howfatyou’regetting,Doss!”Et
Andtheneverybodywouldlaughoverle
theexcessivelyhumorousideaofpauvre
poor,scrawnylittleDossgettingfat.Beau
Handsome,solemnUncleJames,whomValancydislikedmais
butrespectedbecausehewasreputedtobetrès
verycleverandwasthereforetheclan
clanoracle—brainsbeingnonetooplentifulintheStirlingconnection—wouldprobablement
probablyremarkwiththeowl-likesarcasme
sarcasmthathadwonhimhisréputation
reputation,“Isupposeyou’rebusyavec
withyourhope-chestthesedays?”Et
AndUncleBenjaminwouldaskcertaines
someofhisabominableconundrums,entre
betweenwheezychuckles,andanswerthemhimself.“Whatis
la
thedifferencebetweenDossandune
amouse?“Themousewishesto
mal
harmthecheeseandDossveut
wishestocharmthehe’s.”Valancyhad
entendu
heardhimaskthatriddlefiftytimeset
andeverytimeshewantedtojeter
throwsomethingathim.Butshe
jamais
neverdid.Inthefirst
lieu
place,theStirlingssimplydidnotjeté
throwthings;inthesecond
lieu
place,UncleBenjaminwasariche
wealthyandchildlessoldwidoweret
andValancyhadbeenbroughtupinla
thefearandadmonitionofhisargent
money.Ifsheoffendedhimhewouldcutheroutofhiswill—supposingshewereinit.
Valancydidnot
voulait
wanttobecutoutofUncleBenjamin’swill.Shehadbeen
pauvre
poorallherlifeandconnaissait
knewthegallingbitternessofit.Soshe
enduré
enduredhisriddlesandevensmiledtorturé
torturedlittlesmilesoverthem.Tante
AuntIsabel,downrightanddisagreeableasaneastvent
wind,wouldcriticiseherinsomeway—Valancypouvait
couldnotpredictjusthow,forTante
AuntIsabelneverrepeatedacriticism—shetrouvait
foundsomethingnewwithwhichtojabyouchaque
everytime.AuntIsabelpridedherselfonsayingwhatshethought,
mais
butdidn’tlikeitsowellquand
whenotherpeoplesaidwhattheythoughttoher.Valancy
jamais
neversaidwhatshethought.CousinGeorgiana—namedafterhergreat-great-grand-mother,whohadbeennamedafterGeorgetheFourth—wouldrecountdolorouslythenamesof
tous
allrelativesandfriendswhohaddécédés
diedsincethelastpicnicet
andwonder“whichofusété
willbethefirsttopartir
gonext.”Oppressivelycompetent,AuntMildredwould
parlait
talkendlesslyofherhusbandet
andherodiousprodigiesofbabiestoValancy,parce que
becauseValancywouldbetheonlyoneshepourrait
couldfindtoputupwithit.Forthe
même
samereason,CousinGladys—reallyFirstCousinGladysonceremoved,selon
accordingtothestrictwayinwhichtheStirlingstabulatedrelationship—atall,mince
thinladywhoadmittedsheavoir
hadasensitivedisposition,woulddécrirait
describeminutelythetorturesofherneuritis.Et
AndOlive,thewondergirlofthewholeStirlingclan
clan,whohadeverythingValancyhadnot—beauty,popularité
popularity,love,—wouldshowoffherbeauté
beautyandpresumeonherpopularité
popularityandflauntherdiamondinsigniaofamour
loveinValancy’sdazzled,enviouseyes.Il
Therewouldbenoneoftout
allthistoday.Andtherewouldbe
pas
nopackingupofteaspoons.Thepackingupwas
toujours
alwaysleftforValancyandCousin
CousinStickles.Andonce,sixyearsago,
une
asilverteaspoonfromAuntWellington’sweddingsethadbeenlost.Valancy
jamais
neverheardthelastofthatsilverteaspoon.Its
fantôme
ghostappearedBanquo-likeateverysubsequentfamilyfête
feast.Oh,yes,Valancyknew
exactement
exactlywhatthepicnicwouldbelikeet
andsheblessedtherainthathadsavedherfromit.Il
Therewouldbenopicniccette
thisyear.IfAuntWellington
pouvait
couldnotcelebrateonthesacredjour
dayitselfshewouldhavepas
nocelebrationatall.Thankwhatevergodstherewereforthat.
Sincethere
irait
wouldbenopicnic,Valancymadeuphermindque
that,iftherainheldupinla
theafternoon,shewouldgouptola
thelibraryandgetanotherofJohnFoster’sbooks.Valancywas
jamais
neverallowedtoreadnovels,mais
butJohnFoster’sbookswerenotnovels.Theywere“naturebooks”—sothe
bibliothécaire
librariantoldMrs.FrederickStirling—“allsur
aboutthewoodsandbirdset
andbugsandthingslikethat,youknow.”SoValancywas
autorisé
allowedtoreadthem—underprotest,foritwasonlytrop
tooevidentthatsheenjoyedthemtrop
toomuch.Itwaspermissible,evenlaudable,to
lire
readtoimproveyourmindet
andyourreligion,butalivre
bookthatwasenjoyablewasdangereux
dangerous.Valancydidnotknow
si
whetherhermindwasbeingamélioré
improvedornot;butshe
sentait
feltvaguelythatifshehadcomeacrossJohnFoster’sbooksyearsagovie
lifemighthavebeenadifferentthingforher.They
semblaient
seemedtohertoyieldaperçu
glimpsesofaworldintowhichshepu
mightoncehaveentered,thoughla
thedoorwasforeverbarredtohermaintenant
now.Itwasonlywithinthe
dernière
lastyearthatJohnFoster’sbookshadbeenintheDeerwoodbibliothèque
library,thoughthelibrariantoldValancyque
thathehadbeenawell-knownécrivain
writerforseveralyears.“Wheredoeshelive?”
Valancyhad
demandé
asked.“Nobodyknows.
Fromhisbookshe
doit
mustbeaCanadian,butpas
nomoreinformationcanbedoit
had.Hispublisherswon’tsay
un
aword.QuitelikelyJohn
Foster
Fosterisanomdeplume.Hisbooksaresopopularwecan’t
garder
keeptheminatall,si
thoughIreallycan’tseewhatgens
peoplefindinthemtoraveover.”“I
pense
thinkthey’rewonderful,”saidValancy,timidly.“Oh—well—”
Mlle
MissClarksonsmiledinapatronisingfashionthatrelegatedValancy’sopinionstolimbo,“Ican’tdire
sayIcaremuchforbugsmyself.Mais
ButcertainlyFosterseemstosavoir
knowallthereistosavoir
knowaboutthem.”Valancydidn’t
savait
knowwhethershecaredmuchforbugseither.ItwasnotJohnFoster’suncanny
connaissance
knowledgeofwildcreaturesandinsectvie
lifethatenthralledher.She
pouvait
couldhardlysaywhatitwas—sometantalisinglureofun
amysteryneverrevealed—somehintofun
agreatsecretjustapeu
littlefurtheron—somefaint,elusiveécho
echooflovely,forgottenthings—JohnFoster’smagie
magicwasindefinable.Yes,shewouldget
un
anewFosterbook.Itwas
un
amonthsinceshehadThistleHarvest,sosûrement
surelyMothercouldnotobject.Valancyhad
lu
readitfourtimes—sheknewwholepassagesoffbycœur
heart.And—shealmostthoughtshewouldgo
et
andseeDr.Trentaboutthatqueerdouleur
painaroundtheheart.Ithad
venu
comeratheroftenlately,andles
thepalpitationswerebecomingannoying,nottoparler
speakofanoccasionaldizzymomentet
andaqueershortnessofbreath.Mais
Butcouldshegotovoir
seehimwithouttellinganyone?Itwas
une
amostdaringthought.NoneoftheStirlingsever
consulté
consultedadoctorwithoutholdingun
afamilycouncilandgettingUncleJames’approval.Then,they
allés
wenttoDr.AmbroseMarshofPort
PortLawrence,whohadmarriedSecondCousinAdelaideStirling.Mais
ButValancydislikedDr.AmbroseMarsh
Marsh.And,besides,shecouldnotgetto
Port
PortLawrence,fifteenmilesaway,sans
withoutbeingtakenthere.Shedidnot
voulait
wantanyonetoknowabouthercœur
heart.Therewouldbesuch
un
afussmadeandeverymemberofthefamille
familywouldcomedownandparlaient
talkitoverandadviseheret
andcautionherandwarnheret
andtellherhorribletalesofgreat-auntset
andcousinsfortytimesremovedwhohadbeen“justcomme
likethat”and“droppeddeadsans
withoutamoment’swarning,mydear.”Tante
AuntIsabelwouldrememberthatshehadtoujours
alwayssaidDosslookedlikeune
agirlwhowouldhavehearttrouble—“sopinchedet
andpeakedalways”;andUncleWellingtonwould
prendrait
takeitasapersonalinsulte
insult,when“noStirlingevereu
hadheartdiseasebefore”;andGeorgianawouldforebodein
parfaitement
perfectlyaudibleasidesthat“poor,cher
dearlittleDossisn’tlongforce
thisworld,I’mafraid”;andCousinGladyswould
disait
say,“Why,myhearthasbeencomme
likethatforyears,”inaton
tonethatimpliednooneelseavoir
hadanybusinesseventoavoir
haveaheart;andOlive—Olivewouldmerelylook
belle
beautifulandsuperioranddisgustinglyhealthy,asiftodire
say,“Whyallthisfusssur
overafadedsuperfluitylikeDossquand
whenyouhaveme?”Valancyfeltthatshecouldn’t
dire
tellanybodyunlessshehadà
to.Shefeltquitesuretherewas
rien
nothingatallseriouslywrongavec
withherheartandnobesoin
needofallthepotherqui
thatwouldensueifshementionné
mentionedit.Shewouldjustslipup
tranquillement
quietlyandseeDr.Trentthatveryday.Asforhis
facture
bill,shehadthetwocents
hundreddollarsthatherfatherhadmis
putinthebankforherthejour
dayshewasborn.Shewas
jamais
neverallowedtouseevenle
theinterestofthis,butsheété
wouldsecretlytakeoutenoughtopayer
payDr.Trent.Dr.
Trentwasagruff,outspoken,absent-mindedoldfellow,
mais
buthewasarecognisedautorité
authorityonheartdisease,evenifhewereonlyageneralpractitionerinout-of-the-worldDeerwood.Dr.Trentwasoverseventy
et
andtherehadbeenrumoursthathemeanttoprendre sa retraite
retiresoon.NoneoftheStirling
clan
clanhadevergonetohimdepuis
sincehehadtoldCousinGladys,dix
tenyearsbefore,thatherneuritiswasallimaginaire
imaginaryandthatsheenjoyedit.Youcouldn’tpatronisea
médecin
doctorwhoinsultedyourfirst-cousin-once-removedcomme
likethat—nottomentionthathewasaPresbyterianquand
whenalltheStirlingswenttoles
theAnglicanchurch.CHAPTERII
Quand
WhenCousinSticklesknockedatherporte
door,Valancyknewitwashalf-pastsept
sevenandshemustgetup.As
longtemps
longasshecouldremember,Cousin
CousinStickleshadknockedatherporte
doorathalf-pastseven.CousinStickles
et
andMrs.FrederickStirlinghadbeenupdepuis
sinceseven,butValancywasallowedtolieabeddemi
halfanhourlongerbecauseofafamilytradition
traditionthatshewasdelicate.Valancygotup,thoughshe
déteste
hatedgettingupmorethismatin
morningthanevershehadbefore.