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

“Jamie, wait! I’m going to get it,” she exclaimed eagerly. “It’ll make such a beautiful bouquet for our picnic table!” And nimbly she scrambled over the high stone wall and dropped herself down on the other side.

It was strange how tantalizing was that goldenrod. Always just ahead she saw another bunch, and yet another, each a little finer than the one within her reach. With joyous exclamations and gay little calls back to the waiting Jamie, Pollyanna – looking particularly attractive in her scarlet sweater – skipped from bunch to bunch, adding to her store. She had both hands full when there came the hideous bellow of an angry bull, the agonized shout from Jamie, and the sound of hoofs thundering down the hillside.

What happened next was never clear to her. She knew she dropped her goldenrod and ran – ran as she never ran before, ran as she thought she never could run – back toward the wall and Jamie. She knew that behind her the hoof-beats were gaining, gaining, always gaining. Dimly, hopelessly, far ahead of her, she saw Jamie’s agonized face, and heard his hoarse cries. Then, from somewhere, came a new voice – Jimmy’s – shouting a cheery call of courage.

Still on and on she ran blindly, hearing nearer and nearer the thud of those pounding hoofs. Once she stumbled and almost fell. Then, dizzily she righted herself and plunged forward. She felt her strength quite gone when suddenly, close to her, she heard Jimmy’s cheery call again. The next minute she felt herself snatched off her feet and held close to a great throbbing something that dimly she realized was Jimmy’s heart. It was all a horrid blur then of cries, hot, panting breaths, and pounding hoofs thundering nearer, ever nearer. Then, just as she knew those hoofs to be almost upon her, she felt herself flung, still in Jimmy’s arms, sharply to one side, and yet not so far but that she still could feel the hot breath of the maddened animal as he dashed by. Almost at once then she found herself on the other side of the wall, with Jimmy bending over her, imploring her to tell him she was not dead.

With an hysterical laugh that was yet half a sob, she struggled out of his arms and stood upon her feet.

“Dead? No, indeed – thanks to you, Jimmy. I’m all right. I’m all right. Oh, how glad, glad, glad I was to hear your voice! Oh, that was splendid! How did you do it?” she panted.

“Pooh! That was nothing. I just —” An inarticulate choking cry brought his words to a sudden halt. He turned to find Jamie face down on the ground, a little distance away. Pollyanna was already hurrying toward him.

“Jamie, Jamie, what is the matter?” she cried. “Did you fall? Are you hurt?”

There was no answer.

“What is it, old fellow? ARE you hurt?” demanded Jimmy.

Still there was no answer. Then, suddenly, Jamie pulled himself half upright and turned. They saw his face then, and fell back, shocked and amazed.

“Hurt? Am I hurt?” he choked huskily, flinging out both his hands. “Don’t you suppose it hurts to see a thing like that and not be able to do anything? To be tied, helpless, to a pair of sticks? I tell you there’s no hurt in all the world to equal it [121] there’s no hurt in all the world to equal it – ( разг. ) ни одна боль в мире не сравнится с этим !”

“But – but – Jamie,” faltered Pollyanna.

“Don’t!” interrupted the cripple, almost harshly. He had struggled to his feet now. “Don’t say – anything. I didn’t mean to make a scene – like this,” he finished brokenly, as he turned and swung back along the narrow path that led to the camp.

For a minute, as if transfixed, the two behind him watched him go.

“Well, by – Jove!” breathed Jimmy, then, in a voice that shook a little, “That was – tough on him!”

“And I didn’t think, and PRAISED you, right before him,” half-sobbed Pollyanna. “And his hands – did you see them? They were – BLEEDING where the nails had cut right into the flesh,” she finished, as she turned and stumbled blindly up the path.

“But, Pollyanna, w-where are you going?” cried Jimmy.

“I’m going to Jamie, of course! Do you think I’d leave him like that? Come, we must get him to come back.”

And Jimmy, with a sigh that was not all for Jamie, went.

Outwardly the camping trip was pronounced a great success; but inwardly —

Pollyanna wondered sometimes if it were all herself, or if there really were a peculiar, indefinable constraint in everybody with everybody else. Certainly she felt it, and she thought she saw evidences that the others felt it, too. As for the cause of it all – unhesitatingly she attributed it to that last day at camp with its unfortunate trip to “the Basin”.

To be sure, she and Jimmy had easily caught up [122] had easily caught up – ( разг. ) быстро догнали with Jamie, and had, after considerable coaxing, persuaded him to turn about and go on to the Basin with them. But, in spite of everybody’s very evident efforts to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, nobody really succeeded in doing so. Pollyanna, Jamie, and Jimmy overdid their gayety a bit, perhaps; and the others, while not knowing exactly what had happened, very evidently felt that something was not quite right, though they plainly tried to hide the fact that they did feel so. Naturally, in this state of affairs, restful happiness was out of the question. Even the anticipated fish dinner was flavorless; and early in the afternoon the start was made back to the camp.

Once home again, Pollyanna had hoped that the unhappy episode of the angry bull would be forgotten. But she could not forget it, so in all fairness she could not blame the others if they could not. Always she thought of it now when she looked at Jamie. She saw again the agony on his face, the crimson stain on the palms of his hands. Her heart ached for him, and because it did so ache, his mere presence had come to be a pain to her. Remorsefully she confessed to herself that she did not like to be with Jamie now, nor to talk with him – but that did not mean that she was not often with him. She was with him, indeed, much oftener than before, for so remorseful was she, and so fearful was she that he would detect her unhappy frame of mind, that she lost no opportunity of responding to his overtures of comradeship; and sometimes she deliberately sought him out. This last she did not often have to do, however, for more and more frequently these days Jamie seemed to be turning to her for companionship.

The reason for this, Pollyanna believed, was to be found in this same incident of the bull and the rescue. Not that Jamie ever referred to it directly. He never did that. He was, too, even gayer than usual; but Pollyanna thought she detected sometimes a bitterness underneath it all that was never there before. Certainly she could not help seeing that at times he seemed almost to want to avoid the others, and that he actually sighed, as if with relief, when he found himself alone with her. She thought she knew why this was so, after he said to her, as he did say one day, while they were watching the others play tennis:

“You see, after all, Pollyanna, there isn’t any one who can quite understand as you can.”

“‘Understand’?” Pollyanna had not known what he meant at first. They had been watching the players for five minutes without a word between them.

“Yes; for you, once – couldn’t walk – yourself.”

“Oh-h, yes, I know,” faltered Pollyanna; and she knew that her great distress must have shown in her face, for so quickly and so blithely did he change the subject, after a laughing: