Элинор Портер - Pollyanna / Поллианна. Книга для чтения на английском языке

Pollyanna smiled happily.

“But he did, Nancy,” she nodded, “only I reckon even he didn’t want to – ALL the time. Why, only to-day he owned up that one time he just felt he never wanted to see me again, because I reminded him of something he wanted to forget. But afterwards – ”

“What’s that?” interrupted Nancy, excitedly. “He said you reminded him of something he wanted to forget?”

“Yes. But afterwards – ”

“What was it?” Nancy was eagerly insistent.

“He didn’t tell me. He just said it was something.”

“THE MYSTERY!” breathed Nancy, in an awestruck voice. “That’s why he took to you in the first place. Oh, Miss Pollyanna! Why, that’s just like a book – I’ve read lots of ’em; Lady Maud’s Secret , and The Lost Heir , and Hidden for Years – all of ’em had mysteries and things just like this. My stars and stockings! Just think of havin’ a book lived right under yer nose like this an’ me not knowin’ it all this time! Now tell me everythin’ – every-thin’ he said, Miss Pollyanna, there’s a dear [120] there’s a dear – ( разг. ) будь умницей ! No wonder he took ter you; no wonder – no wonder!”

“But he didn’t,” cried Pollyanna, “not till I talked to HIM, first. And he didn’t even know who I was till I took the calf’s-foot jelly, and had to make him understand that Aunt Polly didn’t send it, and – ”

Nancy sprang to her feet and clasped her hands together suddenly.

“Oh, Miss Pollyanna, I know, I know – I KNOW I know!” she exulted rapturously. The next minute she was down at Pollyanna’s side again. “Tell me – now think, and answer straight and true,” she urged excitedly. “It was after he found out you was Miss Polly’s niece that he said he didn’t ever want ter see ye again, wa’n’t it?”

“Oh, yes. I told him that the last time I saw him, and he told me this to-day.”

“I thought as much,” triumphed Nancy. “And Miss Polly wouldn’t send the jelly herself, would she?”

“No.”

“And you told him she didn’t send it?”

“Why, yes; I – ”

“And he began ter act queer and cry out sudden after he found out you was her niece. He did that, didn’t he?”

“Why, y-yes; he did act a little queer – over that jelly [121] over that jelly – ( зд. ) и все из-за студня ,” admitted Pollyanna, with a thoughtful frown.

Nancy drew a long sigh.

“Then I’ve got it, sure! Now listen. MR. JOHN PENDLETON WAS MISS POLLY HARRINGTON’s LOVER!” she announced impressively, but with a furtive glance over her shoulder.

“Why, Nancy, he couldn’t be! She doesn’t like him,” objected Pollyanna.

Nancy gave her a scornful glance.

“Of course she don’t! THAT’s the quarrel! [122] THAT’s the quarrel! – ( разг. ) Все дело в (той) ссоре! ”

Pollyanna still looked incredulous, and with another long breath Nancy happily settled herself to tell the story.

“It’s like this. Just before you come, Mr. Tom told me Miss Polly had had a lover once. I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t – her and a lover! But Mr. Tom said she had, and that he was livin’ now right in this town. And NOW I know, of course. It’s John Pendleton. Hain’t he got a mystery in his life? Don’t he shut himself up in that grand house alone, and never speak ter no one? Didn’t he act queer when he found out you was Miss Polly’s niece? And now hain’t he owned up that you remind him of somethin’ he wants ter forget? Just as if ANYBODY couldn’t see ’twas Miss Polly! – an’ her sayin’ she wouldn’t send him no jelly, too. Why, Miss Pollyanna, it’s as plain as the nose on yer face [123] it’s as plain as the nose on yer face – ( искаж. ) это ясно как день ; it is, it is!”

“Oh-h!” breathed Pollyanna, in wide-eyed amazement. “But, Nancy, I should think if they loved each other they’d make up some time. Both of ’em all alone, so, all these years. I should think they’d be glad to make up!”

Nancy sniffed disdainfully.

“I guess maybe you don’t know much about lovers, Miss Pollyanna. You ain’t big enough yet, anyhow. But if there IS a set o’ folks in the world that wouldn’t have no use for that ’ere ‘glad game’ o’ your’n, it’d be a pair o’ quarrellin’ lovers; and that’s what they be. Ain’t he cross as sticks, most gen’rally [124] cross as sticks, most gen’rally – ( искаж. ) почти всегда не в духе ? – and ain’t she – ”

Nancy stopped abruptly, remembering just in time to whom, and about whom, she was speaking. Suddenly, however, she chuckled.

“I ain’t sayin’, though, Miss Pollyanna, but what it would be a pretty slick piece of business if you could GET ’em ter playin’ it – so they WOULD be glad ter make up. But, my land! wouldn’t folks stare some – Miss Polly and him! I guess, though, there ain’t much chance, much chance!”

Pollyanna said nothing; but when she went into the house a little later, her face was very thoughtful.

As the warm August days passed, Pollyanna went very frequently to the great house on Pendleton Hill. She did not feel, however, that her visits were really a success. Not but that the man seemed to want her there – he sent for her, indeed, frequently; but that when she was there, he seemed scarcely any the happier for her presence – at least, so Pollyanna thought.

He talked to her, it was true, and he showed her many strange and beautiful things – books, pictures, and curios. But he still fretted audibly over his own helplessness, and he chafed visibly under the rules and “regulatings” of the unwelcome members of his household. He did, indeed, seem to like to hear Pollyanna talk, however, and Pollyanna talked, Pollyanna liked to talk – but she was never sure that she would not look up and find him lying back on his pillow with that white, hurt look that always pained her; and she was never sure which – if any – of her words had brought it there. As for telling him the “glad game,” and trying to get him to play it – Pollyanna had never seen the time yet when she thought he would care to hear about it. She had twice tried to tell him; but neither time had she got beyond the beginning of what her father had said – John Pendleton had on each occasion turned the conversation abruptly to another subject.

Pollyanna never doubted now that John Pendleton was her Aunt Polly’s one-time lover; and with all the strength of her loving, loyal heart, she wished she could in some way bring happiness into their – to her mind – miserably lonely lives.

Just how she was to do this, however, she could not see. She talked to Mr. Pendleton about her aunt; and he listened, sometimes politely, sometimes irritably, frequently with a quizzical smile on his usually stern lips. She talked to her aunt about Mr. Pendleton – or rather, she tried to talk to her about him. As a general thing, however, Miss Polly would not listen – long. She always found something else to talk about. She frequently did that, however, when Pollyanna was talking of others – of Dr. Chilton, for instance. Pollyanna laid this, though, to the fact that it had been Dr. Chilton who had seen her in the sun parlor with the rose in her hair and the lace shawl draped about her shoulders. Aunt Polly, indeed, seemed particularly bitter against Dr. Chilton, as Pollyanna found out one day when a hard cold shut her up in the house.

“If you are not better by night I shall send for the doctor,” Aunt Polly said.

“Shall you? Then I’m going to be worse [125] Shall you? Then I’m going to be worse – ( разг. ) Правда? Тогда мне обязательно станет хуже ,” gurgled Pollyanna. “I’d love to have Dr. Chilton come to see me!”