尤利西斯-第62章

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　the　last　glow　of　all　too　fleeting　day　lingered　lovingly　on　sea　and　strand；　on　the　proud　promontory　of　dear　old　Howth　guarding　as　ever　the　waters　of　the　bay；　on　the　weedgrown　rocks　along　Sandymount　shore　and；　last　but　not　least；　on　the　quiet　church　whence　there　streamed　forth　at　times　upon　the　stillness　the　voice　of　prayer　to　her　who　is　in　her　pure　radiance　a　beacon　ever　to　the　storm…tossed　heart　of　man；　Mary；　star　of　the　sea。　
The　three　girl　friends　were　seated　on　the　rocks；　enjoying　the　evening　scene　and　the　air　which　was　fresh　but　not　too　chilly。　Many　a　time　and　oft　were　they　wont　to　e　there　to　that　favourite　nook　to　have　a　cosy　chat　beside　the　sparkling　waves　and　discuss　matters　feminine；　Cissy　Caffrey　and　Edy　Boardman　with　the　baby　in　the　pushcar　and　Tommy　and　Jacky　Caffrey；　two　little　curlyheaded　boys；　dressed　in　sailor　suits　with　caps　to　match　and　the　name　H。M。S。　Belleisle　printed　on　both。　For　Tommy　and　Jacky　Caffrey　were　twins；　scarce　four　years　old　and　very　noisy　and　spoiled　twins　sometimes　but　for　all　that　darling　little　fellows　with　bright　merry　faces　and　endearing　ways　about　them。　They　were　dabbling　in　the　sand　with　their　spades　and　buckets；　building　castles　as　children　do；　or　playing　with　their　big　coloured　ball；　happy　as　the　day　was　long。　And　Edy　Boardman　was　rocking　the　chubby　baby　to　and　fro　in　the　pushcar　while　that　young　gentleman　fairly　chuckled　with　delight。　He　was　but　eleven　months　and　nine　days　old　and；　though　still　a　tiny　toddler；　was　just　beginning　to　lisp　his　first　babyish　words。　Cissy　Caffrey　bent　over　him　to　tease　his　fat　little　plucks　and　the　dainty　dimple　in　his　chin。　
　Now；　baby；　Cissy　Caffrey　said。　Say　out　big；　big。　I　want　a　drink　of　water。　
And　baby　prattled　after　her：　
　A　jink　a　jink　a　jawbo。　Cissy　Caffrey　cuddled　the　wee　chap　for　she　was　awfully　fond　of　children；　so　patient　with　little　sufferers　and　Tommy　Caffrey　could　never　be　got　to　take　his　castor　oil　unless　it　was　Cissy　Caffrey　that　held　his　nose　and　promised　him　the　scatty　heel　of　the　loaf　of　brown　bread　with　golden　syrup　on。　What　a　persuasive　power　that　girl　had！　But　to　be　sure　baby　was　as　good　as　gold；　a　perfect　little　dote　in　his　new　fancy　bib。　None　of　your　spoilt　beauties；　Flora　MacFlimsy　sort；　was　Cissy　Caffrey。　A　truerhearted　lass　never　drew　the　breath　of　life；　always　with　a　laugh　in　her　gipsylike　eyes　and　a　frolicsome　word　on　her　cherryripe　red　lips；　a　girl　lovable　in　the　extreme。　And　Edy　Boardman　laughed　too　at　the　quaint　language　of　little　brother。　
But　just　then　there　was　a　slight　altercation　between　Master　Tommy　and　Master　Jacky。　Boys　will　be　boys　and　our　two　twins　were　no　exception　to　this　golden　rule。　The　apple　of　discord　was　a　certain　castle　of　sand　which　Master　Jacky　had　built　and　Master　Tommy　would　have　it　right　go　wrong　that　it　was　to　be　architecturally　improved　by　a　frontdoor　like　the　Martello　tower　had。　But　if　Master　Tommy　was　headstrong　Master　Jacky　was　selfwilled　too　and；　true　to　the　maxim　that　every　little　Irishman's　house　is　his　castle；　he　fell　upon　his　hated　rival　and　to　such　purpose　that　the　would　be　assailant　came　to　grief　and　（alas　to　relate！）　the　coveted　castle　too。　Needless　to　say　the　cries　of　disfited　Master　Tommy　drew　the　attention　of　the　girl　friends。　
　e　here；　Tommy；　his　sister　called　imperatively；　at　once！　And　you；　Jacky；　for　shame　to　throw　poor　Tommy　in　the　dirty　sand。　Wait　till　I　catch　you　for　that。　
His　eyes　misty　with　unshed　tears　Master　Tommy　came　at　her　call　for　their　big　sister's　word　was　law　with　the　twins。　And　in　a　sad　plight　he　was　after　his　misadventure。　His　little　man…o'…war　top　and　unmentionables　were　full　of　sand　but　Cissy　was　a　past　mistress　in　the　art　of　smoothing　over　life's　tiny　troubles　and　very　quickly　not　one　speck　of　sand　was　to　be　seen　on　his　smart　little　suit。　Still　the　blue　eyes　were　glistening　with　hot　tears　that　would　well　up　so　she　kissed　away　the　hurtness　and　shook　her　hand　at　Master　Jacky　the　culprit　and　said　if　she　was　near　him　she　wouldn't　be　far　from　him；　her　eyes　dancing　in　admonition。　
　Nasty　bold　Jacky！　she　cried。　
She　put　an　arm　round　the　little　mariner　and　coaxed　winningly：　
　What's　your　name？　Butter　and　cream？　
　Tell　us　who　is　your　sweetheart；　spoke　Edy　Boardman。　Is　Cissy　your　sweetheart？　
　Nao；　tearful　Tommy　said。　
　Is　Edy　Boardman　your　sweetheart？　Cissy　queried。　
　Nao；　Tommy　said。　
　I　know；　Edy　Boardman　said　none　too　amiably　with　an　arch　glance　from　her　shortsighted　eyes。　I　know　who　is　Tommy's　sweetheart；　Gerty　is　Tommy's　sweetheart。　
　Nao；　Tommy　said　on　the　verge　of　tears。　
Cissy's　quick　motherwit　guessed　what　was　amiss　and　she　whispered　to　Edy　Boardman　to　take　him　there　behind　the　pushcar　where　the　gentlemen　couldn't　see　and　to　mind　he　didn't　wet　his　new　tan　shoes。　
But　who　was　Gerty？　
Gerty　MacDowell　who　was　seated　near　her　panions；　lost　in　thought；　gazing　far　away　into　the　distance；　was　in　very　truth　as　fair　a　specimen　of　winsome　Irish　girlhood　as　one　could　wish　to　see。　She　was　pronounced　beautiful　by　all　who　knew　her　though；　as　folks　often　said；　she　was　more　a　Giltrap　than　a　MacDowell。　Her　figure　was　slight　and　graceful；　inclining　even　to　fragility　but　those　iron　jelloids　she　had　been　taking　of　late　had　done　her　a　world　of　good　much　better　than　the　Widow　Welch's　female　pills　and　she　was　much　better　of　those　discharges　she　used　to　get　and　that　tired　feeling。　The　waxen　pallor　of　her　face　was　almost　spiritual　in　its　ivorylike　purity　though　her　rosebud　mouth　was　a　genuine　Cupid's　bow；　Greekly　perfect。　Her　hands　were　of　finely　veined　alabaster　with　tapering　fingers　and　as　white　as　lemon　juice　and　queen　of　ointments　could　make　them　though　it　was　not　true　that　she　used　to　wear　kid　gloves　in　bed　or　take　a　milk　footbath　either。　Bertha　Supple　told　that　once　to　Edy　Boardman；　a　deliberate　lie；　when　she　was　black　out　at　daggers　drawn　with　Gerty　（the　girl　chums　had　of　course　their　little　tiffs　from　time　to　time　like　the　rest　of　mortals）　and　she　told　her　not　let　on　whatever　she　did　that　it　was　her　that　told　her　or　she'd　never　speak　to　her　again。　No。　Honour　where　honour　is　due。　There　was　an　innate　refinement；　a　languid　queenly　hauteur　about　Gerty　which　was　unmistakably　evidenced　in　her　delicate　hands　and　higharched　instep。　Had　kind　fate　but　willed　her　to　be　born　a　gentlewoman　of　high　degree　in　her　own　right　and　had　she　only　received　the　benefit　of　a　good　education　Gerty　MacDowell　might　easily　have　held　her　own　beside　any　lady　in　the　land　and　have　seen　herself　exquisitely　gowned　with　jewels　on　her　brow　and　patrician　suitors　at　her　feet　vying　with　one　another　to　pay　their　devoirs　to　her。　Mayhap　it　was　this；　the　love　that　might　have　been；　that　lent　to　her　softlyfeatured　face　at　whiles　a　look；　tense　with　suppressed　meaning；　that　imparted　a　strange　yearning　tendency　to　the　beautiful　eyes　a　charm　few　could　resist。　Why　have　women　such　eyes　of　witchery？　Gerty's　were　of　the　bluest　Irish　blue；　set　off　by　lustrous　lashes　and　dark　expressive　brows。　Time　gas　when　those　brows　were　not　so　silkilyseductive。　It　was　Madame　Vera　Verity；　directress　of　the　Woman　Beautiful　page　of　the　Princess　novelette；　who　had　first　advised　her　to　try　eyebrowleine　which　gave　that　haunting　expression　to　the　eyes；　so　being　in　leaders　of　fashion；　and　she　had　never　regretted　it。　Then　there　was　blushing　scientifically　cured　and　how　to　be　tall　increase　your　height　and　you　have　a　beautiful　face　but　your　nose？　That　would　suit　Mrs　Dignam　because　she　had　a　button　one。　But　Gerty's　crowning　glory　was　her　wealth　of　wonderful　hair。　It　was　dark　brown　with　a　natural　wave　in　it。　She　had　cut　it　that　very　morning　on　account　of　the　new　moon　and　it　nestled　about　her　pretty　head　in　a　profusion　of　luxuriant　clusters　and　pared　her　nails　too；　Thursday　for　wealth。　And　just　now　at　Edy's　words　as　a　telltale　flush；　delicate　as　the　faintest　rosebloom；　crept　into　her　cheeks　she　looked　so　lovely　in　her　sweet　girlish　shyness　that　of　a　surety　God's　fair　land　of　Ireland　did　not　hold　her　equal。　
For　an　instant　she　was　silent　with　rather　sad　downcast　eyes。　She　was　about　to　retort　but　something　checked　the　words　on　her　tongue。　Inclination　prompted　her　to　speak　out：　dignity　told　her　to　be　silent。　The　pretty　lips　pouted　a　while　but　then　she　glanced　up　and　broke　out　into　a　joyous　little　laugh　which　had　in　it　all　the　freshness　of　a　young　May　morning。　She　knew　right　well；　no…one　better；　what　made　squinty　Edy　say　that　because　of　him　cooling　in　his　attentions　when　it　was　simply　a　lovers'　quarrel。　As　per　usual　somebody's　nose　was　out　of　joint　about　the　boy　that　had　the　bicycle　always　riding　up　and　down　in　front　of　her　window。　Only　now　his　father　kept　him　in　the　evenings　studying　hard　to　get　an　exhibition　in　the　intermediate　that　was　on　and　he　was　going　to　Trinity　college　to　study　for　a　doctor　when　he　left　the　high　school　like　his　brother　W。　E。　Wylie　who　was　racing　in　the　bicycle　races　in　Trinity　college　university。　Little　recked　he　perhaps　for　what　she　felt；　that　dull　aching　void　in　her　heart　sometimes；　piercing　to　the　core。　Yet　he　was　young　and　perchance　he　might　learn　to　love　her　in　time。　They　were　protestants　in　his　family　and　of　course　Gerty　knew　Who　came　first　and　after　Him　the　blessed　Virgin　and　then　Saint　Joseph。　But　he　was　undeniably　handsome　with　an　exquisite　nose　and　he　was　what　he　looked；　every　inch　a　gentleman；　the　shape　of　his　head　too　at　the　back　without　his　cap　on　that　she　would　know　anywhere　something　off　the　mon　and　the　way　he　turned　the　bicycle　at　the　lamp　with　his　hands　off　the　bars　and　also　the　nice　perfume　of　those　good　cigarettes　and　besides　they　were　both　of　a　size　and　that　was　why　Edy　Boardman　thought　she　was　so　frightfully　clever　because　he　didn't　go　and　ride　up　and　down　in　front　of　her　bit　of　a　garden。　
Gerty　was　dressed　simply　but　with　the　instinctive　taste　of　a　votary　of　Dame　Fashion　for　she　felt　that　there　was　just　a　might　that　he　might　be　out。　A　neat　blouse　of　electric　blue；　selftinted　by　dolly　dyes　（because　it　was　expected　in　the　Lady's　Pictorial　that　electric　blue　would　be　worn）；　with　a　smart　vee　opening　down　to　the　division　and　kerchief　pocket　（in　which　she　always　kept　a　piece　of　cottonwool　scented　with　her　favourite　perfume　because　the　handkerchief　spoiled　the　sit）　and　a　navy　threequarter　skirt　cut　to　the　stride　showed　off　her　slim　graceful　figure　to　perfection。　She　wore　a　coquettish　little　love　of　a　hat　of　wideleaved　nigger　straw　contrast　trimmed　with　an　underbrim　of　eggblue　chenille　and　at　the　side　a　butterfly　bow　to　tone。　All　Tuesday　week　afternoon　she　was　hunting　to　match　that　chenille　but　at　last　she　found　what　she　wanted　at　Clery's　summer　sales；　the　very　it；　slightly　shopsoiled　but　you　would　never　notice；　seven　fingers　two　and　a　penny。　She　did　it　up　all　by　herself　and　what　joy　was　hers　when　she　tried　it　on　then；　smiling　at　the　lovely　reflection　which　the　mirror　gave　back　to　her！　And　when　she　put　it　on　the　waterjug　to　keep　the　shape　she　knew　that　that　would　take　the　shine　out　of　some　people　she　knew。　Her　shoes　were　the　newest　thing　in　footwear　（Edy　Boardman　prided　herself　that　she　was　very　petite　but　she　never　had　a　foot　like　Gerty　MacDowell；　a　five；　and　never　would　ash；　oak　or　elm）　with　patent　toecaps　and　just　one　smart　buckle　at　her　higharched　instep。　Her　wellturned　ankle　displayed　its　perfect　proportions　beneath　her　skirt　and　just　the　proper　amount　and　no　more　of　her　shapely　limbs　encased　in　finespun　hose　with　high