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奥利潘特夫人
菲比,初中
卡林福德的最后编年史
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第一章·牧师的进步 •3,600字
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菲比·托泽小姐是卡林福德首席执事和持不同政见者的主要成员的唯一女儿,在他被任命为该镇塞勒姆教堂的负责人后不久,就与比彻姆牧师先生结婚了,他是最有前途的年轻人之一教派中的男人。这场婚姻在很多方面都让年轻女士的家人感到满意,因为比查姆先生本身就是受人尊敬的人的儿子,生意很好,而且并不穷困。他们一直觉得这个职位最适合他们的女儿,可以说,她几乎就是在这个职位上长大的。然而,几乎没有必要补充的是,会众的其他领导成员并不那么同意。我很遗憾地说,每个家庭都希望自己最喜欢的女儿能得到这样的晋升;确实,正如皮金夫人极力主张的那样,毫无疑问,他是一位实力雄厚的杂货商,他的父亲在他之前就已经建立了一家出色的企业,只要有人记得,他就为自己在塞勒姆的座位支付了费用,并支持每一个慈善事业,在任何需要额外开支的情况下都会支付,从各方面来看,都比一个总是依赖于取悦教堂成员的贫穷牧师更理想的女婿,而后者可能随时都必须出来。然而,尽管玛丽亚·皮金(Maria Pigeon)由此获得了明显的优势,但神职人员种姓的地位还是有一定的依附性的,即使是在塞勒姆教堂这样一个独立的团体中,它也有自己特殊的魅力,无论是曾经陪伴她的年轻人,还是曾经居高临下、冷落她的老人,看到菲比超越他们,获得了牧师妻子的地位,获得了不可剥夺的荣誉和荣耀,都没有感到满意。她所有的新娘虚荣的小神态都被认为是她在生活中的喜悦和狂喜的令人反感的表现。她 嫁妆尽管所有称职的法官都认为,其数量和质量不及玛丽亚·皮金的一半,但仍然引起了人们对杂货店盛开的新娘的评论,没有人敢于沉迷其中。杂货店的女士有权获得父母能买得起的任何东西;但当看到一位牧师的妻子自我膨胀,并试图​​模仿这种品质时,全城的人都感到义愤填膺。年轻的比彻姆太太手里拿着名片盒走来走去,拜访海明斯小姐,与医生的妻子赖德太太握手,这一景象引起了卡林福德所有后街的极度厌恶。和 ” 菲比扫地进来,好像教堂是属于她的一样。”这几乎超出了最年长的坐着者的承受能力。必须补充的是,菲比感受到了自己的高度提升,并没有放过她的会众。有时她会厚颜无耻地从法衣室走到长凳上,就好像她是一名办公室职员一样,而不是像一个女人那样谦卑地从门口进来。她会一动不动地坐着,等待她的丈夫,直到所有人都走了。大家都说她唱得很领头,对唱诗班并没有更多的关注,就好像它根本不存在一样。有一次,她甚至在走向座位的路上停下来,关掉了开得太大的煤气灯,带着一种谁都无法忍受的主人翁气息。

“我想知道,塞勒姆属于托泽尔家族吗?”布朗夫人说。 “你可以肯定,在订阅方面,布朗永远不会被他超越,如果真相为人所知的话,鸽子先生也不会。我从来没有出钱为托泽尔家族建造一座城堡。”

于是,全场的人都或多或少地雄辩地表达了自己的观点,虽然出席人数从未减少,但每个人都急切地想知道“接下来要做什么”,但这种感觉却不容忽视。菲比本人凭借结婚那一刻起的勇气采取了主动。

“它永远不会回答,”她严肃地说,“与羊群中的一个结婚;我知道,亨利,我也告诉过你了;如果你如此痴情,为了你自己的利益而在我没有告诉你的时候嫁给我的话——”

“他们都嫉妒你,我的宠物,就是这样,”比查姆先生笑着说道。考虑到这种烦恼的甜蜜意识偷走了他的整个存在,他可以忍受这种烦恼。菲比也笑了,但笑得并不那么愉快。她觉得,即使是在塞勒姆,也有人可能会嫉妒他。

“一切的最终结果是,我们不能留在这里,”她说。 “你必须为你的才能找到另一个领域,亨利,我相信这不会很困难。如果你被派去前往北方的代表团,假设你参加了一些你最好的布道,亲爱的。这永远不会造成任何伤害——事实上,它肯定是有好处的,至少对一些可怜的愚昧的灵魂来说,他们可能以前从未听说过真相。或许,对于一些空荡荡的会众来说也是如此。我一直听说北方的教堂比这里好很多。一个不同的社会阶层,而且更好。这些鸽子、布朗和人们不适合你。”

“嗯,这是事实,”比彻姆先生说,拉起衬衫领子。 “当然,这不是人们所习惯的事情。”他认真听取了有关布道的建议。结果是,北方的一座教堂发出了邀请,菲比夫人确实在那里发现自己身处一个更加美好的社会,并且在重要性和思想上迅速增长。在这个有利的开端之后,这个过程持续了很多年,一个来自荷默顿的年轻人后来发展成为一个重要羊群中颇有影响力和德高望重的牧师。如今,事情的管理方式可能有所不同。比彻姆先生对待他的臣民有着无限的流利和圆滑的态度。这是一种雄辩,尽管不是一种高尚的雄辩。永远不要对自己要说的话感到茫然,这对所有职位的所有人来说都是一个巨大的优势,对于一位受欢迎的部长来说更是如此。他拥有无穷无尽的词汇财富。句子似乎毫不费力地从他嘴里脱口而出,全都按照一定的节奏排列。也许他没有太多的思考能力,但是当表达能力如此强大时,很容易弥补这种次要的需求。比彻姆先生像一名演员一样,从在各省的长期而成功的职业生涯,晋升为伦敦公会中所谓萨里派的显赫人物。从那时起,他在摄政公园附近的一座漂亮的教堂里达到了最后的神化,这座教堂是用最白的石头建造的,铺着最红的锦缎,一大群会众舒适地坐在教堂里,听他的布道,他们的满足感无疑增加了。事实上,坐垫像安乐椅一样柔软,地毯和热水管让脚下的一切都舒适。

这是整个教堂中最舒适的教堂。 座位的排列就像圆形剧场一样,每一排的座位都比前面的座位稍高一些,这样每个人都可以看到正在发生的一切。 那里不需要昏暗或神秘。一切都是明亮的日光、明亮的油漆、红色的坐垫、舒适和体面。 它可能不是一个非常适合祈祷的地方,但你可以在家里祈祷——而且这是一个非常适合听布道的地方,而你在家里做不到;因为它是一个非常适合听布道的地方。所有的安排都是为了让你能够以最大的舒适度听到声音,更不用说奢华了。 就我个人而言,我想知道周围的穷人没有在寒冷的周日早晨来到新月教堂,在那些温暖而红润的长椅上取乐。 如果我们猜测,如果特朗普先生的呼吁得到了这个出人意料的答复,所有穿着考究的长椅持有者会怎么做,那就有点有趣了。 比彻姆相信自己能够让全世界的每个星期日都得到真正的给予。 这会让管理委员会和所有办公室负责人感到极其尴尬,而且我担心,会极大地激怒和冒犯这些家庭长椅上的人;但幸运的是这个困难从未发生过。 马里波恩的无产阶级没有意识、勇气或亵渎,你会想到这种取暖方式。 真正的会众不会拥抱任何未经洗礼的群众。 仅天鹅绒、丝绸、蕾丝、小饰品和毛皮的价值就令人惊叹,而这些舒适的人们所代表的收入数额将相当于最高的收入。 小塞勒姆和贝塞斯达,以及它们简陋的羊群,不能被认为属于同一物种;新月教堂和教区教堂之间的差异几乎同样明显,它们就像福音中的网一样,捕捞各种鱼,无论好鱼还是坏鱼。 新月教堂的长椅持有者普遍都很富裕。他们慷慨地加入传教士团体,比圣路易斯的人们更加自由。 保罗的附近对S做了。 P. G. 他们在教堂里拥有最好的一切,就像他们在家里一样。 他们在牧师身上的花费并不比他们在座位坐垫上的节省更多,他们在唱诗班上花费了大量的钱,这使得圣约翰教堂的歌唱者们变得更加优秀。 保罗咬牙切齿。 从这一切可以看出,新月教堂的气氛非常独特和独特。 那是一种温暖、奢华的空气,芳香四溢,呼吸着纯粹的财富所能带来的优雅。 我并不是说可能没有真正的精致,但是表面的那种,你从室内装饰商、裁缝和裁缝师那里购买的,你在学校购买现成的,只能以非常高的成本维持的,大量存在。并弥漫在这个地方。 衣着邋遢的人们在这座辉煌的避难所里感到格格不入。通道厚厚的席子上留下泥泞的脚印被视为犯罪。 即使在最潮湿的日子里,从车厢或驾驶室出来的干净干燥的脚也能保持过道不被弄脏。 我们说出租车,是因为许多去新月教堂的人反对在周日拿出自己的马车或自己的马匹;还有更多的人虽然没有马车,却可以自由地使用出租车,这与贫困格格不入。 一般来说,他们的生活比圣路易斯的人们要好得多。 保罗的,更加普遍繁荣和富裕。 同时,他们也可以被称为消息灵通的人——读报纸,有时读杂志,知道正在发生什么的人。 这些人在政治上几乎都是自由派,并且相信先生。 格莱斯顿充满热情;妇女们经常对公共活动“感兴趣”,尤其是慈善活动。 他们之间的精神停滞可能比他们的许多邻居要少。 他们的生活并不深刻,也不高尚,但也算是一种生活吧。 这就是邀请先生的羊群。 当比彻姆达到职业生涯的顶峰时,他成为了他们的牧师。 他们给了他很好的薪水,足以让他在俯瞰摄政公园的露台上拥有一栋漂亮的房子。 这不是一个时尚区,但无论如何也不容轻视。 房间宽敞而高大,有时确实足以满足非常优秀的人的需要,这一事实比彻姆夫妇非常清楚。他们不遗余力地让人们知道他们的房子与塞西莉亚·伯利夫人的房子一脉相承。 这一事实本身就足以表明牧师先生与牧师之间的不可估量的距离。 新月教堂的比彻姆,以及在卡林福德担任塞勒姆牧师的年轻人。

令人惊讶的是,即使没有任何显着的财富干预,我们的偏见从青年到中年的变化也是如此。我不是说消散,甚至驱散,这更值得怀疑——但它们会改变。当比彻姆先生和夫人开始生活时,他们对教会和教会的一切都抱有最强烈的反对情绪。他们生活中的所有情况都助长了这种感觉。厌恶小人物对大人物的厌恶,下层阶级对上层阶级的本能反对,加剧了分离主义的自然本质,即比邻居更明智的决心,这在普通人心中是所有异议的根源。这么说时,我们对宗教中的持不同政见者的指责并不比对政治、艺术或批评中的持不同政见者的指责要多。在大多数情况下,第一个反对者是一位原创思想家,对他来说,被迫背离他​​父辈的道路是痛苦和痛苦的。一般来说,在他能够放弃占据他的最高真理、他生活中的所有习惯和虔诚传统之前,他要与自己进行一场艰苦的斗争。他是真正的非国教徒——他的信念一半是殉道者,一半是受害者。但这种不墨守成规已经成为许多人接受培训的信念,这是完全不同的事情,并且影响着一种非常不同的情感。个人和独立的信念与此无关,就像与受过罗马主义最深热忱训练的布列塔尼农民的热情或任何其他传统信徒的无限确定性无关一样。出于这个原因,我们可以被允许讨论比彻姆先生和夫人所表现出来的情感变化,而没有任何对不从众的不尊重。他们并不是有独创性的人,而是他们的训练、环境以及大量的自然影响造就了他们。他们开始生活时,感觉自己的社会阶层低得令人绝望,并相信自己在启蒙运动中比上级优越,他们从小就相信这种启蒙区分了这种联系。首先让他们开始怀疑自己的启蒙是否真的比他们的邻居大得多,是他们离开卡林福德后对他们的地位造成的社会变化。在北方的大城市里,持不同政见者达到了最高的社会地位,教堂里的人不再与教会里的人区分开来,除了他们去教堂而不是教堂这一事实,这个定义如此简单,以至于让人难以接受。毫无准备的异议情报,在保守党的一个小行政区长大,仍然支持丘奇和女王。这给菲比·比彻姆夫人的情绪带来了惊人的变化, 东东 托泽尔,这是完全无法描述的。她突然介绍了鸽子夫人从未进入过的“圈子”,以及奶牛场老板布朗先生会谦卑地等待的区域门口的房屋,如果她没有感受到这种感觉,她就会转过头来。保持该器官尽可能稳定的压倒性必要性,以帮助她在新世界中保持自己的位置。菲比是个有精神的女孩,尽管她的脑袋转来转去,周围的一切都让她感到困惑,但她确实拼命地坚持自己的立场,避免让自己承担责任。但我无法试图说出她的社会地位在多大程度上改变了她的宗派热情。菲比只是一个女人,所以我可以自由地认为她对她有强大的权力。让我们希望比彻姆先生,作为一个人和一个牧师,能被感动得更加崇高、更加理智、更加属灵。

但无论如何,两人在情感上的这种转变中走到了一起,当他们到达新月教堂的崇高地位时,他们已经成为了内心所渴望的开明的不国教主义者。比彻姆先生确实在洛郡有很多朋友,甚至在博德教会也有一些朋友。他出现在平台上,与教会的神职人员一起推动各种公共运动。他总是带着尊重,有时甚至充满热情,谈到“我们当权派的兄弟们”。 “相信这一点,亲爱的先生,”有时他甚至会对一位自由派兄弟说,“当权派并不像有些人认为的那样是彻头彻尾的邪恶。在人民尚未觉醒的乡村堂区,我们应该做什么?他们为我们做肮脏的工作,我亲爱的兄弟——肮脏的工作。”比彻姆先生的会众也有同样的看法,但也许并不热烈,其中一些人是热心的志愿者,这给他们的部长们带来了一些麻烦。但大多数人都非常平静地对待他们的不服从,并且很满意地知道他们的教堂是这方面的第一个,而他们的牧师被公正地视为最有口才的人之一。解放协会在新月教堂举行了一次会议,但并不被认为是一次巨大的成功。充其量,他们只不过是冷漠的新月教堂派教徒,而不是政治异见者。部长和人民都是自由主义者,这是他们所信奉的信条。一些面向城市的教会,以及汉普斯特德和伊斯灵顿附近的较小教堂,使用了“Latitudinarian”这个词。但正如新月教堂的人所说,这个词总是被偏执和无知的人用来形容那些高度尊重基督教慈善教义的人。他们确实为自己的宽容、公正和摆脱旧偏见而感到自豪。 “这种事情现在已经行不通了,”科波黑德先生说。他是一位伟大的铁路承包商,也是一名执事,他自己有一个儿子在牛津大学读书。如果新月区有任何偏执,铜头蛇先生就会毫不费力地转去圣保罗教堂,这一事实对比彻姆先生的羊群产生了如此大的影响,令人惊讶。

比彻姆先生的房子位于摄政公园,是按照此类房屋的普通模型建造的。一楼有一间漂亮的餐厅,二十年前,比彻姆先生和夫人都会认为这是一个富丽堂皇的房间,但现在他们屈尊来到了这个房间,虽然没有他们希望的那么大,但仍然很舒适。上面的客厅比较大,明亮宜人,布置得颇有“品味”。餐厅后面有一间较小的房间,是比彻姆先生的书房,有时也称为图书馆。里面摆满了书柜,里面藏着大量的书籍,装饰着相关的著名牧师和外行人的肖像(主要是雕刻),壁炉架上有一尊铜斑蛇先生的半身像。这尊半身像是由他赞助的一位年轻雕塑家为这位伟人自己的房子制作的。然而,当它接近完成时,大理石上发现了一个缺陷,这在一定程度上损害了它的完美性。缺陷位于图像的肩膀处,但并不严重;但铜斑蛇先生并不是一个能够忽视任何此类缺陷的人。经过长时间认真的协商,让这位年轻艺术家摇摇欲坠,终于找到了解决这个困难的办法。

“告诉你吧,先生,”铜斑蛇先生说。 “我会把它交给部长。这在他的小书房里会显得很出名。艺术作品并不常出现在他的面前。你会得到一块最好的,奇普斯通先生——最好的,先生,不惜一切代价——然后为我开始另一块。

这种安排让各方都非常满意,尽管我不会说它对于实现某些其他组合没有帮助,这些组合将在这段历史中得到充分讨论。当几乎和木星一样大的巨大大理石头像到达露台时,比彻姆夫妇感到非常惊讶,尽管在其他方面可能并不那么雄伟。但他们也感到欣慰。

“这就像接待我们进入他自己的家庭圈子一样,”比彻姆夫人看了一眼她的女儿菲比说道,菲比张开她所有的粉红色手指,充满崇拜地站在那张富有和奢华的形象前。 。

“这是多么伟大的头啊!”年轻的狂热分子大声喊道,全神贯注地凝视着那自得其乐的大理石胡须,胡须卷曲得令人愉悦,充满了现实的力量。

“我必须说,看起来很好,”比彻姆先生搓着双手说道,“能够从羊群中的领头羊那里得到这样的尊重。”当然,没有比这更完美的领头羊装饰任何牧羊人的庇护所了。

第二章•领导成员 •3,400字

人们对科波黑德先生的提及如此之多,除了新月教堂之外,他在其他地区也是一位知名人士。事实上,他的名字可以说已经传遍了天涯海角,他从那里修建了铁路,并在那里留下了码头、桥梁和灯塔,使他声名显赫。他是英国乃至世界上最伟大的铁路和其他公共工程承包商之一。他只受过非常普通的教育,也没有什么礼貌可言。但与此同时,他在实际工作中所具有的能力就如同文学中的天才一样,事实上,这种能力也是天才,尽管它既不能提炼也不能(奇怪的是)扩大其所属的思想。 。他一眼就看出了穿越一个国家的正确道路;他以最快的速度掌握了所有与他相反的自然观点,尽管从科学角度来说,他在任何知识领域都不是伟大的。他可以轻松地统治他的部下,就像他们是一群孩子一样。确实,他们在他手里就是孩子。所有这些天赋都表明他一定是一个非凡而有能力的人。但任何陌生人都不会从他的外表或谈话中猜出这么多。确实,有些人很了解他,但他们仍然感到怀疑和困惑,试图说服自己,他的成功一定是纯粹的运气,因为他没有其他任何东西可以保证这一点。究其原因,也许是因为他对书本一无所知,并且是那些以某种幌子常见的嘲讽愤世嫉俗者之一。优秀的愤世嫉俗者是可以忍受的,他们常常给社会带来一定的热情,如果没有他们,社会可能会变得过于文明。但你的粗鲁愤世嫉俗并不令人愉快。铜斑蛇先生的眼睛对于平息除了最粗暴的情绪之外的任何情绪都像水能对抗火一样有效。人们在他面前可能会生气——这是他能理解的唯一激情;但当这个身材高大、富有、昂贵的人走过时,温柔、同情、悲伤,以及所有更慷慨的情感,都消失并隐藏起来。与他接触频繁的人会因为有任何感情而感到羞耻。他注视着他们,似乎认定他们犯了骗局。那双眼睛是浅灰色的,突出,里面带着嘲讽,这是一种非常有力的道德工具。他自己相信,无论他在哪里看到骗局,他都能“发现”骗局,而且没有什么能逃过他的眼睛;而且,我想,这个世界上有如此多的骗局,他的信念是有道理的。但没有什么比那些卑鄙的旁观者更可怕的了,他们的嘲笑阻止了眼中的湿润,并扼杀了邻居嘴唇上的抗议。

铜斑蛇先生已经从军中晋升。但并不完全来自队伍。他的父亲在他之前是一名承包商,主要负责运河和道路以及老式的公共工程。确实是一个非常粗鲁的人物,但他的手指上粘着金子,也许是因为手指上总是或多或少地沾满了泥土。这位祖先为这个家庭开创了一个开始,并为他的儿子起了一个名字。 我们的全球洞察力 铜头先生很早就结婚了,有几个儿子,他们都做生意,而且都过得很好。不那么有活力,但仍然是他们父亲的成功复制品。然而,当他就这样履行了对国家的职责时,第一任铜斑蛇夫人去世了,他做了一生中唯一令人费解的举动——他第二次结婚了,一个虚弱、漂亮、粉红色和白色的小女人。 ,曾是他女儿的家庭教师;正如他所有的朋友和关系人所说,毫无缘由地娶了她。第二次结合的唯一可行的动机似乎是铜蛇先生希望拥有一些属于他的东西,让他永远可以嘲笑,这样,这场婚姻就非常成功了。第二个铜头夫人滔滔不绝,易受影响,而且是一个可以想象的好屁股。当没有其他人在场时,她让他练习。她是那种天生文雅但受教育程度不高、胆怯的人之一,他们时不时地痛苦地挣着富人家里的面包,这对他们来说是非常苦涩的,并在他们沉默的小灵魂中保留着对世界的某种迷恋。一丝温柔的形状,这是他们唯一的安慰,或者几乎是他们唯一的安慰。铜斑蛇夫人最迷恋的就是她对自己是“一名军官的女儿”的美好回忆。或者更确切地说,在她一无所有、可以自由地以反射的荣耀为荣的日子里,这是她的迷恋。是否在她奢华的居所深处,在她的好运顶峰时,她是否仍能在这种想法中找到安慰,这很难说。每个年轻时认识她的人都认为她是最幸运的女人。她的老同学们为了鼓励女儿们讲述了她的故事,就像他们讲童话故事一样。看到她在华丽的马车里滚动,或者鞠躬走出一家商店,所有最精致的时尚设备都放在她的脚下,路人都充满敬畏和羡慕。她可以买任何她喜欢的东西,用华丽的服饰装饰自己,用最昂贵的小玩意包围自己;数量越多,价格越贵,铜头蛇先生就越高兴。她拥有内心所渴望的一切。可怜的小女人!与那个被学生冷落、被所有人忽视的女家庭教师相比,这是多么大的变化啊!但我不确定她是否——人性如此反复无常——回顾那些忧郁的日子时,没有叹息。

这位女士是克拉伦斯·科波黑德的母亲,克拉伦斯·科波黑德是牛津大学的一个年轻人,是她唯一的孩子,她(当然)对他宠爱有加。他的父亲对他的嘲笑比世界上任何人都多,甚至比对他母亲的嘲笑还要多,但他却比他所有其他儿子和他所有的财产加起来还要自豪。克拉伦斯,我不会描述他,但我相信他会通过他的行动更有效地表现自己,他的性情就像他的母亲,或者说,至少她通过思考让自己快乐;但他的性格却很像他的母亲。但出于某种怪异的本性,他就像他的父亲一样,把他的老鼠心脏放在一个巨大的框架里,有点笨重,肩膀沉重,与铜斑蛇先生的特征相同,这背叛了最初的海军的一些东西。是种族的根源。他也有他父亲的大脸,以及倾向于那些外露和攻击性的胡须,这是英国庸俗人的特殊遗传。但是,克拉伦斯没有那双永远在嘲笑和无礼的大眼睛,照亮了父亲的面容,而是有一双温和的棕色眼珠,重复了他母亲褪色的脸,这给他的相貌带来了最奇怪的不和谐。在这个家庭中,也就是说,在铜斑蛇先生第一个家庭的继兄弟和继姐妹中,这个年轻人除了卷发宝贝的名字之外没有别的名字,尽管事实上,他离卷发还很远。正如任何人都可能的那样。他并不聪明;他并不聪明。他没有他的种族那样的精力,并且承诺在办公室里就像在田里或满是人的院子里一样毫无用处。我不确定这一事实是否会暗中增加他父亲对他的狂喜和自豪感。铜头先生喜欢昂贵而无用的东西。他喜欢它们是因为它们的成本,而且他对自己生活中大多数事物的巨大粗俗使用和利润感到额外的热情。这种倾向比任何对美的欣赏都更使他成为所谓的艺术赞助人。可以说,他能够将数千英镑挂在墙上,因为他始终知道,如果他以更有用的方式进行投资,他可以通过这些钱赚更多的钱,这增强了他个人的重要性。事实上,他可以不去投资它,可以让它毫无用处地躺在那里,挂在这么多绳子和丝带上,这对他来说是甜蜜的。因此,拥有一个完全无用的人类样本对他来说也是甜蜜的,这让他付出了巨大的代价,而且注定会让他付出更多的代价。他有很多有用的儿子,就像他有很多有用的钱一样。那个无用的人,才是整体的巅峰和荣耀。

但这三个人组成了一个足够奇怪的家庭聚会,正如我们可以想象的那样。最初的铜斑蛇家族,即第一家庭,他们的阶级和性质都相同,所以他们的家庭会更加喧闹,更加不平静。但他们会更加快乐、更加和谐。铜斑蛇先生本人有些鄙视他的大儿子,他们和他一样,只是不那么富有,不那么有活力,也不那么自信。奇怪的是,他看到了他们粗俗的举止,甚至他们的思维方式。然而,与坐在他颤抖、轻蔑、害怕的小妻子对面,或者坐在那个让他付出了如此之多而回报他却如此之少的巨大青年对面时相比,他在他们中间要舒服得多、自在得多。时不时地,一家之主会定期去布莱克希思吃饭,并与他的老二和最爱的儿子乔一起过夜,那里有嬉闹的孩子和一位肥胖、红润的年轻主妇,大声谈论城市晚餐、合同和估算。这让他精神焕发,回到家时,他对这个家庭的不完美感到咯咯地笑。

“我的儿子们买妻子都是按百斤计算的,”第二天早餐时他会开玩笑地说。 “如果她是一磅的话,就是十三英石,那就是乔太太。天鹅绒和缎子的价格昂贵,更不用说羊肉和牛肉了。你的母亲很廉价。”他会笑着对克拉伦斯补充道。因此,他丝毫没有使他的子孙免受他对全世界的普遍嘲笑。但是,当他坐在他那胆怯、娇弱的妻子对面,坐在他那位大学男人的对面时,他在整体上几乎没有什么可说的,铜斑蛇先生感到他的绅士风度增加了,但欢乐感却消失了。 “你们两个是追随乔和他的财物的一对幽灵。我说,年轻人,大声点。你们别指望我会听到你们那声小哨子,”他会笑着对他们说,语气中夹杂着骄傲和蔑视。他们的迟钝和沉默以及对他个人的敬畏使他感到好笑。他在这两个人之间完全格格不入,然而这一事实却令人愉快地激发了他的自豪感。

“我说话就像绅士一般说话一样,”克拉伦斯说,他有时在受到攻击时会闷闷不乐,而且根据经验,他知道他的父亲很少会被这样的争论所冒犯。

“我确信,亲爱的,你的爸爸永远不会希望你这样做,”焦急的铜头夫人说道,同时偷偷地惊恐地看了她丈夫一眼。他从他所坐的桌头上发出一阵大笑。他用一种斜视的目光注视着他们,如果他不是一个人的丈夫,另一个人的父亲,那眼神简直就是一种侮辱。这笑声和表情让铜斑蛇太太的脸颊泛起了红晕,她已经习惯了。但她的儿子不太受影响,早餐吃得很稳,并不在意。

“你们真是一对漂亮的情侣,”铜斑蛇先生说。 “我喜欢你的温柔。多少 鹅肝 我想知道,我的小伙子,如果你必须为此工作,你会吃早餐吗?对你来说幸运的是,我从小就没有像你所说的那样像绅士一样说话。我希望看到你用你那可爱的小声音管理一群新兵——哎呀,或者在竞选前管理一群暴徒,我的孩子。你一无是处,你就是;一件漂亮精致的瓷器,适合放在橱柜里,就像你之前的母亲一样。不过,谢天谢地,我们已经找到了橱柜。”他环顾四周,笑着说道。 “也是一个漂亮的大联合国,漆得很好,镀金;现在是时候了,通过不像绅士那样说话,我可以负担得起你。你应该听听乔的声音。那家伙一说话,他的房子就摇晃起来。房子的风格很混乱,墙壁像姜饼。我不明白,在乔夫人的仙女脚下,木板怎么不会像馅饼皮一样破裂。老天啊,女士,看到你和你儿媳妇在一起,人们会以为我饿死了你。乔夫人的胃口一直很好。”

对于这句话,没有什么可回答的,于是一片死寂。当房子的主人如此明显地成为主人时,他的话之后很容易就会出现沉默。科波黑德太太喝了一口茶,克拉伦斯则认真地吃完早餐,一家之主则把《泰晤士报》揉成一团,不时地读一读。前一天早上,乔的餐桌上发生了各种各样的笑话,笑声不断,乔夫人甚至在她丈夫红润的脸颊上打了一巴掌,以开玩笑或其他什么。铜头先生看着他的儿子和妻子,在《泰晤士报》后面咯咯地笑起来。当他们认为他正忙着的时候,他们互相温柔地说了几句。他们的声音很轻柔,语气有着难以形容的相似之处,这是母子之间经常存在的。德累斯顿中国;是的,就是这个词;并看到他自己在那精致的相似之处 生面团,并提升到最昂贵的领域,以最令人愉快的方式逗乐了铜斑蛇先生。

“你的球呢?”他的下一个问题是:“或者克拉伦斯的舞会,因为您似乎对此不太感兴趣,女士?你害怕接触到铁锅吧?你可能会崩溃或粉身碎骨,谁知道呢,而我这个可怜的鳏夫又会变成什么样子。”铜头先生自己也听了这个笑话,哈哈大笑,其他人却没有笑出声来,然后他又重复了一遍他的问题:“舞会怎么样?”

“请柬已经发出了,铜头蛇先生;九十五——我——我是说一百三十五。我——对不起,它们是分成两批的。”可怜的女人紧张地回答。 “一百三十八个——还有——还有一些——”

“慢慢来,女士,慢慢来,我们最终会查出真相的。”她的丈夫说道。他放下报纸,看着她。他没有生气,也没有不耐烦。他眼中的光芒纯粹是幽默的。她的跌跌撞撞和她的紧张让他感到好笑。但奇怪的是,最强烈的不耐烦也让她深感不安。

“还有一些——我的一些老朋友,”她困惑地继续说道。 “他们曾经相当——友善——感兴趣;那是-”

“哦,男爵和他的女儿们,”铜头先生说,“无论如何,让我们邀请男爵和他的女儿们吧。不过至于他们感兴趣——女士,如果你不是一个富人的妻子,住在波特兰广场的一栋大房子里——”

“不是现在,”她急忙说道。 “我认为现在没有人对我感兴趣——”

铜头先生笑了,点点头。 “不多,女士,我想——不多。你们女人必须下定决心。对漂亮女孩感兴趣是件好事。但当你到了一定年龄——好吧,让我们继续吧,男爵——”

“还有他的两个女儿——”

“啊,有两个女孩!这是给你的,克拉伦斯,我的孩子。我想这一定是有动机的。认为那家伙是个好人 部分,呃?如果他表现得很好,我不会说他们错了。记下男爵的女儿,年轻人。主啊,这是一个怎样的世界啊!”铜斑蛇先生若有所思地说。 “我不应该怀疑你是否也有阴谋。”

“我不会为了这个世界!”可怜的小女人终于惊醒了,喊道。 “我不会因为任何事而干扰婚姻。这是你最不需要对我感到恐惧的事情。无论是我喜欢的女孩,还是我不喜欢的女孩——只要她是克拉伦斯的选择。哦,我知道别人干涉所造成的伤害——没有什么,没有什么,会诱使我干涉。”

铜头先生放下报纸,看着她。我想,无论一个男人多么不关心他的妻子,他都不喜欢她嫁给他除了爱情之外的任何东西。他仍然带着好笑的嘲讽打量着她,但眼中却带着更加凶狠的东西。 “哦——哈!”他说:“你不喜欢别人干涉吗?与其说,这是一场资本比赛,是吗?你会得到某某,某某,否则你无法拥有——也许是马车,口袋里有很多钱(这可能是你以前从未有过的),还有体贴,还有一个伦敦最好的房子,让我们说在波特兰广场。你不喜欢那么多好建议,是吗?好吧,我愿意——我的意思是干涉我的儿子,至少在某种程度上——你可以做你喜欢做的事。但由于你是一个具有巨大影响力、坚强意志和伟大性格的人,”铜斑蛇先生粗鲁地笑了起来,“我害怕你,我——非常害怕”。

幸运的是,就在这时,他的马车过来了,伟人一口气喝完咖啡,站了起来。 “那么,你要照顾准男爵的女儿们,然后——”他说,“看看你的舞会一切都准备好了;当我去工作支付账单时,那是我的份额。你做装饰,我做有用,哈哈哈!我会继续保持我的份额。”

令人惊讶的是,他一消失,房间里就发生了如此大的变化。不知怎的,它已经不和谐了。他的声音、他的表情、他沉重的身材,甚至他的胡须都与他的性格不符。现在,门关上后,空气似乎在颤动,就像水中沉入了一些令人不快的东西,当运动的涟漪笼罩着这间宽敞而漂亮的房间时,它的色调变得与剩下的居民完美一致。铜头夫人的眼睛相当红——不是泪水,而是想流泪,但当着儿子在场时,她小心翼翼地忍住了。他仍然继续稳定地吃东西——他的胃口令人赞叹。但当他吃完盘子里的所有东西后,他抬起头说:“妈妈,我希望你不要介意;我希望你不要介意。”我不认为你会这样做;但我不喜欢我父亲对你说话的方式。”

“哦,我亲爱的!”母亲笑着喊道:“我为什么要介意呢?我现在应该知道这只是你爸爸的方式了。”

“我想是的——但我不喜欢这样,”年轻人果断地说。然而,当他转念一想,又回到野味派时,他并没有注意到,他母亲的眼睛比以前更红了。

第三章·铜斑蛇先生的舞会 •4,600字

这个舞会不仅在铜斑蛇先生的家里是一件大事,而且就其本身而言也是一件大事,羊群中的主要成员所提出的舞会的想法有些新颖。并不是说年轻人被禁止参加这种娱乐活动,而是这种娱乐活动一般都是以或多或少偶然的方式获得的,很少有与教堂管理有关的自称基督徒能够公开、有计划地提供这样的娱乐活动。然而,铜斑蛇先生能够战胜所有这些偏见。他是如此富有,以至于任何社区都会觉得应该对这样的人给予一定程度的宽容。非常富有的人就像被宠坏的孩子,他们的反复无常被允许是自然的,即使我们对他们生气,我们也会原谅金钱有权做出的反复无常。这种放纵的感觉非常有效,尤其是在那些从事赚钱的阶级中,他们通常承认一个人有花钱的权利,并且比世袭的财富拥有者更能敏锐地感受到花钱的甜蜜。我不认为他对如何利用金钱获利的最佳方式的超凡知识会妨碍一个赚钱的人挥霍无度;但这使他在消费方面产生了双重热情,并且总体上使他对比他更富有的人的挥霍行为持仁慈态度。毫无疑问,舞会是一种世俗的娱乐,但是,教堂反映出来,当你拥有世界上如此大的财富时,几乎不可能不有点世俗的思想,而且,当然,铜斑蛇先生这样做不可能是为了他自己,而是为了他的儿子。他的儿子,这些和蔼可亲的诡辩家继续说,正在被培养以填补一个伟大的职位,毫无疑问,社会确实做了一些事情,正如铜斑蛇先生询问所有主要教堂的人一样,他的舞会受到了非常宽容的目光的注视。牧师和他的家人要去的事实让一些比较特别的成员有点惊讶,但比彻姆先生在这个问题上占据了主导地位,让群众安静下来。这位牧师说:“宗教牧师是最先受邀的人之一,这一事实足以证明我们的朋友管理一切的方式。” “相信吧,如果你们的牧师和老师总是在场,那对国家的社会关系是有好处的。它立即赋予了所有诉讼程序一个特征。”这就像所有其他崇高的断言一样,让群众安静了下来。事实上,即使在祈祷会上,一些年长的女士听到女孩们之间关于这个舞会和她们要穿什么的窃窃私语,也会发出呻吟声。但那是圣诞节,所有的报纸,以及在那个季节特别流行的大量轻文学,始终把整个世界描绘成一种愚蠢的欢乐状态,因此,目前,所有反对意见都被驳回了。放下。

然而,对于穿什么的问题,没有人比小菲比更有趣,她是一位受过良好教育的年轻女子,甚至在着装问题上也有自己的理论。正如她父母高兴地认为的那样,菲比在教育方面拥有一切优势。她拥有了一位德国家庭女教师,连比彻姆先生自己都认为,通过这种方式,除了她的音乐和她主要的语言之外,德国人通过触摸所传达的哲学一定也融入了她的体内。学习。她还曾在附近的女子学院听过讲座,听过许多杰出人士关于许多不同主题的演讲。她也读过很多书。她在妇女教育问题上颇有建树,经常可怜地哀叹她们在获得最高教育方面所面临的困难。但同时她也赞同拉斯金先生的理论,即舞蹈、绘画和烹饪是女孩应该学习的三门高等艺术。我没有必要解释这两个体系之间的差异,首先是因为我不能,其次是因为在这个时代的头脑中存在着某种不可言喻的方式来协调它们,从而使它们的结合变得普遍。菲比受到限制,无法充分发挥其中任何一项作用。她不被允许参加剑桥考试,因为比彻姆先生觉得在报纸上看到他女儿的名字可能会觉得很奇怪,并且可能会认为他打算让她成为一名女校长,他感谢上帝他没有必要这么做。而且她不被允许在烹饪系自学,比彻姆夫人对此表示反对,同样说,感谢上帝,他们不需要这样的混乱;她不希望女儿成为自己的奴隶,而库克也不会容忍。在这两个界限之间,菲比的崇高抱负受到了限制,这对她来说是一种“考验”。但她尽了最大努力,既没有放弃内心,也没有放弃希望。她至少读过维吉尔的书,如果不是索福克勒斯的话,她跳舞、穿衣服,尽管她不被允许做饭。

既然她如此认真地对待这件事,就可以理解,着装问题对她来说并不是一件小事。舞会前一周,她站在母亲房间的大玻璃前,沉思着自己,但并没有像人们普遍认为的一个漂亮的年轻女子在沉思自己的形象时那样满足。她绝对是一个年轻漂亮的女人。她有很多那个时代的头发,就她而言,自然,就像(奇怪的是,但非常真实)在许多其他人一样,让自己适应了流行时尚。这是怎么回事我也说不清楚,但可以肯定的是,目前确实存在着这样的金发女孩比例,远远超过了我们过去在金色头发还没有流行的时候所看到的数量——这是大自然的怪胎它完全独立于染料和含金液体,并且可能在不知不觉中影响了时尚。可以肯定的是,二十年前的发油是,赞美上帝!对于这一代人来说,不为人所知,洗涤也已成为一种时尚,这占了一定的比例。不管怎样,菲比,小三,拥有完美的那个时代的头发。她的肤色也与那些阳光明媚的头发很自然地相配——温暖的粉红色和白色,如果粉红色和白色之间的界限更加清晰一些,也会接近完美。当她看着母亲的大镜子里的自己时,她心里就是这么想的。比彻姆太太站在她身后,比她更加绽放,更加绚丽,但很明显,这朵花蕾会及时绽放。菲比看了看自己的倒影,然后又看了看母亲的倒影,深深地叹了口气,这是只有状态最好的肺才能发出的叹息声。

“妈妈,”她带着绝望的口音说,“我太粉红了,太粉红了!我是什么做的?”

“胡说,我的宠物,”比彻姆太太说。 “你的肤色很可爱;”她在孩子的头发和肩膀上撒了一些绿丝带。一朵云掠过小菲比灿烂的脸庞。她又叹了口气,摆脱了丝带的尴尬。

“亲爱的妈妈,”她说,“我希望你能时不时地让我和你一起读一些关于颜色理论的书。绿色是红色的补色。如果你想衬托出我的粉色,让它比以前更显眼,你当然会让我穿上绿色的衣服。不,妈妈,亲爱的,不是这样——我应该看起来很害怕;虽然我敢说这并不重要,但我反对看起来很吓人。我认为,女性比男性更具观赏性,或者至少每个人都这么说;在这种情况下,我们有责任坚持下去。”

“你是一个有趣的女孩,有你的色彩理论,”比彻姆夫人说。 “在我那个时代,白皙的女孩穿绿色和蓝色的衣服,深色女孩穿红色和黄色的衣服。这很简单。那就来一块白色塔拉坦吧;每个女孩穿起来都很好看。”

“你没有看到,妈妈,”菲比轻声说道,以最令人钦佩的方式压抑着不被理解的微妙烦恼,“每个女孩都穿得好看的东西,其实是没人看的那种东西。” 非常 很好。白棋没有表现出任何发明。就好像一个人对自己的着装毫不在意一样。”

“菲比,谁都不应该这样做,”她的母亲说。 “这是非常正确的。当我们忙于更重要的事情时,浪费时间思考颜色和丝带是有罪的。”

“这根本不是我的观点,”菲比说。 “我希望人们认为我遇到了很大的麻烦。想想看,为了把这个球拿起来,得费多大的劲!”

“我确实担心如此; “而且花费很大。”比彻姆夫人摇着头说道。 “是的,当人们想到这一点时。但你看,财富也有它的职责。我不为铜斑蛇先生辩护——”

“我认为他不想被保护,妈妈。我认为这都是浪费时间的无稽之谈。如果你不感到震惊的话,我倾向于黑色。”

“黑色的!”这个建议让比彻姆太太屏住了呼吸。 “好像你五十岁了!为什么,我认为自己还不够老,适合黑人。”

“真遗憾,”菲比看了一眼母亲满脸的色彩,说道。但这确实不那么重要。 “布莱克会把我吐出来,”她转向玻璃,严肃地补充道。 “它会消除这种粉红色的外观。我不介意脸颊,但我全身都是粉红色的;我的白色是粉红色的。黑色对我们双方来说都是最好的选择。它会让我们情绪低落,”菲比果断地说,“也会让我们兴奋不已。”

“但是对于你,一个二十岁以下的女孩,亲爱的——”

“妈妈,这有什么关系?问题是,我要展现最好的自己吗?我认为这是我对你和上帝的责任;或者我只是,”菲比愤怒地说,“看起来有点无趣——一个没有个性的生物——一个像其他人一样的小女孩?”

这一庄严呼吁的结果是,菲比夫妇都穿着黑色衣服去了铜斑蛇先生的舞会。老款是天鹅绒的,饰有 Honiton 蕾丝(尖点,菲比以她的艺术本能更喜欢这种款式,因为这是遥不可及的);年轻的穿着薄纱,荷叶边飘逸,让人心烦意乱,蓝色在很大程度上缓解了压力。这种打扮的结果,以及菲比在父母和上帝的帮助下履行了她的职责,并且看起来非常漂亮的事实,是克拉伦斯·科波海德成为她迷恋的无可救药的受害者,几乎无法被诱导离开她身边整个晚上。这场舞会堪称是在伦敦举办的最引人注目的舞会。这座房子的儿子绝望地思考着邀请名单。他完全反对这种娱乐活动。他说:“我们谁都不认识。”语气中带着绝望的无礼,引起了他父亲的一阵大笑。尽管铜斑蛇先生已经竭尽全力扮演典型的家长的角色,他注定要为家庭的快乐付出代价,而这对他来说并不快乐,但常识对他来说太过分了,每个人都觉得他实际上是娱乐的给予者和享受者。这是铜斑蛇先生的舞会,而不是铜斑蛇夫人的舞会。这种事在他家里还是第一次发生。他的社会存在的新篇章的开始。到目前为止,他还没有表现出任何被《社会》热潮所迷住的迹象,而这种热潮经常而严重地影响着这位百万富翁。到目前为止,他已经满足于丰盛而华丽的晚餐,天知道要花多少钱(铜头蛇先生知道,随着费用的增加,他的骄傲和快乐明显膨胀),他与大约二十个人一起吃着相似的口味对他自己来说,他明白代价并理解他的感受。然而,对于这样的人,他的德累斯顿瓷器就被扔掉了。乔和乔太太比那位优雅的大学男子和有教养的母亲更按他们的方式行事,他们都说,后者“是个可怜的邋遢的人”。因此,铜斑蛇先生被迫接受这样一个事实:如果他的至高无上的荣耀要得到应有的重视,他的圈子就必须扩大和发展。

迷茫的富人只有在以自己的方式奋斗到进步的最高顶峰时才发现这种超越财富的东西的存在,对财富的渴望开始抓住了这位富有的新手。可以肯定的是,在第一篇文章中,他在波特兰广场的精美房间里聚集的公司,观看他所有的美好事物并庆祝他的荣耀,并不是一个好的公司,但他们给铜头先生带来的满足比如果他们一直都那么好。他们是他同一阶级的人,他的老朋友,尽管他们竭尽全力脱颖而出,却拒绝承认自己有多么眼花缭乱。这是一种比平民的虚荣心更合理的虚荣心,它的目的是向伟大人物展示自己的财富,这些人不会被任何程度的宏伟所冲昏头脑,而且在他们的心中不会对宴会的举办者产生嫉妒。铜斑蛇先生的朋友们的感情要热烈得多。他们在大房间里走来走去,胳膊上挽着自己的妻子,处于一种半反抗的状态,没有表达任何钦佩之情,当他们在门口相遇时,互相说:“这一定花了铜斑蛇一大笔钱”。女士们则把头戴花饰、珠宝的脑袋凑在一起,低声说道:“你见过这么奢侈的吗?多么邋遢 与一切同在!”这就是情感的暗流,在所有通道中强烈流动,并沿着大楼梯的急流流淌。一股强烈的人类情感,它的存在就像最甜蜜的奉承一样让表演者深感欣慰。勋爵和女士们可能会被诱惑到他的大房子里去,但他们不会想到铜斑蛇先生。但他所在阶层不情愿的掌声给了他真正的胜利。

然而,在这群人中,毫无疑问,吸引他儿子的一位年轻女士是最不合格的人,她不是别人,正是牧师的女儿菲比·比彻姆。 几乎唯一一个完全不符合资格的女孩是一位苍白的小少女,她陪伴罗伯特·多塞特爵士和他的女儿们,应该是他们的家庭教师或他们卑微的伴侣。 在所有这些拥挤的房间里,多塞特人是唯一自称属于“社会”的人。 他们与夫人有远亲关系。 她感激地想,在她年轻的时候,铜斑蛇一直对她很好,现在她很有钱了,他们也没有特别反对对她好,尽管男爵,就像铜斑蛇先生一样。 铜斑蛇总是打电话给他,对如此猖獗的财富样本感到畏缩,而“女孩们”不明白与远房表弟保持关系有什么好处,尽管他如此富有,但没有任何用处,也无法让为他们举办派对,也不陪同他们去伟人的家。 当他们收到她的邀请函时,惊讶而又犹豫地接受了。 机会只是在一年中的这个时候把他们带到伦敦,这肯定是选择举办舞会最令人好奇的时间,但足够方便,可以在通常没有什么娱乐的季节提供一点娱乐。 罗伯特爵士同意去,就像一个在其他地方没有职业的人可能会同意去食人群岛一样,看看野蛮人是如何表现的。 他们决定,小乌苏拉·梅,另一个住在房子另一边的穷亲戚,被他们慈善地带进城,也可能会去参加这样的聚会。 没有多塞特夫人,女孩们只是出于礼貌而称其为“女孩”,因为她们已经过了这个头衔所指的年龄。 原本俊美的容貌已经褪去,衣着也变得平淡无奇。 最后这种情况部分是因为他们从来没有穿得很好,部分是因为他们认为没有必要给可怜的夫人带来太多麻烦。 铜斑蛇的球。 他们的小伙伴乌苏拉穿着一件白色连衣裙,菲比不喜欢这种衣服。 她全身都是白色的,以前从未参加过舞会。 这支代表铜头蛇舞会贵族的小团体,带着一丝期待来到了娱乐场所:会是什么样的人? 他们会感到“恐惧”吗?多赛特小姐知道,她们不可能以任何其他方式变得有趣。但对小乌苏拉来说,球就是球,她知道这意味着快乐和荣耀,尽管她不太知道如何做到。 然而,奇怪的是,党的期望却落空了。 夫人并没有表现出“一系列的恐惧”。 铜斑蛇的客人被发现衣着光鲜亮丽。 即使在公爵的屋顶下,这些女士们也从来没有遇到过如此华丽的集会,也许以前,即使在公爵夫人最盛大的招待会上,她们也从未发现过一张她们认识的面孔。 罗伯特爵士对这一发现比他的女儿们更震惊。 他举起酒杯,越来越渴望地凝视着人群。 “一个人都不认识。”他时不时地重复道。 可怜的罗伯特爵士! 他没想到,在四海之内,竟然会发生这样的事情。 因此,多塞特一家人有些害怕地紧紧抓住了夫人。 铜斑蛇一边,乌苏拉也跟着他们,她比罗伯特爵士更加渴望地看着人群,想着认识一个人该多好。 不幸的是,多塞特小姐的个人外表并不吸引人。 克拉伦斯·科波黑虽然对男爵并不冷漠,但对贵族的忠诚还不够,除了与每一位姐妹跳舞一次之外,这是他义不容辞的责任。 “不认识任何人似乎很奇怪,”这些女士说。 “不是吗?”克拉伦斯说。 I 一个人都不认识。”但随后他就走开,和菲比·比彻姆跳舞,多塞特小姐站在铜斑蛇夫人身边,几乎掩盖了她们身后小乌苏拉·梅雪白的娇小身材。

总的来说,克拉伦斯是一个非常乖巧的年轻人。他知道自己的职责,并以稳定的勤奋完成了这一任务,以他海军祖先的精神完成了他的舞蹈。但每次值班舞会之间,他都会回到那位穿黑衣的年轻女士身边,她在众多穿白色、粉色、绿色和蓝色的年轻女士中总是很引人注目。多赛特小姐和乌苏拉用饶有兴致、甚至有些羡慕的目光看着那位黑衣年轻女士。她的伴侣太多了,她几乎不知道如何管理他们,而这个家的儿子又以一种不容忽视的执着回到了她身边。 “为什么一个女孩拥有这么多而另一个女孩却拥有如此少呢?”乌苏拉对自己说;但是,可以肯定的是,她不认识任何人,而那位黑衣年轻女士却认识所有人。然而,总的来说,乌苏拉明显地意识到,舞会并不总是一个纯粹的欢乐场景。

“你还记得我们是老朋友,真是太好了,”菲比说。 “但是,克拉伦斯先生,请不要对我好过你应该做的。我看到你妈妈在找你,铜头蛇先生可能不喜欢。也许下次我们就能谈论过去的时光了。”

“没有比现在更好的了,”年轻人说,他喜欢自己的方式。我并不是说菲比和他跳舞是正确的,尤其是她向其他人承诺过的舞蹈。但他是当晚的人物,这是一个巨大的诱惑。铜头蛇先生本人不止一次走到他们面前,眼神里充满了意味。

“别太有趣了,菲比小姐,”他说。因为他认为自己没有理由不在自己家里坦白地说话,尤其是对牧师的女儿。 “别太有趣了。这是克拉伦斯的舞会,他也应该对其他人有礼貌。”

“噢,请走开!”听到这个警告后,菲比喊道。但克拉伦斯却闷闷不乐,坚持自己的立场。

“我们要跳华尔兹了,”他说。 “这不是我的球——让他自己招待他的人民吧。我怎么会认识这样一群人呢?除了你和多塞特郡的女孩之外,我不认识任何人,她们都是社会上的人。父母是个错误,”年轻人一半叛逆,一半闷闷不乐地说,“他们永远不会理解。也许你感觉不到这一点,但我认为女孩有时也必须像男人一样看到这一点。”

“女孩子不会用这么强烈的表情,”菲比笑着说,他们跳着未完成的华尔兹飞走了。她跳舞跳得很好,比在场的大多数女士都跳得好,这就是克拉伦斯偏爱他母亲的原因。但当铜头先生看到年轻人对他的抗议置若罔闻时,他就以富人高贵的坦率和勇气走到比彻姆夫人面前。 “我很高兴在这里见到您,女士,我希望您已经注意到菲比小姐是如何招待我的儿子的。你看到他们跳舞吗?她已经离开你很久了,比查姆太太,就像女孩们遇到令她们高兴的人时一样。难道你不希望我去把她接回来吗?”比彻姆夫人的脸颊确实非常饱满,需要大力扇动,在舞蹈结束时,她把孩子叫到了她身边。她在扇子后面骂菲比,并让她重拾责任感。 “牧师的女儿必须加倍挑剔,”她说; “如果你可怜的爸爸因你的粗心而陷入麻烦怎么办?”

“我并不是粗心大意,妈妈;我没有考虑太多。”请原谅我的回答。”菲比非常温顺地说。尽管克拉伦斯被带走并且不再接近她,但她没有表现出任何闷闷不乐的迹象。

然而不幸的是,当克拉伦斯离开菲比时,他陷入了更大的危险。最年长的多塞特小姐和她的母亲同样怀着同样的善意,同时把他介绍给乌苏拉·梅。 “这个可怜的小女孩一次也没跳过舞,”科珀黑德太太在他耳边低声说道,她记得自己独自站了整整一个晚上,不被人注意,多塞特小姐对他说得更直白了。 “我们带来了她,”她说,“但我找不到她的伴侣,因为我谁也不认识。”克拉伦斯除了献出自己还能做什么呢?乌苏拉也是一位出色的舞者,而且非常漂亮——比菲比漂亮得多。

“让他感到困惑!他现在就永远和那个白衣女孩在一起了。”他的父亲愤怒地自言自语道。几十个穿着粉色和蓝色衣服的好伙伴在房间里走来走去。男孩把自己奉献给黑人和白人这两个可怜的人是什么意思?这扰乱了铜斑蛇先生的兴致,他站在舞厅门口,环顾四周,环视着属于他的一切辉煌,并感觉自己准备像尼布甲尼撒一样,号召所有人来崇拜他。当他环顾自己的伟大,并感知到对旁观者的影响时,他充满自豪和自满地扩张和膨胀。当这种效果似乎不够深刻时,他时不时地向逗留的人鼓掌。 “这被认为是非常优秀的特纳,”他一边说,一边把其中的一个带进了一个较小的房间。 “过来吧,你知道那种事——我不知道。我应该羞于告诉你我为此付出了多少;那些钱挂在那里毫无用处,什么也没有带来!但当我买任何东西时,我都希望它是最好的。”

“我希望能尽快得到一张好的彩色照片,”对方说道,“它的价格大约是五英镑,而且也足够挂在墙上了。但你买得起,铜斑蛇。在我认识的所有男人中,你有最好的权利,只要你愿意,就可以当个傻瓜。”

这位伟人笑了,但他不太喜欢这种恭维。 “如果你愿意的话,我是个傻瓜,”他说,“最大的傻瓜。我喜欢那些要花很多钱,而且没有任何用处的东西。这就是我所说的奢侈。我的孩子,克拉伦斯,还有我的大局,他们都很亲爱;但如果价格翻倍的话我也买得起。”

“如果我是你,”他的朋友说,“我不会把我的照片挂在这个小洞里,也不会让我的孩子和房间里的那些流氓浪费时间。其中有史密斯的女儿和罗宾逊的侄女,两人的身价都高达十万;你就让他到处乱晃,一个穿着白色连衣裙,另一个穿着黑色连衣裙。就我而言,我称之为浪费,而不是奢侈。”

“我不想卖掉这个男孩,也不想卖掉那幅画。”富翁笑着说。但尽管如此,他还是对自己的儿子变成这样的混蛋感到恼火。史密斯小姐和罗宾逊小姐是她们的女帽制造商所能做到的最好的。第一个女士有一个翡翠挂坠盒,几乎和暖锅一样大,罗宾逊小姐的珍珠本身就是一笔小财富。但那个年轻白痴所关注的对象却是那些虚伪的两便士半便士的小饰品,以及据科波黑先生所知是在家做的礼服。把他给迷惑了!父亲气喘吁吁。由此可见,在这个世界上,即使有嫉妒的朋友和金钱所能提供的最华丽的娱乐,也无法获得纯粹的快乐。

第四章·国家党 •2,400字

“现在非常有趣,”罗伯特爵士说。 “我不知道我以前发生过这样的事情。向你保证,我不认识任何人,一个也不认识;那里肯定有几百人左右。天哪!我从来没想过英国有那么多我不认识的人。”

“你怎么会认识铜斑蛇先生的朋友?”苏菲·多塞特说。 “我想知道的是,她应该问我们。倒不是,只是偶尔看看这样的人长什么样就已经足够有趣了。”

“他们看起来很像其他人,亲爱的。不过更细一些。我已经很久没有在晚会上见过这么多珠宝了。非常像其他人。也许男性更胖,但女性则不然。我注意到,”罗伯特爵士说,他自己也很闲,“城市男人普遍都有发胖的倾向。”

“他们太富有了,”多塞特小姐带着轻微的厌恶说道。

她是一个沉默寡言的人,从来不说太多话。活泼的苏菲主持了这次谈话。铜斑蛇舞会结束后的第二天早上,他们都比平时晚了吃早餐。那是一个雾蒙蒙的早晨,一行人坐在萨福克街“非常中心”的一间大客厅里,俯视着那条笔直的小街,望着雾蒙蒙的远方川流不息的马车和公共汽车。这个乡村聚会来到伦敦并不是为了高兴。罗伯特爵士在印度的次子将他的大孩子送回家,交给他的父亲和姐妹照顾。他们每天都在朴茨茅斯等候,阿姨们对她们的照顾感到有些兴奋,坚持要来城里迎接她们。至于乌苏拉·梅,她是已故多塞特夫人一方的穷亲戚,就像铜斑蛇夫人是罗伯特爵士一方的穷亲戚一样,伦敦在任何季节对她来说都是一个奇迹和兴奋,她无法充分感谢这位好心人。亲戚们在她单调的生活中给了她这个假期。她是卡林福德小镇一位贫穷牧师的女儿,是一个拥有大家庭的鳏夫。乌苏拉是长女,她的双手担负着母亲的责任。她对这些职责并没有什么特别的兴趣,所以一周的逃避对她来说随时都是一种解脱。还有一个球!但舞会并没有乌苏拉希望的那么美好。她穿着深蓝色的哔叽连衣裙,从喉咙到手腕,看上去并不像前一天晚上穿着雪白的衣服时那么苍白;但即使在最好的时候,她也是一个阴暗的小人物,有着柔软的深棕色头发,深棕色的眼睛,颜色不过是最淡的野玫瑰色。但是,与多塞特小姐的棱角分明的发育相比,这个女孩的青春、柔软和圆润充分发挥了优势,多塞特小姐身材高大,失去了青春期最初的光滑曲线。对于还不到二十岁的乌苏拉来说,这些女士看起来非常成熟,几乎已经苍老了,其中一个十岁,另一个比她大八岁。她非常尊敬地看着他们。但尽管如此,她还是觉得——她怎么能不这么做呢?——在某些事情上,虽然多塞特小姐比她强,但最好是乌苏拉·梅。

“可怜的克拉拉!”罗伯特爵士说。 “她一直是一个受惊的生物。当我回想起她时,一个可怜的小家庭女教师,在托儿所聚会上躲在后面——现在看到她的辉煌!”

“如果可以的话,她会留在背后,”多塞特小姐说。

“想一想,乌苏拉,”苏菲喊道。 “有一个例子适合你。她的处境比你糟糕得多;正如爸爸所说,现在就去见她吧!您可能在波特兰广场也有一所房子,并要求我们参加舞会并佩戴钻石。想想看!虽然昨晚你看起来和她一样害怕。”

“不要把这种令人沮丧的想法灌输给孩子的头脑。女孩子怎么没有被毁掉呢?”多塞特小姐摇着头说道,“被毁掉了!通过这样的例子,我无法判断。他们的头脑一定比我们想象的更强大。有一天像灰姑娘一样贫穷,明天像女王一样富有——他们没有任何优点,这一切都是因为某个偶然的人碰巧看上了他们。”

“完全正确,”罗伯特爵士说。 “完全正确,亲爱的。这是事情的自然进程。”

多塞特小姐摇摇头。她一边倒茶,一边继续摇头。她不擅长雄辩,但这个话题却激发了她的灵感。

“别想这个,乌苏拉;这不是好女孩应该想的事情。”姐姐向鲁莽的苏菲做了个手势,苏菲并不介意这个建议的道德效果。

“可怜的铜斑蛇夫人!我永远不会在波特兰广场拥有房子,也不会拥有任何钻石,除了玛丽姨妈的旧胸针。苏菲轻松地说出这个预言,没想到它会成真。 “但我不羡慕可怜的克拉拉,如果你嫁给像铜头蛇先生这样的人,虽然我会非常钦佩你,乌苏拉,但我不会嫉妒你。”

“年轻的铜斑蛇先生和他父亲一样坏吗?”乌苏拉简单地说。

她完全没有想到自己的话有什么意义,所以当他们笑的时候,她停下来,疑惑地看着他们。

“哈!哈!哈!”罗伯特爵士说; “也不错!”

可怜的乌苏拉非常严肃。她如释重负地转向多塞特小姐,她也很严肃。

“亲爱的,我们对克拉伦斯了解不多;他是一个沉重的年轻人。我不认为他有魅力。今天早上你收到牧师宅邸的来信了吗?”安妮·多塞特说道,脸色非常严肃。当得知乌苏拉收到了一封信后,多塞特小姐立即开始讨论这封信。女孩不明白为什么这封简单的小书信会如此有趣,她也没有意识到笑声的含义。说实话,乌苏拉并不聪明,她认为年轻的铜斑蛇先生很 不错。他邀请她跳舞,而其他人都没有跳舞。他尽可能多地与她交谈,就像他可以与索菲·多塞特本人交谈一样。在经历了那天晚上的第一次失望和失败之后,他让她在自己的眼中恢复了正常,她准备好认为,无论人们如何评价这位父亲,这个儿子“非常善良”,非常令人愉快。他们为什么要笑?乌苏拉得出结论,他们一定有一些关于克拉伦斯的私人笑话(克拉伦斯是一个多么漂亮、有趣、优越的名字啊!),但不能让她知道。

“如果你这样说话,”安妮·多塞特对苏菲说,“你就会让她的小脑袋里浮现出美好的姻缘,也会把她宠坏了。”

“这是一件非常好的事情,”苏菲说。 “如果你把这个想法放进我的脑子里,我现在就不会是索菲·多塞特了。她为什么不去想一个好的搭配呢?她能永远住在那个可怕的牧师住宅里,和那些她不知道如何管理的孩子们在一起吗?别荒唐了,安妮;除了像你这样的大女儿,你知道,如果女孩想在世界上发挥重要作用,就必须结婚。让他们把它记在脑子里;正如爸爸所说,我们无法改变自然规律。”

“哦,苏菲!这太不女性化了。”

“没关系;当一个男人因为我未婚而嘲笑我时,我认为这是没有男子气概的;但他们都这样做,没有人挑出任何毛病。”

“不一定全是;不近 所有设立的区域办事处外,我们在美国也开设了办事处,以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

“不是吗?也许不是当着我们的面;但每当他们写作时,每当他们公开讲话时。当男人如此卑鄙时,我们为什么要训练女孩变得不自然的高尚呢?哎呀,这样的女孩子就该嫁个好人家。 “抓住”某人,或者让某人“迷住”她。她很漂亮,很温柔,但不太聪明。当我嘲笑爱情和所有那些废话时,我正在为她做世界上最好的事情,并在她的脑海中建立一个良好的匹配。”

多塞特小姐叹了一口气,转过身去,摇了摇头。这是她所能做的一切。与苏菲争论是超出她的能力范围的,如果不是超出她的能力范围,那又有什么好处呢?不幸的是,苏菲有一个故事,大多数人都知道。她曾浪漫过,也曾失望过。五六年前,她与一位牧师订婚,牧师发现他所等待的美好生活不太可能通过罗伯特爵士的影响而实现,于是向他的未婚夫表示,他严重怀疑他们是否有可能结婚。为了能够幸福地在一起,就解除了婚约。六个月后,他与别人结婚了,索菲只能承受羞辱。确实,此刻有很多人对他感到非常愤慨。然而,就他而言,他的罪孽早已被遗忘了。但没有人忘记苏菲被抛弃了,而她自己也没有忘记,这更糟。因此,多塞特小姐并没有试图与她姐姐争论。她温柔地摇摇头,没有说话。安妮是姐姐出生的,也是未婚母亲,她是一种明确定义的人性类型,尽管像所有优秀的人一样,也许很罕见。她自己决定采取私人手段来加固和保护乌苏拉,作为一个没有母亲的家庭的姐姐,她的地位特别让她感兴趣,因为她和她自己一样。但安妮心里承认,她从来没有像小乌苏拉·梅那么年轻过。

就乌苏拉而言,她很少考虑这个令她表兄弟感动的问题。 她以为先生。 克拉伦斯·科波黑德非常友善,如果她能像那位黑衣年轻女士那样认识那么多人,拥有那么多舞伴,她就会非常喜欢这个舞会。 毕竟现在结束了,她觉得自己很享受。 跳三支舞总比不跳一支舞要好得多,而且能得到罗伯特爵士送给她的那件漂亮的白色连衣裙也不是小事。 此外,因为在这件事上和在其他事情上一样,逆境的利用有时是甜蜜的,那件漂亮的衣服,如果她跳舞多了,毫无疑问会被撕裂和弄皱,现在几乎很新鲜,如果有的话,在卡林福德会表现得很好。那里应该有什么舞会——偶尔发生的活动,尽管乌苏拉从来没有足够幸运去参加其中任何一个。 苏菲表哥送给她一套威尼斯珠子,安妮表弟送给她一个手镯。 这份好运足以让她心满意足,避免过度思考良缘或克拉伦斯·科波黑的关注。 乌苏拉与菲比·比彻姆非常不同。 她并不自命为知识分子。 她更喜欢和她最小的兄弟姐妹在一起,而不是和她的爸爸交谈,尽管他被认为是教区最优秀的人之一。 即使当她非常喜欢的哥哥雷金纳德从大学回家时,乌苏拉也对姐姐的特权地位漠不关心,因此她被允许坐在一起协助双方进行的会谈。他和他的父亲。 雷金纳德也很聪明。他靠奖学金在大学里自己谋生,这是他的儿子的唯一途径。 梅很有可能考上大学,听他和父亲谈论希腊诗歌和哲学确实是一件非常好的事情;如果菲比·比彻姆有这个机会,她会多么珍惜它?但乌苏拉却没有享受到这个特权。 她更喜欢哑剧,或者剧院里最糟糕的表演,甚至是杜莎夫人蜡像馆的展览。 她甚至更喜欢和多塞特小姐的女仆一起在快乐的街道上散步,看看商店的橱窗,推测下一季要穿什么。 可怜的小女孩! 如此天真轻浮的品味,想必对姐姐兼管家这个职位并不怎么认同。 她的父亲只不过是圣路易斯的现任议员。 罗克(Roque)是一位古老的永久牧师,并入了一个地区教堂,这对于一个有家庭的老人来说是一个糟糕的任命;他很聪明,也很优秀,但不是一个能出人头地的人,也不是一个能帮助他的孩子们出人头地的人。如果乌苏拉是那种天生受苦、自我否定的人,她就会忙得不可开交,并且有充足的机会为她提供锻炼这些才能的机会。 但她不是这样的心态。 在时间和机会允许的情况下,她做了她必须做的事情;但她并没有以任何热情投入到自己的职责中。 在一个小房子里,靠着微薄的收入,让七个孩子保持良好的条件和纪律,这比大多数二十岁的女孩所能承受的要多,这是必须允许的。只有热情和自我奉献才能使这项任务成为可能,而可怜的小乌苏拉不具备这些资格。 哦! 她多么高兴能够摆脱这一切,摆脱对珍妮和约翰尼、艾米和小罗宾的思念。 她并不担心她不在的情况下事情会如何发展,正如多塞特小姐认为的那样,她一定是个善良的人。

第五章·自我奉献 •3,400字

“先生。铜斑蛇的态度有时并不令人愉快,这是千真万确的。我们必须体谅,亲爱的。你知道,巨大的财富有它的诱惑。你不能指望一个有这么多钱、手下这么多人的人,也会同样考虑别人的感受。他说这个人走,他就走;说那个人来,他就来。”

“那很好,”菲比说。 “但据我所知,他没有权利对妈妈和我无礼。”

“亲爱的,他并不完全粗鲁,”比彻姆太太说。 “我们不能说他粗鲁。我们必须承认,克拉伦斯应该更平等地分配他的注意力,而他的父亲暂时很生气。我毫不怀疑他早已忘记了这一切,下次我们见面时他会像以前一样愉快。”

“我对此非常确定,”牧师说,“最坏的情况就是他的态度——只是他的态度。简而言之,在昨天的委员会会议上,没有什么比这更好的了。他甚至不遗余力地向菲比传达了一条善意的信息。 “我不用问菲比小姐是否过得开心,”他说。相信吧,亲爱的,如果有暂时的烦恼,对于铜蛇先生来说,它既会被遗忘,也会被原谅。”

“原谅!”菲比对自己说;但她认为在这个问题上什么都不说是比较明智​​的做法。显然,她的父亲和母亲都愿意对领导成员给予任何程度的宽容。他最能判断他是否有权生气。家庭聚会在比彻姆先生的书房里举行,壁炉架上立着铜斑蛇先生的巨大半身像,这是主要的装饰品。怎么会有人如此邪恶,反抗如此伟大人物的影响力呢?菲比有自己的想法,但她很聪明,没有把这些想法藏在心里。

“现在,”比彻姆太太严肃地说,“亲爱的,我好爸爸的这封信该怎么办?”

菲比站在一个书柜前,显然是在找一本书。她什么也没说;但从她挺直的肩膀和全身轻微的动作中,很容易看出她的注意力全在集中。

“啊,确实如此,那又如何呢?”牧师说。他放下手中的笔,象征着尽管他很和蔼可亲,但他对女性的关注却是对时间的一种侵犯,而这些时间本可以得到更有效的利用。但这是一个严肃的问题。他没有什么建议,只是坐下来摆弄着拇指,突然饶有兴趣地看着妻子。

“有很多事情需要考虑,”比彻姆夫人说,“这不是一个简单的家庭奉献问题。当然,如果我没有其他关系,也没有其他职责,一切都会很容易。我应该立即去找我那可怜的、痛苦的妈妈。”

比彻姆太太是个聪明的女人,但由于她年轻时所受的教育不完善,她始终无法忘却这样一个念头:称呼父亲和母亲是一件粗俗的事情。 “但在目前的情况下,”她继续说道,她的丈夫也同意了这次演讲,“很明显,我不能做我想做的事。我要考虑你,亲爱的,还有孩子们,以及我的职位的职责。另一方面,作为可怜妈妈唯一的女儿,我当然不希望把我的嫂子叫进来。她不是那样的人;她不是那种人。她没有教养,没有受过教育。当然,她会想到自己的孩子,以及什么对他们来说是最好的。我的父母为汤姆做了他们应该做的一切。考虑到所有事情,他们要处理的东西应该交给菲比和托泽尔。但汤姆夫人不会看到这一点。

“这是千真万确的,亲爱的; “我想她不会的。”比彻姆先生神情焦急地说道。

“太太。汤姆,”他的妻子有些激动地说,“会认为她自己的人拥有第一个权利。她当着我的面坚持了这一点,之后我们还能期待什么呢?我们就是托泽尔人,”她说; “至于你,菲比,你属于另一个家庭。当然,我是用我自己的语言表达的,而不是用她粗俗的方式。”

“这完全是一个非常严肃的问题,”牧师有些严肃地说。 “我不知道你怎样才能逃脱,我也不知道该怎么办。”

“无论做什么,我都不会把可怜的妈妈交给汤姆太太,”比查姆太太喊道,“无论我付出什么代价。她什么都有能力,那个女人就是。让她在同一个城镇已经够糟糕的了,但在同一所房子里照顾可怜的妈妈!亨利,你和我永远不会看到一分钱,也不会看到我们的孩子——一分钱也没有!除了看到自己的父母背叛自己而烦恼之外。我很清楚那会是怎样。”

比彻姆先生不再摆弄拇指。危机对于这种放纵来说太严重了。 “这个位置是最困难的,”他说,“我都看到了。看到这一点很容易,但决定我们要做什么却并不容易。经过这么多的变化回到卡灵福德,对你有好处吗?”

“它会杀了我,”比彻姆夫人精力充沛地说,“你知道它会杀了我。嫉妒把我们赶了出去,嫉妒会把我带进坟墓。我不会欺骗自己,如果我摆脱所有的职责并离开,那就是我所看到的。但另一方面 - ”

“听着,妈妈!”菲比突然转过身喊道。 “如果奶奶病了,你又不敢丢下她一个人,为什么不送我去呢?”

当菲比说话时,她的父母都转向她。他们带着惊奇和惊愕,同时带着钦佩的目光听她说话。然后他们互相看着对方,一脸惊慌。 “你!”比彻姆太太说,“你!”牧师附和道,他非常惊讶地重复了他妻子​​的话。

“是的,确实是我——为什么不是我呢?这只是我的职责。”菲比非常镇定地说。 “没有什么可以阻止我前进。我几乎想我应该喜欢它——但是无论如何,妈妈,如果你认为有必要的话,不管我喜欢与否——”

“菲比,我亲爱的,你是世界上最好的孩子,”她妈妈大声喊道,站起来,急忙走向她。她给了她一个充满母性热情的吻,然后她看着她的丈夫。 “但是我们应该利用它吗?”她说。

“你看,亲爱的,”比彻姆先生犹豫地说,“你可能会发现很多事情与你习惯的不同。你的爷爷托泽尔是一个优秀的人——一个最优秀的人——”

“是的,是的,”他的妻子有些不耐烦地说。她和他一样意识到,自从他们离开卡林福德以来,他们两人的社会地位都发生了巨大的提升,并且和他一样清楚,老年人一直保持静止状态,而年轻人却取得了如此大的进步。 ;但她仍然不喜欢听到丈夫批评她的父亲。有话要说,她更愿意自己说。 “是的,是的,”她说,“菲比知道有区别;但她知道。”他们是守旧的人,过着与我们不同的生活。亲爱的,有些事情会让你感到非常奇怪,有些事情你会不喜欢;据我所知,那时菲比可能正处于她人生的转折点。”

“如果你指的是铜斑蛇,妈妈,请把它从你的脑海中抹去,”菲比说。 “并不着急。我们可能会在来世相聚,当然,没有人知道会发生什么,但与此同时,我的脑海中——也没有其他人的脑海中——没有这样的事情。暂时不要想这个。我现在还没有什么转折点。我已经准备好了,也愿意去任何你想去的地方。”

父子俩再次对视了一眼。自从孩子们还是孩子以来,他们就非常小心地不让孩子们接触到他们自己出生的那种更为朴素的生活环境。他们确实以高超的技巧和谨慎的态度做到了这一点。他们没有拜访卡林福德的托泽一家,而是在海边举行了会议,通过这种方式,孩子们在对商店一无所知的情况下,与祖父母建立了亲密的关系。托泽先生只是卡林福德的一名黄油管理员,他的外表完全体现了一位老异议部长的样子——老式的,也许不是很文雅,正如比彻姆夫人所允许的那样,但非常友善,也是最溺爱的人。祖父们。他脖子上的一缕白领巾、黑色外套以及某种举止都支持这个想法。理论上,年轻人知道不是这样的,但他们想象中的印象却是这样。托泽夫人只是“奶奶”。她也很友善,虽然在丝带方面相当华丽,而且总体上以菲比的品味所谴责的方式着装,但她完全处于年轻人容忍老年人的缺点的深情蔑视的范围内。但是黄油店!以及与卡林福德的杂货店和家禽饲养商相比的所有东西的完全断绝——菲比将如何支持它呢?这就是比彻姆先生和比彻姆夫人用眼神询问对方的话——然后停顿了一下。因为这个问题太大了,两人都不知道该如何回答。

“菲比,你是一个非常懂事的女孩——”她的父亲最后说道,支吾其词。

“请您原谅,爸爸。我不认为你对待我的方式就好像我是明智的一样。”菲比说。 “我很清楚爷爷是做生意的——如果这就是你所害怕的——”

“一直在做生意,”比彻姆夫人说。 “你爷爷已经退休有一段时间了。可以肯定的是,”她转向她的丈夫补充道,“只有汤姆有这件事,而且我认为汤姆夫人令人反感,所以不必让菲比接触——”

“如果菲比去卡林福德,”牧师说,“她一定不能让任何人感到不愉快。我们必须下定决心。他们不能说她自大和骄傲。”

“亨利,”比彻姆夫人说,“我可以忍受很多事情;但一想到我的孩子会接触那些布朗家、鸽子家和汤姆太太的舌头,我就无法忍受。我自己经历了什么,你永远不知道,也不知道任何人的呼吸——他们看我的眼神,他们不断说的话,每次我经过时互相点点头!我比他们受过更好的教育,也更文雅,这难道是我的错吗?在文森特先生的时代,在你来之前,亨利,他是一个非常绅士的年轻人,他经常来——高街吃晚饭。这不是我干的。我从来没有问过他——就像我没有问过你一样!”

“你父亲曾经问过我,”比彻姆先生疑惑地说。 “这非常友善。一位年轻的牧师在一个新的地方期待着它;毫无疑问,很多事情都是这样产生的。”

“不是我干的,”那位女士说。 “当我们结婚时,亨利,我为取悦他们所做的事情!感谢老天,他们现在知道区别了;但如果他们像我预料的那样,反对我的孩子——”

“妈妈,”菲比平静地说,“我想你忘记了你说的是我。我希望我知道牧师的女儿欠自己什么。我接受过训练。我认为你不需要为我感到害怕。”

“不;我认为如果有人能做到的话,菲比就能搞定它们。”她的父亲得意地说。

她微笑着,亲切地回应了这一认可。她手里拿着一本书,这本书本身就是菲比自命不凡的证据。我认为这是斯图尔特·米尔先生的“论文”中的一卷。菲比并不排斥阅读小说或其他轻文学,但这只是在专门用于娱乐的时刻,而现在是早晨,不是娱乐的时间,而是工作的时间。

“菲比不认识卡林福德,也不认识那里的人。”比查姆夫人说,她一想到这里就脸红了,一想到这些优雅的措辞就兴奋不已。她比她的丈夫遭受了更多的痛苦,并且对危险有着更强烈的认识。在接下来的停顿中,所有这些危险都涌入了她的脑海。当她自己的野心越来越大时,她感到被关在一个由很小的人组成的小圈子里是多么可怕。她感受到了店主和世界其他地方之间的有害的隔离线。至少她认为她已经感觉到了。事实上,我认为菲比·托泽尔是否有过类似的感觉非常值得怀疑。但她现在这么想了;事实上,她出生时就是菲比·托泽尔,并且已经习惯了那样的生活,而菲比·比彻姆却对此一无所知。她从来没有意识到小镇上的一个小异见社区的局限性,尽管她知道新月会众对像铜斑蛇先生这样的流浪百万富翁有多么的看法(对比彻姆小姐来说,这似乎太自然了,不应该留下任何空间)她母亲认为,如果菲比发现这种关系在卡林福德这样一个老式、自负的托利党小镇中处于卑微的地位,那么她的母亲认为,这可能会对菲比的各方面原则产生不良影响。菲比会怎么想?她怎样才能与布朗队和鸽子队打交道呢?幸运的是,托泽先生和夫人已经从店里退休了。但那家商店仍然在那里,一如既往地油腻腻、黄油味十足,比彻姆夫人自己尊敬的爸爸仍然是“黄油商”。菲比怎么受得了?这是她心中最重要的想法。

“你知道,亲爱的,”后来,当他们离开书房,坐在客厅里讨论这件事时,她说道,“将会有很多事情需要忍受。我很傻;我什至不喜欢听你爸爸说起亲爱的老爷爷。他是我自己的人,我应该维护他;但即使有爷爷,你也会有很多事情要忍受。他们不理解我们的方式。他们习惯了如此不同的事物。他们的想法不同,说话也不同。即使你有理智,菲比,你也会发现很难相处。”

“我一点也不害怕,我向你保证,妈妈。”

“你不害怕,因为你不知道。我知道,而且我很害怕。你知道,我们不是伟大的人,菲比。我一直让你知道这一点——提升自己比出生在一个好职位要好得多。但当你真正看到可怜的、亲爱的爷爷奶奶如此想念的地方时,我相信我不知道你会说什么。”

“我不会说太多。我不会说什么,妈妈。我没有偏见,”菲比说。 “只要职业是诚实、光荣的,并且能尽到自己的职责,那又有什么关系呢?一种工作与另一种工作一样好。这就是做事的精神。”

“哦,老实说!”比彻姆夫人半是松了口气,半是受到了侮辱。 “当然,仅此而已。没有什么可以回答爸爸的问题了。你叔叔汤姆现在有生意了。亲爱的,你不必去那里,除非你愿意。我不喜欢汤姆太太。可以说,我们总是高于自己的地位。但她根本无法超越它。她只是适应了这一点;我认为她一点也不适合你。所以,除了正式的通话,我认为你不需要去那里,即使那只是在奶奶可以饶你的情况下。我想,你必须对每个人都保持礼貌;但你不必走得更远;他们不是你的社会。你会听到人们用我的教名谈论我,就好像我们是最亲密的人一样。但别相信,菲比。我总是渴望过一种非常不同的生活。”

“哦,别害怕,妈妈,”菲比平静地说。 “我将能够与他们保持距离。你不用害怕。”

“是的,亲爱的,”焦急的母亲说道。 “但距离也不会太远。这正是困难所在。如果他们能找到借口说我的孩子被困住了!哦!没有什么比能够查出一些不利于我孩子的事情更让他们高兴的了。当你表面上属于那个低层次,然后又上升了,”比彻姆夫人脸颊泛起红晕,“这些人没有什么是不会说的。”

这些谈话在菲比的脑海中引发了很多思考。但他们并没有改变她的决心。如果有必要有人去照顾她的奶奶,把那些粗俗的人拒之门外,向世人展示什么是异议部长的女儿,什么是孝顺的女儿,那么谁那么适合她自己就是例子吗?这甚至给了她某种悲剧性的英雄主义感,虽然严肃,却令人振奋。她想到了她必须“忍受”的事情,比现实更严肃的事情;她想到了她必须“忍受”的事情。更庄严,可惜!没那么麻烦。当菲比收拾好衣服并做好准备时,她感觉自己就像圣女贞德一样。她正在与野蛮人相处,这些人可能不会理解她,而她必须“忍受”他们。但那又怎样呢?她有强烈的责任感,胜过一切较小的诱因,她觉得自己能够取得胜利。比彻姆夫人在筹备过程中带着非常分歧的心情协助了筹备工作。她嘴里说的是:“别介意晚礼服;你不会想要它们的。”但随后她想到,让卡林福德的人们看看她的女儿已经习惯了什么,即使她对这些东西没有用处,也会很甜蜜。

“不,亨利;她会把它们全部带走,”她对丈夫说。 “他们会看到我的孩子所处的社会是什么样的;和他们的小茶很不一样!他们会看到你和我,我们对菲比没有任何怨恨——我敢发誓,他们中没有一个人像她一样,甚至在品质中也没有!我的意思是,”比查姆夫人急忙说道,她对自己的不礼貌感到一阵苦恼,“在那些自以为比我们优秀的人中间。但菲比会让他们看到牧师家庭在肮脏的小镇上是什么样子。她会让他们清醒过来。虽然一开始我有些犹豫,但现在我很高兴。”

“是的;菲比是一个在任何地方都能找到自己水平的女孩。”牧师沾沾自喜地说。他们忘记了她必须忍受什么才能得到他们的满足和钦佩。

第六章• 叫醒 •3,100字

罗伯特·多塞特爵士和他的女儿在舞会结束两天后,义不容辞地拜访了他们的亲戚。 “你最好跟我们一起去,乌苏拉,”多塞特小姐说。 “苏菲并不关心拜访,而铜斑蛇夫人问了很多关于你的问题。她对——年轻人非常温柔。”安妮几乎是对穷人说的,因为很难总是记住,当我们的朋友不在场时,我们用来区分他们的资格并不总是令他们自己满意。 “你知道,她曾经像你一样,”她半带歉意地补充道。乌苏拉一点也不想生气,她没有问怎么办,而是同意了,就像安妮表姐告诉她准备去月球一样,她也会同意的。她上楼,戴上那顶小毡帽,那顶小毡帽因苏菲赠予她的长长的下垂羽毛而变得漂亮起来,还有一件与她的衣服相配的蓝色哔叽夹克。她对自己的美貌没有什么好看法,但她希望自己“像个淑女”,尽管她的服装很简单。这是她唯一的愿望。她心里很欣赏表姐们那种高挑挺拔的棱角之美,而不太看重自己的圆润和柔和,这在乌苏拉看来是一种很低等的“风格”;但如果她看起来像个淑女,那就总是很了不起,当她站在那里扣手套的纽扣等待他们时,罗伯特爵士和他的女儿都赞许地看着她。

“乌苏拉,如果还有其他城里的绅士,请介意你表现得非常和蔼可亲,”索菲表哥说道,这让女孩有点恼火。当然,无论人们是不是城市绅士,她对自己说,她会努力成为 不错——这不是女孩子的首要职责吗?她努力让自己的角色成为 不错 对每个人来说,只要有机会就说话,并得到满意的目光作为回报。和朋友们一起沿着摄政街排起长队漫步,许多人都斜视着商店橱窗,这对乌苏拉来说是一件非常愉快的事情。有时连安妮表姐也会忍不住停下来看看,并向她的父亲指出一些事情。不幸的是,多塞特小姐说的主要是漂亮的家具、漂亮的地毯之类的东西,这些对乌苏拉来说完全是碍事的。

“这正是我想要的客厅地毯,”安妮说道,看着如此华丽的地毯,乌苏拉认为这对于女王来说已经足够好了。但罗伯特爵士摇了摇头。

“客厅地毯效果很好,”他说。 “这会持续我的一生,而你的兄弟会更喜欢取悦自己。”

这给安妮·多塞特平静的脸上带来了一丝阴云,因为她也像比彻姆先生一样,有一个兄弟,他的妻子在老房子里担任情妇并不令人愉快。之后她就继续快速前行,没有再去看任何商店。也许她能买到她想要的一切(正如乌苏拉所想的那样),总的来说,她在看着这些东西时,比她旁边的小女孩有更痛苦的感觉,她的整个心思都在思考她是否还有足够的钱来买东西。她的妹妹珍妮就是其中一条“时尚”新领带。珍妮并不经常买到流行的东西。但无论如何,乌苏拉记下了笔记,并在脑海中记下了很多事情要告诉珍妮——这是第二好的。

当客人到来时,铜头夫人正坐在她宽敞的客厅的一角,看到他们,她那苍白的小脸容光焕发。这是这个可怜的灵魂所拥有的最接近“她自己的人民”的方法。他们用不屑一顾的眼神对她的舞会表示称赞。

“我确信你非常优秀——能这么说非常好。恐怕这对你来说并不有趣。他们不是那种人——”

“我几乎不认识一个人,”罗伯特爵士说。 “这是一种奇怪的感觉。偶尔有这样的感觉是有好处的。它向你表明,你毕竟不像你自己想象的那么好。以前我也经历过一次同样的感觉。那是在杜乐丽宫的一次舞会上——但即便如此,过了一会儿,我还是找到了我认识的英国人,尽管我不认识法国的大人物;但是,天啊!除了你和科波黑德先生之外,克拉拉,我在这里不认识任何人。”

铜斑蛇夫人感受到的隐含的责备超出了她的本意。

“先生。 “铜斑蛇不关心培养时尚人士。”她有点精神地说。 “他更喜欢他的老朋友。”

“他真是太好了,”安妮喊道,“这是最仁慈的方式。我非常喜欢它。在我们参加的大多数舞会上,人们都会过来请我跳舞​​,假装没有看到我跳舞的日子已经结束了。”

“她胡言乱语,”罗伯特爵士说。 “克拉拉,我必须相信你能把这个想法从安妮的脑海中赶走。为什么她的舞蹈生涯就要结束了?我希望我不是玛土撒拉。她没有权利这么早就把自己搁置起来不是吗?我希望在我死之前能看到她婚姻美满。”

“只要她幸福——”铜斑蛇夫人结结巴巴地说。她并不提倡良好的婚姻。 “哦,铜头蛇先生来了!”当听到一声响亮的敲门声时,她微微一惊,补充道。 “他不常这么早回家;他会很高兴见到你,罗伯特爵士。梅小姐,你要在城里待很长时间吗?

“不久,孩子们就到了。”安妮同情地看着富翁紧张的妻子说道。只要她一个人,她就已经足够安静了。现在她身上似乎有一点发烧了。她转向乌苏拉,开始快速地和她说话——

“你喜欢待在城里吗?现在不是一年中的好时节。五月的天气更好,一切都显得愉快;但我一直住在伦敦。我想你这个赛季会回来吧?”

“哦,不,”乌苏拉说。 “我以前从未去过伦敦。安妮表姐带我来,非常高兴。我去过剧院两次,还参加过这里的舞会。”

“哦,是的,我忘了,你在舞会上——你跳舞了,你跳舞了吗?我不记得。人太多了。哦,是的,我记得。我和克拉伦斯谈过——”

“我跳了三遍,”乌苏拉说。 “我以前从未参加过舞会。这个真好。铜头蛇先生真是太好了——”

“铜斑蛇先生的善良是怎么回事?我善良吗?我一向很善良——问问我的妻子吧,她会给我一个好的品格。”房子的主人走到他们面前说道。 “啊,准男爵!你好吗,罗伯特爵士?我很少在家里见到你。”

“那天晚上你看到了我们,”罗伯特爵士礼貌地说,“我们刚刚来,安妮和我,是为了让克拉拉知道我们有多喜欢它。真是太棒了。我不知道什么时候我看到了这么多——嗯——奢华——如此伟大的展示——美丽的事物——还有——和财富。”

“很高兴听到你很高兴,”铜头先生说,“至少不遗余力。我不经常以这种方式扔掉我的钱,但当我这样做时,我喜欢不计成本地做事。这就是我们在城市里的生活方式;其他人必须保持绅士风度才能大有帮助,但对我们来说,我们不遵守我们的绅士风度——”

“当然,就投球而言,这并没有什么可立足的,”罗伯特爵士说。 “我很同意你的观点,要想达到好的效果,就不能省钱。安妮,亲爱的,如果你已经对克拉拉说了所有的话,你一定记得我们还有很多事情要做——”

“我一进来你就不能走,”铜头先生说。 “来吧,我们得喝点茶什么的。并不是说我很喜欢喝茶,但我想如果我下午给你提供其他东西,你会感到震惊。你没有点茶吗,铜斑蛇夫人?罗伯特爵士,我无法教我妻子待客之道——按照我的理解,我无法做到这一点。她会看到你来来去去十几次,我就会被束缚,从来没有想过要提供任何东西。那不是我的方式。茶!直接说,你听到了吗?”

“是的,”铜斑蛇夫人说,她紧张得发抖。 “伯顿,请拿茶来。虽然时间还早,但我还是希望你能留下来。”她向多塞特小姐投来了一个恳求的眼神,而安妮则太善良了,无法抗拒这种恳求。

“确保他们会留下来,”铜头先生说。 “女士们永远不会拒绝一杯茶,如果金钱有什么美德的话,我们的茶就应该是好茶。来看看我的特纳吧,罗伯特爵士。我不是艺术评判者,但如果这是一个测试的话,它花费了很多宝贵的钱。他们告诉我这是最好的标本之一。这边过来。”

“你不介意吧?”可怜的铜斑蛇夫人说。 “他非常热情好客,他不能容忍任何人不带东西就走。这已经很老套了,但是铜头蛇先生——”

“我认为这是一种最仁慈的时尚,”安妮·多塞特说,她很迷信地考虑别人的感受,“铜斑蛇先生说得很对,我从不拒绝一杯茶。”

就在这时,克拉伦斯双手插在口袋里进来了,他那庞大而松散的身材与他的父亲非常相似,但在外貌和表情上却与他不同,以至于连温柔的安妮也忍不住微笑。当他与多塞特小姐握手时,他自然地坐在乌苏拉旁边的座位上,乌苏拉对他作为这个房子的儿子的地位感到眼花缭乱,并为她所说的他的“仁慈”感到受宠若惊,对这种偏爱的迹象感到非常高兴如果克拉伦斯·科波黑德是英雄的话。

“我希望你已经找回了我父亲的球,”他说。

“恢复了!铜头蛇先生。”

“是的,你认为这不文明;但我自己还没有完全康复。他选择收集的人就是那些没人认识的人。”

“但是,铜头蛇先生,”乌苏拉说,“如果是他的老朋友,就像你母亲说的那样,那他比那些他不关心的好人要高尚得多!至于我,我在任何地方都不认识任何人。这对我来说都是一样的。”

“这对你来说真是太幸运了。”年轻人说道。 “我的好表兄弟们可没那么容易接受。他们也是你的堂兄弟?”

“哦,是的——他们太棒了,”乌苏拉喊道。 “苏菲表姐有时会嘲笑我,但安妮表姐却像天使一样善良。他们一生都对我们很好。”

“也许你住在他们附近?罗伯特爵士很友善地邀请我去大厅。”

“不,不近。我们住在卡林福德。它不是一个像多塞特郡那样的地方。这是一个贫穷的小镇,爸爸是那里的牧师之一。我们不是像他们那样的县人。”乌苏拉带着焦虑的诚实说道,他可能不会误会她的自命不凡。 “我一生都没去过任何地方,这就是他们带我来这里的原因。这是迄今为止我见过的最美丽的派对,”她带着一点热情补充道。 “我以前从未参加过真正的舞会。”

“我很高兴你认为它很漂亮,”克拉伦斯说。 “我想那很漂亮;当房间漂亮的时候,”他环顾这间漂亮的房间,不无一丝自满,“当光线充足、鲜花盛开、人们穿着考究的时候,我想任何舞蹈都不能不成为一道美丽的风景。这就是全部了。没有人值得指出。”

“哦,有一些非常漂亮的人,”乌苏拉说。 “有一位身穿黑衣的年轻女士。她总是在跳舞。我应该很想认识她。你和她跳了很多次舞,铜头蛇先生。”

“啊!”克拉伦斯说。他并不比他的邻居更愚蠢,但令他感到高兴的是,他与一个人跳舞应该被注意到,尤其是被一个漂亮的生物所注意到,她本身就吸引了他并分享了这一特权。 “那是比彻姆小姐。我和她跳舞不超过三四次。当然,”他抱歉地说,“我们是老朋友了。”

乌苏拉不知道他为什么要道歉。她并不想调情,因为她还不知道这种消遣。她很简单地提到了另一个引起她注意的女孩。现在,她已经把能记得的话都说完了,她不再说话了,她的目光转向老铜头先生,他回来了,后面跟着罗伯特爵士。这个有钱人身上有一种宽阔的气质,乌苏拉不习惯有钱人,她惊讶地看着他。他似乎将自己扩展到空中,展开了他庞大的身躯,她从未见过其他人这样做过。跟在他身后的罗伯特爵士看起来也很奇怪。他非常不愿意被主人这样牵着走,也可以说是受到了主人的庇护,他的反感表现出了一种奇怪的形式。他的鼻子微微上翘,似乎有一股难闻的气味扑鼻而来。乌苏拉天真地想知道那是什么。

“克拉伦斯,这位从男爵来了。”铜头蛇先生说,他的脸微微泛红。 “他怀疑特纳的真实性。我的特纳!立刻去找那些照片上的人,克里斯蒂,不管你怎么称呼他们,告诉他们我想要证据证明这是真的。我不是那种人,乔治!被骗了,他们应该知道这一点。他们已经拿了我一百英镑的钱,但如果我拿不到证据,他们就再也拿不到一分钱了。我可以告诉你,听到从男爵或任何其他人对我的照片进行审查,这并不令人愉快。”

“我没有把它记下来,”罗伯特爵士说,他的鼻孔又微微卷起。 (这么大的房子里到底有什么东西会散发出难闻的气味?)就这些。我并不是说你就是其中之一。”

“不;也没有人会这样!”铜斑蛇先生叫道。 “我们将请专家(正如你们所说的那样)来解决这个问题。乔治!我家里不会有任何不确定的事情。你可以告诉他们是罗伯特·多塞特爵士建议的。没有什么比头衔(即使它不是什么头衔)更能让人们继续工作了。无意冒犯罗伯特爵士,我可以买他和他的股票五倍的价格。但我不是罗伯特爵士,而且永远也不会。罗伯特爵士说,克拉伦斯,我的孩子;那样可以承受重量。”

“对我来说,这是一个不幸的观察,”罗伯特爵士生硬地说。 “我自己也有一张照片,是我为科雷吉奥买的,我相信这只是一个复制品,尽管它非常漂亮。我对这个问题保持沉默,没有人比我更明智。安妮,亲爱的,我想我们现在必须走了。”

“那永远不适合我,”富翁说。 “闭嘴不是我的作风,是吗,铜头夫人?什么!毕竟,不喝茶就要去吗?恐怕,女士,准男爵很敏感,不喜欢我说的话。但没人介意我,我向你保证。我说的是我的想法,但我没有任何伤害的意思。”

“哦,不,”安妮站起身来,而她的父亲正在向可怜的小而颤抖的铜斑蛇夫人告别。 “我们真的必须走了;我们停留的时间比我们打算停留的时间要长。乌苏拉——”

“你的小伙伴?”铜头先生说。 “啊;多塞特小姐,你应该照顾这些小人物。我可以告诉你,他们经常妨碍年轻女士们的前进。铜斑蛇夫人也可以;她知道。”

他笑了,安妮和乌苏拉都意识到这话里有冒犯的意思。但他们都看不出那是什么。铜头夫人在这一点上的智力已经提高了,她意识到了这一点,并且颤抖得越来越厉害。

“再见,亲爱的,”她痛苦地对乌苏拉说。 “虽然我们不是表兄弟,但我们是有联系的,通过你善良的表姐安妮;因为她也让我称她为我的表姐安妮。也许你有时会来拜访我,如果——如果你能幸免的话。”

“哦是的;我应该很高兴,”乌苏拉困惑地说。

她不明白为什么罗伯特爵士这么着急,而年轻的铜斑蛇先生和他的母亲都那么善良。至于另一个铜斑蛇先生,乌苏拉对他不感兴趣。但他非常有礼貌地和他们一起走到门口,向安妮伸出了手臂,而她不得不挽着手臂,这非常违背她的意愿。当仆人打开他们面前的大门,看不到马车时,就连乌苏拉也感到一阵屈辱。

“哦,你走路了!”铜斑蛇先生大笑着说道。

毕竟,笑不会伤害任何人。为什么他们都感到愤怒和受伤?就连罗伯特爵士也脸红了,当他们走到外面宽阔的人行道上时,他几乎愤怒地转向他的女儿。

“我告诉你什么,安妮,”他说。 “如果是为了救我的命,我就不会再踏进那个畜生的门了。”

“哦,爸爸;可怜的铜斑蛇夫人!善良的安妮大声喊道,声音里带着哀号。这就是她的全部回答。

第七章•购物 •3,100字

第二天,一封来自南安普敦的电报宣布了小多塞特郡的到来,乌苏拉和其他人一样为之高兴,但心里却感到非常难过。 “现在我们可以回家了,”姐妹们说道,她尽力微笑着。但如果说她很高兴离开伦敦,离开伦敦的所有乐趣、明亮的街道、商店橱窗、剧院以及“访问”的兴奋,那就远非事实了。她很高兴,富有同情心,并取悦其他人。但为了她自己,她的心却落了下去。当时还是冬天,卡灵福德的冬天并不热闹。家里有很多事情要做,有很多事情“需要忍受”。确实,那是她的职责,这只是她的乐趣;但到了二十岁,快乐比责任要愉快得多。乌苏拉根本没有反抗,也没有像许多年轻人那样在心里做出痛苦的对比;问为什么别人过得那么好,而我却过得那么差?但她的心沉了下去。所有的修补,所有的保管都井然有序,晚餐要考虑到屠夫的账单,商人要保持良好的幽默感,仆人要管理,还有爸爸,他比仆人更难相处,而且比孩子还麻烦!如果乌苏拉对前景叹息,我认为最严格的记录天使不会给她留下非常糟糕的印象。她已经摆脱了这一切,度过了美好的十天。没有破烂的衣服,没有令人不快的面包师,没有地毯上的洞,没有变质的羊排,都没有扰乱她的安宁。毫无疑问,所有这些麻烦事都像往常一样在家里发生,珍妮和女仆正在尽力解决这些问题。如果乌苏拉心胸高尚,尽职尽责,毫无疑问,她一想到她不在的时候,她的妹妹可能会经历什么,她一定会非常感动,无法享受假期的美好时光;但是,如果乌苏拉心怀高尚,尽职尽责,她肯定会因为她不在而妹妹可能要经历的事情而感动不已,从而无法好好享受假期。但我担心她的感受并非如此。毫无疑问,珍妮会以某种方式度过难关。能够暂时逃离并得到真正的休息是非常甜蜜的。因此,必须允许的是,当乌苏拉听到这个消息后回到自己的卧室时,她“大哭了一场”以缓解自己的情绪。再延长两三天,会对那些孩子产生什么影响呢?但等她的头痛就这么缓解了之后,阴霾就散去了一些。一想到她要告诉珍妮的一切,她就感到安慰。她数了数钱包里剩下的东西,算了算,还是够买领带的了。她把所有的礼物都拿出来展示了;舞会礼服,意想不到的获得;威尼斯珠;手镯,“这真的很好——非常好 金子;想要!”乌苏拉一边自言自语,一边掂量着它。珍妮会多么感兴趣,她会多么眼花缭乱!这个想法给了我很大的安慰。下午,她的表兄弟带她出去“购物”,这是所有年轻女孩和妇女都喜欢的职业。他们买了很多“为了春天”和“为了孩子们”的东西,而乌苏拉在一旁钦佩地看着。能够提前三个月买东西,比可能需要的提前三个月,多么奢侈啊!然而,多塞特人并不富裕,至少人们说是这样。

“现在,乌苏拉,”安妮表姐说,“我们已经买完了所有的东西。假设你为家里的孩子们选择连衣裙。”

“哦,我?”可怜的乌苏拉喊道,她忘记了语法。她的脸涨得通红,不无愤慨地看着安妮·多塞特温和的眼睛。 “你知道我没有钱;你知道我们买不起!”她哭了,泪流满面。

“但是我可以,”安妮表姐说。 “至少,我现在还有点钱。不管买不买东西,钱总是会消失的。”她补充道,轻轻叹了口气。 “它从手指间流过。当一个人有东西可以展示时,那总是一种满足。来吧,这对小艾米来说会很漂亮;但必须由你来选择。”

“但是,安妮表姐!连衣裙!如果是领带或丝带;但连衣裙——”

“连衣裙是最有用的,不是吗?一份给艾米,一份给珍妮。我猜罗宾现在不穿连衣裙了?”

“这两年他一直穿着灯笼裤。”乌苏拉半自豪半遗憾地说。 “最糟糕的是,它们无法在家制作。爸爸说,男孩子在家做的衣服总是坏掉的,而且裁缝也太贵了。哦,安妮表姐,你真的真的真的会非常非常优秀吗——!”

他们正在挑选的时候,铜斑蛇夫人走进了店里。可怜的小女人!她在自己家里瑟瑟发抖,马格罗夫先生和斯内彻先生家里的每个人都向她鞠躬!当她看到这个小团体时,她所能做的就是摆脱一群焦急的官员,他们都渴望为她提供她内心想要的一切。她向他们走来,几乎是急切地跑着,苍白的小脸涨得通红,靠在安妮·多塞特的椅子上,低声对她说。

“你不会生气的,亲爱的安妮。你总是对每个人都那么好。哦,原谅我!对不起!”

乌苏拉忍不住听了她的话。

“没有什么可以原谅的 ,铜斑蛇夫人。

“哦,亲爱的安妮!但我不仅仅是我自己,你知道!他不是这个意思;他不是这个意思。他从小就没有被教育得懂得更多。他认为这就是人们的行为方式——”

“请不要说什么,亲爱的铜斑蛇夫人。”

“如果你愿意宽恕,就不会——如果你答应宽恕,就不会。可怜的克拉伦斯心碎了!”可怜的女人喊道。 “他对你的想法感到非常害怕。”

“我们什么也没想,”索菲插话道。 “这是我们作为一个家庭从未想过的优良品质之一。快来帮助我们吧;我们正在为乌苏拉的姐妹们选择连衣裙。她有两个。乌苏拉,他们的年龄是多少?你这个住在城里又了解时尚的人,快来帮我们选吧。”

当伟大的铜头蛇夫人——或者更确切地说,伟大的铜头蛇先生的妻子——加入这个无名的乡村聚会时,所有的店主都变得多么尊敬。她的命令是无限的信用,以及商店里的所有物品,如果她愿意的话。一个人赶紧上前给她让了张椅子,另一个柜台里走出来一位颇有威望的“领班”,负责讨好这样的顾客。乌苏拉不得不敬畏地看着整个交易。铜斑蛇夫人是一位非常谦虚、胆怯的女人,而铜斑蛇先生则并不友善。但在这样一家大商店里,这是值得所有人尊敬的事情——乌苏拉一个人几乎不敢走进这家商店,在这家商店里,她感到胆怯和不知所措,对那位绅士说“先生”。很好,可以问她想要什么。但在这里,铜斑蛇夫人并不害怕。她全心全意地投入到令人愉快的、困惑的选择中,当事情解决后,她用探寻的眼睛环顾四周。

“他们不想做点别的吗?”她说:“我已经很久没有买过儿童用品了。这让我想起了克拉伦斯小的时候,当时我对他的着装感到非常自豪。跟我一起去衣帽间吧,亲爱的,我确信他们一定想要夹克什么的。”

乌苏拉用可怜巴巴的眼神看着安妮表姐,拒绝了,苏菲在铜斑蛇太太耳边低声解释了一番,这不但没有浇灭她的热情,反而让她的热情立刻达到沸点。她苍白、慵懒的小脸容光焕发。她握住乌苏拉的双手,半笑半哭。

“哦,亲爱的,”她说,“如果你愿意的话,你可以给我带来如此快乐!你知道我们是联系,几乎是关系。让我给他们寄点东西吧。亲爱的孩子们,我希望能见到他们。快来看看小夹克和斗篷。我常常想,如果上天赐给我一个小女孩,我会多么乐意为她打扮。还有帽子!我确信他们一定想要帽子。来吧,亲爱的,过来看看它们。”乌苏拉不知道该怎么办。有点骄傲和很大的害羞让她望而却步,但铜斑蛇夫人太认真了,不容生气。她给艾米和珍妮买了几件非常漂亮的小上衣,然后,秘密地为乌苏拉自己买了没有人知道的东西,并下达秘密命令,当晚把它们全部送到多塞特的住处。只要这次交易持续下去,她就彻底改变了。她原本憔悴的面容变得明亮起来,苍白的眸子也亮了起来。

“你给了我如此快乐,”她说,握住乌苏拉的手,踮起脚尖吻她。 “我非常感谢你。我几乎可以认为克拉伦斯又变小了,或者他有了一个小妹妹,这一直是我内心的渴望。呃,好吧!很多时候,亲爱的,对我们来说,最好不要实现内心的愿望。至少我认为事情一定是这样的。”

“我不知道该如何感谢你,”乌苏拉说,“你真是太好了——非常好。”

“我对自己很好,”科珀黑德太太说,“我非常享受这样的生活;而且,亲爱的,”她补充道,仍然握着乌苏拉的手,语气有些严肃,“答应我再帮我一个忙。这将是一个如此的恩惠。每当你为自己或你的妹妹想要什么时,你会写信给我吗?除了秋天,我总是在伦敦,我非常愿意接受您的委托。亲爱的,住在伦敦的人知道如何讨价还价。你必须答应让我为你做。这会让我非常高兴。承诺!”小女人兴奋地喊道。乌苏拉看着旁边的另外两个人,不知道该说什么。

“她认为你当经纪人对她来说太贵了,”索菲·多塞特说,“我也这么认为。”

铜头夫人的脸上失去了愉快的光芒。

“有两件事我拥有太多了,”她说,“金钱和时间。当我给孩子们买东西时,我从来没有这么高兴过,而且我可以看到她会信任我——亲爱的,你不是吗?我们现在必须说再见吗?我不能带你去任何地方吗?你看那辆大马车,全是为了我一个人,一个轻飘飘的小女人。让我带你去一个地方。不!啊,安妮表姐,你所说的一切还没有原谅我们。”

“我们还有其他事情要做。”安妮退后一步说道。至于乌苏拉,她根本不会反对马车的华丽。她的心被这个孤独的小女人可怜兮兮的样子融化了。但其他女士却脱颖而出。他们站在一旁,可怜的铜头夫人上了马车,开走了,她苍白、责备的小脸从车窗里若有所思地看着他们。此时已是下午,天色渐暗,沿着灯火通明、拥挤不堪的街道走了相当长的一段路。

“安妮表姐,恐怕我们伤害了她的感情,”乌苏拉说。 “你为什么不去?”

“去!”温和的安妮·多塞特喊道; “继昨天之后,登上那个男人的马车?不为世界!我可以忍受很多事情,但我不能做到这一点。”

“她从来没有造成任何伤害,”苏菲说,“可怜的小灵魂!你现在明白了,乌苏拉,不是吗,嫁给一个有钱人,并拥有你内心想要的一切是多么美好?”

乌苏拉疑惑地看着她。说实话,科珀黑德太太急于为卡林福德那些不知名的孩子们购买她能想到的一切东西,她在大商店里受到的对待,她的慷慨大方,她美丽的举止,以及她所有的美好事物,让乌苏拉产生了这样的想法:嫁给一个有钱人是极好的。苏菲的讽刺对她头脑简单的表弟来说是无能为力的,而铜斑蛇夫人的悲情也确实如此。她很善良,但她不太高兴,这两点都很明显,但乌苏拉并没有把这种不高兴与她是一个富人的妻子联系起来。铜斑蛇先生当然不是很 不错;但人到了那么老的时候,他们就永远不会很快乐,乌苏拉想,这和钱有什么关系呢?她一脸困惑和不解地看着苏菲,不明白她的意思。是的,确实是嫁给一个有钱人,能够给大家买礼物,让家里的孩子幸福美满,不给自己添麻烦!有人会怀疑这是非常好的吗?唉!乌苏拉认为她根本不可能做到这一点。

“可怜的铜斑蛇夫人!”当他们沿着拥挤的街道前进时,安妮说道,在那里他们很难一起走,更不用说保持任何谈话了。眼下,乌苏拉尽可能地靠近她表弟的身边,但又不得不不断地为其他路人让路,她迷失在幻想的迷宫中,午后的雾气、闪烁的灯光和快速驶过的灯光都迷失在幻想的迷宫中。人群营造出一种混乱但并不令人不快的背景。她很高兴噪音让一切谈话都变得不可能,当他们在牛津街和摄政街的人流中滑行、挤过时,她可以安静地做梦,不受打扰,就像她被关在自己的房间里一样——不,更重要的是——因为外部的景象和声音在她身边隐隐约约地掠过,甚至对她自己来说也掩盖了那些梦境。铜斑蛇夫人曾经是一个比她更穷的小家庭女教师。如果在某个地方,在某个美丽的房子里,门口就有一辆这样的马车,一位美丽的年轻英雄正在等待着,他会给乌苏拉带来所有这些令人眼花缭乱的快乐,该怎么办?那么她会买什么衣服、什么玩具、什么装饰品!她不会在女孩们面前停下来,而是大胆地开车去最好的裁缝店,请他派人来为约翰尼、罗宾,甚至雷金纳德量尺寸;然后她会去玩具店和书店,我不知道还去了哪里;最后乘坐载满一切令人愉快的仙车,来到门口。她不会乘坐任何粗俗的铁路。她会把一切都据为己有,亲手送给每件礼物——这是铜斑蛇夫人不可能做到的至高无上的喜悦——她似乎清楚地看到自己在画画,马儿气喘吁吁,迈着高大的步伐,气势非凡,到了可怜的牧师住宅那扇暗淡的门,那里几乎没有什么比马车更好的东西了!孩子们如何冲到窗前,“甚至爸​​爸”也冲出他的书房;田庄巷,甚至大街上都会掀起一阵骚动,屠夫和面包师会不寒而栗地回忆起他们有时是多么的俏皮——当他们看到她是一位多么伟大的女士时。

当乌苏拉看到这出小戏剧中的所有小场景时,她的脸上浮现出梦幻般的微笑,这些小场景与商店橱窗的光芒、街道的喧闹声、路过的公共汽车的巨大幽灵以及在寒冷的空气中冒着热气的马匹混合在一起。有多少女孩像她一样,梦想着平淡的街道?也许这不是一个非常崇高或英雄的梦想,但是为孩子们装满精美物品的幻想战车比灰姑娘的南瓜马车或许多其他浪漫的战车更好。她的堂兄弟们,他们是她的长辈,一想到可怜的铜头蛇夫人,他们的灵魂就发抖,他们正在认真地谈论他们第二天早上即将生下的孩子,以及要对他们做什么,他们没有任何想法。乌苏拉的想法的线索。不管怎样,他们并没有太在意他们,但还是非常小心,不要让她从他们身边消失,而且她不应该被拥挤的人群吓到,毕竟,这是一件大事。他们很高兴回到相对安静的萨福克街,摘下帽子喝茶。但对于乌苏拉来说,步行结束后她感到很遗憾。她非常享受这样的感觉。一半是摄政街,一半是卡林福德街,两者混合在一起很有趣。她一半是昂首阔步的小乌苏拉·梅,一半是那个坐在梦想战车上的伟大女士,她有能力让每个人都如此快乐。可怜的科波黑德太太是世界上最悲惨、最受惊吓的小奴隶,正如她所说,除了时间和金钱之外一无所有,而乌苏拉身无分文,总是有那么多事情要做,两者之间存在着多么大的鸿沟啊曾是!然而,这是一条可以轻易跨越的鸿沟。但当她回到家中时,这个梦想就破灭了。即使是她自己的小房间里的安静也无法让街上浮现在她面前的那些不安的景象重现光彩。

这是乌苏拉在城里的最后一天,毫无疑问,在没有苏菲建议的情况下,她自然而然地就会把很多想法放进她的脑海里。

第八章·多塞特郡 •3,400字

第二天,小多赛特来了,一对奇怪的小婴儿,瑟瑟发抖,还有一个更瑟瑟发抖的阿亚。正是这些小异国生物的健康状况每况愈下,受到英国血统的威胁,尽管他们从未见过英国,除了印度斯坦语之外什么也不说,这让他们在一年中这个荒凉的时刻“回家”了。让房间变得足够温暖,成为了焦虑的阿姨们的全部想法,她们带着一种奇怪的复杂情绪注视着这些苍白的婴儿,渴望“非常喜欢”他们,但又感到困难重重。它们非常白,就像印度孩子经常有的那样,上面蜿蜒着巨大的蓝色静脉,清晰可见,就像用颜色描绘的一样。他们被周围的新奇事物和陌生的面孔吓坏了,他们的焦虑更加增加了他们的惊恐程度。他们只懂得几个英语单词,就缩成一小堆,靠在黑人护士身上,当他们的新亲戚向他们表示善意时,他们就紧贴着她。孩子们在现实生活中并不像肤浅的观察者想象的那么容易被安抚。他们对安妮·多塞特为赢得他们的信任而做出的一切努力进行了顽强的抵抗,这足以让最有耐心的人灰心丧气,可怜的安妮为自己的失败而哭泣,因为这些人性的原子,如此奇怪地个性化,在他们的彻底软弱、无助和依赖,被带到床上,用蓝色的大眼睛怀疑地凝视着她。任何中等力量的手都可以像苍蝇一样碾碎它们,但地球上所有的力量都无法控制或移动它们的小心灵。奇怪的对比!当他们被抬到床上时,安妮哭了。罗伯特爵士很久以前就从闷热的房间里逃了出来。苏菲不由自主地有些生气,她决定“不要理会这些小可怜虫”。

“想要!”她说; “在世界上所有人中,安妮都退缩了!没有一只小狗或小猫比它更懂得。一些不愉快的事情!哦,爱他们!我为什么要爱他们?我相信他们是约翰的孩子;但他们一点也不像他;他们一定像他们的母亲。就我而言,我看不出他们有什么值得爱的地方。”

“哦,太棒了,苏菲,”安妮擦干眼睛说道。 “他们是我们的骨肉。”

“我想是这样。他们当然是约翰夫人的骨肉。至少,他们一点也不像我们,我不能因为他们像她而爱他们,不是吗?——我从未见过她?”

安妮并没有觉得这个奇怪的论点不合逻辑。

“我希望他们会喜欢我们,”她说。 “可怜的小可爱们!他们的一切都很奇怪,新的面孔和地方。我毫不奇怪他们会害怕,只要有人靠近他们就会哭泣。我们必须相信时间。如果他们知道我多么想爱他们、抚摸他们——”

“我要帮小乌苏拉收拾行李。”索菲急忙说道。她急忙跑到乌苏拉的房间,那里一片狼藉,她一屁股坐在火边的椅子上,“安妮太好了,活不下去了,”她喊道。 “她的善良让我生气。那些白脸小东西不像我认识的任何人,当然不像我们的家人,退缩并紧贴着那个黑人女人,就像安妮是一个食人魔一样——安妮! 为什么,小狗更懂事——正如我之前所说的。”

“我不认为他们是非常漂亮的孩子,”乌苏拉说,不知道如何回答。

“为什么我们应该喜欢他们?”苏菲说道,她正在放松自己的心情,并没有指望乌苏拉能提供任何帮助。 “关于孩子的整个问题让我感到困惑;一个无助的小蜡像,它不认识你,无法回应你,也许在可以的时候也不会;它没有什么有趣的地方,不像小猫那样有趣,甚至不漂亮。出色地!让我们假设它所属的人本能地喜欢它——但世界其他地方——”

“噢,苏菲表弟!”乌苏拉叫道,她的眼睛睁得圆圆的,充满了惊慌和恐惧。

“你认为我应该喜欢他们,因为他们是我哥哥的孩子?我们并不总是很喜欢我们的兄弟乌苏拉。不要尖叫;在你这个年纪,情况就不同了;但当他们结婚并有不同的兴趣时——如果这些小东西继续用那双惊恐的大眼睛看着我,好像他们希望我打他们的耳朵,总有一天我会这么做——我知道我会的;而不是像安妮那样跪下来讨好他们。如果他们像我们的家人一样,那会很有吸引力。你愿意回家,还是愿意留在这里?”

“在伦敦?”乌苏拉长长地吸了一口气,双手不由自主地握在一起说道。 “哦!我希望你不会认为我很傻,但我确实喜欢伦敦。是的,我很高兴——我有很多礼物要送给他们,谢谢你、安妮表姐和科珀黑德太太。我为自己带走了这么多而感到羞愧。但卡林福德不像伦敦,”她叹了口气补充道。

“不,这是一个相当温柔友好的乡村地方,而不是一个冷酷无情的荒野。”

“噢,苏菲表弟!”

“我可怜的天真无邪的小女孩!你不觉得这茫茫人海,无人理你一根稻草吗?”

“我只看到了仁慈,”乌苏拉带着一丝正义的愤慨说道。 “有你,还有铜斑蛇夫人;就连绅士们也很友善——或者至少他们本意是友善的。”

“先生们?”苏菲好笑地说。 “你是说铜头蛇吗?也许是克拉伦斯?他要去乌苏拉的伊斯顿。我要带他到卡灵福德来看你吗?

“如果你愿意的话,索菲表弟,”女孩简单地说。她并没有想到任何会让她脸红的“先生们”的想法,但不知怎的,她表弟的语气让她感到不舒服,她转身去收拾行李。房间里乱七八糟地堆满了她放进盒子里的东西,那个盒子现在已经变得太小了,尽管乌苏拉离开家时盒子已经足够宽敞了。

“乌苏拉,我觉得你总的来说是个好小东西——”

“哦,苏菲表弟,原谅我吧!不,我不好。”

“原谅你!为了什么?是的,总的来说,你是一个好小东西;不是像安妮那样的圣人;但也许你还有更多的事情可以考验你的脾气。尽管我们担心她,但我们总是很听她的话,而爸爸也一直全心全意地相信她。也许你还有更多要忍受的事情。但是,亲爱的,想想可怜的铜斑蛇夫人吧——”

“为什么你总是叫她可怜的铜斑蛇夫人?她很富有。只要她愿意,她就能让别人开心。她有一栋漂亮的房子,还有一切——”

“还有一只熊,一个残忍的丈夫。”

“啊!她很介意吗?”乌苏拉平静地问道。与铜头夫人的伟大相比,这个缺点在她看来微不足道。只有苏菲的笑声才让她清醒过来。她背对着身子穿上衣服,急忙说道:“我并不是要说傻话。当人们像她一样老的时候,他们会介意吗?当你老了之后会发生什么并不那么重要。”

“为什么?但没关系,这个理论和其他许多理论一样好,”索菲说。 “你不介意嫁给这样的男人,拥有你内心想要的一切吗?”

“苏菲表弟,我不会——嫁给任何人。”乌苏拉昂首挺胸地说。 “我希望我不是那样的人,想这些事情。我非常非常抱歉,同居十天了,你竟然对我有这样的看法。”

她转过身去,带着因受伤而感到绝望的骄傲,声音里含着泪水。苏菲不敢笑,为了让年轻的女主角更生气,连忙道歉。

“这是一个愚蠢的问题,”她说。 “我对你的评价非常好,乌苏拉。十天是一段很长的时间,我对你的了解就像我们已经在一起了一辈子一样。我相信你不会想到任何一个好女孩不应该想到的事情;但我希望你永远不会被欺骗并被说服嫁给像铜斑蛇先生这样的人。我的意思是,谁不像你一样漂亮、年轻、优秀。”

“不好了!”女孩充满活力地喊道。 “但我很可能不会嫁给任何人,”她半叹了一口气,补充道。 “珍妮可能会,但是大女儿有很多事情要做,有很多事情要考虑。安妮表姐从未结过婚。”

“苏菲表弟也一样。”苏菲的笑声对女孩来说听起来很难听。 “没关系,你不会像我们一样。你很可能会在乡下一栋漂亮的牧师住宅里嫁给一位牧师。”

“我想我不太喜欢牧师,”乌苏拉恢复了轻松和镇定,说道。 “他们总是在里面,学习时一切都必须保持安静;然后教区的人们总是用肮脏的脚踩着楼上来。当你只有一名仆人时,这是非常非常麻烦的。罗伯特爵士从不惹麻烦。”她轻轻叹了口气,再次说道。

“爸爸?”苏菲有些惊讶地说。 “但你不会——”她想说,嫁给爸爸;但当她看到乌苏拉天真无邪的严肃,以及她完全没有意识到自己偶然说出的话可能意味着什么时,她就忍住了。 “我想我必须派西顿来帮助你,”她说,“你一个人无法完成所有的打包工作。”

“哦,是的,我不累。我把所有旧东西都放进去了。剩下的就是你的礼物了。噢,苏菲表弟!”女孩说着,迅速走到她身边,用两只手臂搂住她,“你对我真好!好像给我这个假期是不够的,这是我一生中最愉快的假期——让我满载着所有这些美丽的东西回家!如果我能活一百岁,我永远不会忘记这一点,永远,永远!”

“亲爱的!”苏菲叫道,她被这个拥抱突然充满的能量吓了一跳。苏菲面无表情,但她的眼睛却不自觉地湿润了,声音也变得柔和起来。 “但是你必须让我把塞顿送到你那里去,”她说着就急匆匆地走了。她对今天发生的事情感到兴奋,不相信自己能做出任何进一步的反应;因为如果她真的“让步”,谁能知道她会让步到什么程度呢?她的哥哥约翰在索菲也应该结婚的时候结婚了,一切都很顺利——也许,一些敏锐的想法,她也可能有属于她的小孩子,给了她力量和敏锐的她对那些面色苍白、多疑的印度孩子表示反对,因为他们对她的爱意表示退缩。她回到自己的房间,洗了洗眼睛,眼睛又热又痛,然后回到客厅的安妮身边,安妮已经打开窗户降温,坐在安乐椅上,思考着什么。她可以尽力让孩子们爱她,并在约翰夫人不在的情况下成为他们的母亲。

“我一直在和乌苏拉交谈,她总是让人耳目一新,”苏菲说。 “我想知道那个孩子会嫁给谁。她以她尴尬而天真的方式让我明白,她更喜欢爸爸。笑是有好处的。”苏菲轻轻揉着眼睛补充道。安妮没有立即回答。她几乎没有听到姐姐说的话。

“我想我们过一会儿就会继续相处的,”她轻声说道。 “他们的祈祷非常美妙,可怜的宝贝们,让我亲吻他们,不要哭。过一段时间我们就会继续前进,我不害怕。”

“安妮!”苏菲喊道,“你对人性来说太过分了:你对任何事情来说都太坏或太好了。当我听到你这样说起这些小家伙时,我开始讨厌他们了。”

“嘘!”安妮说:“我知道你不是这个意思。伊斯顿一开始对他们来说会很陌生。就我而言,我不能去印度。家里有面包皮就更好了。想等孩子到了懂得理解的年龄就和他们分别吗?”

“我想,约翰离开时没有考虑到孩子。你说得好像孩子就是一个人的一生一样。”

“其中很大一部分,”安妮温柔地说。 “不,亲爱的,我不像你那么聪明,也许这就是你所说的目光短浅;但毕竟它贯穿一切。花朵是用来播种的,世界上的一切都是为了让世界继续运转。是的,即使是我,这也是我的优点。我永远不会成为母亲,但这有什么关系呢?世界上还有那么多孩子,必须有人抚养他们。”

“当他们需要你的时候,他们会被带到你身边,当他们不再需要你的时候,他们就会被从你身边带走,”苏菲愤怒地说。 “你要承担麻烦,其他人有报酬。”

“亲爱的,这个世界自始至终都是如此,从上帝而来。总是寻求回报是卑鄙和唯利是图的。当我们什么都不做,当我们毫无用处时,生活是多么可怜啊,”安妮脸颊泛起一点红光,说道,“不值得拥有。我认为,只有当我们在做某事时,我们才有存在的权利。我有我的工资;我喜欢产生一点影响,”她笑着说。 “不做某事的人就没有任何影响力。”

“这样的话,阿姨、女仆的地位就比你重要了。”

“那就这样吧——我不反对。”安妮说。 “但我不这么认为,因为他们必须受到指导和指导。没有女佣是一件很可怕的事情。当你想到这一点时,你就会发现工作的人是多么重要;没有玛丽,一切都会停滞不前,而有些女士的缺席也没有什么区别。”

“比如说我。”

“你这么说太不客气了,苏菲;尽管如此,如果你能做得更多,你就会更快乐,亲爱的。”

“做什么?跪到那些蜡娃娃面前,恳求它们让我抚摸它们,为它们制作偶像——你会这么做吗?”

“嗯,你现在过得怎么样?”罗伯特爵士进来时说道。我明白了,你把窗户打开了;但房间里还是很暖和。当他们到达伊斯顿时,他们当然会有自己的房间。我不想反思约翰,但他给我们带来了相当大的负担。约翰夫人的母亲还活着,不是吗?我想可能有什么 说过 至少,就她而言,有些人愿意分享她的份额。”

苏菲恶狠狠地看了姐姐一眼,但很快就改变了语气,采取了捍卫这一安排的立场,语气里带着家庭问题中很自然的轻松态度。

“当然,”她说,“你的孙子、多塞特郡和继承人,可能因为罗伯特没有儿子,哪儿也去不了,爸爸,只能去我们这里。这可能很无聊,但至少约翰表现得很有道理;因为没有别的事可以——”

“约翰并没有以平常的方式表现出太多的理智。在他这个年纪,他想要妻子和孩子做什么?这孩子五岁了,不是吗?而父亲只有三十岁——荒谬!我直到三十岁才结婚,尽管在那之前我已经成功了,并且是唯一的儿子和一家之主。约翰总是个混蛋。”罗伯特爵士生气地说,这主要是因为房间里的温度比平常高,而且他晚上的习惯也受到了干扰。他能够牺牲一些对他的家庭来说更重要的东西,但几乎不能牺牲他的舒适,这是最后也是最痛苦的努力。

“这也许是真的,”苏菲说,“但无论如何,孩子们应该和我们在一起,这是理所当然的。约翰夫人的家人并不富裕。她的母亲有一个自己的大家庭。小事可能会被破坏,或者会被忽视;毕竟,他们是多塞特郡,尽管他们不像约翰。”

“好吧,好吧,我想你是对的,”罗伯特爵士嘟哝着说,“而且,谢天谢地,明天我们就回家了。”

安妮几乎没说什么,尽管她最关心的是孩子们。当罗伯特爵士重新看晚报时,她给了妹妹一个拥抱,然后偷偷上楼去看那些睡着的可怜的婴儿。她不是母亲,也永远不会成为母亲。确实,人们称她为老处女,这是有充分理由的,尽管她才三十出头。因为如果她七十岁了,她结婚的可能性就更小了。这不是她的职业。如果没有这些,她在世界上还有很多事情要做,并且对自己的生活感到满意。她没有想到她所照顾的孩子不是她自己的,这一悲伤的想法并没有出现在她的脑海中,也许它出现在苏菲的脑海中,使她因对自然的向往而感到愤怒。安妮的性情却不同,她弯下腰在小床上轻声地为孩子们、为妹妹祈祷。 “上帝保佑孩子们——哦,让我的苏菲快乐吧!”她说。她从来没有为自己祈求过,也没有想过过幸福。在她的职业和职责中,这种感觉是在不知不觉中降临到她身上的,就像柔和的日光一样自然,而且不那么受欢迎。但苏菲不同。苏菲想要幸福的物质——一些让她高兴的东西;她不像她姐姐那样,在内心的安静中拥有它。安妮从儿童房去了乌苏拉的房间,那里的女孩厌倦了收拾行李,正在睡觉前梳理她漂亮的头发。一切都准备好了,抽屉全空了,盒子里装满了东西,还附上了一个用牛皮纸包裹的大包裹;当乌苏拉的表弟走进来坐在她身边时,她单纯的灵魂感到疲惫和骚动,她快要哭了。

“我很高兴,安妮表姐。你对我真好。”她说。

“亲爱的,每个人都会对你好,”多塞特小姐说,“只要你信任每个人,乌苏拉。人都是好人多于坏人。我希望当你来到伊斯顿时你会更加快乐。”

乌苏拉对此有些异议,但她太害羞,不敢多说。 “小镇真是太欢乐了,”她说。这不是罗伯特爵士看待事务的方式。

“地方差别很小,”安妮说,“当你的心轻松时,你到处都是快乐的。”乌苏拉觉得,把她的快乐归为轻松的分数,这在某种程度上有损她的尊严。但对于这样的断言,她还能说什么呢?

第九章·回家 •3,300字

第二天早上从萨福克街出发的队伍规模很大。还有孩子们,阿亚,安妮在城里雇来的新保姆,在她的小侄子们习惯了新生活后立即照顾他们。还有西顿,一位古老的女仆,是姐妹俩共同拥有的。还有罗伯特爵士的人,更不用说罗伯特爵士本人以及多塞特小姐和乌苏拉了。伊斯顿距离卡林福德不到十几英里,所以他们一起走到了那个小镇。多塞特一行人继续前行,到达下一站,从那里乘马车还有六英里。他们把乌苏拉连同她的盒子和包裹放在月台上,告别了她,然后又冲出了车站,留下她在人群中显得相当孤独和孤独。 “梅没有派人去见孩子,这真是丢脸。我想他知道她要来。”罗伯特爵士说道。乌苏拉也有同样的感觉,她站在那里若有所思地环顾四周。但火车一开走,有人就用有点高亢的声音喊她的名字,她转过身来,发现自己被珍妮抱住了,而刚放学的约翰尼则从她手里夺走了她的书包,以示他的决心。满意。

“直到我们确定多塞特郡不碍事之后我们才上来,”珍妮说,“而且,哦,真的是你吗?我很高兴送你回家。”

“你为什么不想看看多塞特郡?他们是我们在世界上最友善的朋友。”乌苏拉说。 “爸爸怎么样了?他心情好吗?剩下的呢?为什么没有更多的人来见我?我确保至少有四个。”

“艾米和罗宾出去喝茶了——他们不想去;他们不想去。”但爸爸坚持要这么做。哦,他总体来说很好。当然,雷金纳德在家,但我想你最喜欢我。约翰尼来提包了。”珍妮带着对弟弟自然的蔑视说道。 “好大的一个包裹啊!你一定收到了很多礼物,否则你一定收拾得很糟糕,因为我确信你离开时行李箱里还有很多空间。”

“哦,珍妮,如果你知道我那里有什么就好了!”

“什么?”珍妮说道,语气平静但冷静。她从来没有想过她会对包裹里的东西有任何个人的担忧。她是个高个子女孩,已经穿不下了她所有的连衣裙,或者更确切地说,确实定期穿不穿它们,肩膀上有黑色精灵的头发,这些头发不会卷曲或卷曲。 煎饼,或者做任何头发应该做的事情。她总是胡思乱想,制定各种不可能的计划,这对她的年龄来说是很自然的事,她就是那种棱角分明、生涩的女学生,心意很好,但很笨拙,更讨厌别人。她自己和其他人,甚至比一个小学生,这已经说明了很多。东西在她手里就碎了,而在别人手里却从来没有碎过。当她经过时,东西撕裂了,家具掉到了地上。乌苏拉小心翼翼地让她远离包裹,然后把它交给了约翰尼。当所有其他乘客都被处理掉后,一名铁路搬运工屈尊提着她的行李箱,就这样他们踏上了回家的路。牧师住宅靠近圣罗克,位于农庄巷的另一端。他们必须沿着那条优雅而安静的郊区小路一路走下去,沿着花园的围墙,在这个季节,花园的围墙上没有花香飘来,也没有绽放的枝条。红色的冬青浆果清晰可见,街道另一边的一棵长满青苔的老树上有一束灰色的槲寄生。但多么安静啊!在车站和圣罗克之间,他们几乎没遇到十几个人。

“哦,珍妮,大家都死了吗?”乌苏拉说。 “多么无聊啊!你应该去伦敦看看——”

“乌苏拉,”珍妮坚定地说,“我绝对不会再忍受这个伦敦了!一个肮脏、烟雾弥漫、泥泞的地方,不像卡林福德——我和你一样。你忘了我去过伦敦;你不是在对无知的人说话,”珍妮挺起身子说道,“而且你的信已经够糟糕的了。你不会在这里谈论任何令人不愉快的伦敦。和从未见过的人交谈!”女孩说道,带着对知识的蔑视,耸起肩膀。

“那次你去看牙医——”乌苏拉说,“这就是伦敦之旅!安妮表姐和索菲表姐带我到处走走。我们开车去公园。我们去了博物馆和国家美术馆。而且,哦!珍妮,听着!我们去了剧院:想想看!”

“好吧,我想去剧院,”珍妮叹了口气说。 “但是你在信中告诉过我。这就是成为老大的后果。除非你结婚什么的,没有人会想到接受 me设立的区域办事处外,我们在美国也开设了办事处,以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

“你比我小五岁,”乌苏拉尊严地说。 “当然,人们不会想到你这个年纪的女孩。你必须等到你长大了,就像我必须做的那样。珍妮!猜猜里面是什么 ?“

“你的新衣服——你的舞会礼服。如果它没有像你说的那样皱巴巴的,你就不可能跳得太多。我知道如果我去参加舞会,我的衣服就会破烂。”

“我随心所欲地跳舞。我认识的人不多,”乌苏拉挺起身子说道。 “当然,一年中的这个时候,城里没人,我们几乎不认识任何人——当然——”

“当然,你只认识冬天出城的时尚人士,”珍妮喊道,笑声在街道上回荡。乌苏拉从伦敦回来并没有被她妹妹嘲笑,她一直受到多塞特家族的宠爱,甚至罗伯特爵士也曾在不同场合询问过她的意见。她更加深切地感受到了这种挫败感,因为她一直期待着与珍妮进行如此多的长谈,并期待着重新度过这短暂的十天假期,并通过在这期间获得的许多经验来指导她妹妹的思想。重要的时刻。可怜的乌苏拉!十天的时间对于她这个年纪来说已经足够养成习惯了,而且她也受到了照顾,就像社会上的年轻女士受到照顾一样。无论她走到哪里,她都会陪伴或出席,并且很重视。发现自己就这样随心所欲地到达并回家,除了珍妮以外没有人来迎接她,这是一次可怕的失败。被珍妮嘲笑是最后一步。她的眼里充满了泪水,她把肩膀转向同伴,转过头去。这就是可怜的乌苏拉所要面对的一切。沉闷的卡林福德街,爸爸找茬,一切都不顺利,珍妮还嘲笑她!做安妮表姐的女仆,或者印第安小孩子的家庭教师,都比这更好。又过了五分钟,她带着被冒犯的沉默继续走着,一言不发,尽管珍妮像她那个女学生一样,经常用肘部移动她的妹妹。

“乌苏拉!”女孩最后说道,用力地推了一下,“怎么了?你不跟我说话吗?”而珍妮也有自己的失望,本来以为会受到热情接待,但不管外表如何,她在街中央放声大哭。

“珍妮,看在上帝的份上——人们会看到你的!我确信应该哭的是我,而不是你。”乌苏拉突然感到痛苦地说。

“我不在乎谁看到我,”珍妮抽泣道。 “我们在家的时候你玩得很开心,却不高兴回来,不高兴见到我们——哎呀,你怎么这么冷酷无情呢?”她说,泪水夺眶而出。

乌苏拉突然意识到问题的另一面。当其他人都呆在家里的时候,她却过得很开心。这是千真万确的。她不应该感到差异的震惊,而应该想到那些从未像她这么幸运的人,那些从未在卡林福德见过任何东西的人。 “别傻了,珍妮,”她说,“我 am 很高兴;——我给你带来了这么漂亮的礼物。但当你除了笑什么都不做的时候——”

“我确信我笑不是为了受伤。我只是为了好玩而笑!”珍妮哭着擦干眼睛,心里不免有些愤慨。就这样,和平达成了,因为确实,一个人渴望讲述所发生的一切,另一个人渴望听到。他们走完剩下的路,头靠得很近,全神贯注,以至于当他们走近时,从大门里出来的大哥站在那儿,脸上带着微笑,看了他们好一会儿,才看到他。一个身材瘦小的年轻人,个子不高,一头乌苏拉一样的黑发,表情有些焦虑,穿着正确的英国牧师服装。

“一切都已经开始了吗?”他说,当他们走近他,但没有注意到他时,乌苏拉的脸上充满了谈话的乐趣,而珍妮的脸上则充满了倾听的热切喜悦。这座房子是按照教会风格建造的,有山墙和竖框窗户,至少隔绝了光线,无论它们是否像他们的目的那样激发了路人正确的艺术感。它就在教堂的隔壁,前面有一条狭长的灌木丛,种着有些阴郁的常绿植物。大门和门总是开着的,除非梅先生本人来来去去时将它们暂时关闭,不可否认的是,从外表和明显的迹象来看,里面有一个有点不守规矩的大家庭。

“哦,雷金纳德!”乌苏拉喊道。 “你已经回家了!”

“是的——永远,”他半笑半叹地说。 “或者是坏事——谁知道呢?无论如何,我都在这里。”

“为什么一定是坏事呢?”珍妮喊道,她的声音在半条街上总是能听见。 “哦,乌苏拉,发生了一件非常好的事情。他将成为旧学院的院长,太棒了!那 is 爸爸说,有人供养;还有一栋漂亮的老房子。”

“旧学院院长!我以为被选中的总是某个老人。”

“但是爸爸说他可以住在家里并出租房子,”珍妮哭道。 “没有理由说他一定是一位老绅士,爸爸想;这很好,因为没有工作——但是看看雷金纳德,他有点不喜欢它;他永远不会满足,我确信,我希望是我——”

“请进,”雷金纳德急忙说道,“我不想让我所有的事情,还有我的性格,都在屋顶上被人知道。”珍妮愤怒地停下来,做出了一些回答,乌苏拉如她所担心的那样抓住了她的手臂,用力一捏,迅速走了进去。小艾米正在方形的小大厅里玩耍,大厅里堆满了娃娃的衣服,还有两三个不同程度破损的娃娃。角落里放着一些破旧的教科书,其中一本的叶子在风中飘扬。安妮·多塞特有序统治的十天也让乌苏拉看到了这些缺陷。

“哦,真是混乱啊!”她哭了; “我不奇怪雷金纳德不喜欢住在家里。”

“哦,我希望爸爸能听到你的声音!”当乌苏拉领着走进客厅时,珍妮大声喊道,客厅并不比大厅整洁多少。旧工作台上立着一篮子要补的袜子。乌苏拉的心一沉,觉得他们正在等待她的到来,而珍妮并没有对他们做任何事。更多的玩具和更多的旧教科书被扔在褪色的旧地毯上。桌布悬挂不平,一端拖在地板上。火势非常小,被灰尘和白色灰烬所窒息。看上去多么惨淡啊!不像一个回家的地方。 “哦,我不奇怪雷金纳德因为被迫住在家里而感到烦恼,”她再次自言自语,眼里含着泪水。

“我希望你玩得很开心,”当她疲倦地坐进旧安乐椅时,她哥哥说道。 “我们非常想念你;但我想你不会想念我们的。我想,即使在一年中的这个时候,伦敦也很令人愉快吧?”

“噢,真愉快!”乌苏拉说。 “如果你和我在一起,你该多高兴啊!萨福克街只是一家旅馆,但却是一家非常不错的旅馆,他们称之为私人旅馆。罗伯特爵士说,比美国原则上的大城市要好得多。但有一天我们在那些大地方之一吃饭,非常有趣。几十个人,巨大的镜子使他们看起来像数百人。还有如此数量的灯光和仆人;但罗伯特爵士认为萨福克街是最好的。我去了两家剧院和一个舞会。他们非常友善。苏菲·多塞特有时会嘲笑我,但安妮是天使。”乌苏拉热情地说。 “我一生中从未认识过如此优秀的人。”

“这并不能说明什么,”珍妮说,“因为我们都不是很好,而且你也不认识其他人。安妮·多塞特是个老处女。”

“噢,珍妮!你怎么敢?”

“而且,就此而言,苏菲也是如此。爸爸这么说。他说她被抛弃了,她永远找不到丈夫。”

“闭嘴,”雷金纳德严厉地说,“如果我们要通过像你这样的小鬼间接听到我父亲说的话——”

“哦,是的,”珍妮嘲笑道,“那是因为你不是爸爸的朋友。”

“珍妮,过来帮我把东西脱下来,”乌苏拉说道,因为他看到雷金纳德很可能会采取强硬措施,打他妹妹的耳朵。 “如果你年纪大一些,你就不会那样说话了,”他们上楼时,她带着尊严说道。 “哦,亲爱的珍妮,你无法想象安妮表姐和苏菲有多么不同,他们不像我们一样是女孩。他们从不说别人不友善的话。如果你和安妮表姐住在一起,你会像我一样认为这很幼稚。”

“东西!”珍妮说。 “我希望爸爸并不幼稚。这一切都是他说的。我不在乎你的好表姐安妮做什么。”

尽管如此,这样的责备却深深打动了珍妮的心。因为对于一个十五岁的女孩来说,她的下一个妹妹也快二十岁了,“幼稚”的指责比任何其他指责都更糟糕。她的脸涨得通红,虽是嗤笑,但也很感动。此外,虽然她暂时引用他的话很合适,但她远没有对爸爸抱有任何无限的信心。

“稍等一下!看看你小看的安妮表姐给你寄来了什么。”乌苏拉一边说,一边把大包裹放在腿上,坐在地板上,小心翼翼地解开绳结。因为她年轻时读过埃奇沃思小姐的故事,不会为这个世界断弦。当新衣服光泽又柔软,铺在几乎没有一丝色彩的旧地毯上时,珍妮惊得目瞪口呆。

“是吗?”她支吾着,良心不安,“是为了 me?“

“这是给您的;尽管你认为她们是老处女——而且她们永远找不到丈夫。”乌苏拉愤怒地说。 “一个女孩子能说出这样的话!事实上,我认为安妮表弟永远不会找到丈夫。世界上没有一个人配得上她——没有一个!是的,这是给你的。他们自己去了,把店里一半的东西都看了一遍,才找到一件令他们满意的东西。他们没有说,“珍妮是个不友善的小东西,她会重复她听到的关于我们的一切,而且一点也不关心我们。”他们说,‘乌苏拉,我们必须为珍妮和艾米选择连衣裙。快来帮助我们得到他们最喜欢的东西。”

珍妮的嘴唇颤抖着,两颗很大的泪水涌入眼眶。她感到深深的内疚,但她的骄傲不允许她立刻屈服。

“我敢说你告诉她我们的处境有多糟糕,”她说。

“我没有告诉她这件事,她也没有说一个字——没有一个字,就好像这是一种慈善——只是为了取悦你——让你看到你被记住了;但我敢说,这毕竟是千真万确的,”乌苏拉带着崇高的讽刺意味说道,“安妮表姐永远找不到丈夫,而且她们都是老处女了。”

“哦,你知道我不是故意的!”珍妮说,泪水夺眶而出。

然后乌苏拉起身,摘下帽子,抚平头发,对自己的成功感到满意,然后又下楼去找坐在肮脏的沙发上等她的雷金纳德,回答她关于自那以后发生的重大事件的问题。她已经离开了。乌苏拉的脑海里充满了她回来所留下的强烈印象的震惊,尽管这种印象本身开始消失。

“我可以理解为什么你不关心住在家里,”她说。 “哦,我想知道我是否能做点什么来弥补它!我很高兴你有所收获,雷金纳德。如果你有一个好仆人,你自己一个人可能会很舒服,我们可以来看你。我不应该有一点感觉——一点也感觉不到;这对你来说会好得多。”

“你错了,”她哥哥说。 “我并不是反对呆在家里。也许我们不是很整洁或很舒服,但至少我们都是彼此的。不是那样的,乌苏拉。”

“之后怎么样了?珍妮说,”乌苏拉说,带着敬畏和钦佩,长长地吸了一口气,“你每年要有两百五十英镑。”

“因为什么也没做,”他说。

“因为什么都不做?”她有点困惑地抬头看着他,因为乌苏拉觉得他的语气与他所说的话的令人愉快的性格完全不相符。 “但是,雷金纳德,这听起来多么好,多么好啊!你一定很幸运!如此令人愉快的事情怎么会发生在我们一个人身上呢?爸爸说,我们总是那么不幸。”

“如果你认为这很幸运——”雷金纳德说。 “他确实这么做了,而且他很高兴;但你觉得我怎么会高兴呢?闯入一个不需要我的地方——一个我毫无用处的地方。一个假人,一个实际的谎言。我该如何接受呢,乌苏拉?我告诉你,那只是一份闲事!”

乌苏拉睁大眼睛,惊奇地看着他。他似乎在用某种她听不懂的语言说话。 “什么是闲职?”她说。

第十章 爸爸 •3,300字

“乌苏拉回来了!”茶话会回来的小孩子们喊道,跑到门口迎接他们的父亲。

梅先生对他年幼的孩子们非常好,只是偶尔有例外。事实上,他对他们中的任何一个人来说都不是一个不仁慈的父亲。但他从未原谅普罗维登斯将失去母亲的家人留在他手上,一个完全不适合这项任务的人。也许他没有直接用语言表达出来,但他深深地感受到了这一点,并且一直无法释怀。有很多事情他可以做得更好,也有很多人可以做得更好。然而正是他,一个不适合照顾孩子的人,才被赋予了这样做的权利!这似乎表明在管理凡人事务时缺乏判断力,这让他更加恼火,因为他是一名牧师,必须说服其他人,发生在他们身上的一切都是最好的。他是一个有一定文化和文学实力的人,为一些教会杂志撰写了非常令人愉快的“深思熟虑”的论文;但这些作品虽然很容易阅读,但只有在家人精心准备的情况下才被带到世上,当爸爸“写”的时候,他们几乎不敢大声说话。因为在这种情况下,他可能会变得非常野蛮,正如偶尔犯罪的人所知。他是一个气势磅礴、相貌英俊、举止非常温和、令人愉快的人,如果他愿意的话。但他从来没有交过朋友,现在已经五十五岁了,是圣罗克的现任教士,收入微薄,在卡林福德教会的等级制度中地位卑微。他比卡林福德的任何其他牧师讲道都更好,看起来也更好,在当地也更有声誉。出身非常好,人脉也还算不错。然而他从未取得进步,从未在生活中取得任何真正的进步。没有人知道这是什么原因,因为他的观点是温和的,并不妨碍他——事实上,众所周知,在温和的限度内,他会改变自己的原则,根据说法,现在倾向于高,然后又倾向于低。根据情况需要,但永远不会朝任何一个方向走得太远。按照所有规则,这样的人应该是成功的,但他没有。他通常负债累累,而且总是很需要帮助。他的长子詹姆斯在印度,过得很好,经常为家庭的舒适而捐款,特别是帮助雷金纳德上大学。但詹姆斯一年前就结婚了,因此在提供帮助方面处于不利地位。事实上,这些意外之财从未对这个家庭产生太大影响,他们隐约听说过詹姆斯的礼物,但并没有从中受益。所有这些 唐娜·彭瑟 给年龄较大的孩子。由于母亲的眼睛没有柔和的媒介来看待他们的父亲,他们在评判他时可能比他们应该做的更加大胆。他并没有煞费苦心地去吸引他的孩子们,或者让他们眼中充满爱的魅力。坦率地说,他理所当然地认为自己是所有事情中第一个被考虑的人,这也是自然的一部分。当然,他是这样的——父亲、养家糊口的人、一家之主就应该这样;当他有一个妻子让他保持在这个地位上并确保他的崇拜受到尊重时,这就变得很自然,并且成为家庭信条的第一条;但不知何故,当一个人必须自己提出并坚持这一原则时,它就不那么成功了。而就梅先生而言,它根本不成功。他并不严厉或残暴,以免他们反叛。他只是非常诚实和巧妙地坚信,他的事情是第一位的,并且总是要受到关注。没有什么可以反对这个原则——但它在家庭管理中表现得很糟糕,除非,确实,正如我们所说,它是通过母亲的媒介来管理的,母亲通过给予可怕的重视和尊重来消除所有对自私的指责。对“爸爸”所渴望或必需的一切都抱有温柔的神圣感。

梅先生没有妻子来监督他的学习进程,并以崇敬的态度向她的孩子们谈论他。这不是他的错,而是他的不幸。他痛苦地哀悼和怨恨她离开他的打击,并深深地感受到她对他的损失。他总是这样谈论这件事,这是他的损失;也许可怜的梅夫人,她一直崇拜和钦佩她的丈夫直到生命的最后一天,她可能会比任何其他方式更满意她的哀悼方式。但乌苏拉自然地想到了自己和其他孩子的损失,对这种不幸的局限性提出了批评。一个必须为自己而战的人在他的家人看来并不友善,对于他们来说,就像所有的年轻人一样,这似乎是很自然的事情 他们 应该是第一个对象;由于他们对他来说是一个巨大的麻烦和负担,也许孩子们并不总是对他们的父亲表现出最和蔼可亲的样子。两人在对方看来都很自私,毫无疑问,梅先生本可以像孩子们一样提出很好的理由。他认为所有的年轻人都是自私的,他们竭尽所能,试图从长辈的空钱包和紧张的耐心中获取甚至不可能的东西;他们认为他对他们漠不关心,只考虑自己,作为父母,这是大罪。两者都是对的,又都是错的,事实上,在任何有两方的情况下都可以这样说。

“乌苏拉来了!”两个小家伙哭了。艾米和罗宾比读那些被称为印刷书籍的刑具更能读懂父亲的脸,他们看到他心情很好,他们可以安全地冒险一个接一个地抓住他。他身材高大,被这些小鬼得意洋洋地拖了进来,其中最小的小鬼也快到膝盖了,这一幕很漂亮,任何一个观众都会心疼不已。他自己也不是没有意识到这一点,当他心情好的时候,孩子们又干净又衣着得体的时候,他并不反对路人看到他被那两个小家伙拖着自己的台阶走上台阶。然而,这次唯一的路人是一位退休的店主和他的妻子,他们最近买了格兰奇巷最古老的房子之一,并在天气晴朗时出来散步。 “记住我的话,托泽尔,”那位女士说,“尽管他是一名教堂牧师,但他是个好人。他们小时候就这样坚持下去,不会受到任何伤害。”

“他是个朗姆酒,他是,”托泽先生回答道。遗憾的是,牧师带着他的小男孩和小女孩的美丽景象就这样被扔给了几个持不同政见者,但它并非没有效果。艾米拉一只手臂,罗宾拉另一只手臂。他们和所有梅家的孩子一样,都是黑头发的孩子,这种特点在孩子们中很少见,所以给这两个人带来了某种刺激。

“好吧,好吧,”他说,“带我去乌苏拉吧。”吻完刚出生的女儿后,他非常和蔼地在褪色的客厅里坐下,每只膝盖上抱了一个孩子。

“我希望你玩得很开心,乌苏拉,”他说。 “当然,我们想念你。珍妮已经尽力了,但她不太擅长持家,也不明白人们需要的很多事情,就像你已经学会的那样。”

“哦,我很高兴你想念我!”乌苏拉说:“我的意思是抱歉;我非常非常享受自己。多塞特人非常友善,比以前任何人都友善。”

“还有,爸爸,他们给我送了一件新衣服。”

“我也是,爸爸,”小艾米在他的膝盖上叽叽喳喳地说。

“你也是,老鼠!他们非常友善;你去了塔楼并做了所有的狮子,乌苏拉?这就是乡下表兄弟的命运,我想,多塞特郡不会放过你的。”

“我们做了更好的事情,”乌苏拉说,她像以前一样制作她的剧院和舞会。 “哦,爸爸,我非常喜欢它们。我希望我们住得近一点。那些可怜的印第安小孩子,我担心他们对安妮表姐来说是难以忍受的。他们看起来那么苍白、那么暴躁,不像我们这里的孩子。”

“嗯,无论如何,它们的脸色都不苍白。”梅先生一边说,一边把它们放下。 “像好孩子一样奔跑玩耍。你会听说我们在你不在的时候发生了一些事情,即使是在这个安静的地方。”

“哦,我太惊讶了,”乌苏拉说,“但雷金纳德似乎不喜欢这样。这太奇怪了;我本以为他会因为得到一些东西而欣喜若狂。他过去常说没有兴趣。”

“雷金纳德和许多其他人一样。 “他不知道自己的想法。”梅先生脸色阴沉地说。乌苏拉很清楚暴风雨即将来临的征兆,但她太感兴趣了,无法克制。

“什么是闲职,爸爸?”她问道,她哥哥的最后一句话仍然萦绕在她的脑海里。

“这是令人发指的愚蠢行为,”他站起来,在房间里大步走来,喊道,“这一切都源于男孩们现在读的愚蠢书籍,以及他们头脑中的胡言乱语。意思是!这意味着你的兄弟是个驴子,就是这个意思。在他身上花了那么多钱之后——”

“但是,爸爸,我们并没有花太多钱,不是吗?我以为这是他的奖学金?”乌苏拉带着不明智的诚实说道。她的父亲愤怒地转向她。

“我不知道我说过我们。 We 据我所知,没有什么可以花在任何人身上的。我说我——如果雷金纳德继续这样白痴的话,我是家里唯一能挣钱或可能挣钱的人。”

乌苏拉脸红了。她是梅先生的亲生女儿,也有脾气。 “如果我能赚到钱,我相信我会的,”她喊道,“而且非常高兴。我确信人们非常想要它。但女孩子怎样才能挣到钱呢?我希望我知道怎么做。”

“你这个小傻瓜,没人在想你。在家多干一点,就没人找你挣钱了。是的,现在的情况就是这样,”梅先生说,“女孩们无论如何都想赚钱,而男孩们确实有一百个顾虑。如果女性能够保持沉默并专注于自己的事情,我毫不怀疑我们应该少一些其他的废话。事实是一切都进入了不自然的状态。但如果雷金纳德认为我会让他在他这个年纪一直无所事事——”

“爸爸,看在上帝的份上,别说话那么大声,他会听到的!”乌苏拉说道,她对家庭骚乱的恐惧压倒了她的谨慎。

“他会听到我的声音吗?我希望他能听到我的声音,”梅先生提高了声音说道。 “难道我不能在自己家里说我喜欢说的话、怎么说我的话吗,因为担心雷金纳德会听到我的声音!乌苏拉,我很高兴你在家;但如果你支持雷金纳德的愚蠢行为,并与一家之主作对,你最好立即回去。 He 也许你会反抗我,但我不会被一个女孩的一句废话所反驳,我向你保证。”

乌苏拉沉默了。由于匆忙和不经考虑的自卫,她的脸色变得苍白。哦,希望安妮表姐能够保护她,让她平静下来;如果再次陷入麻烦和冲突,情况会变得多么不同啊!

梅先生说:“他认为,以父亲为代价无所事事,比为一份可观的薪水做点小工作要好。” “从他父亲的口袋里掏出来的一切都是对的,尽管接受闲职有违崇高的荣誉准则。很好的推理,不是吗?一个没有冤枉任何人,而另一个则冤枉了你、我和所有的孩子,他们想要我花的每一分钱;但雷金纳德精神很好,不会想到这一点。他认为我应该继续努力并节俭自己,这是很自然的。”

“爸爸,他所做的事情可能是非常错误的;但如果你认为他想从你这里拿走任何东西——”

“闭嘴,”她父亲说。 “我相信行动,而不是言语。他有能力帮助我,但他却出于自己悲惨的幻想而选择拒绝我对他的所有关心。当然,出于对我的尊重,医院给了他。无人关心 。他在卡林福德的知名度和小艾米一样高。当然是为了表达他们对我的尊重。他带着他关于闲职的荒唐废话来了!他是什么人,竟然能如此大惊小怪?比他更好的人已经抓住了它们,并将坚持到这一章的结尾。一个闲职!他管什么叫闲事?

“这正是我想知道的,”乌苏拉低声说道,但幸运的是,她的父亲没有听到这句话。雷金纳德出去了,幸好不在听得见的范围内,梅先生逐渐平静下来,向乌苏拉讲述了教区和人民的各种情况,这些情况使他不再愤怒,并在武器通过后安慰了她。但骚乱使他处于一种易激动的状态,在这种状态下,他很容易说出令人不快的话,并以乌苏拉认为非常违反圣经规则的方式激怒他的孩子们。

“教区里的事情和往常一样,”他说,“夫人。萨姆·赫斯特一如既往地友善。”

“的确!”乌苏拉压着怒气说道。梅先生发出一种令人反感的笑声,这种笑声对每个女人来说都是双重的,当男人的虚荣心被激发时,而且按照通常的说法,案子里有一位女士时,男人就会发出这样的笑声。

“是的,她很善良。”他眼睛里闪烁着光芒说道。 “自从你离开后,她已经好多次请孩子们喝茶了。为了表达我对她的好意的感觉,你必须找个日子去问问她。对于像我这样的男人来说,理解孩子的女人永远是一个有价值的朋友——乌苏拉,对于像你这样的女孩来说也是如此。”

“她可能理解孩子们,但孩子们不喜欢她。”乌苏拉说道,脸上带着一丝恶意,这让她父亲恢复了好心情。他没有再婚的念头,就像没有坐飞机的念头一样。他以自己的方式温柔地怀念他的妻子,并且对他家里已经有这么多居民感到非常不安。但他更喜欢,就像一个英俊的衰弱男人通常会做的那样,认为如果他愿意的话,他可以结婚,并为他的家人保留这种可能性,作为对他们对他犯下的所有罪行的惩罚。可以随时使用。梅一家人一听到萨姆·赫斯特夫人的名字就变得又热又愤怒,他们的恐惧和愤怒让他们的父亲很高兴。他喜欢说起她来激怒她们,一半是为了这个,一半是他自己的原因,他和隔壁邻居保持着半有礼貌的半调情,每天都激起女孩们的忌惮和怨恨。他们的生活。当乌苏拉想起萨姆·赫斯特夫人时,她不再希望多塞特郡了。她觉得,最重要的是,她有责任来到现场,保护家人免受那个女人的阴谋侵害。这个想法给她注入了能量。她不再感到疲倦,不再感到自己“在旅途之后”,只能静静地坐着,听着自从她离开以来所做的一切。

然而,到了晚上,乌苏拉利用一个安静的时间查了一下字典,让自己对“闲职”这个词的含义非常了解。可以想象,这不是她第一次听到这个消息。她听说过有闲职的幸运者,也听过他们被斥为邪恶之物,但她没有深入了解其含义。现在她对此有了更直接的兴趣,必须承认,她根本没有被这个想法吓到,也没有像雷金纳德那样打算拒绝它。乌苏拉对公共道德了解不多,无所事事或几乎无所事事就能获得丰厚的收入,对她来说似乎是一种理想的谋生方式。她叹了口气,希望有一些闲事可以由女孩来做。但事实并非如此,正如在其他事情上一样,“绅士”保留了一切对自己有利的东西。乌苏拉准备用非常高的手段来对待雷金纳德的顾虑。但她并没有选择让她的父亲用所有这些令人不快的言论来攻击他,这些言论让他无所事事,并嘲笑他的教育所花的钱。女孩觉得这不是对付他的方法。但乌苏拉决定亲自牵制她的兄弟,与他争论这是多么愚蠢,并向他指出,如果他不接受,其他人会接受,而国家不会得到任何东西,而他会失去,嘲笑他过于柔弱,向他展示如果他独立该是多么令人高兴,以及对他所有的兄弟姐妹有多么大的帮助。简而言之,对乌苏拉来说,这似乎很简单,她感觉自己的道路已经在她面前规划好了,并在论证的每个阶段都取得了胜利,为雷金纳德发明了最无力的答复。满怀这个目的的灵感,她觉得自己回家从各方面来说都很好。雷金纳德就在她身边安顿下来,不再离开,在她遇到困难时站在她身边,甚至也许,谁能知道呢?带她参加聚会,并时不时地请两三个人喝茶,乌苏拉的整个生活前景都变得光明起来。她与卡林福德和解了。所要做的就是向雷金纳德表明他的职责是什么,以及他的犹豫是多么愚蠢,而她不能让自己认为 当它正确地摆在他面前时 在这一点上可能长期存在许多困难。

第十一章 菲比的准备 •3,200字

乌苏拉回国几天后,另一次抵达卡林福德。菲比·比彻姆(Phoebe Beecham)在充分考虑了这个案子,并饶有兴趣地听取了她能听到的所有关于她祖父房子的特殊性的迹象,以及卡林福德生活中的许多事情“与她过去习惯的不同,她已经下定决心,要敢于面对那个未知存在的困难,并要代替母亲,全身心地照顾祖母,解决汤姆太太的困惑。这样做部分是出于责任感,部分是出于对改变和未知的渴望,在许多情况下,这种渴望必须满足于最温和的规定,部分是因为菲比的良好判断力意识到了此事的必要性。她完全不确定是什么特殊情况造就了“夫人”。 “汤姆”对她母亲来说很不愉快,但她深深地​​意识到,阻止汤姆夫人将托泽先生和托泽夫人必须留下的一切留给自己和她的家人是很重要的。菲比本人并不是唯利是图的人,但她不打算放弃任何“权利”,而且她认为最重要的是,她的哥哥(不幸的是,她的弟弟绝不像她那么聪明)应该得到充分的保护生活中所有的偶然事件。她并不关心自己这一点。菲比觉得她理所当然地应该结婚,而且要嫁得好。这种自信和平静的自信有很多极好的目的——它使她的行为更加慷慨。她相信自己的星辰,相信自己的好运,相信自己。因此,她的思想可以自由地思考并为他人工作。她很清楚,从她母亲所说的一切,以及她父母双方的犹豫,她在卡林福德会遇到很多不愉快的事情,但她确信没有什么可以真正羞辱她。 这里,或者将她从真正的显赫地位中拉下来,因为这些知识并没有向她的心灵传达任何恐惧。当诗中的一尘不染的公主对自己超越一切卑鄙影响的这种自信充满信心时,这是人类最美丽的情感,并且为什么当一个粉红色和丰满的现代年轻女子招待它时,它不应该得到同样的提升,好吧在所有十九世纪的精致中,以及新月教堂牧师的女儿,这很难说。菲比以最坚定的信念坚信这一点。

“也许他们的思维方式和生活方式都不是我所习惯的,”她说。 “但这对我有什么影响呢?无论发生什么,我就是我自己;即使可怜的亲爱的奶奶的习惯不文明,我想这就是您的意思,妈妈,但这并不意味着我不文明。一位女士无论身在何处,都必须永远是一位女士——乌娜,”她继续说道,奇怪的是,她使用了她的历史学家所想到的同样的论点,“当她生活在森林之神中间时,她也同样是一位公主。当然,我不像乌娜——他们也不像树林里的野人。”

比查姆太太对乌娜了解不多,只知道她是书里的人物。但她亲吻了女儿,并向她保证,她是“真正的安慰”,并在剩下的几天里致力于安慰她,尽一切努力来表达她的爱,可以这么说,感谢这个好孩子,她因此而投身于这个缺口。比彻姆一家并不缺钱去买他们喜欢的东西,母亲给菲比的衣橱添置了许多东西,这位年轻女士自己认为这些是完全没有必要的,这并没有反映出除了对自己的简单爱之外还有其他情感。

“他们会发现我的女儿并不像他们那些长相普通的女孩,”比彻姆夫人对她的丈夫说;他也有同样的感觉,尽管他心里忍不住想,她的外表比菲比·托泽尔孩子的外表重要得多。 他的 女儿。

“你说得对,亲爱的,”他回答道,“这种粗俗的人太容易瞧不起牧师的家庭了。应该让他们看到其中的差异。”

结果是菲比打扮得像一位正在旅行的年轻公主。乌苏拉·梅如果有一半这些美好的事物来到她身边,她一定会高兴得发疯。但菲比却非常平静地对待他们。

“我从来没有像有些女孩那样低估衣着,”她说。我认为这是一个非常重要的社会影响。即使没有这些,妈妈,只要你高兴就可以——”所以,有了这种哲学和感情的结合,一切都很顺利。

“你走之前我们必须去拜访一下铜斑蛇夫人;毕竟他们对我们表现出了如此大的兴趣,他们会觉得这很奇怪。”

“他们对我们表现出兴趣吗?”菲比说。 “当然我们必须打电话——铜头蛇夫人是一位女士,但是至于铜头蛇先生,妈妈——”

“嘘!嘘!”他是领导成员,在这方面很有影响力。菲比,牧师的家人一定不能太敏感。我们必须忍受很多事情。你知道,弟兄之间应该和睦,而和谐是教会中首要的事情——”

“我想知道,如果铜斑蛇先生不幸遭遇不幸,妈妈,和谐是否也同样重要。”

“菲比!来自你的俚语——你总是坚决反对它。”

“一想到这样的人,除了俚语还能说什么?”菲比严肃地说;说着,她给母亲开了门,她们穿着最好的礼服出去探望。科珀黑德夫人对牧师一家非常有礼貌。她不会对任何人不礼貌;她不会对任何人不礼貌。但在她内心柔软的地方,她有点鄙视他们,并以善良的人为下等人保留的特殊良好行为和庄严克制来对待他们。因为虽然她去了教堂,是由铜头蛇先生带去的,但她本质上是个“教堂”。比彻姆夫人对一切的兴趣以及她对舞会的赞扬,并没有减轻她的冷漠。他们太富裕、太温暖、太温柔,无法引起她的同情,而且他们之间没有什么共同点,无法提供任何见面的理由。

是的,铜头蛇先生很好——她很好——她的儿子也很好。她希望比彻姆先生一切都好。她听说大多数人都对这个舞会感到满意,谢谢。哦,比彻姆小姐要走了——确实如此!她希望天气好;然后,铜头夫人坐在沙发上,没有再说话。虽然她没有鼠心肠,但一有机会,她也能扮演大小姐。然而,克拉伦斯比他的母亲好客得多。他喜欢菲比,她说话几乎就像在社会上一样,就像小说里女孩子说话一样。他当然知道她不在社交圈子里,但她是一个可以与人相处的女孩,她有很多话要说,她不像许多年轻女士那样是个外行人;然后她很漂亮,粉色的,金色的,“一片色彩”,很吸引人的眼睛。他很快就知道了她要去哪里,并让她知道他本人也打算去附近看看。

“多塞特人就住在附近,”他说。 “我母亲的关系。你在舞会上看到了他们。我敢说你会在某个地方遇见他们。”克拉伦斯带着一种温暖的优越感,带着他母亲的精神说道,这是令人害怕的,因为他知道牧师的女儿不太可能与多塞特一家见面。然而,菲比却能应付自如。

“我根本不可能见到他们,”她带着亲切的微笑说道。 “一方面,我不是要享受自己,而是要照顾病人。病人不会参加聚会。此外,你知道社会上存在愚蠢的偏见,也就是所谓的偏见。我认为他们很愚蠢,因为他们影响了我。”菲比坦率地说。 “如果它们没有影响到我,也许我应该认为它们没什么问题。”

“什么愚蠢的偏见?”克拉伦斯以为她是要说出自己的劣势,还没开口就已经感到受宠若惊了。

“关于持不同政见者,你知道,”她说。 “当然,你必须知道我们在社会上是被瞧不起的。这并不重要,因为当人们有理智时,一旦他们了解我们,他们就会公正地对待我们;但当然你必须意识到偏见的存在。”

克拉伦斯确实知道,但心里有些苦涩。对于铜头蛇先生来说,尽管他也许不太关心宗教,但他关心他的教堂,并以坚定不移的严格态度维护它。他的儿子是牛津人,尊重社会上的所有偏见,但他不喜欢这样。但面对父亲的顽固反对,他能做什么呢?这一点和其他事情一样,在舞会当晚对人群产生了影响,使他们变得无名。他犹豫着要不要回答,他的脸因羞愧和不满而涨得通红。菲比觉得她报复了克拉伦斯他母亲傲慢的礼貌。她让他体会到了他们两人都共有的社会自卑感。做完这件事,她心满意足,开始减轻打击。

“它不会落在你们身上,因为你们的处境比落在我们身上要好得多,”菲比说。 “我们是冒犯者的头目和前线,一个异议部长的家庭!——社会及其魅力不适合我们。我希望我们知道自己的位置,”她假装谦虚地说。 “当人们有了理智并开始了解我们时,情况就不同了;对于那些愚蠢的人我不在乎。但你看,我不太可能见到你的表兄弟,不是吗?”她笑着补充道。

“如果你的意思是他们是愚蠢的人——”

“不好了;我不。但你不能认为他们会不厌其烦地寻找 me 出去。他们为什么要这么做?人完全不在我的范围之内,那与我无关。所以当我说我们不会见面时,你可能会很确定我是对的。”

“好吧,”克拉伦斯生气地说,“我要去伊斯顿,如果比彻姆夫人允许我打电话的话,我会见到你。”

“她会给你地址;但在那之前,再见。”菲比说。说实话,她并不想在卡灵福德见到克拉伦斯·科波黑德。也许他是有意为之,也许他没有——在诉讼的这个阶段,这对菲比来说是一个漠不关心的问题,她当然不允许“她的感情”投入。如果他真的有什么意思的话,他是否可以无动于衷地支持那些曾经或曾经“从事贸易”的祖父和祖母?另一方面,他知道最坏的情况不是更好吗?菲比不是一个寻找丈夫的人。无论结果如何,她都冷静地思考这个问题。

“他问我是否可以打电话,”比彻姆夫人有些兴奋地说。 “亲爱的,我并不太愿意看到你走出你父亲的房子。”

“随你的便,妈妈——只要最合适就行。”菲比说,不再讨论这个话题。她并不着急。很大程度上取决于他是有意还是无意,但即使这样也不能结束这个话题,因为她自己还没有下定决心。

“你为什么不告诉他们梅一家的事?”当两位女士出去时,克拉伦斯说道。 “他们住在卡林福德,我想双方都会感到愉快。”

“我亲爱的孩子,你忘记了位置的差异,”科珀黑德太太说。 “他们是持不同政见者。”

“哦,我喜欢这样,”克拉伦斯半生气地喊道,同时也分享了这种联系的缺点。 “像梅这样贫困的乞丐有很多事情要做。我喜欢。”

“但无论如何,这都是事实。”铜斑蛇夫人摇着头说道。 “你立刻就能看出差异。我敢说比彻姆小姐是一位非常聪明的年轻女子,但是她和梅小姐之间有多么大的区别啊!任何人都可以看到——”

“恐怕我很蠢,因为我看不到它,妈妈。她们都是漂亮女孩,但为了逗你开心之类的事情,给我菲比。她的价值相当于另一个人的二十。像针一样锋利,她自己有很多话要说。这就是我喜欢的女孩。”

“我对此感到非常抱歉。我希望你不会喜欢这样的妻子。”铜斑蛇夫人叹了口气说道。

“哦,老婆! “他们一分钱都没有,无论是那个还是那个,”克拉伦斯带着愉快的坦率说道,“我们可以肯定,即使这适合我,也不适合州长。”

与此同时,比彻姆夫人和菲比正沿着波特兰广场宽阔的人行道朝他们的家走去。

“很高兴看到母子俩在一起,”比查姆夫人说,她决心以最好的眼光看待与铜头蛇有关的一切。 “他们是如此忠诚于彼此,而且,菲比,亲爱的——我不喜欢用这种方式和你这样一个懂事的女孩说话,但你必须亲眼所见。你确实给克拉伦斯·科波黑德留下了深刻的印象。当他说他希望在卡林福德见到你并问他可以打电话吗?这就像请求我允许他向你支付他的地址一样;这很让人受宠若惊,但也很尴尬。”

“妈妈,我并没有感到特别受宠若惊。我想如果我是你,我不会给他地址。”

比彻姆太太焦急地看着女儿的脸。

“是出于谨慎,菲比,还是因为你不喜欢他,所以即使他向你求婚,你也不会接受他?”

“我们必须等到他真的问我为止,”菲比果断地说。 “到那时我还无法判断。但我不想让他留在卡林福德。我知道爷爷和奶奶正在做生意。”

“是的,亲爱的,”比彻姆太太用低沉的声音说道。

“持不同政见者和贸易界;他要和多塞特郡的优秀人民在一起。不要给他地址;如果我们偶然相遇,也没有什么坏处。我不为任何属于我的人感到羞耻。但你可以说你认为他的父亲不希望他去卡林福德看我——我相信这是真的。”

“事实上,他可能会走得更远,找不到任何值得拜访的人,”母亲愤怒地说,菲比平静地点点头表示同意。

“那既不在这里也不在那里,”她说。 “你可以随时告诉他,如果铜头蛇先生来听的话,他会很高兴的。他有一次觉得我太有趣了。人们知道这意味着什么。我希望他能看到我是多么不在乎。”

“但是,亲爱的,克拉伦斯·科波黑德值得——一点关注。 “他可以给一个女孩——一个非常好的位置。”比彻姆夫人结结巴巴地说,每句话之间都看着她的女儿。

“我并不是说克拉伦斯·科波黑德有什么坏话,”菲比镇静地说,“但我希望他亲爱的爸爸知道我是多么不在乎,而且你拒绝给他我的地址。”

这就是她就这个话题所说的全部内容。菲比已经准备好承认克拉伦斯就是她母亲所说的一切,而且她已经完全制定了自己的婚姻理论,这些理论可能会在下文中详细阐述,因此她对拥有他的优点一点也不感到震惊如此向她指出。但不着急,她对自己说。如果不是克拉伦斯·科波黑德,也可能是其他人,为什么她要在职业生涯的早期阶段试图促成普罗维登斯的设计呢?她还有很多时间,并不急于做出任何改变。她内心真诚的自然气息使她渴望有机会向那个傲慢无礼、冒犯性的“领导成员”表明自己的独立性,这些“领导成员”使新月区公职人员的生活成为他们的负担。如果她能把他逼到墙角,让他在绝望中不得不来找她,求她握住他儿子的手,让他免于陷入肺病,那就是一场胜利了。菲比的心。可以肯定的是,这是一个完全虚荣和疯狂浪漫的希望——这是一个受过良好教育、善意且明智的年轻女子心中唯一的一点疯狂和少女般的浪漫。她见过她的父母长期忍受百万富翁的傲慢,却没有像他们一样反抗。但铜斑蛇先生的行为超出了菲比的承受能力。当她彻底了解自己的处境及其所有利益后,这一徒劳的幻想在她的脑海中找到了立足点。如果她能让他谦卑并让他向她起诉就好了。这不太可能,但为了取得这样的胜利,明智的菲比会做很多事情。这是她愚蠢的一点,但在这一点上,她的愚蠢程度正如任何愤世嫉俗者所希望的那样。

因此,带着装满迷人礼服的大行李箱、适合任何新娘的化妆箱、可以想象到的最漂亮的旅行服装,以及所有关于她合身的东西,比彻姆夫人深情地想,对于一个公爵的女儿来说,小菲比离开了,成为她祖母的安慰,并让卡林福德眼花缭乱。慈爱的父母送她到车站,将她安置在马车上,并派了重金看守她。 “不是,而是可以放心地相信菲比在任何地方都能照顾好自己,”他们说。在他们表达对女儿的自豪感时,细心的读者可能会看到他们出身于下层阶级的证据。如果他们出身好一点的话,他们可能会为她的胆怯和无助而感到自豪。

第十二章 田庄巷 •3,400字

托泽先生和夫人几年前就从商界退休了。他们把这家有着悠久联系的商店及其所有的优势都让给了他们的儿子汤姆,因为他们发现自己已经拥有足够的生活条件,过着安逸的生活,甚至是奢侈的生活。虽然托泽太太发现农庄巷的房子被花园围墙封闭,比她在高街商店楼上的房间要沉闷得多,在那里她看到了发生的一切,但毫无疑问,她的文雅增加了。他们有幸在这个理想的地方找到的房子曾经是韦斯顿夫人的住所,因此它周围有一种上流生活的气息,尽管同时有一个不那么重要的人住在里面,而且它已经陷入相当破旧的状态,自然就便宜了。托泽先生已经彻底修复了舒适所需的一切,但他在油漆和装饰的外部点上没有做任何事情,而这些在房子的方面说明了很多。韦斯顿夫人的品味很华丽,墙壁还保留着她离开时的样子,画着褪色的花环,贴着纸,这些花环很容易看起来已经消散了,因为它们早在几年前就应该焕然一新。但在花环不褪色的外面,有一个令人愉悦的花园,布置得迷人,韦斯顿夫人曾在花园里举办过花园聚会,在花园里,番红花和其他春天的球茎植物都是精心种植的,在花园里。韦斯顿夫人的奢侈统治,已经开始了。避风的河岸上,紫罗兰从叶子中探出头来,而角落里的圣诞玫瑰则盛开,带着白色的大星星,进行了一场精彩的表演。托泽尔本人很快就对这片户外的小领域产生了极大的兴趣,并且永远在这些花上摆弄,以无知的奴性遵守园丁的禁令。然而,托泽夫人身体不好,因此允许她有些生气和矛盾,她对商业街感到遗憾。

“说到花园,”她说,“除了季节的变化之外,它永远不会改变!在镇上,从来没有一天是一样的,总有一些事情发生——士兵们行进,或者潘奇和朱迪,或者至少是一场争吵。我确实相信,这是全世界最令人愉快的地方;对于绅士来说,关在这里可能会好一些,但我喜欢街道和正在发生的事情。如果你愿意的话,你可以说我粗俗,但我就是这么做的。”

托泽尔谨慎地对这种爆发没有说什么,只是安慰性地劝告她要等到夏天,那时她会发现新鲜空气的好处,更不用说早期的蔬菜了。他自己也发现这个花园是一种难以形容的资源。事实上,一开始他会在早上漫步到商店,尤其是当有新一批一流的约克火腿或奶酪进来时,他喜欢把它们翻过来,通过嗅觉和触觉进行测试;然后,他就会把它们放在一边。但渐渐地,古代巴特曼有了一个发现,当我们变老并走出人生的大道时,我们都容易做出这样的发现。他发现儿子并不欣赏他的建议,而汤姆夫人更不关心他的频繁露面。确实,他自己也曾在进店的时候看到她从店里跳出来,大声喊道:“那个挑剔的老头又来了。”托泽尔确实是个老人,但没有人(八十岁以下)愿意把这个绰号挂在嘴边。挡路总是令人不愉快的。他有足够的自制力,没有对此说什么,只是对他的妻子做了一个非常修改的态度,她已经准备好相信汤姆太太的任何不愉快的事情;但是他的妻子已经准备好相信汤姆太太的任何不愉快的事情了。但从那天起,他就对园艺充满了热情。并了解了有关花朵的连续性的所有信息,以及一组花能持续多长时间,以及接下来应该将哪种花种到地里。他甚至会脱掉外套,在园丁的指导下干一天的活,这对他的健康和脾气都大有好处,而托泽太太却在楼上抱怨。她对这座房子越来越无助,无法照顾那个粗壮的女仆,而她又对这座大房子抱怨很多,一个女仆是不够的。女主人和仆人之间因此发生了许多争吵。

“这个忘恩负义的女人甚至没有那么多房间可做,就像她在大街上那样,那里有‘学徒’床铺要整理,”托泽夫人愤慨地对她的丈夫说;但简在她这边指着走廊的长度、楼梯、餐厅和客厅,那里曾经只是一个客厅。

“厨师和女仆就够了。”简说。 “这种房子里确实应该有一个人;但家里只有两个人,如果我手下有一个女孩,就不该说什么。”

菲比到来时,一切都朝着这个女孩的方向发展。但尚未最终做出任何决定。然而,简已经鼓起勇气,迅速地把这位年轻女士的房间准备好了。一个年轻人来到家里,许诺会带来一点动静和改变,这总是很重要的,简毫不怀疑菲比会站在她这一边,尊重这个“女孩”。 “她会需要等待,而且总会有人派出差事,”简自言自语道。她凭经验知道“房子里的年轻人是什么样的”。

也许,在为她离开做的所有准备工作中,菲比·比彻姆的眼睛里蒙上了一层灰尘。她目光太敏锐,无法看清母亲对她去卡林福德的疑虑和犹豫,以及父母双方对“与她所习惯的不同”的反复警告;她认为她已经为即将遇到的事情做好了充分的准备。但也许她母亲提供的精致服装和对她的旅程的重视在某种程度上消除了这种印象,因为可以肯定的是,当菲比看到一个穿着破旧外套、脖子上缠着一缕白色大领巾的老人时,她就知道了。当火车开过来时,她的喉咙焦急地等待着火车的到来,她感到一阵震惊,这是她没有预料到的。自从她见到祖父以来,已经有五年了,这次间隔是出于危险,而不是出于目的,不过,总的来说,老比彻姆夫妇并没有因为让父母和孩子分开而感到遗憾。然而,菲比一看到她的祖父就认出了他,尽管他并没有认出她,而且正焦急地来回走动寻找她。她暂时躲在角落里,以克服震惊。是的,这是毫无疑问的。他就在那里,她要去拜访他,在他的主持下,她即将出现在卡林福德。他甚至不像一位年老的异议部长,而这只是她对他的幼稚看法。他看起来既不比他本来的样子,一个老店主,非常正派和受人尊敬,但有点破旧和油腻,就像她习惯于为母亲支付每周账单的那些男人一样。她立刻就确信,如果她走到他面前,他会称她为“女士”,并认为她是有品质的人。可怜的菲比!她坐在角落里,惊恐而沮丧地倒吸了一口凉气,但这样做之后,她又恢复了原来的样子。她抖了抖身子,就像一个即将跳水的人,轻轻站起身来,拿起包,下了马车,这时托泽先生第三次焦急地走过。

“爷爷!”她笑着哭了。托泽先生几乎和菲比本人一样被这个幽灵吓了一跳。他知道他的女儿在社会地位上已经取得了长足的进步,当他最后一次见到她的孩子们时,他们已经很像“绅士的孩子”;但当看到这位年轻的公主从头等车厢里优雅地走出来,并称呼他为“爷爷”时,他倒吸了一口气。

“为什么——为什么——为什么,小姐!你不是小菲比吗?正如他事后所说,他哭了,因为他的七种感官都被吓坏了。

“是的,确实,我是小菲比,”她说着,走上前来,尽职尽责地吻了他。她一半是厌恶,他一半是害怕;但这是对的,菲比做到了。 “我只有两个盒子和一个袋子,”她说,“除了我的化妆盒。爷爷,如果你能叫辆出租车的话,我就去照看行李。”

老托泽尔认为他可以自己拎包,于是把箱子留在了后面。但他谦卑地屈服并服从了。

“她看起来一点儿也不骄傲,”他自言自语道。 “但是,上帝啊,她会对我的老太婆说什么?”

他非常清楚地看到了他的妻子和这个出色的孙子之间的对比。就他自己的情况而言,他并没有那么震惊。

“奶奶怎么样了?”菲比温和地说; “我希望更好吗?妈妈很遗憾没有亲自来。但你当然知道,她还有很多事情要做。镇上的人们必须保持一定的仪表。爷爷,你在乡下过得好多了。”

“上帝保佑你,亲爱的,你称卡林福德为乡村吗?”托泽先生说。 “这就是你所知道的一切。你的奶奶和我都是谦虚的人,但塞勒姆的新牧师是一位保持着最好的外表的人。你母亲总是倾向于这样做。我希望她没有把你教养得太过分,对我们这样的人来说。”

“我确实希望不会,”菲比说。 “不用担心我太优秀而无法履行职责,爷爷。你住在这条漂亮的路上吗?多么漂亮呀!这些花园在夏天一定是多么令人愉快。请原谅我称其为国家。这里如此安静、如此美好,对我来说就像是乡村。”

“啊,确实如此; “在伦敦的烟雾中长大的,”托泽先生说。 “我想,现在,你从年末到年末都没有看到一点绿色吗?这对“健康”非常不利;但我不能说你看起来很糟糕。你的颜色很新鲜,你母亲的颜色也是如此。可以肯定的是,她并不像你一样被关起来。”

“哦,我们有时确实能呼吸一点新鲜空气——比如在公园里,”菲比说。她对自己应该生活在伦敦烟雾中的想法感到有点恼火。

“啊,公园总是很有趣; “但我想你需要一天的路程才能到达它们,”托泽先生摇着头说道。 “亲爱的,你一开始就不要介意你祖母的脾气。她年纪大了,可怜的灵魂,身体也不好,有时还会有点生气。但她会为你感到骄傲,她不知道自己是陷入困境还是头脑发热;至于时不时的脏话,我希望你不会介意——”

“爷爷,我什么都不会介意,”菲比甜甜地说,“只要我能派上用场。”

事实上,她正是怀着这种尽责的情感踏上了人生的这段旅程,除了有用之外,什么都不关心。事实上,第一眼看到老托泽尔的时候,菲比就清楚地意识到,除了责任之外,她什么也做不了。快乐、朋友、社交,所有这些快乐的想法都必须被抛弃。至于克拉伦斯·科波黑德和多赛特小姐,见面或接待她们的想法太荒谬了。但责任依然存在,菲比觉得自己有能力做出牺牲。我们已经指出,这种对自己的自信是她性格中的一个显着特征,这使她确信自己不会因为与卑微的亲戚交往而感到痛苦。无论谁看到她,都必须公正地对待她,这种平静的信念使她免受所有令人不安的骄傲的痛苦,这种痛苦在类似的情况下困扰着低等人。她不想让她的祖父和祖母表现出卑微的样子,也不想炫耀自己的出身,就像有些人因自尊心受伤而感到痛苦一样。但如果菲比遇到了危险,让黄油人出现在她最好的熟人中间,菲比仍然会感到非常自在。无论发生什么,她都会做她自己。

然而,与此同时,很明显,她必须关注的是职责。责任,仅此而已。她来到这里,不是为了自娱自乐,不是为了取悦自己,而是为了尽自己的职责;这样,她的目标就达成了,她感到比较幸福和轻松。

托泽夫人戴上了她最好的帽子,这是一顶非常华丽的作品。她把自己打扮得像去参加一个聚会,胸针上别着一卷从她早年孩子们头上剪下来的各种颜色的头发,它把一个大领子系在一件铜色丝绸连衣裙上,她当她下楼进入花园迎接她的孙子时,沙沙作响,摇晃得很厉害,带着一些兴奋和“不同”的感觉,这种感觉在一侧和另一侧都无法不感受到。她也对这位年轻女士的外表感到有些害怕,她是她菲比的孩子,但却与托泽尔族的其他后裔如此不同;并非常愿意向她行屈膝礼并称呼“女士”。

“自从我上次见到你以来,你已经达成了协议,也改变了协议。”她抑制住这种印象,带着欣慰而又敬畏的心情接受菲比的吻。然后她的恭敬警报变得难以承受,她支支吾吾地补充道,“你会发现我们只是卑微的人;也许并不完全是你所习惯的——”

菲比认为对这种突然爆发的谦卑做出任何回应并不合适。

“奶奶,您下楼来迎接我,恐怕有点用力过头了。”她说着,拉起老太太的手,将它挽在怀里。 “是的,我长大了;我的身高足以派上用场;但你不能把我当陌生人一样对待。不,不;别介意我的房间。我不累;旅程没什么。让我带您回到椅子上,让您舒服一些。我已经感觉很自在了。唯一奇怪的是我以前从未来过这里。”

“啊,亲爱的,你妈妈太看重你了,才把你送到我们这样的地方;这就是它的秘密。她总是喜欢优秀的人,是我的菲比;我不会责怪她,因为她把你抚养成人,就像她所做的那样。”

“你不能对妈妈挑剔,”菲比微笑着说。 “多么温馨舒适的房间啊!我想这是餐厅。这是你的坐垫,还有你的脚凳,就在这个漂亮的窗户旁。番红花已经开满了所有的边界,这是多么令人愉快啊!我一点也不累;但我确信现在一定是下午茶时间了,我很想喝杯茶。”

“我们想,”托泽夫人说,“也许你不习惯在一天中的这个时候喝茶。”

“噢,正是时候;这是时尚时刻,”菲比说。 “五点钟大家都喝茶。我先跑上楼,脱下帽子,把自己收拾干净。简——这是她的名字吗?——别麻烦了,奶奶;简会给我指路的。”

“出色地?”菲比消失后,托泽先生对托泽夫人说道。两位老人对视一眼,都有些敬畏。但她,正如她的本性一样,采取了最令人沮丧的观点。她摇摇头。

“托泽尔,她对我们来说太划算了,”她说。 “她永远不会以我们安静的方式让自己‘高兴’。菲比一直把她养大成一个淑女。这并不是因为她的衣服很重要。我本来想亲自送她一条丝绸,但从来没有想过第二次;和年轻人一样活泼的东西,“而不是像她母亲可能穿的那种灰色的东西。”但尽管如此,她不是我们中的一员。她永远不会让自己“对你和我感到满意”。

“嗯,”托泽尔说,他的心情更加高兴了,“她并不骄傲,一点也不;她一点也不骄傲。”至于礼仪,你不再需要为礼仪付出代价。她在车站走过来,尽可能深情地吻了我。我只能为她说,她并不骄傲。”

托泽夫人摇摇头。但即便如此,更愉快的梦还是偷进了她的灵魂。

“我希望我能康复,周日能去教堂,”她说,“只是为了看看人们的样子。牧师不必指望他的布道会受到太多关注。 “这是菲比·托泽尔的女儿!”他们都会说话,凝视,窃窃私语。像她这样的人在教堂里并不常见,这是事实。”老太太说道,脸上洋溢着自然而然的自豪感。

必须承认的是,当菲比走进自己的房间时,她大哭了一场,这间屋子是按照她祖母的标准为她精心准备的,配备了舒适所需的一切;但是,她的房间里的一切都是按照她祖母的标准精心准备的。但“帐篷”床上挂着老式的红色和棕色印花布,垂在窗户上的莫林窗帘,地毯上的巨大花朵,让菲比的灵魂在她内心感到恶心。尽管她鼓足了勇气,她的心却沉了下去。她期待着“有所不同”,但她并没有寻找她祖父的油腻外套和一缕领巾,或者她祖母那顶令人惊叹的帽子,或者两者都沉迷的语法特点。她哭得很厉害,一时感到灰心丧气,心里唯一的冲动就是逃跑。但她的性情不喜欢惊慌,也不屈服。如果有人必须这样做,为什么她不应该这样做呢?她对自己说。她有多少次在布道或其他场合听到过,任何人都不应该只求甜而不苦,而且永远不应该因为责任令人不快而逃避或拒绝责任?现在是检验她的原则的时候了。眼泪让她松了口气,给了她一种烈士的感觉,这种感觉总是令人安慰和甜蜜的。于是她擦干眼睛,洗了把脸,高兴地微笑着下楼,决心不惜一切代价,完成她的职责,无论这有多令人不快。五点茶的新风尚,对于那些以茶为餐,不吃饭,或者中午吃饭的下贱人脉的人来说,是多么好的一件事啊!当菲比走进餐厅,发现桌子被盖住了,更不用说在好东西下面呻吟时,她的脑海里闪过了这个念头。她在场,为老人倒茶,用最亲切的哲学切面包和黄油。公爵夫人们每天都做同样的事情。即使在时尚生活中,茶几也恢复了它古老的影响力。无法形容这个想法对菲比勇敢的心有多大的帮助和振奋。

第十三章·托泽家族 •4,000字

第二天早上,当菲比在她的“帐篷”床上的老式棉质窗帘的巨大花朵下醒来时,看到微弱的日光从窗户上拉不开的厚重的窗帘中挣扎着,她第一次到达时感到沮丧。突然,她再次被压垮了——而且还有更多的理由——因为她已经更充分地确定了她所在的地方的资源。除了一些旧布道卷和几本《公理会》杂志的旧刊外,没有任何书籍,据她所知,没有访客,除了《卡林福德周刊公报》之外没有任何报纸,除了她祖母关于教堂和夫人的八卦之外,什么也没有。汤姆打发疲倦的时间。甚至昨天晚上,托泽太太还问她是否没有什么工作可以消磨这个漫长的夜晚,从她自己的角度来看,菲比在这个漫长的夜晚中做得更加出色,她努力通过与老人交谈来逗他们开心。虽然现在是早上,晚上的安宁应该让她精神焕发、精神振奋,但菲比在思考自己的前景时,再次流下了几滴热泪。但这只是暂时的弱点。当她下楼去吃早餐时,她又像番红花一样高兴,沿着边界抬起头来,里面充满了夏天的希望。阳光明媚,天空结霜,但很蓝。毕竟,她现在的痛苦不可能永远持续下去。菲比赶紧穿好衣服,让她蓝色的手指受到餐厅火光的警告。不用说,在这个挂着红色和棕色帷幔的寒冷房间里,没有生火,也没有想到生火,托泽太太昨晚希望她能在里面幸福。 “不用担心,奶奶,”她高兴地回答。她觉得这完全是一个谎言,仿佛是带着最邪恶的意图说出来的——这也是错误的吗?天气是多么寒冷,却又是多么令人窒息!她几乎无法将脖子上的丝带系紧,她的手指太冷了。

“是的,爷爷,这里比伦敦还要亮。你知道,我们不住在城里。我们住在一个相当漂亮的街区,俯瞰着摄政公园,但它很少像乡村那样明亮。有时,当风从东边吹来时,雾气就会向我们袭来; “不过我想,天气更暖和了。”菲比弯下腰,站在餐厅的火炉旁,微微颤抖着说道。

“啊!” ”托泽夫人摇着头说道,“我毫不怀疑,是你的母亲用火之类的东西宠坏了你。这削弱了年轻人的毅力。一点寒气有益健康,它能活血。他们习惯了火,总是会感到寒冷。客厅里生一炉好火,这一直是我的原则,如果他们不能走动取暖,那就太冷了,这是最好的,让他们在愿意的时候过来取暖手指——就像你现在可能正在做。”

“也许这是一条非常好的原则,奶奶,”菲比说,“当一个人习惯了它;但乡村比城镇冷。四面都有火的地方一定比像这样的独立屋更温暖。但这毕竟只是我的双手。我去泡茶吧?”

“你应该像我一样戴手套——我在大街上总是这样做,特别是当我去商店、帮忙服务时,当孩子们还小的时候,我有时间这样做。啊!现在我们已经完成了这一切。我们更自在了,但我不能说我们更快乐。商店是一件令人愉快的事情。我敢说你妈妈已经告诉过你了——”

“不,”菲比低声说道。但回复没有被注意到。当她听到“买!”这个词时,她差点把手里的茶壶从手中掉下来。是的,确实,这就是“交易”的意义,但她直到现在才完全意识到这一点。菲比在最初的几天里经历了巨大的精神训练。她暗自翻腾,自言自语——妈妈为什么不告诉我呢?但她一动不动地坐在外面,微笑着,好像这一切都很平常很自然,她从小就听说过这家店。在没有明确警告她将遇到什么情况的情况下就把她送到这里,这似乎是残酷和不仁慈的。但菲比是个好女孩,不会责怪她的父母。毫无疑问,他们的意思是“最好的”。

“汤姆叔叔,”她有些结结巴巴地说,“现在在——商店里吗?”

“如果我能的话,”托泽夫人说,“今天早上我会和你一起走那么远——或者托泽,我是说你的祖父,会去。这是一栋整洁的房子,尽管我不应该这么说,因为这一切都是他和我创造的;不过我不同意汤姆太太关于新窗户的胡言乱语。你的汤姆叔叔很天真,但至于她,我不喜欢她,我毫不掩饰地说,我不介意谁听到。”

“她并不像你想象的那么糟糕,”托泽尔说。 “她以她的方式足够友善。你的祖母要向你炫耀——就是这样,亲爱的。她无法忍受汤姆的妻子,她想让她知道你比她的女儿们优秀得多。我不说不。这是自然的,我并不是一个反对自然的人;但请不要对我那儿的老太婆抱有偏见。她 is 一个有偏见的人。当她把某个想法印在脑子里时,世界上没有什么能让她放弃这个想法。”

“没什么;我最后不是总是对的吗?我想你已经证明了这一点足够多了。”老妇人说道。 “是的,我会接受一点,亲爱的,因为你对我的压力如此之大。人们在受到压力时会拿走很多东西,因为如果没有人说拿走一点,他们就不会碰。托泽尔,他从来没有想到过这一点;他的胃口总是最好的;但对我来说,只要能喝到一杯茶就够了。当她去过大街时,你就会明白,她会同意我的观点。她是她母亲的女儿,菲比不能忍受那个女人,就像我一样。”

“他们有很多孩子吗?”菲比说。 “我知道有两个女孩,但我从未见过她们——她们和我一样大吗?”她问道,心里有些颤抖。如果大街上的店里有女孩,她必须与她们关系融洽,就像她的表兄弟姐妹一样,菲比觉得她无法忍受。

“最大的波莉只有十二岁,”托泽尔说。 “但是没关系,亲爱的,因为你不会没有陪伴。有很多家庭都有像你这样的女儿。你的祖母不会反对它;至于我,我认为没有什么比年轻人更快乐的了。您可以在客厅里生火,并可以举办任意数量的茶会。年轻人的话,我不好说,因为很多,但女孩子很多,只要你满足——”

桌子对面的托泽夫人用一种令人厌恶的蔑视的目光看着他。

“你们都是聪明人,”她说。 “有女儿的家庭!你认为格林一家和罗宾斯是同伴吗 这里?我敢说,亲爱的,你听过你母亲谈论过玛丽亚·皮金吗?她嫁给了杂货商约翰·格林,他们可能过得很好,也很受人尊敬,但除了你祖父这样的人之外,没有人会认为你和他们交朋友。”

“确实,我不喜欢交朋友,”菲比说,“你必须记住,我不是来社交的,而是来服侍你的,亲爱的奶奶。我不想要年轻的朋友。在家里我总是和妈妈一起出去;当你可以的时候,让我和你一起散步。我很高兴汤姆叔叔的孩子还小。我不想有人陪伴。我的工作——还有花园——以及和奶奶坐在一起,这就是我所关心的一切。日子有多长,我就会多么幸福。”这位烈士说道,脸上带着慈祥的微笑,掩饰着内心的疼​​痛。

她的祖父母看着她,脸上的自豪感与日俱增。这难道不是一个理想的年轻女子,故事书里的女孩,只关心自己的职责,什么都不关心吗?

“你真是太好了,亲爱的;但你不会把自己藏在角落里,”托泽尔说。而且,“别害怕,我会带她去任何适合她去的地方,”他的妻子补充道,自豪地看着她。菲比觉得,除了其他人之外,她还应该向所有人展示她的联系,作为托泽尔血统的一个样本,她甚至不确定是否有同样的感觉。当她把她打扮得如此完美时,她还没有在母亲的怀里。菲比·托泽已经在卡林福德留下了同时代人和竞争对手,一想到自己的后代能够让他们眼花缭乱、超越他们,就像她的好运一样,她的心里仍然有些甜蜜。 “妈妈也是这么想的!”小菲比叹了口气自言自语道。对她来说不幸的是,她为所有属于她的人赢得了荣誉,她必须辞职来支付罚款。也许这个想法有一些补偿。

事实上,当菲比挽着祖母的胳膊陪着她走向大街时,她的骄傲并不奇怪。她坦言,像她这样的人不多,有如此上流社会气息的人很少,穿着如此考究的人更是没有。当时,老人家担心把她生在这个对他们来说就是一切的小世界里,这是有借口的,她以一贯的坦率和明智的态度承认了这一点,尽管当偶尔有一个熟人走过时,她有点畏缩。托泽夫人的道路,被自豪地介绍给“我的孙女”,并伸出一只未戴手套的手,感叹道:“上帝保佑我们,菲比的长子!希望我能见到你一切顺利,小姐。”菲比仍然表现得彬彬有礼,尽管这让她感到很痛苦。当她拖着可怜的祖母摇摇欲坠的脚步缓慢前行时,她不得不不断地与自己争论。 “如果这就是我们真正的起源,那么这就是我自己的阶级,我应该喜欢它;如果我不喜欢它,那一定是我的错。我没有权利感觉自己比他们更好。重要的不是职位,而是个人性格。”菲比对自己说。她从中得到的安慰与从一般的悲惨争论中得到的安慰一样多。但这毕竟是一种无关紧要的安慰,如果不是她的性情给了她坚强的自我控制力和克制冲动的力量,那么当他们接近车站时,菲比很可能会松开祖母的手臂,然后跑开。离开。当她看到它时,她确实动摇了一会儿。那边是自由、安逸,是她已经习惯的生活,虽然说不上多么高尚,但与此相比,却感觉很高级。她知道,如果她回到父母身边,她会原谅她并保护她,因为她无法支持她贸然承担的殉难。但那样的话,那将是多么微弱啊,菲比心里想,把托泽夫人的手臂拉得更紧——多么小啊!这将是多么伤害老人家的感情,让她的父亲和母亲多么烦恼和难堪啊!最后,这可能会危及她哥哥和她自己的利益,公平地说,这是她最不想发生的事情,但也并非不值得关注。

“更加依靠我,奶奶,”她最后说道,最终结束了这种自言自语。她不能再延长了。这是不值得她的。从此以后,她下定决心,要板起脸来,不再对自己是否坚持国内使命的问题置之不理。无论她可能要“忍受”什么,现在都已经一劳永逸地决定了。

“祝福我们大家,如果这不是奶奶的话,”汤姆太太说。正如她自己自豪地说的那样,她很少需要去商店,现在商店比以前的样子有了很大的改善。然而今天运气不好,却把她带到了这里。她站在从商店通向房子的门口,隔开柜台,与一位正在抱怨奶酪或黄油质量的女士交谈。托泽太太把菲比引到那条路上,是为了向她指出放奶酪的平板玻璃窗和大理石板,虽然这是她对汤姆太太的不满之一,但她暗自感到自豪。

“我不否认,但他们做了一笔交易,”老妇人说,“我称之为炫耀和虚荣。我希望他们在使用平板玻璃的情况下也能像我和托泽尔在没有平板玻璃的情况下一样顺利。但你很少会看到更漂亮的商店,”她补充道,深情地思考着她早期工作的场景。如果一个乡绅深情地看着他的土地,一个水手深情地看着他的船(当船只值得一看时),为什么店主不应该以同样的深情对待他的商店呢?汤姆·托泽夫人刚刚向她的抗议顾客行了屈膝礼,并保证所抱怨的错误应该得到纠正,这时她看到了靠在菲比手臂上的体弱多病的老妇人,并发出了前面引述的感叹声。

“愿主保佑我们大家! “如果不是奶奶,还有菲比的女儿,我就给你六便士。”汤姆太太惊讶极了,声音最高。女顾客还在店里,听到这话,回头看了新来的人一眼。 (菲比暗自痛苦地承认,这并不是一件很美妙的事情)。她向托泽尔老太太熟悉地点了点头。 “现在对你来说,这是一段相当长的步行路程,”她凝视着菲比说道,尽管她是对老妇人说的。

“谢谢您,女士,我好多了,”托泽夫人说,“特别是因为我有我的孙女来照顾我。”

“哦!这位年轻人是你的孙女吗?”顾客又瞪了一眼说道,然后她又点点头,疑惑地走了。 “好吧,”菲比自言自语道,“或多或少的一点刺痛又有什么关系呢?”她搀扶着祖母继续穿过商店,敏锐地察觉到四面八方遇到的目光。汤姆太太靠着柜台站着,没有任何动作地等着他们。她聪明又漂亮,一双乌黑亮亮的眼睛里闪烁着凶恶的光芒。

“奶奶,你好吗?”她说:“我敢说你看起来又很年轻了,而且像二十岁一样充满活力。进来休息吧;和你在一起的这位年轻女士,我想我不需要问她的名字,相似度不言而喻。这是菲比·比彻姆,不是吗?祝福我们大家!我在任何地方都会认识她,我会的;她母亲的道德观,还有你,奶奶的道德观。你现在站在那里,就像两颗豌豆一样。”

菲比不自觉地看了一眼祖母。她并不认为自己是虚荣的。当然,要意识到她有一些个人优势是不可能的。但当她看到身旁穿着铜色长袍、满脸皱纹、脸色通红的老妇人时,她心里不禁一阵颤栗。就像两颗豌豆一样!这可能吗?菲比的心一时沉到了鞋子里,脸上浮现出一种克制痛苦的可怜表情。这正冲击着她最脆弱的时刻。

“我有那么像你吗,奶奶?”她结结巴巴地说。但很快又补充道:“那我就不能像妈妈一样。你好吗?我母亲希望我立即赶来,转达她亲切的问候。我舅舅在家吗?”

“不,小姐,你叔叔不在家,”汤姆太太说,“不过你还是可以表现得客气一点,给我起个名字,更不用说如果我是一只狗的话。我是你的阿姨,我是——而且我喜欢我所有的头衔,我确实——以及适当的尊重。”

“当然,”菲比鞠了一躬,脸上带着亲切的微笑,但她没有加上这个名字。她很高兴地认为“汤姆的妻子”是她母亲最厌恶的,而有尊严地抵制她的主张可以说是她的责任。想到在一次漫长的谈话中巧妙而礼貌地回避这一说法所需的聪明才智,她甚至觉得很有趣。

“我希望你想让我们进去,阿米莉亚,”托泽夫人说,“因为我走路时间不长,所以不常来。如果没有菲比——托泽尔这样称呼她,我绝对不会想到这一点。她已经习惯了非常不同的事情,但我很庆幸地说她没有一点骄傲。如果我是女王,她对我就不会更加关心,并且尽可能漂亮地谈论你的孩子,没有废话。在像她这样长大的女孩身上,这种情况并不常见。”

“我不会假装对她的成长一无所知,”汤姆夫人说,“而且我认为这里没有必要感到骄傲。我们都很富裕,在世界上也过得很好——感谢他的赐予我们的成长。我认为这里没有任何值得骄傲的地方。菲比,我和你妈妈从来都不是好朋友,因为那是你的名字;但如果我能为你或我的家人做些什么,你不会问第二次。祖母的房子不是一个很热闹的房子,不像我的房子那样充满了孩子。进来吧,奶奶。我总是说要把楼梯加宽,在楼梯平台上开一扇大窗户;但人们不可能一次性完成所有事情,我们还得花更长的时间。我们已经和老地方达成协议了。”

“这超出了我那个时代所想要的或所想到的,”老太太说,对她来说,这就像战斗的号角。 “楼梯对我来说已经足够好了,我不认为汤姆会想要改变什么,因为他已经习惯了一辈子。”

“哦,这不是汤姆,”他的妻子说道,她的脸上露出满意的光芒。 “汤姆不会介意这个地方在我们耳边变得支离破碎。他就像你一样,奶奶,他是静止不动的人之一。这不是汤姆,是我。”

这段手臂的小通道发生在他们上楼的时候,这让可怜的托泽太太气喘吁吁、呻吟不止,这一次把菲比放在汤姆太太身边,因为楼梯平台上有窗户本来是一个很好的改进,有无可否认。最后,当他们费尽心思,奋力爬上山顶时,不仅穿过默默无闻的环境,而且还穿过火腿和奶酪的气氛,几乎让菲比窒息,老太太因劳累而说不出话来,尽管空气对她来说很舒服。就像天堂的空气一样。菲比把她放在椅子上,解开她的帽子带子,有一分钟她真的很惊慌。然而,汤姆夫人却泰然处之。

“她有点生气了; “她并不像以前那么年轻,甚至也不像她想象的那么年轻。”那位富有同情心的人说道。 “来吧,奶奶,振作起来。楼梯对你来说并不陌生。闹腾有什么好处?坐下来,喘口气,”她一边说,一边拉过一把椅子。然后转向菲比,她耸了耸肩,扬起了眉毛。 “她正在吃斋,就是这样。”汤姆太太点点头,低声说道。

“当你的母亲像你一样的时候,她大半生都是在这个房间里度过的,”托泽夫人恢复了呼吸后说道。 “她就是在这里第一次见到你父亲的。当我第一次看到他时,我对自己说:“这就是我菲比的那个人。”果然,结果就是这样。”

“如果人们公正地对待你的话,你也不会错过任何帮助它的方法,奶奶,”汤姆太太说。 “母亲只要努力,就能做成事;现在菲比有了自己的女儿,我敢发誓她也同样聪明,把好人和富裕的人都抛在了她的路上。这对我来说是个奇迹,因为她还没有离开,还有她所有的机会——两个、三个、二十个,不是吗,菲比小姐?我早该想到你早就结婚了。”

“下一个生日我就二十岁了,”菲比说。 “我听说,我的表兄弟姐妹要年轻得多;他们在学校吗?我希望在走之前能见到他们。”

“哦,你很快就会看到他们,”他们的妈妈说,“他们正在上音乐课。我不同意送女孩去学校。我喜欢把它们放在我的眼前。我想我现在不需要问你是否参加比赛?”

“很少,”菲比说,她对自己的音乐很感​​兴趣,对巴赫和贝多芬很有了解,对瓦格纳也有自己的看法。汤姆太太明显高兴起来,因为她的女儿们玩得不少,而且玩得很多。

“还有画画?——但我不必问,因为住在伦敦,你家门口就有大师。”

“我很遗憾地说,一点也不。”菲比说道,声音里带着可怜的遗憾。

“愿主保佑我们!现在谁会想到呢?我认为,为了让我得到最好的教育,没有什么可以牺牲的,”汤姆夫人说。

第十四章 陌生人 •3,700字

“嗯,乌苏拉,你好吗?”萨姆·赫斯特夫人伸出双手迎接她年轻的邻居。她是一个身材肥胖、相貌漂亮、头脑活跃的女人,却无所事事,或者说几乎无所事事,她并没有像某些人那样受到冒犯,反而对她的怀疑和惊慌感到好笑,甚至受宠若惊。所有年轻的梅一家都注视着她。很难说她是否有丝毫的意图为他们的警报提供任何理由,因为事实上,对于一个四十五岁的明智的女人来说,她过得很好,很舒服,是一个“有自己的脾气”的丈夫,而且一个贫穷、不守规矩的大家庭,也许并不像他在嫉妒的孩子们看来那样具有诱惑力。无论如何,她并没有因为他们嫉妒和害怕她而生气。她对梅一家以及她认识的每个人都表现出热情。她问乌苏拉过得怎么样,去过哪里,看到了什么,还有一百个问题。

“很高兴看到有人有话要说,”审讯结束后她说道。 “我问每个人有什么消息,但没有人有任何消息,这对我来说是可怕的。”

“你怎么会关心新闻?”乌苏拉说:“消息!那些与我们无关的新闻有什么意义呢?”

“亲爱的,你真是太愚蠢了,”赫斯特太太说。 “当你老了,如果你不喜欢听发生的事情,你会变成什么样子?我很庆幸地说,我对我的同胞非常感兴趣。现在听着,我会告诉你一条新闻,以换取你提供有关伦敦的所有信息。今天我在托泽尔的店里时——我总是去那里,尽管他们是持不同政见者;毕竟,你知道,大多数商人都是持不同政见者;有些人为此感到遗憾,有些人认为绅士和商人在宗教问题上有不同的想法是很自然的;然而,我想说的是,你现在无法区分教会和异见人士之间的黄油和培根的区别,你现在可以吗?托泽尔店是镇上最好的商店,当然是最好的商店。正如我告诉你的那样,我在托泽店里,除了老托泽太太以外,谁应该进来,她曾经自己保管过这家店——在她身边,想象一下我的惊讶,是一位年轻的女士!是的,亲爱的,实际上是一位年轻的女士,当然,从外表上看——我指的是外表上——因为,正如你所听到的,可能仅此而已。穿着如此漂亮,一点也不粗俗或浮夸,这件礼服可能是伊莉斯做的,一切都与之相配,品味完美。想要!你可以想象我是如何凝视的。我无法将目光从她身上移开。我大吃一惊,就和老太婆重温旧识,问她风湿病怎么样了。我 抱有希望 这是风湿病。无论如何,我都是这么称呼它的,然后她像孔雀一样自豪地告诉我,这是她的孙女;太棒了,她的孙女!你听说过这样的事吗?店里的另一位女士,也就是现在的托泽,叫着她的名字。他们叫她菲比。可怜的女孩,我为她感到难过。一个淑女的外表,就不得不屈服!”

“女士们不应该被称为菲比吗?”珍妮问道。 “为什么不?这是一个相当漂亮的名字。”

“这太像珍妮了,”赫斯特太太说。 “我知道她是个聪明人;但她永远看不懂一个人的意思。不是叫菲比,是因为她的亲戚,我才对不起她。可怜的姑娘!我始终认为,对人们进行超出其范围的教育弊大于利。看到托泽店里那个漂亮、衣着考究的女孩,所有的黄油男孩都叫她菲比——”

“黄油男孩和其他人一样好,”珍妮喊道,她的倾向是民主的。 “我敢说她喜欢她的亲戚就像我们喜欢我们的亲戚一样,而且更好,尽管他们确实开了一家商店。”

“哦,珍妮!”乌苏拉喊道,她的感情被触动了。然后她想起她的同情心不应该与萨姆·赫斯特夫人的同情心同流合污,于是冷冷地继续说道:“如果她不喜欢他们,她就不必来看他们。”

“这就是你们所知道的一切,你们这些女孩。你不知道人际关系的瘟疫,也不知道人们如何必须谦卑自己以保留家里的钱,或保持外表,尤其是那些在世界上崛起的人。我声明,我认为他们为在世界上的崛起付出了高昂的代价,或者他们可怜的孩子付出了高昂的代价——”

“你似乎对托泽尔一家很感兴趣,”乌苏拉说,很高兴纠正了一点。 “即使他们来到圣罗克,我也能理解——但是持不同政见者!”这支箭正中要害。

“好吧,”赫斯特夫人脸色红红地说,“在所有对持不同政见者感兴趣的人中,我是最后一个;我是最后一个。”但我必须承认,看到那个老托泽太太,看起来像个老洗衣妇,带着一个穿着二十几尼衣服的女孩,我很震惊,你可以相信我的话,尽管像那件棕色的小连衣裙一样朴素。你的,乌苏拉。那景象足以唤醒任何人。”

乌苏拉低头看着那件被轻蔑地提到的棕色小连衣裙,心中夹杂着冒犯和自卑。它的价格没有那么多先令,而且是在家里制作的,并不是裁缝艺术的光辉典范。 “如果你根据人们的着装价值来评价他们——”

“我不太了解她的道德品质,不是吗?”赫斯特夫人说,作为老托泽尔的孙子,我认为她没有任何地位。但她的外表并没有什么问题,我敢说,如果我在街上遇见她,我应该把她当作一位女士。它显示了一个人如何被欺骗。这是给你们的一课,年轻女孩们;你永远不能相信外表。我承认我想更多地了解她。乌苏拉,要进去吗?好吧,亲爱的,也许我晚上会参加一次谈话。欢乐过后你一定会变得沉闷。告诉你亲爱的爸爸,”赫斯特夫人笑着说,“喝完茶后我会来和你坐在一起。现在请注意你给他传达我的信息。当我来到牧师住宅时,他不喜欢想念我,现在是吗?暂时再见。直到八点。”

“哦,我多么恨她啊,”珍妮喊道,“除非有时候她让我发笑,我就很想喜欢她;但有时她会让我发笑,我会很想喜欢她。但我总是抗拒。乌苏拉,你真的认为爸爸会——这么——愚蠢——”

“哦,请不要问我,”乌苏拉喊道。 “我怎么知道?我不知道他会做什么;但如果他这么做了——如果她这么做了——哦,那么,珍妮——”

“是的,确实如此!”珍妮气喘吁吁地说。这种神秘的威胁对他们两人来说都显得非常可怕,虽然他们都很难说出这是什么意思。他们在小灌木丛里等着,互相窃窃私语,直到听到赫斯特太太关上自己的门,因为他们不想再与她交往,尽管他们无意进去。当她安全地离开时,他们偷偷溜出去,继续朝相反的方向走。

“我想去镇上,”乌苏拉说。 “它 is 很难有那个女人住在隔壁;一个人不能去任何地方或做任何事情!珍妮,我想为你的新连衣裙编一些辫子,并扭成纽扣孔;但如果我们说要去卡林福德,她也会来的。没关系;散步总比什么都不做好。快走吧,喝茶之前我们试试能走多远。”

想到这里,两个女孩像参加一场比赛一样开始行走,这对她们来说是一件好事,让她们血管里的血液加快了速度,让她们的脸颊红润起来,驱散了她们脑海中所有的蜘蛛网。很快,大家就融入了比赛的精神,热切地追赶比赛,不时爆发出阵阵笑声,气喘吁吁地互相劝告,要保持适当的配速,不要跑。他们散步的那条路并不是很吸引人。圣罗克以外的土地被划分为劳动人民的土地,土地管理得不太整齐,而且粗糙地种着切好的卷心菜、植物和挖出来的土豆。再往前是一大片萝卜地,味道有些臭,东风吹过,道路上没有一棵树的遮荫,东风凛冽,路上的风景很快就对行人失去了吸引力。回望田庄巷,这座小镇优雅的附属建筑舒适而受庇护的外观令人感到欣慰。甚至田庄巷也不是同性恋。一排花园墙,无论它们如何保护和安慰花园内的花园,如果没有它们,它们就不可爱了;然而,树木虽然光秃秃的,却在红砖的线条上摇曳,高大的月桂树上挂着深绿色的灌木丛和长长的漂浮着的常春藤。

“我们回头吧;也许她不在窗边,”乌苏拉喊道。 “这里太沉闷了。”

珍妮在步行过程中突然停下来,暂时表示反对。

“我希望你没有去伦敦。你以前从来不关心街道和商店; “现在,定期散步对你来说已经太多了。”珍妮喊道。

“一侧是萝卜地,另一侧是土豆地!”乌苏拉高度蔑视地说道。

“让我告诉你!”珍妮喊道。 “自从你回来后,我想我就不喜欢你了。多塞特人都是好人,而我们却不好。卡林福德没有盛大的聚会,没有剧院,也没有舞会。当我们出去的时候,我们是去散步,而不是像你们习惯的那样去看东西。我不知道你的意思是什么;和我们在一起十九年,和他们在一起两周!这两周比所有的岁月都重要!”

珍妮并不习惯于克制自己的声音,就像她的其他事情一样,她用女学生大声的语气说这句话,不顾一切谁会听到她的声音。在大多数情况下,她这样做可能不会受到任何惩罚,正如她事后出于自卫对她姐姐所说的那样,她怎么知道任何人,尤其是任何绅士,都可能潜伏在周围,监视人们,在那些令人讨厌的分配中?然而,有一个人,从泥泞的小路上走来,被独轮车碾碎了,脸上挂着微笑。一个绅士?珍妮毫无疑问地这样称呼他。但乌苏拉更加开明,也有些恼怒,她心存疑虑。他的穿着完全不像晨装,而是穿着一件最正式的黑色礼服,随意地系着一条白色领带,半神职人员的风格,但又不属于神职人员。他脸上挂着笑容,整体来说还是一张相当英俊的脸,他看着他们,显然是听到了简妮的话。确实,他没有说什么,但乌苏拉觉得他的神情就跟说话时一样,脸色高涨,对这种闯入表示不满。在这个陌生人的身边,有一个一直在田里干活的人,他的手不干净,靴子上粘着的泥土很重。当他们快到大路时,那位绅士转身和他的同伴握了握手,然后朝卡林福德走去,经过时又看了女孩们一眼。很难说乌苏拉的好奇心和愤怒哪个最强。在珍妮看来,前一种情绪承载着一切。

“哦,我想知道他是谁?”她在姐姐耳边低声但急切地喊道。 “他会是谁,乌苏拉,他会是谁?我们认识这里的所有人,每一个人,也认识雷金纳德。哦,乌苏拉,你认为他会是谁?”

“他太无礼了。”乌苏拉气得脸红了,喊道。 “我怎么知道?还有哦!你真是太傻了,珍妮,说话这么大声,还让无礼的男人这样盯着我们看。”

“厚颜无耻!”珍妮喊道。 “我没有大声说话。相反,他看起来相当不错。为什么,他笑了!你管这叫无礼吗?不可能是镇上的任何人,因为我们认识每个人;你看到他和那个人握手了吗?多么有趣啊!让我们跑进去告诉萨姆·赫斯特夫人,并问她认为他是谁。她肯定知道。”

“珍妮,”乌苏拉严厉地说,“如果你活得很长,你就会像萨姆·赫斯特太太一样八卦、喜欢新闻。”

“我不在乎,”珍妮喊道。 “你和我一样喜欢新闻,只是你不肯承认。我很想知道他是谁。他长得相当英俊,而且身材高大,威风凛凛。一位新绅士!快来吧,乌苏拉;我们回去看看他去哪儿了。”

“珍妮!”姐姐叫道。她自己也有一半好奇,但乌苏拉已经足够大了,知道得更多,并为对方天真的和毫不掩饰的好奇心感到羞耻。 “哦,安妮表姐会怎么说呢!一个女孩追着一位绅士(即使他是一位绅士),看他去哪里!”

“出色地!”珍妮喊道:“如果她想知道,她还能做什么呢?谁来照顾安妮表姐?她是个老处女。为什么,如果是一位女士,我就不会介意。女士们有很多;但一位新绅士!如果你不来,我就自己跑。萨姆·赫斯特夫人将会多么高兴啊!”

“我以为你讨厌萨姆·赫斯特夫人?”

“当我想起爸爸时,我就会这么做;但当有什么事情发生,或者有什么需要了解的时候,我就非常喜欢她。她真有趣!她从来不像你一样犹豫不决。她不是你口中的安妮表姐那样的老处女。一起来!如果有人比我们先发现他是谁,”珍妮几乎绝望地喊道,“我会心碎的!”

乌苏拉坚忍地抵抗着对她的拉扯,但她回到了田庄巷,事实上,在他们遇到陌生人之前,她已经把脸转向那里,她忍不住看到珍妮在她面前注视着的那个高大的黑色身影。热切地。乌苏拉并不急切,但她忍不住要去看他。他沿着街道快步走去,似乎没有人对他感兴趣,但当他走到田庄巷的一半时,就穿过去和某人说话。这让珍妮惊愕不已。

“他毕竟不是一个陌生人,”她哭道。 “他认识一个人。他不会是一个伟大的发现。我想知道他正在和谁说话?他站在一扇门前,但那不是汉弗莱斯小姐,也不是格里菲斯小姐,也不是任何特许状。也许她也是个陌生人。如果他结婚了,他就不会那么有趣了,因为总是有很多女士。也许他只是通过铁路来度过一天——但是卡灵福德没什么可看的,而且他怎么认识停车场的那个人呢?哦,乌苏拉,你为什么不回答我?你为什么不说点什么?你没有感觉吗?我确信这对我来说一点也不重要,因为我还没有出局;我从来没有被邀请参加聚会——但我是为了你们这些女孩才感兴趣的。”

然而在此之前,乌苏拉已经找到了新的兴趣对象。她并不像珍妮想象的那么无动于衷。一位新绅士是一件足以唤醒任何认识卡林福德的人的事情,因为事实上,在这个小镇的社会里,绅士是稀缺的,即使在最温和的茶会上,看到一个人也是可笑的(而且很可能是这样)一位副牧师)在十几位女士中间——因此,即使珍妮看起来很想知道,她也觉得她姐姐的好奇心并非没有道理。但是,当乌苏拉致力于为社会的利益发现“一位新绅士”的事业时,她的目光和注意力却被另一种兴趣所吸引。那个陌生人穿过街道去和一位女士说话,她正沿着巷子走,乌苏拉觉得她在什么地方见过她。他是谁?当然不是汉弗莱斯小姐,也不是格里菲斯小姐,也不是田庄巷任何其他著名的年轻女士。沉闷的一天过后,夕阳突然升起,斜斜地射出一道长长的光芒,落在街上,落在那些站着说话的陌生人身上。这道光线照到了这位年轻女士的头发上,从闪亮的发卷中反射回来,在乌苏拉(她自己肤色黝黑,她最欣赏金色的头发)看来,就像阳光一样明亮。在灯光下,她捕捉到了一个漂亮头部的轮廓,根据这位获奖者引入时尚的模型,她的鼻子略微“倾斜”。她以前在哪里见过她?她突然记起这一切,心中涌起一阵困惑的喜悦。

“珍妮!哦,珍妮!”她喊道:“听着!这也太非同寻常了。还有那个黑衣小姐!”

可以想象,珍妮听过铜斑蛇夫人舞会的每一个细节,并且像乌苏拉本人一样了解乌苏拉的意思。她因兴奋和好奇而脸色苍白。 “不!”她说:“你不是这个意思。你确定吗,你确定吗?一天两个新人!哎呀,大家一定都来卡灵福德了。这让我感觉很奇怪!”这位敏感的年轻女子说道; “黑衣小姐!”

“哦,是的,不会有任何错误,”乌苏拉兴奋地快步说道,“我看了她好多次。我不能误会她。哦,我想知道她是否认识我,我想知道她是否会跟我说话!或者她是否要去多塞特郡,或者是什么让她来到卡林福德。只是想象,珍妮,我曾多次谈论过的那个穿黑衣的年轻女士;哦,我想知道,我确实想知道是什么把她带到这里来的。”

他们在巷子的对面,所以他们的匆忙靠近并没有吓到陌生人。但菲比抬头望着脚步声,看到一张她认识的脸正满怀渴望地、热切地看着她,显然是认出了她。菲比有一种非常高超的记忆面孔的能力,她只用了一会儿就想起了乌苏拉的面孔。又过了一会儿,她与自己进行了快速的讨论,思考是否应该向女孩打招呼,而这显然是女孩想要的。但这有什么坏处呢?认识某人会很高兴;如果多赛特小姐的小亲戚在得知她是谁后就不再认识她了,那么菲比对自己说:“我不会比以前更差了。”于是她微笑着向马路对面鞠了一躬,说道:“你好吗?”在她谈话的停顿中。乌苏拉太害羞了,无法与那位比她冷静得多的黑衣年轻女士产生同等的感觉。她脸红了,微笑着,回答道:“很好,谢谢你。”像个孩子一样穿过小巷,尽管珍妮精力充沛的肘部戳了很多次,她还是继续前行,没有进一步的回应。

“噢,你为什么不跑过去和她说话呢?”珍妮喊道:“哦,你真有趣,又多么令人讨厌!会 I 就这样通过我认识的任何一个人!”

“你不明白,你只是个孩子,”乌苏拉说道,她既害怕又激动,但又充满尊严,“我们只是在社会上认识的。当你被介绍给社会上的任何一个人时,这都不算数。也许他们不想认识你;也许吧——但无论如何你不能像学校里的两个女孩那样冲向他们。你必须等着看他们会做什么。”

“好,我宣布!”珍妮喊道; “那么社会的好处是什么?你认识他们,但你又不能认识他们。我永远不会像那样的傻瓜。想象一下在她开始讲话后看着巷子对面的她说“很好,谢谢”。我想这就是安妮表姐的风格吧?我应该冲过去问她住在哪里,什么时候来看我们。乌苏拉,哦,”珍妮喊道,突然改变了语气,看着她的妹妹,眼睛因这个想法的伟大而睁大到自然大小的两倍,“你必须请她喝茶!”

“呵呵,你这个傻丫头,你以为她会来吗?你应该在舞会上见过她。她认识每个人,并且有很多合作伙伴。克拉伦斯·科波黑德先生总是和她一起跳舞。希望她能和我们一起喝茶。”但乌苏拉本人对这个建议感到有些喘不过气来。一旦说过一件事,总有可能做到的,这之后,两个女孩很快地走进大街,一声不吭,对自己和她们的可能性有一定的敬畏。既然已经这么说了,也许可以做到。

第十五章·国内危机 •4,000字

两个女孩对这个她们如此关注的陌生人表现出的兴趣注定不会立即得到任何回报。两天后,他和他匆匆穿过街道去见的“黑衣年轻女士”都没有被听到,也没有人看到,这让年轻的梅一家非常失望。尤其是乌苏拉,她一直怀着模糊而又令人眼花缭乱的想法,认为这种友谊比珍妮的友谊更有趣,更新颖,同时也比田庄巷的格里菲思小姐向她提供的更平等,他们的境况要好得多。而且可做的事比她少得多。乌苏拉不记得那位在铜斑蛇先生的舞会上崭露头角的幸运女孩的名字,尽管有人把菲比介绍给了她。但她确实记得她的受欢迎程度和普遍的友善,以及她拥有的伙伴的数量,以及所有那些令人愉快的伟大迹象,这些迹象给一个可怜的小陌生人留下了深刻的印象,对她来说,她的第一支舞并不是纯粹的快乐。甚至在客厅里,当全家人都聚集在一起时,她也对珍妮低声谈论她。

“你觉得她会打电话来吗?”乌苏拉说,甚至就珍妮缺乏经验的情况征求意见,而她在其他场合对此非常蔑视。

“称呼!如果她是一个陌生人,她怎么能这样呢?”珍妮说。

“好像你什么都知道似的!”乌苏拉极不公正地反驳道。

“既然我不知道,那你为什么还要问我?”珍妮有理有据地抱怨道。 乌苏拉回家后,房间里显得更加欢快。 火不再被煤渣堵塞,烧得通红通亮。 这盏灯虽然是廉价的,烧的是石蜡油,但没有气味。 旧窗帘拉得很漂亮,椅子上的旧被子也很光滑。 所有这些并没有让他们看起来更老;相反,他们看起来更老了。但这使它们的古老变得自然而合理。 男孩约翰尼正在火前的地毯上学习功课。 雷金纳德坐在角落的写字台前,独自一人点着蜡烛写作。 乌苏拉和珍妮正在中间的桌子旁,借着灯的光工作。 你可以想象,他们没有时间做花哨的工作。 珍妮的身体发生了许多扭曲,尤其是她的嘴,她似乎在追随针的运动,正在缝制多塞特小姐送给她的新连衣裙的袖子,这件连衣裙是一位可怜的裁缝, “出去了”的人,此时正在教室里化妆;而乌苏拉还在忙着收拾那篮子长袜,她发现这些袜子正等着她回来。 雷金纳德在写字台上所做的事情可能没那么有用,但是女孩们尊重他的职业,就像没有人想过尊重她们的职业一样,她们低声继续谈话,不打断他。 小孩子们已经上床睡觉了,茶也喝完了,漫长的冬夜还剩下几个小时。 珍妮已经放弃了课程,部分原因是没有人坚持让她做。 大约一周左右,她的父亲就会因为她的无知而教训她一次,并命令她到他的书房里,用第一本可以拿起的旧《科伦索》做一长串算术。大约每周一次,她突然意识到自己的不足,就会在旧钢琴上大力“练习”。 这就是为珍妮所做的所有教育。 她十五岁了,约翰尼、艾米和罗宾都到了必须上学的年龄,唯一可能的裁员就是让珍妮留在家里。 乌苏拉以同样不规则的方式接受了她所拥有的教育。 并不多。 除了阅读和写作之外,她还有漂亮的举止,就像其他天赋一样,这是与生俱来的。 一个女孩子,能读能写,又有漂亮的举止,家庭条件还算不错。 珍妮拥有前两种能力,但她既没有也显然无法获得第三种能力。 两个深棕色的头在工作时靠得很近——乌苏拉的头闪闪发亮,整洁,排列整齐,珍妮的头粗糙,长着小精灵;但他们比雷金纳德更有趣,尽管雷金纳德见多识广。 至于约翰尼,他躺在地毯上,两只手轻轻抬起头,他的书与他身体的其他部分处于同一水平,嘴唇动着,自言自语地讲着他的课。

梅先生的到来打破了这个平静的家庭场景。从他关上门厅门进来的那一刻起,家庭聚会就充满了一丝兴奋。听到这个声音,女孩们面面相觑,约翰尼没有停止内心的重复,巧妙地将自己和他的书移到了一边,而不是火的前面。雷金纳德的笔不再刮擦,他在椅子上转过身来,用迷人的眼神看了他的姐妹们一眼。

“现在怎么样了?”他急忙说道。谁都知道,门这样关上就等于宣战了。但他们没有太多时间等待和思考。梅先生进来了,推开面前的门,吸入一月夜晚的一阵寒气。他看着平静的家庭场面,不满地“哼”了一声,因为没有什么可挑剔的,有心委屈的时候,这和另一个委屈一样。他脾气暴躁,心情不好,有私人原因,但他没有选择透露,如果他发现他们都在喋喋不休或浪费时间,而不是他正以这种完全尽职尽责的方式忙碌着——甚至约翰尼在上课时,也在低声重复。世界将会变成什么样子?梅先生很失望。而不是由一般人逐渐引导到它 殴打 由于他的孩子们都在身边,他必须立即开始谈论他的主要话题,这可不是那么令人愉快的方式。

“你在做什么,雷金纳德?”他粗声粗气地问道,一边把椅子拉到火的另一边,对面就是约翰尼扭头躲开的那个角落。 “我特意过来和你说话。是时候结束这种犹豫不决的行为了。你是否打算接受学院牧师职位?必须立即给出答案。你这么忙,顾不上听我说的话吗?”

“我一点也不忙,先生。”雷金纳德声音低沉地说,而他的姐妹们则向他投来同情的目光。确实,两个女孩都认为他极其愚蠢,但那又怎样呢?他们必然站在他一边反对爸爸。

“我也是这么想的;事实上,很难说你会忙什么。但看这里,这件事必须以某种方式结束。你知道我对这个问题的看法。”

“你知道我的,先生,”雷金纳德说,站起身来,走到火边。 “我并没有说任何反对旧学院的话。对于一个已经在工作中耗尽体力的老人来说,这可能是一个很合理的安排,但对于我来说,世界上当然没有什么可做的。”

“做这件事每年要付两百五十美元——更不用说房子了,你可以再付五十美元租出去。”

“父亲!你难道没有看到,这正是我所反对的,毫无意义。”

“你不劳而获,”梅先生微笑着说道。 “好吧,我想这也许——对公众来说更公平;——但是我呢?一个三岁、二十岁的儿子事事都依赖我,毫无用处,什么也没带来,不适合我。你们都是一样的,”他说,“都从我这里夺取了一千种想要的东西:教育、衣服、娱乐——”

“我敢肯定,”珍妮按捺不住地说,“我们得到的衣服并不多,至于娱乐——还有教育!”

“闭嘴,”她父亲喊道。 “你们有六个人,一个比另一个更无助,而最大的一个是最无助的。我没有强迫你进入教堂。如果你愿意的话,你可能会去找詹姆斯——但你选择了学术生涯,然后就没有其他的选择了。我给了你订单的标题。你现在是我的牧师——所谓的;但你知道我付不起牧师的费用,你也知道我无力留住你。普罗维登斯——”梅先生从椅子上坐起来,带着某种庄严的语气说道,“普罗维登斯本身已经介入,为你指明了道路。这里比生活更好,为你提供供给。我不要求你终生接受它;坚持一两年,直到你听到更好的消息。现在你到底反对什么?”

两个女孩都把脸转向她们的兄弟。总是第一个行动的珍妮几乎无意识地重复着。 “是的,雷金纳德,你到底有什么理由反对这个呢?”

雷金纳德站在房间中央,无助地看着他们。单独反对他的父亲,他也许会表明自己的立场——但是当一家人都用询问和责备的眼神看着他时,他能说什么呢?

“异议!”他结结巴巴地说:“你很清楚我的反对是什么。这不是诚实的工作——这不是工作。这是一种浪费,本可以更好地利用金钱;这是一份闲事。”

“那你所谓的名义上的牧师职位是什么,”他的父亲说道,“那不也是一种闲职吗?”

“如果是的话,”雷金纳德说,脸涨得通红,但感觉更大胆了,因为此时一家人转过身来,站在了他一边,“那就是相反的情况了。这是 正弦 支付。我的工作可能很糟糕,尽管我希望不是这样,但我的报酬却是微不足道的。我看不出两者有任何相似之处。”

“你什么都不用付!”父亲愤怒地喊道; “你怎么称呼你的生活,你如此挑剔的食物,你大量的啤酒和所有其他的东西——更不用说裁缝的账单比我的重得多了?”

“从来没有付过钱。”

“他们从来没有得到报酬,这是谁的错?你和其他人把我压在了地上,从不试图为自己提供帮助或做任何事情。从来没有付过钱!如果他们从未得到报酬,我该如何继续这一时期并获得普遍的尊重?我不得不为你们所有人付出代价,”梅先生痛苦地说,“还有你们所有的变幻莫测;教育,直到我几乎被毁掉;衣服和丝带,以及这些女孩的一百个愚蠢行为,她们毫无用处,永远不会给我一分钱。”

“爸爸!”乌苏拉和珍妮齐声喊道。

“住嘴!无用的障碍,甚至无法擦地板、整理床铺,而这就是你所能做的一切——而且你必须有一个仆人来做这些事。但我为什么要谈论女孩们呢?”他带着讽刺的微笑补充道,“他们无能为力,可怜的生物;但是你!他们称自己为一个男人——一个大学人,记住一点——一个带着牛津印记的好人,你下个生日二十三岁。幸亏我还得支持你。”

雷金纳德开始在房间里走来走去,感到难以忍受——这并不是说他以前没有听过这些话,而是要习惯这样的嘲讽是很困难的,而对于一个年轻而敏感的头脑来说,要反驳这一切就更困难了。本质上是适当和适当的,并提出自己的声明作为回报。雷金纳德知道,他的教育实际上让他父亲付出了很少的代价,他的父亲也知道这一点。他也比梅先生更清楚地知道詹姆斯通过他的账户进行的汇款。但他能说什么?是他的父亲侮辱了他,年轻人闭上了嘴;但这是一项艰巨的努力。他无法站在那里面对这个如此不顾及自己感受的男人。他能做的就是在房间里匆匆走动,尽量少听,也根本不回答,以此来压低自己的激动和恼怒。

“噢,爸爸!你怎么?”珍妮抓住第一个停顿喊道。珍妮还不够大,无法理解雷金纳德闭上嘴唇时的微妙感觉,自卫的冲动正在她心中激起。 “你怎么敢这样跟乌苏拉说话?我可能没什么用处,但是乌苏拉!她不在的时候你又好又舒服!就好像你一早上不这么说十次一样;可以肯定的是,这会让我感到不舒服。擦地板!”珍妮愤怒地叫道。 “只要你愿意,我就出去当女仆。我相信那里会比这里幸福得多。”

“闭嘴,”梅先生说,“你在骂人,乌苏拉在哭;这就是房子里女性元素的美丽。我应该非常感激,不是吗,我有女孩来提供这种令人愉快的变化?但至于你,雷金纳德,”他的父亲补充道,“记住我的话,如果你决定拒绝上帝吹到你手中的这笔意外之财,就必须立即这样做。如果您愿意的话,这里不再播放“我愿意”和“我不会”的游戏;如果它不适合你,请你理解,我不再需要一个更不适合我的牧师。我想要你的房间。如果没有别的办法,我必须设法带一名学生为有这么多要求的收入增加一点。我不想继续留着你——我希望这很清楚。”

“非常简单,先生。”雷金纳德说道,他的脸色变得苍白,就像之前的脸红一样。

“我很高兴听到这个消息;您将立即写信给公司,接受或拒绝由您决定;但这必须在今晚完成。我必须坚持今晚就完成; “如果你发现自己有足够的胆量拒绝一项收入,”梅先生强调道,“然后走进这个世界,口袋里一分钱也没有,我就不会再这么做了;这对我来说不算什么。”

然后停顿了一下。一家人的父亲坐在椅子上,环顾四周,幸福地意识到他让每个人都痛苦不堪。两个女孩都在哭,雷金纳德脸色苍白,绝望,在房间里来来往往。除了约翰尼之外,没有人逃脱,他因为微不足道而感到高兴,全身躺在火的另一边,把脸从书本上抬起来,看着其他人的狼狈。约翰尼并不因为自己而感到恐惧。他没有做任何事来激起父亲的愤怒。梅无法抗拒这种诱惑。

“这是一种吸取教训的方式吗?”他突然大叫起来,向那个没有思考的男孩扔了一支飞镖。 “现在就站起来,到某个地方的桌子旁坐下。你自己的房间,没有人打扰你,比在这里闲聊要好;你听到我说话了吗?先生,起来吧,走吧。”

约翰尼惊恐地站了起来。他吓得说不出话来。他拿着书穿过房间,来到雷金纳德以类似方式抛弃的写字台前。但当他到达那个避风港时,他醒悟过来,恢复了勇气,嘟囔了几句他所面临的困难,就像男孩们都会做的那样;梅先生突然站起来,抓住他的肩膀,把他带出了客厅。 “我说的是你自己的房间,先生。”这位公正的父亲喊道,同时向所有人都展示了他的彬彬有礼。当他完成这件事后,他站了一会儿,看着其他困惑和不安的家人。 “我认为,今晚这里没有太多令人愉快的社交活动,”他说。 “摆脱烦恼来到这里并受到这样的接待真是令人愉快,你不觉得吗?请有人给我送杯咖啡到我的书房。我要写。”

“他受到这样的待遇是谁的错?”就在她父亲关上门的那一刻,珍妮突然爆发了。 “我想知道这一切是谁干的?谁把我们当成一群毫无感情的可怜虫?我不能安静,我不会安静!哦,我难道不应该高兴地出去当女佣,做任何事吗?”

“哦,珍妮,安静! “我们无法帮助自己,我们不得不忍受。”乌苏拉说。 “但是雷金纳德,他没有义务,他愿意的时候可以救自己。噢,我知道,我知道爸爸不讲道理;不过,雷金纳德,你是不是也有点蛮不讲理啊?”

“你别开始责怪我了,”年轻人喊道,“我已经受够了这一天了。我对他有这样的指责吗,乌苏拉?他在我身上花了什么?几乎什么都没有。他谈到的裁缝账单,他和我一样清楚,我是通过假期里的辅导来支付这笔费用的。未支付的是他的账单,不是我的。然后詹姆斯的钱——”

“哦,别介意这个,别介意过去,”乌苏拉喊道,“想想现在,这就是你应该做的。哦,雷金纳德,想一想;如果 I 每年有机会赚两百五十英镑!没有什么是我不愿意做的。我会擦地板,正如他所说,我会做任何事情,最脏的工作。你将变得独立,能够做你想做的事,永远不会向爸爸要任何东西。雷金纳德,想一想!哦,亲爱的,亲爱的,我希望我知道如何和你说话。独立,能够取悦自己!”

“无论如何,今晚之后我将独立,”他说。 “乌苏拉,你会帮我收拾东西,好吗?女孩们,它让你们留在这里,没有人支持你们;这是我感受最深的。”

“哦,雷金纳德,不要离开我们,”珍妮靠在椅背上喊道。 “没有你我们能做什么?当他进来的时候,像今晚一样愤怒,只要你在,就可以忍受。哦,雷金纳德,你不能,你不能担任牧师吗?想想这对我们来说意味着什么。”

“是的,我会收拾你的东西,”乌苏拉说,“我会帮助你摆脱困境,尽管我们必须留下来忍受这一切,永远,永远不要逃跑。但你要去哪里呢?你没有钱,连火车票都不够。你必须开始教学;你要去哪里?

“我还剩下一些朋友,”雷金纳德喊道,他的嘴唇颤抖着,“有些人仍然关心我,愿意伸出援助之手。我——并不——像他想象的那么糟糕;我可以去镇上,或者去牛津——或者——”

“你不知道在哪里; “这里有一座漂亮的老式房子,已经准备好让你入住,还有一份收入。”乌苏拉喊道,她的语气变得低沉,以标记大写字母; “收入,非常确定和准备就绪——没有任何困难,没有任何麻烦,只要你答应。哦,想想看,当我们遇到困难时能够冲到你身边,对我们大家来说是多么的安慰啊!想想约翰尼和罗宾;还有那个令人愉快的书房,有壁板的房间,书柜都准备好了——还有足够的钱买书。”这是乌苏拉所能达到的最高点,她在到达之后掉下来,用含沙射影的半耳语说道:“还有很多工作要做;亲爱的雷金纳德,如果你愿意帮助教区长,你可以肯定,教区有很多工作;或者在这里,你已经工作了,而且你可以确定没有人会想到付钱给你。噢,雷金纳德,还有很多很多的工作要做。”

年轻人已经开始融化了。 “你这么认为吗?”他说。

“思考!” ”珍妮喊道,“我相信你可以为他做爸爸的所有工作,并且欢迎你,如果仅此而已。就我而言,我认为你很愚蠢,乌苏拉和你都是。工作!如果你们不是这么两个傻瓜的话,薪水会好得多。毕竟,他也有一点生气的理由。好亲切!你为什么不应该接受它?如果你不肯,别人会的。我很快就会这么做,如果可以的话,乌苏拉也会这么做。为什么你应该比其他人伟大得多?我认为这对我来说太幼稚了。”

“雷金纳德,别管她,她只是个孩子,不懂事(‘你自己是个孩子,’珍妮喊道)。我不太明白,但我还是能明白你想要什么。哦,你可能会发现如此大量的工作,这是从来没有人做过的。牛津大学的研究员们拿这些钱做什么?我听你说你会很高兴获得奖学金——”

“那不一样,那是奖学金的奖励。”

“嗯,这也是,”乌苏拉说。 “(我确信)这是因为老人们知道你是一个善良的人。雷金纳德,你总是很友善,这就是目的。”

“老人们与这件事无关,”他摇着头说道,“这是公司,而他们——”

“非常有钱的人,亲爱的雷金纳德,他们中有很多人,非常明智!他们的教育有什么关系?然后你就会成为一个真正受过教育的人,随时准备做卡林福德想做的任何事情。难道你不明白这就是他们的意思吗?他们付钱给你并不是工作,但他们会发现你有很多工作是他们不付钱的。这就是他们的意思;哦,雷金纳德,在那个漂亮的壁板房间里跑到你那里,让你每天都来到我们身边,并知道你在那里支持我们!

乌苏拉在这里再次哭泣。至于珍妮,她冲向写字台,给他拿来纸、笔和墨水,“说是,说是,”她喊道;“说是的,说是的。” “哦,雷金纳德,如果只是为了惹恼爸爸就好了!”

第十六章·新绅士 •2,900字

似乎很难想象菲比·比彻姆在农庄巷的出现和她与“新绅士”之间的会面,与梅先生突然对他的家人发起的攻击(最终导致雷金纳德接受了他的要求)之间有什么联系。牧师职务。但这种联系却非常明显。当菲比独自行走时,街对面出现了一个熟悉的人,一张她在其他地区很熟悉的面孔,打断了她的孤独行走,即使梅一家正为卡林福德出现了一个陌生人而兴奋不已,他们也不会比菲比更惊讶。 “先生。诺斯科特!”她哭了,有点惊讶。至于那个陌生人,他一看到她就高兴地跨过农庄巷,只走了两步。并不是说他是菲比的情人,也不是说他对这个他一生中见过六次的女孩抱有任何热情,对她的了解他只知道她是“一位牧师兄弟的女儿;” ”因为比彻姆先生和他都习惯使用这个词,无论合适还是不合适。这就是令乌苏拉困惑的白色领带和礼服的解释。

霍勒斯·诺斯科特不属于比彻姆先生的班级。他并不富裕,也不友善,一心想维持他的会众和声望,并试图尽可能地忽视教会的社会优越性,而又不以任何方式冒犯她。他是一位政治上的不国教主义者,是废建社会的有力拥护者,在讲台上比在讲坛上更成功,他在内心深处强烈地认为教会是英国一切进步的最大障碍,是英国一切进步的祸根。这个国家很乐意摆脱困境。他的着装是他性格和意义的标志之一。他对自己的牧师地位有很强的意识,像任何仪式主义者一样虔诚地相信制服,但他不会抄袭英国圣公会的制服,也不会像“我们国教中的弟兄”那样戴着改良过的苏坦尼和圆帽行走。比彻姆亲切地给他们打电话。对于年轻的诺斯科特来说,他们不是兄弟,而是敌人,尽管他对侮辱MB背心的愚蠢行为表现出优越的微笑,但他蔑视效仿。因此,他的礼服外套不长,但剪裁和色调极其严肃,他的白领带最硬朗,他的高帽子具有最不妥协的性格。他一天都不会穿着更简单、更普通的服装来掩饰他所担任的教士职位,但不是神职人员的职位。他是人类的导师,但不是圣公会灵感的牧师。他不禁感到,当他在街上走来走去时,他的外表很可能会让英国圣公会的胸膛颤抖不已。他是教会公开的敌人,并以此为他的主张赢得了那些与他有同样想法的人的荣誉。这与新月教堂的牧师所持的观点截然不同,他非常愿意与教会保持良好的关系,并希望与教会越来越亲密,甚至最终完全消失在教会中。她宽阔的胸膛,就像一颗肥大的雨滴,无声无息地注入大海。然而,菲比在第一次认出自己后,本能地退缩了,并不是因为这种差异的感觉。即使她向陌生人伸出手,她的脑海中也突然闪现出她的祖母和祖父的回忆,以及他作为联络部长不可能不知道的所有家常物品。那只是一瞬间的剧痛。菲比并没有愚蠢到在不可避免的事情面前退缩,或者试图采取愚蠢的权宜之计来避免这种危险。她退缩了一会儿,然后挺直身子,摆脱了所有这些不光彩的忧虑。 “无论发生什么,我就是我自己”,这是她的反思。她语气像是安全地说:

“我很高兴见到你,诺斯科特先生;在这里见到你真是意外的高兴!”

“我向你保证,这对我来说是一种意想不到的快乐,”他说,“而且是一种非常伟大的快乐。”他说话时毫不掩饰诚实。事实上,他融入塞勒姆礼拜堂的社会给他带来了一种难以克服的震惊,而在所有这些优秀的家禽商和杂货商中出现了他自己的同类,这是一种难以言表的解脱。然后他又补充道:“如果你要走路的话,我可以和你一起走吗?”

“当然可以,”菲比犹豫了一下说道,就在这时,她发现乌苏拉就在路的另一边,很高兴能转移注意力,向她挥挥手,说道:“你好吗?” ?”

“你的一个朋友?”诺斯科特先生一边说,一边用眼睛追随她的手势,并越来越高兴见到她。 “我刚才经过那些小姐,听到她们的一些谈话,我觉得好笑。他们属于我们人民吗?如果你不生气的话,比彻姆小姐,我必须说,我应该很高兴见到属于我们的人,他不是——更像是——在其他地方遇到的人。”

“嗯,”菲比说,“我们总是说想要一些原创的东西;我认为总体上我同意你的意见;然而,人们在任何地方遇到的大多数人都没有什么伟大或引人注目的地方。”

“是的;社会已经足够平坦了。”年轻人说道。 “但是——这很奇怪,而且相当痛苦,尽管这样说也许是错误的——我想知道为什么我们的人民都是一个阶级?也许您在这里还没有见过太多?都是一个班的,而且——”

“这门课不吸引人,”菲比轻轻叹了口气说道。 “是的,我知道。”

“除了一个有吸引力的班级之外,什么都不是;不是所谓的工人之类的。人们可以和他们相处。不得不说出来是非常不愉快的;现在在曼彻斯特进行的买卖并没有收缩我们的思想。我想我们都或多或少地买卖。如何?当是茶和糖时——”

“或者黄油和奶酪,”菲比笑着说道,但她忍不住感到尴尬。 “在你进一步行动之前,我必须诚实地告诉你。诺斯科特先生,你不知道我属于托泽家族,他们就是从事这一行的。别表现得那么痛苦。如果你不确定是否知道的话,也许我不应该告诉你。老托泽尔先生是我的祖父,我就住在那里。这很简单。爸爸来到卡林福德时,他还是一名刚刚任命的年轻牧师。他是塞勒姆教堂的牧师,并与母亲结婚,母亲是一位主要成员的女儿。当我来到卡林福德时,我自己并不知道他们实际上有一家商店,而且我不喜欢它。请不要道歉。这是一个非常困难的问题,”菲比哲学地说,部分是为了让自己放松,部分是为了让他放松,“在这种情况下最好做什么。在另一个领域接受教育并回到这个领域是很困难的。一个人不可能对自己的人际关系有同样的感觉;而一个人的文化程度差一点,礼仪小一点,这又算得了什么干扰血缘关系呢?为了让每个人都保持他们出生时的状态,为什么,那是老方法——”

“比彻姆小姐,我不知道该说什么。我从来没想过——我也说不出来。各个阶层都有优秀的、最优秀的人。”

“正是如此,”菲比笑着说道。 “我们都知道;一个人与另一个人一样好——如果不是更好的话。黄油人与领主一样优秀;但是——”她补充道,眉毛微微扬起,耸了耸肩,“与人交往不太愉快。诺斯科特先生,你对我的困难只字不提。也许你和我一样没有意识到这一点。哪一个最好:让每个人都继续他出生的位置,还是让一个诚实的店主教育他的孩子,把他们推向更高的位置,直到他们觉得自己是不同阶级的一员,并为他感到羞耻?不管怎样,你知道,这很难。”

诺斯科特已经无计可施了。他对这种困难没有任何同情心。他的朋友们都比他作为一个贫穷的牧师过得好得多。他们是曼彻斯特人,身后有两三代的财富,没有人需要为他们的关系感到羞耻;他们是曼彻斯特人。他自己也因为说了任何可能羞辱菲比的话而感到深深的羞辱和苦恼,因为菲比的大胆表白,他对菲比的评价大大提高了,尽管他自己宁愿做出很大的牺牲,也不愿把自己放在托泽尔的水平上。他不知道该说什么。

“比彻姆小姐,你和我一样清楚,我们在这方面的观点是多么错误,我们是多么传统。地位到底是什么?例如,对于一位大领主来说,他的管家和他的领主之间的区别似乎微不足道,但对于管家来说,这是一个巨大的鸿沟。我——我的意思是——整个问题都是传统的——职位、职位或等级——”

菲比笑了。 “我认为这不是一个问题,”她说,“但没关系。我想你是来执行任务的吧?你不会来卡灵福德是为了享乐。”

“不,”诺斯科特带着责备的语气说道。 “我本以为你一定听说过我们的会议。这是今晚的事。我和其他一些朋友来自解散协会。但命运安排我先上场了。其他人今天也来了。”

“命运很艰难,诺斯科特先生。”

“今天早上我也是这么想的。我并没有过多妨碍乡村教会的活动。我很困惑;但是,比彻姆小姐,自从遇见了你之后,我不再觉得自己的命运很艰难。你高贵的单纯和坦率给了我一个教训。”

“这根本不高贵,”菲比说。 “如果我不确定你一定会发现,我就不应该对此说什么。现在我担心我必须回去了。”

“但你会来参加会议的,”他说着,和她一起转身。在他犯下了可怕的错误之后,他觉得有必要对菲比阿谀奉承。

“除非爷爷坚持,否则不会。 “我很想听听你的演讲。”菲比说道。 “但我并不像你一样反对国教,当你逼迫爸爸时,他也不反对。我不认为如果我们都是持不同政见者,英格兰会好得多。可以肯定的是,我们彼此之间可能会更加文明。”

“你的意思是,如果没有异议者的话。”

“这几乎是同一件事;会众不是令人愉快的主人,是吗,诺斯科特先生?我认识一些人——至少有一个人,”菲比说,“他们经常对爸爸非常无礼;爸爸说,为了和平,我们必须忍受它。我不认为教会里有哪个领导成员会对牧师如此无礼。”

“请原谅我,这也许是一种狭隘的个人观点。”

“等你接到指控后,还要取悦会众和领导成员!”菲比叫道。 “我知道你在想什么:这就像一个女人看待公共问题一样。很好;毕竟,女性占了世界的一半,她们的观点与其他人一样好。”

“我非常尊重你的意见,”年轻的诺斯科特说。 “但我们绝不能考虑个人的不满。这个制度虽然有很多缺点,但它却让我心烦意乱。我听到了一些事情——甚至在这里——就在今天——那是什么,我的好朋友?我现在很忙——下次再忙;或者如果你需要我的话,我的住所是——”

菲比的眼神里,一半是痛苦,一半是乐趣。 “是爷爷!”她说。

“先生,你不应该用这种语气对你的长辈说话,也许还有比你更好的人,”穿着油腻的旧外套的托泽尔说。 “部长们达成协议;但像我这样一个老会员,一个同甘共苦的人,就不是你的好朋友了。好吧,如果你请求原谅,当然没什么可说的了;如果你认识我们的菲比——小菲比,我这样称呼她。诺斯科特先生,会议怎么样?先生,我希望您能给予教会人士足够的力量。可以肯定的是,在卡林福德,他们确实很摆架子。我们大多数人都很胆怯,因为他们最好的客户属于教会。托泽笑着说,“这并没有触动我,即使是现在,也不是我曾经隐藏过自己的信念。我希望你能给予他们足够的力量。”

“我就说说我的想法吧。”年轻人困惑地说。他并没有完全融入这种联系方式,而且他的自尊心对接受这位老店主的教育的想法感到反抗。但看到菲比站在一旁,不仅抑制了他的叛逆情绪,而且使他心中充满了同情的激动。对于那个女孩来说,拥有这个老人,和他住在一起,感觉自己被关在他的社会和他选择的朋友中,听到自己被称为菲比,小学生,这一定是什么感觉!这个想法让他不寒而栗,这引起了老托泽一向热情好客的目光。

“你很冷,”他说,“在我们经历了可怕的天气之后,我并不奇怪。很少有人不吃点东西或吃点东西就经过我的门,特别是在下午茶时间,诺科特先生,正如我常说的那样,这是社交时间。进来暖暖身子,喝杯茶。没有什么比为一位牧师拿出她最好的茶具更让我的老妇人高兴的了。托泽夫人,先生,她“非常尊重部长们”;现在她不仅有烟囱,还有菲比可以炫耀。来吧,先生,我不能拒绝。现在正是我们喝茶的时间。”

诺斯科特徒劳地试图逃跑,但在他看来,拒绝邀请可能会在菲比看来是他在假装优越,部分原因是他对自己感兴趣,并且非常清楚自己不应该得到邀请。卡林福德的公司很好,尽管与她住在一起的老店员有一些缺点。看到她穿着萨姆·赫斯特夫人赞不绝口的衣服,甚至连年轻的非国教徒也隐隐约约看出了它的卓越之处,她把戴着精致手套的手放在老托泽油腻的袖子上,和拖着脚步的老人一起走回家,真是太奇怪了。 ,关于谁的社会地位,没有人会犯哪怕一丁点错误!他和他们一起转过身来,心中充满感激,因为这是在卡灵福德的田庄巷,那里没有人认识他。至于菲比,她心里却没有这样的安慰。这里每个人都认识她,或者更确切地说,每个人都认识老托泽。她无法伪装。挽回这一职位的唯一方法就是像她一样,昂首挺胸,发挥自己的作用,让全世界都看到并惊叹。 “我想你最好来,诺斯科特先生,喝点茶。”当这个充满敬畏的年轻人挣扎着想为自己辩解时,她和蔼地说。老托泽尔咯咯地笑着,搓着手。

“听从菲比的建议,”他说,“菲比是我认识的最懂事的女孩;她是我认识的最聪明的女孩。”她的母亲也是如此,她嫁给了这方面最受欢迎的传教士之一,尽管我不应该这么说。我老太婆总是这么说,因为我们的菲比是为牧师的妻子而生的。小菲比就是这样的另一个人。”这位钦佩的祖父喊道。诸天之上!这是否意味着他自己陷入了陷阱和圈套,还是老店主认为他霍勒斯·诺斯科特是另一个可能的受害者?如果他知道菲比对他怀着多么真诚、富有同情心的宽容,认为他是一个她可能会善待的年轻人,那么他可能就不会在这一点上感到惊慌了。一个不起眼的反对派小牧师竟然认为她有能力嫁给他,这种想法是一种耻辱,但菲比并没有想到这一点。

第十七章·公开会议 •3,600字

然而,菲比的哲学受到了考验,年轻的牧师喝完茶,摆脱了托泽尔一家的热情款待后,她的祖父也消失了,穿上他最好的外套去参加会议。托泽夫人独自一人和她的孙女在一起,立即开始阐述她对菲比应该做什么的看法。

“菲比,我从来没见过你离开那个棕色的东西,”她说。 “孩子,你没有一件丝绸连衣裙,或者看起来年轻一点的衣服吗?我原以为你妈妈会为你感到更加自豪。你肯定有一件丝绸连衣裙。”

“哦,是的,不止一个,”菲比说,“不过这被认为更有品味。”

“味道,谁的味道?”老太太喊道; “我的菲比不应该关心这些肮脏的东西,因为我确信她从来没有从我那里得到过这样的榜样。我一直喜欢看起来明亮的东西,即使它只是印刷品。现在穿漂亮的蓝色丝绸,或者亮绿色,会很衬你的肤色。现在去吧,亲爱的,穿上一些非常漂亮的衣服,一些会显露出来的衣服;你将和你的祖父一起去参加这次会议。”

“去开会?哦,我希望不会。”菲比热情地说。

“那你为什么不希望呢?作为一个像你这样的年轻人,当她可以的时候应该出去走走,看看有什么可看的,这不是很自然的事吗?我不喜欢女孩在屋子里闷闷不乐。此外,它非常有启发性,正如我经常听到的那样:你很聪明,当然会理解每一个单词。诺斯科特先生是一位相貌英俊的年轻人。部长们可能不多,”托泽夫人说,“尽管看看你爸爸过得怎么样,亲爱的。像菲比这样的人,没有人能够像她一样在这个世界上站起来。你可能会在贸易中赚更多的钱,但这并不那么优雅,总有这样的话要说。现在你应该有机会与其他人一起并让别人看到你自己,菲比。跑吧,亲爱的,穿上明亮的衣服,戴上漂亮的蕾丝领子。如果你愿意的话,你也可以拥有我的。我不应该吝惜任何东西,不应该吝惜我所拥有的任何东西,只要看到你看起来像那里最好的那样;只要你付出一点努力,你就会做到的。如果我是你,我会把头发盘得更高一点;为什么,菲比,我声明!你连一块垫子都没有。现在这样忽视自己、让别人领先于你又有什么用呢?”

“奶奶,卫生巾已经过时了,”菲比严肃地说,“裙子的鲜艳颜色也过时了。你无法想象我们在城里穿的衣服有多么有趣。但我必须参加这个会议吗?我不想让你一个人呆着。对我来说来到这里真是太好了。”

“您 ,那恭喜你, “你是个好女孩,”托泽夫人钦佩地说,“而我,却为一位来自伦敦的漂亮女士感到害怕!但托泽尔会说这是我做的。他会说,因为这对于一个年轻的生物来说是不自然的;上帝保佑,他们都会以最好的状态出现在现场——鸽子和其他人,还有汤姆太太。我只是希望我也能去,看看你比他们所有人都出色,只要你努力,你就会做到的。菲比,在你的头发上多费点力气,把它盘得高一点,如果你想要一些花边、胸针之类的东西,就来找我吧。我希望汤姆夫人看到你戴着那枚胸针,因为她一直想要米妮。现在我为什么要把我的胸针送给米妮?就我而言,我认为没有任何理由这样做。”

“当然不行,奶奶,”菲比说,“你必须自己戴胸针,这比把它们送给米妮或我更让我喜欢。”

“啊,但像你这样的人并不多,亲爱的,”老妇人擦着眼睛喊道。 “你是我菲比的女儿,但你比她高出一点点,亲爱的,我们也是,你就是这样。现在就跑,穿好衣服,不然我不知道托泽会对我说什么。他今晚一心想向你炫耀。”

如此嘱咐后,菲比不情愿地走了。不用说,她对祖母胸针的无私也许并不像表面上看起来那么高尚。这篇文章是一种小型暖锅,采用非常精致的纯金镶座,镶嵌着大颗粉色托帕石,周围有一圈小波浪卷发,来自上一代每个年轻托泽尔的头发。这是一件在卡林福德非常有名的珠宝,当菲比将其用作自己的个人装饰品时,她内心的恐慌是更容易想象而不是描述的。她感觉自己已经逃脱了,上了楼,拿出一件黑色丝质连衣裙,看上去充满爱意。

“但奶奶会认为它不会比这更好,”她对自己说,经过深思熟虑,她选择了一套威尼斯蓝色的服装,一种柔和的色调逐渐变成另一种色调,就像一块旧玻璃上的光泽,她自己的意见对于这个场合来说太过分了。 “肯定有人会踩在上面,烛光下看不出颜色;但我必须尽力取悦奶奶。”她勇敢地说。当她穿上托泽尔夫人从未见过的、完全不知道其价值的蕾丝花边时,菲比用同样暗淡华丽色调的披肩裹在她身上,上面覆盖着刺绣是一种印度稀有物品,是有人送给比彻姆太太的,在菲比的艺术眼光落在它身上之前,没有人使用过或想到过它。对于卡林福德来说,这实在是太好了。在牛津街花一两英镑买的一件歌剧斗篷会给菲比所在的集会留下更深刻的印象。当她下楼时,托泽夫人用敬畏但不满的目光打量着她。

“我敢说,这一切都很好,而且不像其他人,任何人都可以看到; “亲爱的,如果你在我手里,我会把你打扮得不一样。”老妇人绕着她走来走去,说道。至于托泽尔,他也没有表现出比他更了解的钦佩之情。

“我有一只苍蝇,以为你身上会沾上什么东西;但是,上帝保佑,你本来可以穿着那件礼服走路的,”他说。因此,菲比的梳妆台在伦敦的客厅里会受到极大的赞赏,但不能说是成功的。她对此感到有些沮丧,尽管她对此了解得更清楚。因此,她的祖父穿着他最好的外套,乘飞机出发了,总体来说,她的心情很沮丧。

“很明显,我必须选择粉色和蓝色来取悦他们,”她叹了口气对自己说。她可以战胜因亲戚关系而受到的轻视。但那些对她衣服的嘲笑却深深地触动了菲比的心。

当菲比跟随她的祖父走进音乐厅时,音乐厅里挤满了各种各样的人群。分配给这些重要人物的座位就在讲台上,至少托泽尔那不为人知的炫耀目的可以得到充分的满足。总体而言,这种安排并没有令菲比不高兴。既然她必须被展出,总的来说,在那里展出似乎比在一个不太显眼的地方展出要好。所有演讲者都认识她,这很了不起。她有些恭维地坐下来,把印度围巾从肩上垂下来,漂亮的裙子显露出来。

“我敢说那不是菲比,小姑娘,”汤姆太太在大厅中央大声说道,“她在卖弄自己;但是,上帝保佑我们,无论他们多么伟大,她的着装如何,当然。一块破旧的围巾,还有一顶帽子!和她每天穿的一样。我对他们给予我们更多的尊重,因为他们能够指导我们。”

事实上,汤姆夫人穿着一身红衣服,光彩照人。 巴尔出击她的长袍上别着一枚几乎和托泽夫人的一枚胸针一样大的胸针,头上戴着一顶插满鲜花的帽子。这是塞勒姆女士们在这种罕见场合的惯常时尚。对他们来说,解建协会的会议对于那些经常虚荣心的世俗人士来说就像一场舞会。各大家族都出来了 集体 看到和被看到。如果说他们没有参与所有争论并认识到摆在他们面前的智力盛宴,那是错误的。毫无疑问,他们这样做就像穿着最普通的衣服一样。但毫无疑问,场合的严肃性却因为这样变成了一种消遣而被改变了。男人们没那么好,也许是因为男人要好起来更难——但他们都穿着周日的衣服;他们都穿着周日的衣服。年轻的孩子们则戴着彩色缎子领带和精致的背心。他们中的一些人几乎和那些戴着丝带和鲜花的女士们一样美丽。

“我想从他们的外表来看,这一定是一个有影响力的社区——有些自命不凡的人,”一位肥胖的年长牧师说道,他坐在菲比旁边,他的眼睛被展示弄得眼花缭乱。 “我没想到在一个安静的乡村地方会穿这么多衣服。”

“哦是的! “他们都是自命不凡的人。”菲比严肃地说。

然后诉讼程序开始。坐在椅子上的是杂货商老格林先生,他的儿子娶了玛丽亚·皮金,他早已从生意上退休了,在乡下有一所房子,“驾驶着他的马车”。会议按照此类集会的惯例进行,发言者表现出不同程度的认真态度。对于这些绅士中的大多数人来说,这是他们生活中的普通职业。他们让听众为众所周知的故事而发笑,享受自己的智慧,引起熟悉的欢呼,并创作出多年来在同一主题上创作的热门歌曲,这是一种令人舒服的感觉。 巴塔耶骑士,他们自己一点也不兴奋,尽管他们很愿意让观众兴奋,如果观众允许自己兴奋的话。就这样,第一个小时一切进展得很愉快!会议并不激动,但很有趣,很愉快。正如皮金对布朗所说,这是一种智力上的享受,如果年轻人不喜欢它,他们会喜欢一个球,那么年长的人更喜欢它,大厅里响起了掌声和笑声正如一位发言者接替另一位发言者一样。很高兴知道“教会”的基础是多么不稳定。那个贵族教会瞧不起持不同政见者,其中最贫穷的信徒都表现得远远高于礼拜堂的人。不墨守成规的人持有多么崇高的立场,他们对国家的支持无话可说。

“就我而言,”一位发言者说,“我宁愿放弃明天的神圣使命,或者像圣保罗那样制作帐篷,也不愿戴上国家的镀金镣,祈祷或传教正如一位大主教告诉我的;不仅如此,正如由不信神者组成的内阁委员会所指示的那样。英国国教的神职人员中有很多好人。但他们是奴隶,我的朋友们,只不过是奴隶,被国家的战车车轮拖着走。由一群头脑冷静的律师统治;或者将自己束缚在腐烂的传统长袍中。只有我们才敢说我们是自由的!”

会议现场热烈鼓掌,欣喜若狂,沾沾自喜。说话的人也很高兴,尝到了成功的甜蜜,让位给下一个,来到菲比身边坐下,年轻人都很高兴能逃离菲比的身边。

“比彻姆小姐,你表现得很冷静,”演说家低声说道,“你不像我们其他人一样,陷入了这场巨大的骚动之中。”

“你有领导成员吗?”菲比又低声说道; “他从来不拉着他的车轮拉你吗?你有让你保持达标的执事吗?当有人请你喝茶时,你必须和他们一起喝茶,否则他们会呕吐吗?当然,我在想爸爸。”

“我有执事吗?我有领导成员吗?比彻姆小姐,你太残忍了——”

“嘘!”菲比坐到椅子上说道。 “这是一个极其认真的人。别说话,诺斯科特先生要说话了。”

由此可见,部长的女儿扮演了她 角色 漂亮女士和 贝尔精神 气氛非常公平,与优雅女士呼吸的空气完全不同。菲比不再理会她身边那个狼狈的男人。她看似漫不经心地把披肩拢在手里,轻轻地披在膝盖上,那里的刺绣金线在灯光下闪闪发亮。她摘下帽子,她认为戴上帽子是合适的,以表明她意识到这次会议不是晚会。并准备好倾听。她的肤色、她的头发,以及华丽的印度作品中的金线,就这样一起闪耀在震惊的观众面前。他们中的许多人对此感到震惊,就像诺斯科特先生演讲的开头一样,尽管它与其他演讲有很大不同。其他的都是例行公事的激动,这一次是炽热的信念,粗鲁的,草率的结论,但仍然是一种热情。诺斯科特先生逐渐接近他的主题,他的听众一开始对没有熟悉的口号感到失望,变得迟钝,把注意力集中在菲比身上。但在他讲话十分钟之前,菲比甚至被她的叔叔和婶婶这两个对她最感兴趣的人忘记了。向可能对这场争论完全不感兴趣的读者重复诺斯科特先生的演讲是危险的,他在演讲中指出了教会当然与世界上所有其他机构所共有的一些弱点。 。即使报告是即时的,口才在印刷品中也会消失。但他的结束语令听众感到震惊,因为他们对所有敏锐的个人感情产生了平静的抽象兴趣,这种个人感情伴随着观众已知的事实的叙述,并影响了当地的人们。

“我到这个地方才三天,”发言者说,“但在这短短的时间内,我听说了我向你们指出的最明目张胆的虐待行为之一。 众所周知,这个镇上有一个机构,叫做学院;我不知道它最初的对象是什么。 据我所知,在这个国家里确实存在着以这样的名义优雅地掩盖着无所事事的乞丐的巢穴。但至少可能有某种教育目的存在于建立它的虔诚创始人的心中。 虔诚的创始人! 收入是多么巨大,行善的手段是多么难以估量,而这些收入却被那些在最后一刻用这些礼物购买了进入天国通行证并变得虔诚的人们所锁住,毫无用处,或者比无用更糟糕。创始人就在他们不再是悲惨的罪人之前! 然而,无论学院的初衷是什么,很明显它的目的不仅仅是为了现在的可怜用途。 女士们先生们,这个古老的基金会可能会为卡林福德一半的贫困儿童提供健康的教育,但它却致力于赡养六位老人,我需要说是牧师吗?” (说话者在这里被嘶嘶声和讽刺的“听到,听到”打断)——“还有一位牧师为他们祈祷。 六位老人:还有一位身体健全的牧师为他们祈祷。 朋友们对此有何看法? 我明白,这项繁重而繁重的职责是被赋予的——不是给其他发霉的老绅士,某个腐烂的牧师,他们本可以在不受我干扰的情况下平静地为腐朽的老市民服务:因为为老年人和贫困者提供了一个避难所即使这是错误地挪用公共资金,也是很自然的事情。 不,这可能是某种微弱的伸张正义的方法,某种对错的方法会让我们闭嘴。 但不是! 它被授予一位年轻的绅士,身体健全,正如我所说,他不止一次与你的胜利十一人一起出现在板球场上,他刚从牛津毕业,不会再屈尊认为自己站稳了脚跟与向你讲话的谦卑的人平等,比我愿意用我的双手接受一个可耻的闲职! 是的,我的朋友们,这就是国家教会所做的。 她如此威吓追随者的精神,削弱其追随者的心,以至于一个年轻人在职业生涯的最初阶段,能够教书,能够工作,能够挖掘,能够接受教育,训练和培养,可以屈尊接受高收入。这样的立场。 想想看! 六个老人,如果他们有什么用的话,肯定能够以某种方式为自己咕哝着祈祷。却配备了一位牛津学者,一位身体健全的年轻人,每天为他们朗读礼拜仪式! 毫无疑问,他认为这很好,有一份不错的收入,有一套好房子,除了以摇摆的步伐慢跑做早祷和晚祷,就像我们都听过的那样:早祷,让我们看看半小时——或者你可以加十分钟,以防六个人慢慢地念出阿门——晚上二十分钟,每天一小时。 卡林福德的人们,这一切就在你们的眼前,这是为你们最受尊敬的牧师之一的儿子提供的一份迷人的食物。 为什么,它在你们的报纸上,我在那里读到的!

很多人注意到,当诺斯科特先生以雷鸣般的声音结束这一切时,一个穿着因弗内斯斗篷、戴着帽子在眉毛上在门口听着的人突然猛烈地摇晃了一下,使人群震动起来,然后转过身来。圆儿径直走了出去,根本不在乎撞到谁。当演说者停止时,整个集会一片喧闹,前面的各组人都窃窃私语。 “他的意思是年轻的梅。” “当然是年轻的五月。正如我常说的,这是地狱般的工作。” “哦,安静,鸽子,别发誓!但这确实看起来是一种黑色燃烧的耻辱,不是吗?” “好极了,诺科特先生!”老托泽尔在站台上喊道,“这就是我所谓的发出不带不确定声音的东西。这就是把它放在他们身上。”

这才是本次会议的高潮。在如此坚决地诉诸个人知识之后,其他一切都平淡无奇。菲比独自一人冷淡地接待了当晚的英雄。

“我不喜欢个性,”她尖锐地说。 “他们从不做任何好事;这不符合绅士风度;你不这么认为吗,斯洛利先生;”她转身离开了前来和她说话的诺斯科特,全身心地投入到她身边的这个男人身上,而她之前还冷落过他。诺斯科特先生对自己说,这是不真实的,并提出了一百个很好的理由来解释为什么他应该采用这样的例子,但是这种责备刺痛了他的痛处,因为不绅士是所有其他最有意图的人的责备。走进他的心里。

但没有人知道梅先生是如何穿着因弗内斯斗篷、呼吸火焰回家的,也没有人知道他随后被处决的事。

第十八章·梅先生的事情 •3,400字

梅先生走进书房并关上门。他拨开火——他坐进安乐椅——他把写字本拉到面前,打开,看到一张写了一半的纸正等着他。然后他停了下来,轻轻地搓了搓双手,又向后倒去,自言自语地笑了。

是的;他像一阵旋风一样冲出了客厅,让每个人都感到沮丧,让女孩们泪流满面,男孩们热情高涨,当他到达自己退休的最深处时,他笑了。这意味着什么?在世界上所有人中,他的孩子们会对这种自我背叛感到震惊。他们无法理解。他们熟悉他的激情和他脾气暴躁的时刻。他们凭本能,凭他眼中的光芒,凭他关门的方式,知道他什么时候和蔼可亲,什么时候生气。但这是他们完全不知道的事情。事实上,梅先生和许多其他人一样,生性脾气暴躁,他随心所欲地发脾气,在适合他的时候就获得了使用它的权力,而没有被任何人怀疑。坏脾气就像其他东西一样是一种财产,可以像其他东西一样巧妙地利用,而这些东西本身也许并不令人想要。他可以让自己勃然大怒,发动他觉得准备发动的厄运,就像一只手发出燃烧的、嘶嘶作响的霹雳,但事实上,他的手一点也不兴奋;和大多数其他拥有这种未显露的力量的人一样,当他让周围的人相信这是一种愤怒的冲动感动了他时,他感到非常高兴。他参加了在音乐厅举行的会议,“是为了听听那些家伙自己说的话。”他心里对“那些家伙”抱有无限的蔑视和愤怒。但他觉得第二天的报纸报道了年轻的诺斯科特的口才,足以永远粉碎他儿子接受牧师职位的所有希望。于是,他以最快的速度走回家,正如我们所看到的,他冲进了自己的房子,他的热情如此完美,以至于欺骗了他的全家人,让整个地方充满了愤怒和泪水。说完,他退出了冲突现场,倒在安乐椅上,咯咯笑着,慢慢恢复了平静。

然而,当这种私人的放纵结束后,梅先生的脸色就变得够黑了。他把写的东西推开,拉出写字台的一个抽屉,里面装满了毫无文学性的文件,他开始思考这些文件,他的表情和心里都没有笑声。 。蓝纸上的字母是直上直下的笔迹——其他的纸也是蓝色的,上面有格线和数字,梅先生对此比对骑兵冲锋更害怕。这些都是这个抽屉里非常没有吸引力的东西。他把两三本打包拿出来,皱着眉头一页一页地读起来。与其他事物一样,债务也是一种特质。有些人奇迹般地摆脱了它,有些人似乎无缘无故地陷入其中,并终其一生都试图摆脱它。梅先生就是这些不幸的人之一。他无法告诉自己他的钱去了哪里。悲惨的人!他拥有的并不多,而且还有一个大家庭需要吃穿,还要接受某种程度的教育。但还有一些收入和他一样少的人设法维持家庭,没有陷入这种绝望的境地。从他记事起,他就负债累累。可以肯定的是,对许多人来说,这并不是他的痛苦和麻烦。只要他能千方百计地避开邪恶的日子,只要他足够幸福,到目前为止,他已经通过各种半奇迹般的意外之财做到了这一点。詹姆斯的汇款对他来说就像天上的露水。确实,这些汇款的目的是让雷金纳德留在牛津,也许他对雷金纳德的态度特别冷酷,因为他在这方面对他做错了,并且侵占了本来应该给他的东西。但毕竟,他对自己说,维持住所的舒适,保持家族名誉,避免家庭贫困的令人不快的曝光,甚至对于雷金纳德来说也比多花一点钱更重要。在他的口袋里,每个人都知道这对一个年轻人来说非常危险。

梅先生总是有一笔到期的账单,而詹姆斯的汇款正好可以满足这些账单。确实,这就是他生活的常态。他总是有一张到期的账单——这张账单必须由一些好脾气的银行家哄骗来更新,或者在最后一刻通过一些熟练的花招来支付,即从一艘船倒入另一艘船,转移债务。从一个季度到另一个季度,因此可以说,梅先生周围总是漂浮着一定数量的完全虚构和幻想的金钱,这些钱只以象征的形式存在,而且事实上,这些钱不属于任何人——今天在这里借的,明天在那里还的,然后以同样的方式重新借和还,从来没有真正到达任何人的口袋,或者代表着除了金钱应该能够消灭的东西之外的任何东西——债务。当人类的事情达到这个非常微妙的地步,除了半奇迹般的意外之财之外,任何时候都没有任何东西可以让一个人继续前进,危机是非常严重的。难怪梅先生急于迫使他的儿子接受任何可能的任命,并且他偶尔会无理地斥责他的家人。除非在接下来的十天内有一百磅左右的东西从天而降,否则他眼前除了废墟什么也看不见。不用说,这远非一个舒适的位置。这 患者的激动、兴奋、狂热的希望和恐惧很可能会影响他的脾气。如果十天内他拿不到一百英镑,他就不知道该怎么办了。

没有人能说(他心里想)他是个昂贵的人;他没有昂贵的习惯。确实,他喜欢美好的生活,喜欢一杯好酒,但这种对餐桌的尊重并不会毁掉男人。他也喜欢书,但他不买书,满足于图书馆能买得起的书,以及他可以通过为教会杂志写评论获得的书。那么,他怎么总是摆脱不了那张快到期的票据呢?他说不出来。摆脱债务是一回事,而当你一旦把债务套在脖子上时摆脱它又是另一回事。正如人们所说,即使他有钱,他也会“从指间溜走”。当詹姆斯的汇款或任何其他好运使他足以支付那一百英镑而无需向其他地方借钱时,他仍然向其他地方借钱。这是一种神秘的宿命,他似乎无法逃脱。在这种情况下,危机迟早会到来,而在他看来,至少在千辛万苦逃脱之后,现在危机已经到来了。

他该怎么办?没有机会了,唉!詹姆斯的钱,即使雷金纳德接受了牧师的职位,并愿意立即帮助他的父亲,在一段时间内他也没有希望得到任何东西——因为牧师的收入并不比其他人多,一般是提前支付的。他靠在椅背上,第一百次又看了一遍所有他可以借钱的人的名单,或者谁会为他“支持”一笔帐单,而他仍然忙于这种忧郁而绝望的列举,当一声低沉的敲门声传来,一名女佣把门推开,推门进来一个穿着灰棕色外套的相貌矮小男人,当他走进来时,他把手放在额头上。一半是慈善男学生,一半是笨拙的新兵。除此之外,没有任何关于他入场的仪式,没有请假或提出问题。贝特西很清楚,他想什么时候进来就什么时候进来,而且她的主人并没有向科茨丁拒绝。梅先生以熟悉的地点头迎接了他,并急忙指着一张椅子。他甚至懒得把那些蓝纸收起来,如果是其他人,即使他的一个孩子走进了房间,他也会这样做。

“晚上好,科茨丁,”他用友好的语气说道。 “嗯,什么消息?”

“没有什么是令人愉快的,先生,”那人坐在椅子的一角上说道。 “我去过银行,我再怎么解释、乞求也没用。他们不会听到的。他们对我说:“我们已经这样做过很多次了,我们不会再这样做了。”那是平坦的,”所以确实是平坦的,先生,正如你可能会说的彻头彻尾的邓斯特布尔;但这对你我来说并不是没有好处。”

“是的,是的,科茨丁,”牧师说,“这是一个决定性的优势,因为它表明从那个季度没有什么可指望的,这总是好的——尽管它很糟糕,尽可能糟糕。” ——”

“你可以这么说,先生,”科茨丁说。 “除了未出生的婴儿之外,我不知道该怎么办,这让我快要死了,这就是它正在做的事情。当我环顾我的小家庭时,我只能忍住不哭出声来。梅先生,我的孩子们会怎样?您的,先生,他们永远不会想要朋友,到处都有一百个左右,不会毁掉绅士风度的;但如果不卖掉公司,我怎么能拿到一百英镑呢?这不是平等的,先生,我发誓不是。你拿到钱了,你就轻松自在,头也不低一点;但我对此没有任何好处(除了一点习俗,这比其他任何事情都更重要),并且必须去找所有的人,去找银行的布朗洛先生,而且我也不知道是谁,好像是给我的!先生,我的信用受苦,我的精神受苦,我的健康也受苦。当粉碎来临时,我可怜的孩子们会变成什么样子呢?让一个人变得疯狂就足够了,就是这样。”

可怜的人的眼睛充血了,一半是因为揉眼睛,一半是因为泪水。他用粗糙外套的袖子擦了擦,眼泪很真,虽然不多。科茨丁的绝望确实够悲惨的,但表面上却有一丝喜剧色彩,虽然他心情不好,但还是引起了梅先生的注意。说实话,他自己也受到了非常痛苦的影响,但他还是努力忍住不笑。

“科茨丁,”他说,“我有让你失望过吗?你为我做了很多事,我不否认——你经历了所有的麻烦,但除此之外,除了想象之外,你还受过什么苦呢?如果你选择夸大危险,那不是我的错。您的孩子就像英格兰银行一样安全。现在,我有让你失望过吗?回答我这个问题。”

“我不能像你那样说,先生,”科茨丁说,“但是像这样断断续续地玩弄一个人的毁灭是一件可怕的工作,没有人知道会发生什么,或者一天或一个小时会带来什么。 ”。

“确实如此,”梅先生说。 “我可能会死,这就是你的意思;非常真实,尽管不像我想象的那样友善——一位非常老的朋友。”

“我确信,先生,请您原谅,”可怜的人喊道,“不是那样的;而是那样。”但就在我因不断思考而被赶出我的七种感官时。”

“我亲爱的科茨丁,别想;没有比这更不必要的练习了;你的想法除了让你不快乐之外还有什么用呢?交给我吧。以前我们也曾被逼到过绝境,但我们什么也没发生过。你会看到这次会出现一些东西。我再问你一次,我有辜负过你吗?你最清楚。”

“不,先生,”科茨丁有些怀疑地说。 “不,我没有像你那样说。只是——我想我不再像以前那么年轻了——而且一个人的感情,先生,并不总是在他自己的控制之下。”

“你必须注意,只有我才能举办这样的展览,”梅先生说。 “谁在那儿?哦,我的咖啡!把它放在桌子上。如果有人看到你红着眼睛来到我这里,而且表情很激动,”他继续说道,尖锐地等待着门关上,“就会被认为是有某种家庭原因——再次——”

“哦,天啊,先生!你知道-”

“是的,我很清楚,”牧师说。 “我知道没有比这更好的妻子了,过去的就过去了;但你必须记住并小心;每个人都不如我那么了解你和她。当你看到你的牧师处于这种焦躁的状态时,我对你自己说,科茨丁,我对你的理智说,有人会怎么想?你必须非常小心,不要向除我以外的任何人出卖自己。”

那人惊愕地看着他,对他如此大胆的举动感到困惑。背叛了自己——他长长地吸了一口气,仿佛收到了 灌洗 冷水泼到了他的脸上,这确实很像这个非凡演讲所产生的效果——背叛自己!可怜的科茨丁目前的挣扎和痛苦完全是因为他让自己被梅先生利用了,而这两个人都清楚地意识到这一点。尽管科茨丁气喘吁吁,但他仍受到牧师的影响,无法再做任何事情。如果他是持不同政见者,他会庇护年轻的诺斯科特,他和梅先生一样好(或者说实话,要好得多),坦白地确信自己的优越地位,但作为一个谦虚的牧师,他屈服了向他的牧师透露其中一项权力。这是一个奇怪的差异。他一动不动地坐在椅子边上,而梅先生则穿过房间走到靠门的桌子旁,他的桌子就在那里。 黑咖啡 已经被安置好了,拿起他的杯子喝了下去。他没有礼貌地要求他的访客分享它,事实上,他永远不会想到这一点,尽管他毫不犹豫地利用可怜的科茨丁来达到自己的目的,以不同于人们对待仆人和下等人的方式对待他。喝完咖啡后,他悠闲地回到原来的地方。

“你没有什么可建议的,”他说,“没有什么可建议的?好吧,我必须尝试我能做的事情。这将是一项艰苦的工作,但我仍然必须这样做,你知道,”梅先生用亲切的语气补充道。 “我从来没有向你隐瞒过,科茨丁,我非常感谢你的帮助;这类事情在我的处境中比在你的处境中要糟糕得多。你明白吗?一位绅士——还有一位牧师——对他的期望是你永远不会想到的。我从来没有忘记承认我对你的义务——而你也对我负有一些义务。”

“我不否认,因为您一直非常友善,先生。”科茨丁半感激半阴沉地说。然后他有点动摇了。 “我从来没有否认过, 这里 如果不是为了你,我永远无法把它脱下来。我不会忘记别人的恩惠——没有人能这样评价我。在这件事上我没有忘记这一点。”

“我并不是说你已经忘记了。我一直对你充满信心;但是,我的好朋友,你千万不要以这种低声下气的方式来找我。我有让你失望过吗?有时我们压力很大,但总会有一些事情出现。我不是已经告诉过你一百次了,上帝会提供一切吗?”

“如果您这么说的话,先生——”

“我确实是这么说的。你知道,我总是得到帮助,有时似乎是在最后一刻。交给我。 “我毫不怀疑,”梅先生抬起脸来,脸上的表情决不像人们所希望的那么平静,“当时机到来时,一切都会好起来,就像我对明天太阳升起的感觉一样。” ——它会的,”他带着几分严肃地补充道,“无论你我是否活着看到它。我说,一切都交给我吧。”

科茨迪恩没有做出任何回应。他被这种庄严的语气吓住了,他太清楚自己的处境,不能与他的牧师作对。但仍然不能否认的是,这一决定并不像一个不那么崇高的语气那样令人满意。他没有勇气再说什么——他手里拿着帽子,脸上阴云密布地退了出去。但当他离开家时,他灵魂中的怀疑又浮现了出来。 “如果我和他都没有看到它上涨,那对我的家人有什么好处,”科茨丁自言自语道,然后穿过一袋袋种子和沙沙作响的干燥谷物,走向他关门的商店。心情沉重。他是一家还算可以的生意的关键人物,卡林福德的大多数银行家都知道,他经营生意有些困难,因为普遍缺钱。但这种情况并不罕见,值得特别注意。每个知道的人都认为梅先生非常仁慈地支持他,甚至把他的名字写在可怜的科茨丁的账单上,事实上,众所周知,他在很多方面对科茨丁非常友善。但没有人知道这些账单中有多少流向了科茨迪恩,又有多少流向了梅先生。

等他走后,牧师又坐回椅子上,脸色苍白。他把普罗维登斯视为某种中立的神灵,当他与科茨丁交谈时,他非常确信普罗维登斯站在他一边,但当科茨丁离开时,普罗维登斯并没有感觉离他那么近,或者在他的指挥之下。还有两天;但如果在此之前他无法做出一些准备,那该怎么办呢?他不是一个残忍或坏人,如果可怜的科茨丁和他的家人因为他而发生任何事情,他会遭受极大的痛苦。但如果到了那个时候,他们就必须被牺牲,这个想法非常令人震惊。他该怎么办?他的朋友们已经筋疲力尽,他的权宜之计也是如此。再也没有人可以向他借钱,也没有人愿意为他分担哪怕一分担子。他该怎么办?

第十九章 新牧师 •3,700字

不可否认的是,虽然雷金纳德·梅不愿意接受已经说了这么多的牧师职位,但他一旦公平地这样做了,并让自己无可救药,某种解脱感开始悄悄地笼罩着年轻人。男人的心思。他已经实现了飞跃。最后,他被一些论点所感动,这些论点也许在逻辑上没有多大价值,即使他屈服于这些论点,他也看到了其中的弱点,他确信,当他早上醒来并意识到自己做了什么时,恐惧的悔恨感会抓住他。但奇怪的是,事实并非如此。他的第一感觉是,冲突已经结束了,他不再需要面对愤怒的抗议,也不再需要乌苏拉的温柔恳求,也不再需要珍妮的粗鲁无礼的攻击,这让他松了口气。一切都结束了;然后,年轻人身上焕发了独立和能力的温暖光芒。你可以肯定,他的房间里没有生火取暖,那是一月的一个寒冷的早晨,厚重的天空中飘着雪,黄色的空气中弥漫着雾气。但尽管如此,他还是感到一丝安慰。

独立!——自由地去他想去的地方,买他喜欢的东西,按照他认为最好的方式度过他的时间,拥有自己的“地位”;甚至还有自己的房子。他对这个新想法轻轻地笑了起来。他接受的这个闲职并没有像他想象的那样伤害到他。难道他就不能像乌苏拉所说的那样,“以其他方式为镇上无偿工作,因为镇上已经给了他不工作的报酬吗?”雷金纳德心中升起一种和蔼可亲的宽容之感。他为什么要为此大惊小怪呢?他父亲的坚持是很自然的,而且既然事情已经完成了,他自己也不希望事情如他所预料的那样被撤销。毕竟,如果你以如此僵化的态度来判断事情,谁会毫无愧疚呢?什么样的公共任命是根据抽象权利进行的,从形式上来说,它应该是这样的?那些身居最高职位的人被任命,不是因为他们个人的卓越,而是因为他们是别人的儿子或兄弟。然而,总体而言,公共职责做得很好,不公正的统治者和雇佣牧师是例外。即使是那些非常仓促地进入羊圈的人,越过围墙,暴力地,或者通过一些私人利益的老鼠洞,一旦他们进入羊圈,就会成为很好的牧羊人。世界上没有十全十美的事物,但善总比恶多。如果他自己立志为自己创造一个理想的职位,成为各种志愿工作的实践者,那么他的任命不是一个理想的任命又有什么关系呢?对他来说,这似乎很奇怪,几乎就像是上天对他有利的干预,他竟然会有这样的感觉,因为雷金纳德没有意识到这种感觉的厌恶是非常自然的现象,而且在做出任何重大决定之后,这种感觉,几乎总是一种解脱。可以肯定的是,当他下楼吃早餐时,他的父亲向他点了点头,简短地说:“我很高兴你终于看到了你的职责。”

这让他几乎决定再吐一次。但这种感觉是短暂的。他为什么要放弃呢?这使他获得了独立(他已经认为自己的独立已经完成),他将​​向教会和卡林福德作出充分的补偿,因为他们每年不劳而获两百五十英镑。他当然能做到。他并不怨恨工作,而是喜欢它,并且愿意做任何事,他不在乎什么,把他的闲职变成志愿者的前哨站,从事每一项善事。是的,这就是看待问题的方式。这是一种光荣的独立。一年两百五十英镑!

“还有房子,”当梅先生离开早餐桌、让他们自由地闲聊时,乌苏拉喊道。 “这栋房子——我认为你不太可能为它找到租客。田庄巷的房子现在这么便宜了,还有一些人反对这些可怜的老人。我认为你必须保留房子。家具将是一项费用;但是,当然,当你有一定的收入时,那就会产生很大的差异;你可以每天来看我们。”

“他为什么不能住在家里?”珍妮说; “我们太穷了;他应该来给我们付一些伙食费,并帮助我们继续前进。”

“以你这个年纪,你能知道什么?”乌苏拉说。 “我们没有为雷金纳德找到合适的房间。既然他已经预约了,至少应该有一间自己的书房,还有一间卧室。不,你必须去学院,雷金纳德;约翰尼说,也许你可以带一个男孩一起去,这将是一笔很大的节省——因为他有胃口;他的胃口很大。他吃的东西比我们其他人的两个多。如果你愿意的话,你可以随身携带其中一个——这样可以节省一点账单。”

“带我去吧,”珍妮说,“我胃口也很好;然后我是个女孩,这更有用。我可以保留你的房子。哦,雷金纳德!我们不能出去看看吗?我想看一看。我从来没有去过学院——我一生都没有去过。”

“我们还是走吧,你不觉得吗,乌苏拉?”他说,带着一种令人愉快的无助和霸道的混合体吸引着她。昨天,他未能对六便士提出任何独家主张。现在他有了房子——一栋属于他自己的房子。想到要带女孩们去参加,他很高兴。至于拥有其中一个,他已经准备好让他们全部和他一起生活。乌苏拉在处理完众多的家务后,认为应该大方地接受这个建议。与此同时,珍妮一直在“练习”她周期性的勤奋。

“因为,你知道,如果雷金纳德真的想让我为他看家,”珍妮说,“(你在家里有太多事情要做;或者,当然,他最喜欢你),如果人们发现我知之甚少。”

“你应该去上学,”乌苏拉严肃地说。 “对于一个女孩来说,从未受过任何教育是一件可怕的事情。也许雷吉会花点钱送你上学;或者,也许爸爸——”

“自己上学吧!”珍妮愤怒地反驳道。但后来她想了想。 “也许只有一年才能完成,”她用怀疑的语气补充道。他们认为雷金纳德可以用每年那两百五十英镑做任何事。

学院是卡林福德另一边一座风景如画的老建筑,坐落在美丽的庭院里,周围有一些漂亮的树木,夏天的早晨,老人们坐在树下玩耍。在这个寒冷的冬日里,除了那个快乐的老灵魂几乎弯腰,但用像一只废弃的麻雀一样叽叽喳喳的小声音,他们谁也看不见,他充当门房,每天晚上关闭大门,并罚款老人两便士。如果他们来得太晚了。他钥匙叮叮当当地沿着回响的通道小跑,带他们参观牧师的房间。

“老先生们都像庞奇一样高兴,”乔说。 “我们很害怕,因为可能是外国人——而不是卡林福德的绅士;梅先生,有些帕森斯很奇怪,为了保住你的面。但我们知道你来自哪里,以及关于你的一切,正如一位老先生对我说的那样。小姐,家具齐全吗?主祝福你,是的!他们配备齐全。家具齐全,是学院。你会觉得事情看起来有点奇怪;我可以告诉你,它们不是今年制作的,也不是去年制作的;而且它们并不流行。但如果你不支持时尚,它们就在那里,”乔一边说,一边打开门。

年轻人轻手轻脚地走了进去,兴奋之情化为了一种敬畏。一座空荡荡的房子,即使配备了家具,也比一座空荡荡的房子更荒凉,更难以想象。一切准备就绪、打扫干净、装饰完毕,它在等谁呢?或者是否已经有看不见的居民在桌子上、椅子上写着幽灵般的字母?就连珍妮也沉默了。

“毕竟我宁愿呆在家里,”她在乌苏拉耳边低声说道。

但过了一段时间,他们就熟悉了这个寂静的地方,并用自己的声音和新的生命唤醒了其中的回声。学院里已经很多年没有出现过这么年轻的东西了。最后一位牧师是一位老人,也是一位老单身汉。养老金领取者都是孤独的,过着一种修道院的生活,每个人都在自己的房间里,就像牢房里的工人一样。当珍妮因某个意想不到的笑话而惊讶不已时,突然爆发出阵阵笑声,整座古老的建筑都在回响,不止一扇窗户被竖起,头伸出来想知道这种亵渎的原因。

“乔!”一个不祥的声音喊道; “发生了什么事?这个东西的意思是什么?”

“只有他们在笑,先生,”乔说,对他含糊不清的反驳感到高兴。 “他们不习惯,这是事实;但笑一笑吧,小姐,这对你有好处。”他友善地补充道。尽管身体虚弱,乔却精神愉快,他预见到了美好的日子。

然而,珍妮的笑声引起的骚动让年轻的一行人感到有些惊讶,他们离开了学院,乌苏拉带着她的各种备忘录以及窗帘和地毯的尺寸。 “你必须有窗帘,”她说,“我想为书房铺一块地毯。另一个房间就可以了;但书房很冷,没有阳光。我想知道我们是否可以同时去看一些。”

说到这里,三人在路上停了下来,互相看着对方,有些被这个想法的伟大所征服。就连雷金纳德,尽管有牛津的经历,一想到不加进一步考虑就直接出发去买地毯和窗帘,他都屏住了呼吸。至于珍妮,她又笑了,纯粹是兴奋和喜悦。

“想象一下走进霍顿店,径直走进去,就好像我们把银行装在口袋里一样,然后点我们喜欢的任何东西,”她喊道。

“我想我们必须拥有它们!”雷金纳德说,慢慢地沉浸在获得的快乐之中。乌苏拉被商业和管理的本能转变为党的领袖。

“当然,你必须拥有它们,”她的语气就像一个一生都订购窗帘的女人,“否则你会着凉,这可不是什么可取的。”然后她平静地朝霍尔顿家走去,而珍妮则掉了下来。背后掩饰着笑声,这表达了她对这种新情况的惊讶喜悦。值得怀疑的是,如果梅小姐去暗示为牧师住宅订购窗帘,霍尔顿是否会给他们如此好的接待——因为卡林福德商人非常清楚梅先生购买时付款方面的困难。 。但霍尔​​顿对布置学院房间的想法满面笑容。

“地毯?我有一张土耳其地毯,正好适合其中一间旧房间——现在人们对老式房间的想法太多了。”家具师傅说。

“是的——我想这样就可以了,”雷金纳德说,一边看着他的妹妹,想知道他是否正确。乌苏拉用她棕色眼睛的一瞥杀死了他。她的学识渊博,义愤填膺,几乎是伟大的。

“火鸡!你疯了吗?你认为我们口袋里有银行吗?”她生气地低声对他说,“就像珍妮说的那样吗?”

“我怎么知道?他是这么说的,”牧师惊慌失措地说,尽管他的收入很高,但他仍感到害怕。

He 我说过了!这就像你们这些孩子一样,别人告诉你们什么就说什么。为什么,土耳其地毯要花一大笔钱。霍尔顿先生,我想,如果您愿意,布鲁塞尔也可以;或者其中一些新品种,颜色杂乱,没有任何确定的图案。不太贵。”乌苏拉严肃地说,她的脸涨得通红。当这句话被说出时,他们都从最初的喜悦和宏伟中跌落下来——因为对费用的规定一下子就变得不同了。走进霍顿家,仿佛整个世界都属于他们的那种愉悦感已经结束了。但珍妮很感动地看到霍尔顿仍然保持着礼貌,脸上并没有表现出他一定感到的轻蔑。

当这一切结束后,霍尔顿先生善意地提出了向学院发送各种材料的想法,“以便他们可以判断效果”,一行人回家了,气氛略显压抑。空气沉闷而发黄,预示着会下雪。但冬日的红日却成功地在云层中暂时打开了一个缺口,将一道红光洒向田庄巷,照出了几位在旧花园围墙下来来往往的乘客。乌苏拉双手合十,当她把目光转向那边时,突然停了下来。

“哦!”她说:“她在这里——她来了!就她一个人,我们情不自禁地见到了她——黑衣小姐!”

“我们要跟她谈谈吗?”珍妮有些敬畏地说。

“那个黑衣小姐是谁?”雷金纳德说,“这个上来的女孩?我以前从未在卡灵福德见过她。她是你在多塞特郡见过的人吗?她看起来不太像田庄巷。”

“哦,安静! “她在这里,”乌苏拉说道,她失去了作为探险队队长的地位所赋予她的所有重要性。她的脸上浮现出一丝期待的红晕——她的酒窝就像变魔术一样显露出来。也许你会觉得奇怪,一个女孩的目光会对另一个女孩产生这种效果。但随后,菲比向乌苏拉展示了她唯一一次看到的这个世界,这个世界在这个乡下姑娘看来是欢乐而辉煌的——在这个世界里,菲比在她看来就像一位荣耀和欢乐的公主。乌苏拉忘记了她的同伴和她最近的职业。黑衣小姐会注意到她吗?也许停下来和她谈谈——还记得她吗?她的眼睛开始发光,兴奋地跳舞。她焦急地踉踉跄跄地继续往前走,目光死死地盯着那个逼近的身影。菲比则在田庄巷里来回走动,她也有点感动,认出了这个女孩,想知道该怎么做才是最明智的——是否要和她说话,打破她孤独的散步。与一个小社交,或者记住她的“位置”,并通过向牧师的女儿(她是多塞特的表弟)鞠躬来避免进一步的羞辱。

“多塞特人不会认出我,也不会认出梅小姐,”菲比自言自语道,“如果他们知道——”

但当他们走近时,乌苏拉显得如此渴望,以至于她没有勇气坚持这个明智的决定。虽然她只是黄油人托泽尔的孙女,但她比这个吸引她注意的脸红的漂亮女孩更像是一个世俗的女人。当他们相遇时,她本能地伸出了手。 “毕竟,除了我自己,它不会伤害任何人,”她想。

“哦,我很高兴你还记得我,”乌苏拉喊道。 “我一瞬间就认识了你。你来这里住下吗?这是我的兄弟雷金纳德和我的妹妹珍妮”(珍妮对此皱眉) 小的! 这是有道理的,因为她比两人高半英寸)。 “你在散步吗?我真心希望你喜欢卡林福德。我真希望你能留下来。那是我们在小巷尽头的房子,靠近圣罗克。爸爸是那里的牧师。 “如果你要留下来的话,那真是太令人高兴了,”乌苏拉兴奋地重复着自己的话。

“我要待一段时间,”菲比和蔼地说,“我不知道要待多久。我在城里见到你后不久就来到这里。我的祖父住在这里。田庄巷(Grange Lane)非常适合散步。奶奶身体不好,所以我不经常离开她。我刚出来就找到了你,真是太幸运了。因为独自行走并不愉快。”

菲比完全确信,通过这三个头转向她的每一个,都在匆忙地询问那些封闭的房子里哪一个住着生病的祖母;但询问之后并没有任何启发,至于乌苏拉,这件事在她的脑海中突然终止,充满了热情。她还没有到友谊停下来询问祖母的年纪。

“我很高兴!因为如果你不打算去任何地方,我们可以一起走。珍妮很了解你。我经常谈起你,”(菲比向珍妮亲切地鞠了一躬,微笑着,珍妮不太确定自己是否喜欢被这样屈尊俯就),“我哥哥也是如此,”乌苏拉更加怀疑地说。 “你喜欢卡林福德吗?你见过很多人吗?哦!我真希望你能留下来。”

“我没有看到任何人,”菲比说。 “我的人民在社会上并不多。当一个人又老又病的时候,我想人们不会在意——”

“卡灵福德没有什么社会可言,”雷金纳德说。 “它就像大多数其他乡村城镇一样。如果你喜欢它,我们确信你的喜欢是无私的,因为它没有社交魅力——”

雷金纳德什么时候对一位年轻女士说过这么多话了?女孩们交换了一个眼神。 “我认为这很漂亮,”菲比说,结束了这个话题。 “天要下雪了,你不觉得吗?我想你现在就像所有的年轻女士一样滑冰了。当冬天开始时,这似乎是每个人想到的第一件事。”

“你会滑冰吗?”乌苏拉说道,她的眼睛比以前更明亮、更睁大。

“哦,有一点——就像每个人一样!也许如果没有社会,”菲比第一次转向雷金纳德说道,“这里的人们就不必像其他人一样行事。我不认为世界上有这样的束缚——穿衣、生活、工作、娱乐——你必须像别人那样做一切。所以我滑冰——我情不自禁;除此之外还有一百个愚蠢的事情。”

“但我应该认为 愉快,”乌苏拉喊道,“我一直羡慕那些男孩们。当我们都在发抖时,它们看起来很温暖。雷金纳德,如果结冰了,你会教我们吗?我想我应该比世界上任何东西都更喜欢它。”

“是的,”雷金纳德说,“如果小姐——如果我们能组织一个聚会的话——如果你,”他用全新的语调补充道,“也会来。”

“我发现你不知道我的名字,”菲比轻声笑道。 “是比彻姆。在聚会上人们永远不会听到名字。我之所以记住你,是因为我少女时代非常崇拜的一本小说里的一家人——”

“哦!我知道,”珍妮喊道,“菊花链。我们不像那些人那样一本正经。不管我们是什么,我们都不是好人;我们-”

“我认为比彻姆小姐不会在乎你对这个家庭性格的看法,”雷金纳德说,他的语气让珍妮很生气。就这样,他们聊着聊到了牧师住宅的门口,乌苏拉非常渴望她的朋友进来。梅先生也加入了他们,他和其他人一样,对菲比的外表印象深刻,他表现得如此讨人喜欢,雷金纳德觉得黯然失色并被推入幕后。乌苏拉一生中从未对她的父亲如此满意过。虽然梅先生心里阴云密布,但他对每个人都表现出高度的幽默感,以补偿他儿子令人满意的决定,而且他确实对自己把事情处理得如此满意而感到高度自满。聪明的是,正是本应确保雷金纳德最终放弃牧师职位的事情却决定他相反地接受这一职位。他很欣赏菲比,并为她的沉着和对世界的了解而折服。他热烈支持乌苏拉的邀请;但陌生人用优雅的借口挣脱了束缚。她有病人要照顾。

“那是一位非常淑女的年轻女子,”当他们走进去时,梅先生遗憾地看着他们的新朋友穿过田庄巷,说道。 “你在城里遇见了她,是吗?多塞特人的朋友?我想知道她住在哪里;她属于谁?人们在这里并不常见这种风格。”

“我以前从未见过像她这样的人,”乌苏拉热情地说。他们仍然团结在一起,对菲比充满钦佩——这时——

但这样的中断需要另一页。

第二十章 那个托泽女孩! •2,700字

“那么,她是谁?”萨姆·赫斯特夫人叫道,她太好奇了,根本没想到普通的礼节。她没戴帽子,帽子上却罩着一层淡淡的白色羊毛“云朵”,整个人都充满了渴望和兴奋。 “你为什么不告诉我你认识她?她是谁?我非常想知道。”

“谁是谁?”乌苏拉很高兴有机会在爸爸面前对萨姆·赫斯特夫人礼貌地粗鲁。 “怎么从你说话的语气中看出?她?她是谁?”

“这正是我想让你告诉我的,”萨姆·赫斯特夫人平静而幽默地说。 “你,梅先生,你总是对我很好,尽管乌苏拉脾气不好——就是你在门口和你说话的那个女孩。我站在窗外观看,谈话说到一半时我几乎无法控制自己不跳出来。现在请告诉我们,就像美国人所说的那样。那个托泽女孩是谁?

“那个托泽姑娘!”乌苏拉尖叫了一声,脸色先是红了,然后又因恐惧和沮丧而变得苍白。

“是的;我跟你说过她的事;穿得那么好,看起来那么漂亮。那是她;搭配同款连衣裙,真是迷人的连衣裙!如此多的风格。她是谁,乌苏拉?梅先生,告诉我她是谁?你无法想象我有多么想知道。”

乌苏拉跌坐在椅子上,看上去像个小幽灵,虚弱而僵硬。她事后对珍妮说,她内心深处觉得这一定是真的。她本可以因痛苦和失望而哭泣,但她不会给萨姆·赫斯特太太让她哭泣的快乐。

“肯定有什么错误,”雷金纳德插话道。 “这是一位女士——我姐姐和多塞特一家在城里认识了她。”

“哦,她也认识多塞特郡吗?”询问者说。 “这让它变得更有趣。是的,那就是托泽尔一家的那个女孩;这一点不会有任何错误。她是孙女。她昨晚参加了会议。我从最高权威那里得到了它——在老托泽的平台上。确实,梅先生,在场的人怎么敢直视你的脸!——”

“我本人也在场,”梅先生说。 “这让我非常开心。现在告诉我关于这个年轻人的事。她到底是骗子,骗人还是到底是怎么回事?乌苏拉看上去就好像她自己也参与其中,并且被发现了。”

“我是 肯定 她不是骗子,”乌苏拉说。 “冒名顶替者!如果你在一场盛大、美丽、辉煌的舞会上看到了她,就像我看到她一样。我从来没有见过这样的东西。我在那里没有人——没有人——安妮表姐和索菲表姐也没有——但是比彻姆小姐!我想这是一个错误。”女孩说着,非常有尊严地站了起来。 “当人们总是试图获取新闻时,他们有时会得到错误的新闻,我毫不怀疑。你可以确定这是一个错误。”

“那就是我,”萨姆·赫斯特夫人笑着说。 “这是乌苏拉对可怜的我的攻击之一。是的,我承认,我喜欢新闻;我从来没有说过她是骗子。可怜的女孩,我为她感到非常难过。我认为她是一个好女孩,努力尽到对亲戚的责任。她没有选择自己的祖父。我敢说,如果她有发言权,她会做出截然不同的选择。但我必须说,你的爸爸是否认为她是你合适的朋友——作为托泽尔的孙女乌苏拉小姐,那是完全不同的事情。”

乌苏拉再次感到自己没哭是因为纯粹的骄傲,除此之外别无其他。她紧紧咬住嘴唇;她不会屈服。赫斯特夫人要战胜她,并就爸爸认为正确的事情提出她的意见!乌苏拉背对着赫斯特太太,这很不礼貌,她时时刻刻都担心爸爸会谴责她。但并没有出现这样的情况。过了一会儿,他低声问道:“你是在哪里认识这位小姐的?”他的语气中没有明显的愤怒。

“哎呀,爸爸,”珍妮喊道,她为这么长时间的沉默而感到痛苦,“每个人都知道乌苏拉在哪里遇见了她;自从她回家后,没有人听说过任何其他事情。她当然是在舞会上认识了她。你知道;雷金纳德, 知道!她和安妮表姐一起去的舞会。”

“别管安妮表姐;我想要知道这件事发生在谁家的人的名字。”

“铜头蛇,爸爸。”乌苏拉打起精神说道。 “我想知道,如果安妮表姐都无法区分女士和普通人,那么谁能区分呢?是安妮表姐把我介绍给她的(我想)。他们的名字叫铜斑蛇,他们住在一栋又大又漂亮的房子里,就在大使和许多伟人居住的街道上。我忘记了它的名字;但我知道那里住着一位大使,安妮表姐说——”

“铜头!我是这么认为的,”梅先生说。 “当乌苏拉开始谈论安妮表姐的话题时,在那之后的一两个小时里,她就得不到任何理性的信息。你对这位年轻女士感兴趣,”他简短地说,转向萨姆·赫斯特夫人,她微笑着站在一旁,很享受她引起的骚动。

“谁,我? “我对任何能引起轰动、能给我们带来话题的人都感兴趣。”赫斯特夫人坦白地说。 “你知道我的弱点。乌苏拉因此鄙视我,但你了解人性。如果我对邻居不感兴趣,我会变成什么样子——一个既没有孩子又没有孩子的可怜的孤独老妇人?”

她用一阵爽朗的笑声结束了对自己的凄凉的描述,珍妮偷偷地加入了笑声,她对他们快乐的邻居有一种秘密的善意,尽管她担心她“为了爸爸”。然而,梅先生并没有像他通常对赫斯特夫人那样表现出同情心来开这个玩笑。他笑了,但有什么东西 分心 他的神情全神贯注。

“我们都很为你感到难过,”他说。 “你的处境真令人忧郁。为了你的缘故,我很高兴老托泽尔有一个漂亮的孙女时不时地欺骗你,让你想起你的忧虑。”

这话里的语气很尖锐,赫斯特太太听了出来,她不愿意接受梅先生的任何尖刻。她很快就扭转了局面。

“这次会议是多么丢脸的事啊!当然,你已经看过报纸了。应该有某种方式来惩罚那些在这个国家四处活动、剥夺人们品格的煽动者。你不能以诽谤罪指控他或雷金纳德吗?我从来不知道有什么事情如此令人震惊。来到你自己的城镇,你自己的社区,通过你的儿子来攻击你!这是我听过的最卑鄙、最卑鄙、最无原则的攻击。”

“那是什么?”雷金纳德问道。

He was not easily roused by Carlingford gossip, but there was clearly more in this than met the eye.

“An Anti-State Church Meeting,” said Mr. May, “with special compliments in it to you and me. It is not worth our while to think of it. Your agitators, my dear Mrs. Hurst, are not worth powder and shot. Now, pardon me, but I must go to work. Will you go and see the sick people in Back Grove Street, Reginald? I don’t think I can go to-day.”

“I should like to know what was in the paper,” said the young man, with an obstinacy that filled the girls with alarm. They had been in hopes that everything between father and son was to be happy and friendly, now that Reginald was about to do what his father wished.

“Oh, you shall see it,” said Mrs. Hurst, half alarmed too; “but it is not anything, as your father says; only we women are sensitive. We are always thinking of things which, perhaps, were never intended to harm us. Ursula, you take my advice, and don’t go and mix yourself up with Dissenters and that kind of people. The Tozer girl may be very nice, but she is still Tozer’s granddaughter, after all.”

Reginald followed the visitor out of the room, leaving his sisters very ill at ease within, and his father not without anxieties which were so powerful, indeed, that he relieved his mind by talking of them to his daughters—a most unusual proceeding.

“That woman will set Reginald off at the nail again,” he cried; “after he had begun to see things in a common-sense light. There was an attack made upon him last night on account of that blessed chaplaincy, which has been more trouble to me than it is worth. I suppose he’ll throw it up now. But I wash my hands of the matter. I wonder how you girls can encourage that chattering woman to come here.”

“Papa!” cried Janey, ever on the defensive, “we her! It is you who encourage her to come here.”

“Oh, hush!” cried Ursula, with a warning glance; it was balm to her soul to hear her father call Mrs. Hurst 那个女人. “We have been to see the house,” she said; “it was very nice. I think Reginald liked it, papa.”

“Ah, well,” said Mr. May, “girls and boys are queer articles. I dare say the house, if he likes it, will weigh more with him than justice or common sense. So Copperhead was the people’s name? What would be wanted, do you think, Ursula, to make Reginald’s room into a comfortable room for a pupil? Comfortable, recollect; not merely what would do; and one that has been used, I suppose, to luxury. You can look over it and let me know.”

“Are we going to take a pupil, papa?” cried Janey, with widening eyes.

“I don’t know what you could teach him,” he said. “Manners, perhaps? Let me know, Ursula. The room is not a bad room; it would want a new carpet, curtains, perhaps—various things. Make me out a list. The Copperheads have a son, I believe. Did you see him at that fine ball of yours?”

“Oh! papa, he danced with me twice; he was very kind,” said Ursula, with a blush; “and he danced all the night with Miss Beecham. It must be a falsehood about her being old Tozer’s granddaughter. Mr. Clarence Copperhead was always by her side. I think Mrs. Hurst must have made it all up out of her own head.”

Mr. May gave a little short laugh.

“Poor Mrs. Hurst!” he said, recovering his temper; “how bitter you all are against her. So he danced with you twice? You must try to make him comfortable, Ursula, if he comes here.”

“Is Mr. Clarence Copperhead coming here?”

Ursula was struck dumb by this piece of news. The grand house in Portland Place, and all Sophy Dorset’s questions and warnings, came suddenly back to her mind. She blushed fiery red; she could not tell why. Coming here! How strange it would be, how extraordinary, to have to order dinner for him, and get his room in order, and have him in the drawing-room in the evenings! How should she know what to say to him? or would papa keep him always at work, reading Greek or something downstairs? All this flashed through her mind with the rapidity of lightning. Mr. May made no reply. He was walking up and down the room with his hands behind him, as was his habit when he was “busy.” Being busy was separated from being angry by the merest visionary line in Mr. May’s case; his children never ventured on addressing him at such moments, and it is impossible to describe how glad they were when he withdrew to his own room before Reginald’s return; but not a minute too soon. The young man came back, looking black as night. He threw himself into a chair, and then he got up again, and began also to walk about the room like his father. At first he would make no reply to the questions of the girls.

“It is exactly what I expected,” he said; “just what I looked for. I knew it from the first moment.”

It was Janey, naturally, who had least patience with this unsatisfactory utterance.

“If it was just what you expected, and you looked for it all the time, why should you make such a fuss now?” she cried. “I declare, for all you are young, and we are fond of you, you are almost as bad as papa.”

Reginald did not take any notice of this address; he went on repeating the same words at intervals.

“A child might have known it. Of course, from the beginning one knew how it must be.” Then he suddenly faced round upon Ursula, who was nearly crying in excitement and surprise. “But if they think I am to be driven out of a resolution I have made by what they say—if they think that I will be bullied into giving up because of their claptrap,” he cried, looking sternly at her, “then you will find you are mistaken. You will find I am not such a weak idiot as you suppose. Give up! because some demagogue from a Dissenting Committee takes upon him to criticise my conduct. If you think I have so little self-respect, so little stamina,” he said, fiercely, “you will find you have made a very great mistake.”

“Oh, Reginald, me?” cried Ursula, with tears in her eyes; “did I ever think anything unkind of you? did I ever ask you to do anything that was disagreeable? You should not look as if it was me.”

Then he threw himself down again on the old sofa, which creaked and tottered under the shock.

“Poor little Ursula!” he cried, with a short laugh. “Did you think I meant you? But if they thought they would master me by these means,” said Reginald with pale fury, “they never made a greater mistake, I can tell you. A parcel of trumpery agitators, speechifiers, little petty demagogues, whom nobody ever heard of before. A fine thing, indeed, to have all the shopkeepers of Carlingford sitting in committee on one’s conduct, isn’t it—telling one what one ought to do? By Jupiter! It’s enough to make a man swear!”

“I declare!” cried Janey loudly, “how like Reginald is to papa! I never saw it before. When he looks wicked like that, and sets his teeth—but I am not going to be pushed, not by my brother or any one!” said the girl, growing red, and making a step out of his reach. “I won’t stand it. I am not a child any more than you.”

Janey’s wrath was appeased, however, when Reginald produced the paper and read Northcote’s speech aloud. In her interest she drew nearer and nearer, and read the obnoxious column over his shoulder, joining in Ursula’s cries of indignation. By the time the three had thus got through it, Reginald’s own agitation subsided into that fierce amusement which is the frequent refuge of the assaulted.

“Old Green in the chair! and old Tozer and the rest have all been sitting upon me,” he said, with that laugh which is proverbially described as from the wrong side of the mouth, whatever that may be. Ursula said nothing in reply, but in her heart she felt yet another stab. Tozer! This was another complication. She had taken so great a romantic interest in the heroine of that ball, which was the most entrancing moment of Ursula’s life, that it seemed a kind of disloyalty to her dreams to give up thus completely, and dethrone the young lady in black; but what could the poor girl do? In the excitement of this question the personality of Reginald’s special assailant was lost altogether: the girls did not even remember his name.

第二十一章·一个新朋友 •3,300字

After this there followed an exciting interval for the family at the Parsonage. Reginald, with the impatience of anger, insisted upon transporting himself to the College at once, and entering upon “his duties,” such as they were, in defiance of all public comment. And Mr. May, delighted with the head-strong resentment which served his purpose so well, promoted it by all the means in his power, goading his son on, if he showed any signs of relaxing, by references to public opinion, and what the Liberation Society would say. Before those curtains were ready, which the girls had ordered with so much pride, or the carpet laid down, he had taken possession, and his room in the Parsonage was already turned upside down preparing for a new inmate. Many and strange were the thoughts in Ursula’s mind about this new inmate. She remembered Clarence Copperhead as a full-grown man, beyond, it seemed to her, the age at which pupilage was possible. What was he coming to Carlingford for? What was he coming to the Parsonage for? What could papa do with a pupil quite as old as Reginald, who, in his own person, had often taken pupils? Ursula had read as many novels as were natural at her age, and can it be supposed that she did not ask herself whether there was any other meaning in it? Could he be coming to Carlingford on account of Miss Beecham; or, on account of—any one else? Ursula never whispered, even to her own imagination, on account of me. But it is not to be supposed that the unbidden inarticulate thought did not steal in, fluttering her girlish soul. Everybody knows that in fiction, at least, such things occur continually, and are the most natural things in the world; and to Ursula, beyond her own little commonplace world, which she somewhat despised, and the strange world undeciphered and wonderful to which the Dorsets had introduced her for those ten brief days in London, the world of fiction was the only sphere she knew; and in that sphere there could be no such natural method of accounting for a young man’s actions as that of supposing him to be “in love.” The question remained, was it with Miss Beecham, or was it with—anybody else? Such an inquiry could not but flutter her youthful bosom. She made his room ready for him, and settled how he was to be disposed of, with the strangest sense of something beneath, which her father would never suspect, but which, perhaps, she alone might know.

Clarence Copperhead was a more imposing figure to Ursula than he was in reality. She had seen him only twice, and he was a big and full-grown “gentleman,” while Ursula only realised herself as a little girl. She was not even aware that she had any intelligence to speak of, or that she would be a fit person to judge of “a gentleman.” To be sure she had to do many things which wanted thought and sense; but she was too unthoughtful of herself to have decided this as yet, or to have created any private tribunal at which to judge a new-comer of Clarence Copperhead’s dimensions. A much greater personage than she was, an individual whose comings and goings could not be without observation, whose notice would be something exciting and strange, was what she took him to be. And Ursula was excited. Did Mrs. Copperhead, that kind little woman, know why he was coming—was she in his confidence? And how was Ursula to entertain him, to talk to him—a gentleman accustomed to so much better society? She did not say anything to Janey on this subject, though Janey was not without her curiosities too, and openly indulged in conjectures as to the new pupil.

“I wonder if he will be fine. I wonder if he will be very good,” said Janey. “I wonder if he will fall in love with Ursula. Pupils, in books, always do; and then there is a dreadful fuss and bother, and the girl is sent away. It is hard for the girl; it is always supposed to be her fault. I would not allow papa to take any pupils if it was me.”

“And much your papa would care for your permission,” said Mrs. Sam Hurst. “But so far I agree with you, Janey, that before he has pupils, or anything of that sort, there ought to be a lady in the house. He should marry—”

“Marry! we don’t want a lady in the house,” cried Janey, “we are ladies ourselves, I hope. Marry! if he does, I, for one, will do all I can to make his life miserable,” said the girl with energy. “What should he want to marry for when he has daughters grown up? There are enough of us already, I should think.”

“Too many,” said Mrs. Sam Hurst with a sigh. It gave her the greatest secret delight to play upon the girl’s fears.

Besides this, however, Ursula had another pre-occupation. In that cordial meeting with the young lady who had turned out to be a person in such an embarrassing position, there had been a great deal said about future meetings, walks, and expeditions together, and Ursula had been very desirous that Phœbe should fix some time for their first encounter. She thought of this now with blushes that seemed to burn her cheeks. She was afraid to go out, lest she should meet the girl she had been so anxious to make a friend of. Not that, on her own account, after the first shock, Ursula would have been hard-hearted enough to deny her acquaintance to Tozer’s granddaughter. In the seclusion of her chamber, she had cried over the downfall of her ideal friend very bitterly, and felt the humiliation for Phœbe more cruelly than that young lady felt it for herself; but Ursula, however much it might have cost her, would have stood fast to her friendship had she been free to do as she pleased.

“I did not like her for her grandfather,” she said to Janey, of whom, in this case, she was less unwilling to make a confidant. “I never thought of the grandfather. What does it matter to me if he were a sweep instead of old Tozer?”

“Old Tozer is just as bad as if he were a sweep,” said Janey; “if you had ever thought of her grandfather, and known he was old Tozer, you would have felt it would not do.”

“What is there about a grandfather? I don’t know if we ever had any,” said Ursula. “Mamma had, for the Dorsets are her relations—but papa. Mr. Griffiths’s grandfather was a candle-maker; I have heard papa say so—and they go everywhere.”

“But he is dead,” said Janey, with great shrewdness, “and he was rich.”

“You little nasty calculating thing! Oh, how I hate rich people; how I hate this horrid world, that loves money and loves fine names, and does not care for people’s selves whether they are bad or good! I shall never dare to walk up Grange Lane again,” said Ursula, with tears. “Fancy changing to her, after being so glad to see her! fancy never saying another word about the skating, or the walk to the old mill! How she will despise me for being such a miserable creature! and she will think it is all my own fault.”

At this moment Mr. May, from the door of his study, called “Ursula!” repeating the call with some impatience when she paused to dry her eyes. She ran down to him quickly, throwing down her work in her haste. He was standing at the door, and somehow for the first time the worn look about his eyes struck Ursula with a touch of pity. She had never noticed it before: a look of suppressed pain and anxiety, which remained about his eyes though the mouth smiled. It had never occurred to her to be sorry for her father before, and the idea struck her as very strange now.

“Come in,” he said, “I want to speak to you. I have been thinking about the young woman—this friend of yours. We are all among the Dissenters now-a-days, whatever Mrs. Sam Hurst may say. You seem to have taken a fancy to this Tozer girl?”

“Don’t call her so, papa, please. She is a lady in herself, as good a lady as any one.”

“Well! I don’t say anything against her, do I? So you hold by your fancy? You are not afraid of Grange Lane and Mrs. Sam Hurst.”

“I have not seen her again,” said Ursula, cast down. “I have not been out at all. I could not bear to be so friendly one day, and then to pass as if one did not know her the next. I cannot do it,” cried the girl, in tears; “if I see her, I must just be the same as usual to her, whatever you say.”

“Very well, be the same as usual,” said Mr. May; “that is why I called you. I have my reasons. Notwithstanding Tozer, be civil to the girl. I have my reasons for what I say.”

“Do you mean it, papa!” said Ursula, delighted. “Oh, how good of you! You don’t mind—you really don’t mind? Oh! I can’t tell you how thankful I am; for to pretend to want to be friends, and then to break off all in a moment because of a girl’s grandfather——”

“Don’t make a principle of it, Ursula. It is quite necessary, in an ordinary way, to think of a girl’s grandfather—and a boy’s too, for that matter. No shopkeeping friends for me; but in this individual case I am willing to make an exception. For the moment, you see, Dissenters are in the ascendant. Young Copperhead is coming next week. Now, go.”

Ursula marched delighted upstairs. “Janey, run and get your hat,” she said; “I am going out. I am not afraid of any one now. Papa is a great deal nicer than he ever was before. He says I may see Miss Beecham as much as I like. He says we need not mind Mrs. Sam Hurst. I am so glad! I shall never be afraid of that woman any more.”

Janey was taken altogether by surprise. “I hope he is not going to fall in love with Miss Beecham,” she said suspiciously. “I have heard Betsy say that old gentlemen often do.”

“He is not so foolish as to fall in love with anybody,” said Ursula, with dignity. “Indeed, Janey, you ought to have much more respect for papa. I wish you could be sent to school and learn more sense. You give your opinion as if you were—twenty—more than that. I am sure I never should have ventured to say such things when I was a child like you.”

“Child yourself!” said Janey indignant; which was her last resource when she had nothing more to say; but Ursula was too busy putting aside her work and preparing for her walk to pay any attention. In proportion as she had been subdued and downcast heretofore, she was gay now. She forgot all about old Tozer; about the Dissenters’ meeting, and the man who had made an attack upon poor Reginald. She flew to her room for her hat and jacket, and ran downstairs, singing to herself. Janey only overtook her, out of breath, as she emerged into the road from the Parsonage door.

“What a dreadful hurry you are in,” said Janey. “I always get ready so much quicker than you do. Is it all about this girl, because she is new? I never knew you were so fond of new people before.”

But that day they went up and down Grange Lane fruitlessly, without seeing anything of Phœbe, and Ursula returned home disconsolate. In the evening Reginald intimated carelessly that he had met Miss Beecham. “She is much better worth talking to than most of the girls one meets with, whoever her grandfather may be,” he said, evidently with an instant readiness to stand on the defensive.

“Oh, did you talk to her,” said Ursula, “without knowing? Reginald, papa has no objections. He says we may even have her here, if we please.”

“Well, of course I suppose he must guide you in that respect,” said Reginald, “but it does not matter particularly to me. Of course I talked to her. Even my father could not expect that his permission was needed for me.”

At which piece of self-assertion the girls looked at him with admiring eyes. Already they felt there was a difference. Reginald at home, nominal curate, without pay or position, was a different thing from Reginald with an appointment,a house of his own, and two hundred and fifty pounds a year. The girls looked at him admiringly, but felt that this was never likely to be their fate. In everything the boys had so much the best of it; and yet it was almost a comfort to think that they had seen Reginald himself trembling before papa. Reginald had a great deal to tell them about the college, about the old men who made a hundred daily claims on his attention, and the charities which he had to administer, doles of this and that, and several charity schools of a humble class.

“As for my time, it is not likely to hang on my hands as I thought. I can’t be a parish Quixote, as we planned, Ursula, knocking down windmills for other people,” he said, adjusting his round edge of collar. He was changed; he was important, a personage in his own sight, no longer to be spoken of as Mr. May’s son. Janey ventured on a little laugh when he went away, but Ursula did not like the change.

“Never mind,” cried Janey; “I hope Copperhead will be nice. We shall have him to talk to, when he comes.”

“Oh!” cried Ursula, in a kind of despair, “who taught you to call gentlemen like that by their name? There is nothing so vulgar. Why, Cousin Anne says—”

“Oh, Cousin Anne!” cried Janey, shaking her head, and dancing away. After that she was aware there was nothing for it but flight.

Next day, however, they were more successful. Phœbe, though very little older than Ursula, was kind to the country girls, and talked to them both, and drew them out. She smiled when she heard of Clarence Copperhead, and told them that he was not very clever, but she did not think there was any harm in him.

“It is his father who is disagreeable,” said Phœbe; “didn’t you think so? You know, papa is a minister, Miss May,” (she did not say clergyman when she spoke to a churchwoman, for what was the use of exciting any one’s prejudices?) “and Mr. Copperhead comes to our church. You may be very thankful, in that respect, that you are not a dissenter. But it will be very strange to see Clarence Copperhead in Carlingford. I have known him since I was no bigger than your little sister. To tell the truth,” said Phœbe, frankly, “I think I am rather sorry he is coming here.”

“Why?” cried bold Janey, who was always inquisitive.

Miss Phœbe only smiled and shook her head; she made no distinct reply.

“Poor fellow, I suppose he has been ‘plucked,’ as the gentlemen call it, or ‘ploughed,’ does your brother say? University slang is very droll. He has not taken his degree, I suppose, and they want him to work before going up again. I am sorry for your father, too, for I don’t think it will be very easy to get anything into Clarence Copperhead’s mind. But there is no harm at all in him, and he used to be very nice to his mother. Mamma and I liked him for that; he was always very nice to his mother.”

“Will you come in and have some tea?” said Ursula. “Do, please. I hope, now that I have met you again, you will not refuse me. I was afraid you had gone away, or something—”

Ursula, however, could not help looking guilty as she spoke, and Phœbe perceived at once that there had been some reason for the two or three days disappearance of the girls from Grange Lane.

“You must tell me first,” she said, with a smile, “whether you know who I am. If you ask me after that, I shall come. I am old Mr. Tozer’s granddaughter, who had a shop in the High Street. My uncle has a shop there now. I do not like it myself,” said Phœbe, with the masterly candour that distinguished her, “and no one else can be expected to like it. If you did not know—”

“Oh, we heard directly,” cried Janey; “Mrs. Sam Hurst told us. She came shrieking, ‘Who is she?’ before your back was turned that day; for she wondered to see you with old Tozer—”

“Janey!” cried Ursula, with horror. “Of course we know; and please will you come? Every new person in Carlingford gets talked over, and if an angel were to walk about, Mrs. Sam Hurst would never rest till she had found out where he came from.”

“And, perhaps, whether he had a broken feather in his wing,” said Phœbe. “I am very glad you don’t mind. It will be very pleasant to come. I will run in and tell them, and then I will join you. Grandmamma is an invalid, and would like to know where I am.”

And the news made a considerable flutter in the dim room where Mrs. Tozer sat between the fire and the window, looking out upon the crocuses and regretting the High Street.

“But run and put on another dress, dear. What will they think of you in that everlasting brown frock as you’re so fond of? I’d like them to see as my grandchild could dress as nice as any lady in the land.”

“She’ll not see much finery there,” said Tozer; “they’re as poor as church mice, are them Mays, and never a penny to pay a bill when it’s wanted. I don’t think as Phœbe need mind her dressing to go there.”

“And you’ll send for me if you want me, grandmamma; you will be sure to send?”

But for the brown frock, Mrs. Tozer’s satisfaction would have been unalloyed as she watched her granddaughter walking across the garden.

“She’s at home among the quality, she is,” said the old woman; “maybe more so than she is with you and me; but there ain’t a better girl in all England, and that I’ll say for her, though if she would think a little more about her clothes, as is nat’ral at her age, it would be more pleasing to me.”

“The worst dress as Phœbe has is better than anything belonging to them Mays,” said Tozer.

He did not care for the parson at St. Roque; though he was pleased that his child should be among “the quality.” But it was on that evening that poor old Mrs. Tozer had one of her attacks, and Phœbe had to be summoned back at an early hour. The servant went down with an umbrella and a note, to bring her home; and that trifling incident had its influence upon after affairs, as the reader shall shortly see.

第二十二章 绝望的权宜之计 •4,100字

It was something of a comfort to Phœbe to find that the “tea” to which Ursula asked her was a family meal, such as Mr. 和夫人。 Tozer indulged in, in Grange Lane, with no idea of dinner to follow, as in more refined circles. This, she said to herself benignly, must be “country fashion,” and she was naturally as bland and gracious at the Parsonage tea-table as anybody from town, knowing better, but desiring to make herself thoroughly agreeable, could be. She amused Mr. May very much, who felt the serene young princess, accepting her vulgar relations with gentle resignation, and supported by a feeling of her own innate dignity, to be something quite new to him. Phœbe had no objection to talk upon the subject, for, clever as she was, she was not so clever as to see through Mr. May’s amused show of interest in her trials, but believed ingenuously that he understood and felt for her, and was, perhaps, at last, the one noble, impartial, and generous Churchman who could see the difficulties of cultivated Dissenters, and enter into them sympathetically. Why Mr. May took the trouble to draw her out on this point it is more difficult to explain. Poor man, he was in a state of semi-distraction over Cotsdean’s bill. The ten days had shortened into three, and he was no nearer finding that hundred pounds than ever. Even while he smiled and talked to Phœbe, he was repeating over and over to himself the terrible fact which could not now be ignored. “17th, 18th, 19th, and Friday will be the 20th,” he was saying to himself. If that 20th came without any help, Cotsdean would be virtually made a bankrupt; for of course all his creditors would make a rush upon him, and all his affairs would be thrown open to the remorseless public gaze, if the bill, which had been so often renewed, had to be dishonoured at last. 先生。 May had a conscience, though he was not careful of his money, and the fear of ruin to Cotsdean was a very terrible and real oppression to him. The recollection was upon him like a vulture in classic story, tearing and gnawing, as he sat there and smiled over the cup of tea Ursula gave him, feeling amused all the same at Phœbe’s talk. He could scarcely have told why he had permitted his daughter to pursue her acquaintance with Tozer’s granddaughter. Partly it was because of Clarence Copperhead; out of curiosity, as, being about to be brought in contact with some South Sea Islander or Fijian, one would naturally wish to see another who was thrown in one’s way by accident, and thus prepare one’s self for the permanent acquaintance. And she amused him. Her cleverness, her ease, her conversational powers, her woman of the world aspect, did not so much impress him, perhaps, as they did others; but the complacency and innocent confidence of youth that were in her, and her own enjoyment of the situation, notwithstanding the mortifications incurred—all this amused Mr. 可能。

“One of your friends was very hard upon my son—and myself—at your Meeting the other night, Miss Beecham.”

“He was very injudicious,” said Phœbe, shaking her head. “Indeed I did not approve. Personalities never advance any cause. I said so to him. Don’t you think the Church has herself to blame for those political Dissenters, Mr. May? You sneer at us, and look down upon us—”

“I? I don’t sneer at anybody.”

“I don’t mean you individually; but Churchmen do. They treat us as if we were some strange kind of creatures, from the heart of Africa perhaps. They don’t think we are just like themselves: as well educated; meaning as well; with as much right to our own ideas.”

Mr. May could scarcely restrain a laugh. “Just like themselves.” The idea of a Dissenter setting up to be as well educated, and as capable of forming an opinion, as a cultivated Anglican, an Oxford man, and a beneficed clergyman, was too novel and too foolish not to be somewhat startling as well. Mr. May was aware that human nature is strangely blind to its own deficiencies, but was it possible that any delusion could go so far as this? He did laugh a little—just the ghost of a laugh—at the idea. But what is the use of making any serious opposition to such a statement? The very fact of contesting the assumption seemed to give it a certain weight.

“Whenever this is done,” said Phœbe, with serene philosophy, “I think you may expect a revulsion of feeling. The class to which papa belongs is very friendly to the Established Church, and wishes to do her every honour.”

“Is it indeed? We ought to be much gratified,” said Mr. May.

Phœbe gave him a quick glance, but he composed his face and met her look meekly. It actually diverted him from his pre-occupation, and that is a great deal to say.

“We would willingly do her any honour; we would willingly be friends, even look up to her, if that would please her,” added Phœbe, very gravely, conscious of the importance of what she was saying; “but when we see clergymen, and common persons also, who have never had one rational thought on the subject, always setting us down as ignorant and uncultured, because we are Dissenters——”

“But no one does that,” said Ursula, soothingly, eager to save her new friend’s feelings. She paused in the act of pouring out the children’s second cup of tea, and looked up at her with eyes full of caressing and flattering meaning. “No one, at least, I am sure,” she added, faltering, remembering suddenly things she had heard said of Dissenters, “who knows 设立的区域办事处外,我们在美国也开设了办事处,以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

“It is not I that ought to be thought of, it is the general question. Then can you wonder that a young man like the gentleman we were talking of, clever and energetic, and an excellent scholar (and very good in philosophy, too—he was at Jena for two or three years), should be made bitter when he feels himself thrust back upon a community of small shopkeepers?”

Mr. May could not restrain another short laugh.

“We must not join in the vulgar abuse of shopkeepers,” he said.

Phœbe’s colour rose. She raised her head a little, then perceiving the superiority of her former position, smiled.

“I have no right to do so. My people, I suppose, were all shopkeepers to begin with; but this gives me ways of knowing. Grandpapa is very kind and nice—really nice, Mr. May; but he has not at all a wide way of looking at things. I feel it, though they are so kind to me. I have been brought up to think in such a different way; and if I feel it, who am fond of them, think how that young minister must feel it, who was brought up in a totally different class?”

“What kind of class was this one brought up in?” said Mr. May, with a laugh. “He need not have assaulted Reginald, if he had been born a prince. We had done him no harm.”

“That is making it entirely a private question,” said Phœbe, suavely, “which I did not mean to do. When such a man finds out abuses—what he takes to be abuses—in the Church, which treats him like a roadside ranter, may not he feel a right to be indignant? Oh, I am not so. I think such an office as that chaplaincy is very good, one here and there for the reward of merit; and I think he was very right to take it; but still it would not do, would it, to have many of them? It would not answer any good purpose,” she said, administering a little sting scientifically, “if all clergymen held sinecures.”

These words were overheard by Reginald, who just then came in, and to whom it was startling to find Phœbe serenely seated at tea with his family. The hated word sinecure did not seem to affect him from her lips as it would have done from any one else’s. He came in quite good-humouredly, and said with a smile—

“You are discussing me. What about me? Miss Beecham, I hope you take my side.”

“I take everybody’s side,” said Phœbe; “for I try to trace people’s motives. I can sympathise both with you and those who assailed you.”

“Oh, that Dissenting fellow. I beg your pardon, Miss Beecham, if you are a Dissenter; but I cannot help it. We never go out of our way to attack them and their chapels and coteries, and why should they spring at our throats on every occasion? I think it is hard, and I can’t say I have any charity to spare for this individual. What had we done to him? Ursula, give me some tea.”

“Miss Beecham, I leave the cause of the Church in younger and, I hope, abler hands,” said Mr. May, getting up.

Partly it was that Reginald’s onslaught made him see for the first time certain weak points in the situation; partly it was that his private care became too clamorous, and he could not keep on further. He went away quite abruptly, and went downstairs to his study, and shut himself in there; and the moment he had closed the door, all this amusement floated away, and the vulture gripped at him, beak and talons digging into his very soul. 天哪! what was he to do? He covered his face with his hands, and turned round and round mentally in that darkness to see if anywhere there might be a gleam of light; but none was visible east or west. A hundred pounds, only a hundred pounds; a bagatelle, a thing that to many men was as small an affair as a stray sixpence; and here was this man, as good, so to speak, as any—well educated, full of gifts and accomplishments, well born, well connected, not a prodigal nor open sinner, losing himself in the very blackness of darkness, feeling that a kind of moral extinction was the only prospect before him, for want of this little sum. It seemed incredible even to himself, as he sat and brooded over it. Somehow, surely, there must be a way of deliverance. He looked piteously about him in his solitude, appealing to the very blank walls to save him. 他们能做什么? His few books, his faded old furniture, would scarcely realize a hundred pounds if they were sold to-morrow. All his friends had been wearied out, all natural resources had failed. James might any day have sent the money, but he had not done so—just this special time, when it was so hard to get it, James, too, had failed; and the hours of this night were stealing away like thieves, so swift and so noiseless, to be followed by the others; and Cotsdean, poor soul, his faithful retainer, would be broken and ruined. To do Mr. May justice, if it had been only himself who could be ruined, he would have felt it less; but it went to his very heart to think of poor Cotsdean, who had trusted in him so entirely, and to whom, indeed, he had been very kind in his day. Strife and discord had been in the poor man’s house, and perpetual wretchedness, and Mr. May had managed, he himself could scarcely tell how, to set it right. He had frightened and subdued the passionate wife, and quenched the growing tendencies to evil, which made her temper worse than it was by nature, and had won her back to soberness and some kind of peace, changing the unhappy house into one of comparative comfort and cheerfulness. Most people like those best to whom they have been kind, whom they have served or benefited, and in this way Mr. May was fond of Cotsdean, who in his turn had been a very good friend to his clergyman, serving him as none of his own class could have done, going in the face of all his own prejudices and the timorousness of nature, on his account. And the result was to be ruin—ruin unmitigated to the small man who was in business, and equally disastrous, though in a less creditable way, to his employer. It was with a suppressed anguish which is indescribable that he sat there, with his face covered, looking this approaching misery in the face. How long he had been there, he could scarcely himself tell, when he heard a little commotion in the hall, the sounds of running up and down stairs, and opening of doors. He was in a feverish and restless condition, and every stir roused him. Partly because of that impatience in his mind, and partly because every new thing seemed to have some possibility of hope in it, he got up and went to the door. Before he returned to his seat, something might have occurred to him, something might have happened—who could tell? It might be the postman with a letter containing that remittance from James, which still would set all right. It might be—he rose suddenly, and opening the door, held it ajar and looked out; the front door was open, and the night air blowing chilly into the house, and on the stairs, coming down, he heard the voices of Ursula and Phœbe.

“I hope you will find it is nothing. I am so sorry,” she said.

“Oh, I am not very much afraid,” said Phœbe. “She is ill, but not very bad, I hope; and it is not dangerous. Thank you so much for letting me come.”

“You will come again?” said Ursula, kissing her; “promise that you will come again.”

Mr. May listened with a certain surface of amusement in his mind. How easy and facile these girlish loves and fancies were! Ursula knew nothing of this stranger, and yet so free were the girl’s thoughts, so open her heart to receive impressions, that on so short knowledge she had received the other into it with undoubting confidence and trust. He did not come forward himself to say good-bye, but he perceived that Reginald followed downstairs, and took his hat from the table, to accompany Phœbe home. As they closed the outer door behind them, the last gust thus forcibly shut in made a rush through the narrow hall, and carried a scrap of paper to Mr. May’s feet. He picked it up almost mechanically, and carried it with him to the light, and looked at it without thought. There was not much in it to interest any one. It was the little note which Tozer had sent to his granddaughter by the maid, not prettily folded, to begin with, and soiled and crumpled by the bearer.

“Your grandmother is took bad with one of her attacks. Come back directly. She wants you badly.

“Saml. Tozer.”

This was all that was in it. 先生。 May opened it out on his table with a half-smile of that same superficial amusement which the entire incident had caused him—the contact, even momentary, of his own household with that of Tozer, the old Dissenting butterman, was so droll an event. Then he sank down on his chair again with a sigh, the amusement dying out all at once, purely superficial as it was. Amusement! how strange that even the idea of amusement should enter his head in the midst of his despair. His mind renewed that horrible mechanical wandering through the dismal circle of might-be’s which still survived amid the chaos of his thoughts. Once or twice there seemed to gleam upon him a stray glimmer of light through a loophole, but only to throw him back again into the darkness. Now and then he roused himself with a look of real terror in his face, when there came a noise outside. What he was afraid of was poor Cotsdean coming in with his hand to his forehead, and his apologetic “Beg your pardon, sir.” If he came, what could he say to him? Two days—only two days more! 如果先生 May had been less sensible and less courageous, he would most likely have ended the matter by a pistol or a dose of laudanum; but fortunately he was too rational to deliver himself by this desperate expedient, which, of course, would only have made the burden more terrible upon the survivors. If Cotsdean was to be ruined, and there was no remedy, Mr. May was man enough to feel that it was his business to stand by him, not to escape in any dastardly way; but in the mean time to face Cotsdean, and tell him that he had done and could do nothing, seemed more than the man who had caused his ruin could bear. He moved about uneasily in his chair in the anguish of his mind. As he did so, he pushed off some of his papers from the table with his elbow. It was some sort of break in his feverish musings to pick them up again in a bundle, without noticing what they were. He threw them down in a little heap before him. On the top, as it chanced, came the little dirty scrap of paper, which ought to have been tossed into the fire or the waste-paper basket. Saml. Tozer! What was Saml. Tozer to him that his name should stare him in the face in this obtrusive way? Tozer, the old butterman! a mean and ignorant person, as far beneath Mr. May’s level as it is possible to imagine, whose handwriting it was very strange to see on anything but a bill. He fixed his eyes upon it mechanically; he had come, as it were, to the end of all things in those feverish musings; he had searched through his whole known world for help, and found there nothing and nobody to help him. Those whom he had once relied on were exhausted long ago; his friends had all dropped off from him, as far, at least, as money was concerned. Some of them might put out a hand to keep him and his children from starvation even now, but to pay Cotsdean’s bill, never. There was no help anywhere, nor any hope. Natural ways and means were all exhausted, and though he was a clergyman, he had no such faith in the supernatural as to hope much for the succour of Heaven. 天堂! what could Heaven do for him? Bank-notes did not drop down out of the skies. There had been a time when he had felt full faith in “Providence;” but he seemed to have nothing to expect now from that quarter more than from any other. Samuel Tozer! why did that name always come uppermost, staring into his very eyes?

What was it that brought beads of moisture all at once to Mr. May’s forehead? He started up suddenly, pushing his chair with a hoarse exclamation, and walked up and down the room quickly, as if trying to escape from something. His heart jumped up in his breast, like a thing possessed of separate life, and thumped against his side, and beat with loud pulsations in his ears. When he caught sight of himself in the mirror over the mantelpiece, he started as if he had seen a ghost. Some one else seemed to see him; seemed to pounce upon and seize him out of that glass. He retreated from the reach of it, almost staggering; then he returned to his table. What thought was it that had struck him so wildly, like a sudden squall upon a boat? He sat down, and covered his face with his hands; then putting out one finger, stealthily drew the paper towards him, and studied it closely from under the shadow of the unmoved hand, which half-supported, half-covered his face. Well! after all, what would be the harm? A gain of three months’ time, during which every sort of arrangement could be made so nicely; supplies got anywhere, everywhere; the whole machinery of being set easily in motion again, and no harm done to any one: this was the real force of the idea—no harm done to any one! Long before the three months were out, that hundred pounds—a paltry business, a nothing, when a man had time before him—could be got, one might make sure; and where was the harm? He would never know it. Poor Cotsdean need never have the slightest burden upon his conscience. Here, in the stillness of his own room, it could all be done as easily as possible, without a soul being taken into confidence, except that bloodless wretch in the glass with his staring face, Mr. May said to himself, only dimly sensible that this wretch was himself. No, it would harm no one, that was clear; it never need be known to any one. It was a mere act of borrowing, and borrowing was never accounted a crime; borrowing not money even, only a name, and for so short a time. No harm; it could do no one in the world any harm.

While these reasonings went on in his mind, his heart dropped down again into its right place; his pulse ceased to beat like the pistons of a steam-engine; he came gradually to himself. After all, what was it? Not such a great matter; a loan of something which would neither enrich him who took, nor impoverish him who, without being aware of it, should give—a nothing! Why people should entertain the prejudices they did on the subject, it was difficult to see, though, perhaps, he allowed candidly to himself, it might be dangerous for any ignorant man to follow the same strain of thinking; but in the hands of a man who was not ignorant, who knew, as he himself did, exactly how far to go, and what might be 傻傻 完毕; 傻傻 done—in his own mind he put a great stress on this—why, what was it? A thing which might be of use in an emergency, and which was absolutely no harm.

Mr. May was late in leaving his room that night. It was understood in the family that he “was writing,” and all was kept very quiet in the house; yet not sufficiently quiet, for Janey, when she brought in the coffee, placing it on the table close to the door, was startled by the fierceness of the exclamation with which her father greeted her entrance.

“What do you want prying here?” he said, dropping his hand over the writing.

“Prying himself!” said Janey, furiously, when she was up again in the cheerful light of the drawing-room; “a great deal there is to pry into in that dreadful old study.”

“Hush! he never likes to be disturbed in his writing,” said Ursula, soothingly.

And he sat at his “writing” to a much later hour than usual, and he stumbled upstairs to his bed-room in the dead of the night, with the same scared pale face which he had seen in the glass. Such a look as that when it once comes upon a man’s face takes a long time to glide away; but his heart beat more tranquilly, and the blood flowed even in his veins. After all, where was the harm?

第二十三章·渡过难关 •2,600字

Next morning, Cotsdean was mournfully turning over his ledger in the High Street, wondering whether he should go back to Mr. May on another forlorn expedition, or whether he should betray his overwhelming anxiety to his wife, who knew nothing about the state of affairs. The shop was what is called a corn-factor’s shop, full of sacks of grain, with knots of wheat-ears done up ornamentally in the window, a stock not very valuable, but sufficient, and showing a good, if not a very important, business. A young man behind, attended to what little business was going on; for the master himself was too much pre-occupied to think of bushels of seed. He was as uneasy as Mr. May had been on the previous night, and in some respects even more unhappy; for he had no resource except a sort of dumb faith in his principle, a feeling that he must be able to find out some way of escape—chequered by clouds of despondency, sometimes approaching despair. For Cotsdean, too, felt vaguely that things were approaching a crisis—that a great many resources had been exhausted—that the pitcher which had gone so often to the well must, at last, be broken, and that it was as likely the catastrophe was coming now as at any other time. He said to himself that never in his previous experience had things seemed so blank as at present; never had the moment of fate approached so nearly without any appearance of deliverance. He had not even the round of possibilities before him which were in Mr. May’s mind, however hopeless, at this particular moment, he might find them.

Cotsdean, for his part, had nothing to think of but Mr. May. Would he find some way out of it still, he who was always so clever, and must, in his position, have always “good friends?” How the poor man wished that he had never been led into this fatal course—that he had insisted, long ago, on the settlement which must come some time, and which did not get any easier by putting it off; but then, who was he to stand against his clergyman? He did not feel able now to make any stand against him. If he had to be ruined—he must be ruined: what could he do? The man who had brought him to this, held him in such subjection that he could not denounce or accuse him even now. He was so much better, higher, abler, stronger than himself, that Cotsdean’s harshest sentiment was a dumb feeling of injury; a feeling much more likely to lead him to miserable tears than to resistance. His clergyman—how was he to stand against his clergyman? This was the burden of his thoughts. And still, perhaps, there might be salvation and safety in the resources, the power, and cleverness, and superior strength of the man for whom, in his humility, he had risked everything. Poor Cotsdean’s eyes were red with sleeplessness and thinking, and the constant rubbings he administered with the sleeve of his rough coat. He hung helpless, in suspense, waiting to see what his chief would say to him; if he would send for him—if he would come. And in the intervals of these anxious thoughts, he asked himself should he tell poor Sally—should he prepare her for her fate? She and her children might be turned out of house and home, very probably would be, he said to himself, leaping to the extreme point, as men in his condition are apt to do. They might take everything from him; they might bring all his creditors on him in a heap; they might sell him up; his shop by which he made his daily bread, and everything he had, and turn his children out into the streets. Once more he rubbed his sleeve over his eyes, which were smarting with sleeplessness and easily-coming tears. He turned over the pages of the ledger mechanically. There was no help in it—no large debts owing to him that could be called in; no means of getting any money; and nothing could he do but contemplate the miseries that might be coming, and wait, wait, wondering dully whether Mr. May was doing anything to avert this ruin, and whether, at any moment, he might walk in, bringing safety in the very look of his bold eyes. Cotsdean was not bold; he was small and weakly, and nervous, and trembled at a sharp voice. He was not a man adapted for vigorous struggling with the world. Mr. May could do it, in whose hands was the final issue. He was a man who was afraid of no one; and whose powers nobody could deny. Surely now, even at the last moment, he would find help somehow. It seemed profane to entertain a doubt that he would be able to do it even at the very last.

But Cotsdean had a miserable morning; he could do nothing. Minute by minute, hour by hour, he waited to be called to the Parsonage; now and then he went out to the door of his shop and looked out wistfully down the street where it ended in the distance of Grange Lane. Was that the maid from the Parsonage coming up across the road? Were these the young ladies, who, though they knew nothing about the matter at issue, very frequently brought a note, or message, from their father to Cotsdean? But he was deceived in these guesses as well as in so many others. All the world seemed out of doors that morning, but nobody came. The ruddy sunshine shone full down the street, glorifying it with rays of warm gold, and tinting the mists and clouds which lurked in the corners. It had been heavy and overcast in the morning, but at noon the clouds had cleared away, and that big red globe of fire had risen majestically out of the mists, and everybody was out. But no one, except humble people in the ordinary way of business, came to Cotsdean. Bushels of grain for chickens, pennyworths of canary seed—oh! did any one think he could pay a hundred pounds out of these?—a hundred pounds, the spending of which had not been his, poor man; which was indeed spent long ago, and represented luxuries past and over, luxuries which were not Cotsdean’s. Strange that a mere lump of money should live like this, long after it was, to all intents and purposes, dead, and spent and gone!

Then came the hour of dinner, when his Sally called him to the room behind the shop, from which an odour of bacon and fine big beans—beans which were represented in his shop in many a sackful. He went in unwillingly in obedience to her command, but feeling unable to eat, soon left the table, sending the young man to fill his place, with whose appetite no obstacle of care or thought interfered. Poor Cotsdean felt that the smell of the dinner made him sick—though he would have liked to eat had he been able—the smell of the bacon which he loved, and the sight of the small children whom he loved still better, and poor Sally, his wife, still red in the face from dishing it up. Sally was anxious about her husband’s want of appetite.

“What ails you, John?” she said, pathetically; “it wasn’t as if you were out last night, nor nothing o’ that sort. A man as is sober like you don’t ought to turn at his dinner.”

She was half sorry, and half aggrieved, poor woman, feeling as if some blame of her cookery must be involved.

“It’s the bile,” said poor Cotsdean, with that simplicity of statement which is common in his class. “Don’t you take on, Sally, I’ll be a deal better by supper-time——or worse,” he added to himself. Yes, he would make an effort to eat atsupper-time; perhaps it might be the last meal he should eat in his own comfortable home.

He had been out at the shop door, gazing despairingly down the road; he had come in and sold some birdseed, wondering—oh, what good would that penny do him?—he who wanted a hundred pounds? and was standing listening with a sad heart to the sound of the knives and forks and chatter of the children, when suddenly all at once Mr. May walked into the shop, changing dismay into hope. What a thing it was to be a gentleman and a clergyman. Cotsdean could not but think! The very sight of Mr. May inspired him with courage; even though probably he had no money in his pocket, it was a supporting thing only to see him, and hear the sound of his free unrestrained step. He came in with a friendly nod to his humble helper; then he glanced round the shop, to see that no one was present, and then he said, “All right, Cotsdean,” in a voice that was as music to the little corn-factor’s ears. His heart, which had been beating so low, jumped up in his bosom; his appetite came back with a leap; he asked himself would the bacon be cold? and cried, “God be praised, sir,” in a breath.

Mr. May winced slightly; but why should it be wrong to be grateful to God in any circumstances? he asked himself, having become already somewhat composed in his ideas on this particular point.

“Are we quite alone?” he said. “Nobody within hearing? I have not brought you the money, but a piece of paper that is as good as the money. Take it: you will have no difficulty in discounting this; the man is as well known as the Carlingford Bank, and as safe, though I dare say you will be surprised at the name.”

Cotsdean opened out the new bill with trembling hands. “Tozer!” he said faintly, between relief and dismay.

“Yes. You must know that I am taking a pupil—one who belongs to a very rich Dissenting family in London. Tozer knows something about him, from his connection with the body, and through this young man I have got to know something of . He does it upon the admirable security of the fees I am to receive with this youth; so you see, after all, there is no mystery about it. Better not wait for to-morrow, Cotsdean. Go at once, and get it settled. You see,” said Mr. May, ingratiatingly, “it is a little larger than the other—one hundred and fifty, indeed—but that does not matter with such an excellent name.”

“Tozer!” said Cotsdean, once more bewildered. He handled the piece of paper nervously, and turned it upside down, and round about, with a sense that it might melt in his hold. He did not like the additional fifty added. Why should another fifty be added? but so it was, and there seemed nothing for him but to take the immediate relief and be thankful.

“I’d rather, sir, as Tozer hadn’t known nothing about it; and why should he back a bill for me as ain’t one of my friends, nor don’t know nothing about me? and fifty more added on,” said Cotsdean. It was the nearest he had gone to standing up against his clergyman; he did not like it. To be Mr. May’s sole stand-by and agent, even at periodical risk of ruin, was possible to him; but a pang of jealousy, alarm, and pain came into his mind when he saw the new name. This even obliterated the immediate sense of relief that was in his mind.

“Come three months it’ll have to be paid,” said Cotsdean, “and Tozer ain’t a man to stand it if he’s left to pay; he’d sell us up, Mr. May. He ain’t one of the patient ones, like—some other folks; and there’s fifty pounds put on. I don’t see my way to it. I’d rather it was just the clear hundred, if it was the same to you.”

“It is not the same to me,” said Mr. May, calmly. “Come, there is no cause to make any fuss. There it is, and if you don’t like to make use of it, you must find some better way. Bring the fifty pounds, less the expenses, to me to-night. It is a good bit of paper, and it delivers us out of a mess which I hope we shall not fall into again.”

“So you said before, sir,” said the corn-factor sullenly.

“Cotsdean, you forget yourself; but I can make allowance for your anxiety. Take it, and get it settled before the bank closes; pay in the money to meet the other bill, and bring me the balance. You will find no difficulty with Tozer’s name; and what so likely as that one respectable tradesman should help another? By the way, the affair is a private one between us, and it is unnecessary to say anything to him about it; the arrangement, you understand, is between him and me.”

“Beg your pardon, sir,” said Cotsdean, with a deprecatory movement of his hand to his forehead; “but it is me as will be come upon first if anything happens, and that fifty pounds—”

“Have you ever found me to fail you, Cotsdean? If you knew the anxiety I have gone through, that you might be kept from harm, the sleepless nights, the schemes, the exertions! You may suppose it was no ordinary effort to ask a man like Tozer.”

Cotsdean was moved by the touching tone in which his partner in trouble spoke; but terror gave him a certain power. He grumbled still, not altogether vanquished.

“I don’t say nothing against that, sir,” he said, not meeting Mr. May’s eye; “but when it comes to be paid, sir, I’m the first in it, and where is that other fifty to come from? That’s what I’m a thinking for—for I’m the first as they’d haul up after all.”

“You!” said Mr. May, “what could they get from you? You are not worth powder and shot. Don’t be ridiculous, my good fellow. I never avoid my responsibilities, as you know. I am as good, I hope, for that fifty as for all that went before. Have you ever known me leave you or any one in the lurch?”

“No, sir, I can’t say as—I don’t suppose I have. I’ve always put my trust in you like in Providence itself,” he cried, hastily, holding his breath.

“Then do as I tell you,” said Mr. May, waving his hand with careless superiority; and though his heart was aching with a hundred anxious fears, he left the shop with just that mixture of partial offence and indifference which overawed completely his humble retainer. Cotsdean trembled at his own guilty folly and temerity. He did not dare to call his patron back again, to ask his pardon. He did not venture to go back to the table and snatch a bit of cold bacon. He was afraid he had offended his clergyman, what matter that he was hungry for his dinner? He called the young man from the bacon, which was now cold and all but eaten up, and snatched at his hat and went out to the bank. It was all he could do.

第二十四章 拜访 •3,300字

“Dear May,

“Young Copperhead, the young fellow whom you have undertaken to coach, is coming to the Hall for a few days before he enters upon his studies, and Anne wishes me to ask you to come over on Tuesday to dine and sleep, and to make acquaintance with him. You can carry him back with you if it suits you. In my private opinion, he is a cub of the most disagreeable kind; but the girls like his mother, who is a kind of cousin, as you know. It is not only because he has failed to take his degree (you know how I hate the hideous slang in which this fact is generally stated), but that his father, who is one of the rich persons who abound in the lower circles of society, is ambitious, and would like to see him in Parliament, and that sort of thing—a position which cannot be held creditably without some sort of education: at least, so I am myself disposed to think. Therefore, your pleasing duty will be to get him up in a little history and geography, so that he may not get quite hopelessly wrong in any of the modern modifications of territory, for instance; and in so much Horace as may furnish him with a few stock quotations, in case he should be called upon, in the absence of any more hopeful neophyte, to move the Address. He is a great hulking fellow, not very brilliant, you may suppose, but not so badly mannered as he might be, considering his parentage. I don’t think he’ll give you much trouble in the house; but he will most probably bore you to death, and in that case your family ought to have a claim, I should think, for compensation. Anyhow, come and see him, and us, before you begin your hard task.

“真的是你的,

“R. Dorset.”

“Anne makes me open my letter to say that Ursula must come too. We will send a carriage to meet you at the station.”

This letter caused considerable excitement in the Parsonage. It was the first invitation to dinner which Ursula had ever received. The dinner-parties in Carlingford were little frequented by young ladies. The male population was not large enough to afford a balance for the young women of the place, who came together in the evening, and took all the trouble of putting on their pretty white frocks, only to sit in rows in the drawing-room, waiting till the old gentlemen came in from the dining-room, after which everybody went away. There were no young gentlemen to speak of in Carlingford, so that when any one was bold enough to attempt a dancing-party, or anything of an equally amusing description, friends were sent out in all directions, as the beaters are sent into the woods to bring together the unfortunate birds for a 殴打, to find men. These circumstances will explain the flutter in Ursula’s innocent bosom when her father read her that postscript. Mr. May was singularly amiable that day, a thing which happened at periodical intervals, usually after he had been specially “cross.” On this occasion there was no black mark against him in the family reckoning, and yet he was more kind than any one had ever known him. Instead of making any objections, he decided at once that Ursula must go, and told her to put on her prettiest frock, and make herself look very nice.

“You must let Anne Dorset see that you care to please her,” he said. “Anne is a very good woman, and her approval is worth having.”

“Oh, papa!” cried Janey, “when you are always calling her an old maid!”

“L’un n’empêche pas l’autre,” he said, which puzzled Janey, whose French was very deficient. Even Ursula, supposed to be the best French scholar in the family, was not quite sure what it meant; but it was evidently something in favour of Cousin Anne, which was sweet to the grateful girl.

Janey, though suffering bitterly under the miserable consciousness of being only fourteen, and not asked anywhere, helped with disinterested zeal to get her sister ready, and consoled herself by orders for unlimited muffins and cake for tea.

“There will only be the children,” she said, resignedly, and felt herself 不包括; but indeed, the attractions of a good romp afterwards, no one being in the house to restrain the spirits of the youthful party, made even Janey amends.

As for Reginald, who was not asked, he was, it must be allowed, rather sulky too, and he could not solace himself either with muffins or romps. His rooms at the College were very pleasant rooms, but he was used to home; and though the home at the Parsonage was but faded, and not in such perfect order as it might have been, the young man felt even his wainscoted study dull without the familiar voices, the laughter and foolish family jokes, and even the little quarrels which kept life always astir. He walked with Ursula to the station, whither her little box with her evening dress had gone before her, in a half-affronted state of mind.

“What does he want with a pupil?” Reginald was saying, as he had said before. “A fellow no one knows, coming and taking possession of the house as if it belonged to him. There is plenty to do in the parish without pupils, and if I were not on the spot he would get into trouble, I can tell you. A man that has been ploughed, ‘a big hulking fellow’ (Sir Robert says so, not I). Mind, I’ll have no flirting, Ursula; that is what always happens with a pupil in the house.”

“Reginald, how dare you—”

“Oh, yes, I dare; my courage is quite equal to facing you, even if you do shoot thunderbolts out of your eyes. Mind you, I won’t have it. There is a set of fellows who try it regularly, and if you were above them, would go in for Janey; and it would be great fun and great promotion for Janey; she would feel herself a woman directly; so you must mind her as well as yourself. I don’t like it at all,” Reginald went on. “Probably he will complain of the dinners you give him, as if he were in an inn. Confound him! What my father means by it, I can’t tell.”

“Reginald, you ought not to swear,” said Ursula. “It is dreadfully wicked in a clergyman. Poor papa meant making a little more money. What else could he mean? And I think it is very good of him, for it will bother him most. Mr. Copperhead is very nice, Reginald. I saw him in London, you know. I thought he was very——”.

“Ah! oh!” said Reginald, “I forgot that. You met him in London? To be sure, and it was there you met Miss Beecham. I begin to see. Is he coming here after her, I should like to know? She doesn’t look the sort of girl to encourage that sort of thing.”

“The sort of girl to encourage that sort of thing! How strangely you talk when you get excited: isn’t that rather vulgar? I don’t know if he is coming after Miss Beecham or not,” said Ursula, who thought the suggestion uncalled for, “but in a very short time you can judge for yourself.”

“Ah—indignation!” said the big brother, who like most big brothers laughed at Ursula’s exhibition of offended dignity; “and, by the way, Miss Beecham—you have not seen her since that night when she was sent for. Will not she think it strange that you never sent to inquire?”

“I sent Betsey—”

“But if Miss Beecham had been somebody else, you would have gone yourself,” he said, being in a humour for finding fault. “If poor old Mrs. Tozer had been what you call a lady—”

“I thought you were much more strong than I am against the Dissenters?” said Ursula, “ever since that man’s speech; and, indeed, always, as long as I can recollect.”

“She is not a mere Dissenter,” said Reginald. “I think I shall call as I go home. She is the cleverest girl I ever met; not like one of you bread-and-butter girls, though she is not much older than you. A man finds a girl like that worth talking to,” said the young clergyman, holding himself erect. Certainly Reginald had not improved; he had grown ever so much more self-important since he got a living of his own.

“And if I was to say, ‘Mind, I won’t have it, Reginald?’” cried Ursula, half-laughing, half-angry. “I think that is a great deal worse than a pupil. But Miss Beecham is very dignified, and you may be sure she will not think much of a call from you. Heaven be praised! that is one thing you can’t get into your hands; we girls are always good for something there. Men may think themselves as grand as they please,” said Ursula, “but their visits are of no consequence; it is ladies of the family who must 呼叫!” After this little out-break, she came down at once to her usual calm. “I will ask Cousin Anne what I ought to do; I don’t think Miss Beecham wanted me to go then—”

“I shall go,” said Reginald, and he left Ursula in her father’s keeping, who met them at the station, and went off at once, with a pleasant sense of having piqued her curiosity, to Grange Lane.

It was still early, for the trains which stopped at the little country station next to the Hall were very few and inconvenient, and the sun, though setting, was still shining red from over St. Roque’s upon Grange Lane. The old red walls grew redder still in the frosty night, and the sky began to bloom into great blazing patches of colour upon the wintry clearness of the blue. There was going to be a beautiful sunset, and such a thing was always to be seen from Grange Lane better than anywhere else in Carlingford. Reginald went down the road slowly, looking at it, and already almost forgetting his idea of calling on Miss Beecham. To call on Miss Beecham would be to call on old Tozer, the butterman, to whom alone the visit would be naturally paid; and this made him laugh within himself. So he would have passed, no doubt, without the least attempt at intruding on the privacy of the Tozers, had not the garden-door opened before he got so far, and Phœbe herself came out, with her hands in her muff, to take a little walk up and down as she did daily. She did not take her hand out of its warm enclosure to give it to him; but nodded with friendly ease in return to his salutation.

“I have come out to see the sunset,” said Phœbe; “I like a little air before the day is over, and grandmamma, when she is poorly, likes her room to be very warm.”

“I hope Mrs. Tozer is better. I hope you have not been anxious.”

“Oh, no! it is chronic; there is no danger. But she requires a great deal of attendance; and I like to come out when I can. Oh, how fine it is! what colour! I think, Mr. May, you must have a 专业 for sunsets at Carlingford. I never saw them so beautiful anywhere else.”

“I am glad there is something you like in Carlingford.”

“Something! there is a very great deal; and that I don’t like too,” she said with a smile. “I don’t care for the people I am living among, which is dreadful. I don’t suppose you have ever had such an experience, though you must know a great deal more in other ways than I. All the people that come to inquire about grandmamma are very kind; they are as good as possible; I respect them, and all that, but——Well, it must be my own fault, or education. It is education, no doubt, that gives us those absurd ideas.”

“Don’t call them absurd,” said Reginald, “indeed I can enter into them perfectly well. I don’t 知道 them, perhaps, in my own person; but I can perfectly understand the repugnance, the distress—”

“The words are too strong,” said Phœbe, “not so much as that; the—annoyance, perhaps, the nasty disagreeable struggle with one’s self and one’s pride; as if one were better than other people. I dislike myself, and despise myself for it; but I can’t help it. We have so little power over ourselves.”

“I hope you will let my sister do what she can to deliver you,” said Reginald; “Ursula is not like you; but she is a good little thing, and she is able to appreciate you. I was to tell you she had been called suddenly off to the Dorsets’, with whom my father and she have gone to pass the night—to meet, I believe, a person you know.”

“Oh, Clarence Copperhead; he is come then? How odd it will be to see him here. His mother is nice, but his father is——Oh, Mr. May! if you only knew the things people have to put up with. When I think of Mr. Copperhead, and his great, ugly, staring wealth, I feel disposed to hate money—especially among Dissenters. It would be better if we were all poor.”

Reginald said nothing; he thought so too. In that case there would be a few disagreeable things out of a poor clergyman’s way, and assaults like that of Northcote upon himself would be impossible; but he could scarcely utter these virtuous sentiments.

“Poverty is the desire of ascetics, and this is not an ascetic age,” he said at length, with a half-laugh at himself for his stiff speech.

“You may say it is not an ascetic age; but yet I suppose the Ritualists——. Perhaps you are a Ritualist yourself, Mr. May? I know as little personally about the church here, as you do about Salem Chapel. I like the service—so does papa—and I like above all things the independent standing of a clergyman; the feeling he must have that he is free to do his duty. That is why I like the church; for other things of course I like our own body best.”

“I don’t suppose such things can be argued about, Miss Beecham. I wish I knew something of my father’s new pupil. I don’t like having a stranger in the house; my father is fond of having his own way.”

“It is astonishing how often parents are so,” said Phœbe, demurely; “and the way they talk of their experience! as if each new generation did not know more than the one that preceded it.”

“You are pleased to laugh, but I am quite in earnest. A pupil is a nuisance. For instance, no man who has a family should ever take one. I know what things are said.”

“You mean about the daughters? That is true enough, there are always difficulties in the way; but you need not be afraid of Clarence Copperhead. He is not the fascinating pupil of a church-novel. There’s nothing the least like the Heir of Redclyffe about him.”

“You are very well up in Miss Yonge’s novels, Miss Beecham.”

“Yes,” said Phœbe; “one reads Scott for Scotland (and a few other things), and one reads Miss Yonge for the church. Mr. Trollope is good for that too, but not so good. All that I know of clergymen’s families I have got from her. I can recognize you quite well, and your sister, but the younger ones puzzle me; they are not in Miss Yonge; they are too much like other children, too naughty. I don’t mean anything disagreeable. The babies in Miss Yonge are often very naughty too, but not the same. As for you, Mr. May——”

“Yes. As for me?”

“Oh, I know everything about you. You are a fine scholar, but you don’t like the drudgery of teaching. You have a fine mind, but it interferes with you continually. You have had a few doubts—just enough to give a piquancy; and now you have a great ideal, and mean to do many things that common clergymen don’t think of. That was why you hesitated about the chaplaincy? See how much I have got out of Miss Yonge. I know you as well as if I had known you all my life; a great deal better than I know Clarence Copperhead; but then, no person of genius has taken any trouble about him.”

“I did not know I had been a hero of fiction,” said Reginald, who had a great mind to be angry. All this time they were walking briskly backward and forward before Tozer’s open door, the Anglican, in his long black coat, following the lively movements of Tozer’s granddaughter, only because he could not help himself. He was irritated, yet he was pleased. A young man is pleased to be thought of, even when the notice is but barely complimentary. Phœbe must have thought of him a good deal before she found him out in this way; but he was irritated all the same.

“You are, however,” she answered lightly. “Look at that blaze of crimson, Mr. May; and the blue which is so clear and so unfathomable. Winter is grander than summer, and even warmer—to look at; with its orange, and purple, and gold. What poor little dirty, dingy things we are down here, to have all this exhibited every evening for our delight!”

“That is true,” he said; and as he gazed, something woke in the young man’s heart—a little thrill of fancy, if not of love. It is hard to look at a beautiful sunset, and then see it reflected in a girl’s face, and not to feel something—which may be nothing, perhaps. His heart gave a small jump, not much to speak of. Phœbe did not talk like the other young ladies in Grange Lane.

“Mr. May, Mr. May!” she cried suddenly, “please go away! I foresee a disastrous encounter which alarms me. You can’t fight, but there is no saying what you might do to each other. Please go away!”

“What is the matter?” he said. “I don’t understand any encounter being disastrous here. Why should I go away?”

She laughed, but there was a certain fright in her tone. “Please!” she said, “I see Mr. Northcote coming this way. He will stop to speak to me. It is the gentleman who attacked you in the Meeting. Mr. May,” she added entreatingly, between laughter and fright, “do go, please.”

“I shall do nothing of the kind,” said Reginald, roused; “I am not afraid. Let him come on. This wall shall fly from its firm base as soon as I.”

Phœbe clasped her hands in dismay, which was partially real. “The typical churchman,” she said, with a glance at Reginald’s figure, which was not displeasing to him, “and the typical Dissenter! and what am I to do between them? Oh, I wish you would go away.”

“Not an inch,” said the young champion. Phœbe was frightened, but she was delighted. “I shall introduce him to you,” she said threatening.

“I don’t mind,” he replied; “nothing on earth should induce me to fly.”

第二十五章•茶 •3,900字

Now here was a business! The typical Anglican and the typical Dissenter, as Phœbe said, with only that clever young woman to keep them from flying at each other’s throats; the one obstinately holding his place by her side (and Phœbe began to have a slight consciousness that, being without any chaperon, she ought not to have kept Reginald May at her side; but in the Tozer world, who knew anything of chaperons?), the other advancing steadily, coming up the Lane out of the glow of the sunset, showing square against it in his frock-coat and high hat, formal and demagogical, not like his rival. The situation pleased Phœbe, who liked to “manage;” but it slightly frightened her as well, though the open door behind, and the long garden with its clouds of crocuses, was a city of refuge always within reach.

“Is it really you, Mr. Northcote?” she said. “You look as if you had dropped out of that lovely sunset I have been watching so long—and I thought you were at the other end of the world.”

“I have been at the other end of England, which comes to the same thing,” said Northcote, in a voice which was harsh by nature, and somewhat rough with cold; “and now they have sent me back to Salem Chapel, to take Mr. Thorpe’s place for three months. They asked for me, I believe; but that you must know better than I do.”

It was not in the nature of man not to be a little proud in the circumstances, and it is quite possible that he considered Phœbe to have something to do with the flattering request.

“No, I have not heard; but I am glad,” said Phœbe; “and if it is not wicked to say so, I am glad Mr. Thorpe is to be away. Let us hope it will do him good. I am sure it will do the rest of us good, at all events.”

Northcote made no answer; but he looked at the other, and several questions began to tremble on his lips. That this was a Churchman did not immediately occur to him; for, indeed, various young pastors of his own body put on the livery which he himself abjured, and the sight of it as a servile copy filled him with a certain contempt.

“Mr. May has been stopped in his way by the beauty of the skies,” said Phœbe, rather enjoying the position as she got used to it. “Mr. Northcote—Mr. May. It is not easy to pass such an exhibition as that, is it?—and given to us all for love, and nothing for reward,” she added; for she was a well read young woman, and did not hesitate to suffer this to appear.

And then there was a momentary pause. Northcote was confused, it must be allowed, by thus coming face to face, without previous warning, with the man whom he had so violently assailed. Reginald had the best of it in every way, for he was the man injured, and had it in his power to be magnanimous; and he had the advantage of full warning, and had prepared himself. Besides, was not he the superior by every social rule? And that consciousness is always sweet.

“If Mr. Northcote is new to Carlingford, he will probably not know what a fine point of view we have here. That, like so many other things,” said Reginald, pointedly, “wants a little personal experience to find it out.”

“For that matter, to see it once is as good as seeing it a hundred times,” said Northcote, somewhat sharply; for to give in was the very last thing he thought of. A little glow of anger came over him. He thought Phœbe had prepared this ordeal for him, and he was vexed, not only because she had done it, but because his sense of discomfiture might afford a kind of triumph to that party in the connection which was disposed, as he expressed it, to “toady the Church.”

“Pardon me, I don’t think you can judge of anything at a first view.”

“And, pardon me, I think you see everything most sharply and clearly at a first view,” said the Nonconformist, who was the loudest; “certainly in all matters of principle. After a while, you are persuaded against your will to modify this opinion and that, to pare off a little here, and tolerate a little there. Your first view is the most correct.”

“Well,” said Phœbe, throwing herself into the breach, “I am glad you don’t agree, for the argument is interesting. Will you come in and fight it out? You shall have some tea, which will be pleasant, for it shall be hot. I really cannot stay out any longer; it is freezing here.”

The new-comer prepared to follow; but Reginald hesitated. Pride whispered that to go into the house of Tozer, the butterman, was something monstrous; but then it might be amusing. This “Dissenting fellow,” no doubt, was a drawback; but a kind of angry antagonism and disdain half-attracted him even to the Dissenting fellow. It might be well, on the whole, to see what kind of being such a person was. All curious phenomena are attractive to a student. “The proper study of mankind is man,” Reginald said to himself. Before he had got through this little argument with himself, Phœbe had gone in, and Northcote, whose disgust at the interposition of an adversary had no such softening of curiosity, followed her abruptly, without any of those graces which are current in society. This rudeness offended the other, who was about to walk on indignant, when Phœbe turned back, and looked out at him from the open door.

“Are not you coming, Mr. May?” she said softly, looking at him with the least little shrug of her shoulders.

Reginald yielded without further resistance. But he felt fully that to see him, the chaplain of the old College, walking down through Tozer’s garden, between the two rows of closed-up crocuses which glimmered ghostly by the side of the path, was one of the strangest sights in the world.

Phœbe, to tell the truth, was a little confused as to where to convey her captive, out of whom she meant to get a little amusement for the long winter afternoon. For a girl of her active mind, it may easily be imagined that a succession of long days with Mrs. Tozer was somewhat monotonous. She did her duty like a hero, and never complained; but still, if a little amusement was possible, it was worth having. She carried in her two young men as naughty boys carry stag-beetles, or other such small deer. If they would fight it would be fun; and if they would not fight, why, it might be fun still, and more amusing than grandmamma. She hesitated between the chilly drawing-room, where a fire was lighted, but where there was no evidence of human living, and the cozy parlour, where Mrs. Tozer sat in her best cap, still wheezy, but convalescent, waiting for her tea, and not indisposed to receive such deputations of the community as might come to ask for her. Finally, Phœbe opened the door of that sanctuary, which was dazzling with bright fire-light after the gloom outside. It was a very comfortable interior, arranged by Phœbe to suit her own ideas rather than those of grandmamma, though grandmamma’s comfort had been her chief object. The tea-things were sparkling upon the table, the kettle singing by the fire, and Mrs. Tozer half-dozing in the tranquillity and warmth.

“Grandmamma, I have brought Mr. May and Mr. Northcote to see you,” she said.

The poor old lady almost sprang from her chair in amazement.

“Lord bless us, Phœbe, Mr. May!”

“Don’t disturb yourself, grandmamma; they will find seats. Yes, we were all looking at the sunset, and as I knew tea must be ready—I know you want it, dear granny—I asked them to have some. Here it is, as I told you, quite hot, and very fragrant this cold night. How cold it is outside! I think it will freeze, and that skating may come off at last, Mr. May, that you were talking of, you remember? You were to teach your sisters to skate.”

“Yes, with the advantage of your example.”

Reginald had put himself in a corner, as far away as possible from the old woman in the chair. His voice, he felt, had caught a formal tone. As for the other, his antagonist, he had assumed the front of the battle—even, in Tozer’s absence, he had ventured to assume the front of the fire. He was not the sort of man Reginald had expected, almost hoped to see—a fleshy man, loosely put together, according to the nature, so far as he knew it, of Dissenters; but a firmly knit, clean-limbed young man, with crisp hair curling about his head, and a gleam of energy and spirit in his eye. The gentler Anglican felt by no means sure of a speedy victory, even of an intellectual kind. The young man before him did not look a slight antagonist. They glared at each other, measuring their strength; they did not know, indeed, that they had been brought in here to this warmth and light, like the stag-beetles, to make a little amusement for Phœbe; but they were quite ready to fight all the same.

“Mr. Northcote, sir, I’m glad to see you. Now this is friendly; this is what I calls as it should be, when a young pastor comes in and makes free, without waiting for an invitation,” said Tozer kindly, bustling in; “that speech of yours, sir, was a rouser; that ‘it ’em off, that did, and you can see as the connection ain’t ungrateful. What’s that you say, Phœbe? what? I’m a little hard of hearing. Mr.—May!”

“Mr. May was good enough to come in with me, grandpapa. We met at the door. We have mutual friends, and you know how kind Miss May has been,” said Phœbe, trembling with sudden fright, while Reginald, pale with rage and embarrassment, stood up in his corner. Tozer was embarrassed too. He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands, with a terrible inclination to raise one of them to his forehead. It was all that he could do to get over this class instinct. Young May, though he had been delighted to hear him assailed in the Meeting, was a totally different visitor from the clever young pastor whom he received with a certain consciousness of patronage. Tozer did not know that the Northcotes were infinitely richer, and quite as well-born and well-bred in their ways as the Mays, and that his young Dissenting brother was a more costly production, as well as a more wealthy man, than the young chaplain in his long coat; but if he had known this it would have made no difference. His relation to the one was semi-servile, to the other condescending and superior. In Reginald May’s presence, he was but a butterman who supplied the family; but to Horace Northcote he was an influential member of society, with power over a Minister’s individual fate.

“I assure you, sir, as I’m proud to see you in my house,” he said, with a duck of his head, and an ingratiating but uncomfortable smile. “Your father, I hope, as he’s well, sir, and all the family? We are a kind of neighbours now; not as we’d think of taking anything upon us on account of living in Grange Lane. But Phœbe here—Phœbe, junior, as we call’s her—she’s a cut above us, and I’m proud to see any of her friends in my ‘umble ‘ouse. My good lady, sir,” added Tozer, with another duck, indicating with a wave of his hand his wife, who had already once risen, wheezy, but knowing her manners, to make a kind of half-bow, half-curtsey from her chair.

“You are very kind,” said Reginald, feeling himself blush furiously, and not knowing what to say. The other young man stood with his back to the fire, and a sneer, which he intended to look like a smile, on his face.

And as for Phœbe, it must be allowed that, notwithstanding all her resources, even she was exquisitely uncomfortable for a minute or two. The young people all felt this, but to Tozer it seemed that he had managed everything beautifully, and a sense of elation stole over him. To be visited in this manner by the gentry, “making free,” and “quite in a friendly way,” was an honour he had never looked for. He turned to Northcote with great affability and friendliness.

“Well,” he said, “Mr. Northcote, sir, it can’t be denied as this is a strange meeting; you and Mr. May, as mightn’t be, perhaps, just the best of friends, to meet quite comfortable over a cup of tea. But ain’t it the very best thing that could happen? Men has their public opinions, sir, as every one should speak up bold for, and stick to; that’s my way of thinking. But I wouldn’t bring it no farther; not, as might be said, into the domestic circle. I’m clean against that. You say your say in public, whatever you may think on a subject, but you don’t bear no malice; it ain’t a personal question; them’s my sentiments. And I don’t know nothing more elevatin’, nothing more consolin’, than for two public opponents, as you may say, to meet like this quite cozy and comfortable over a cup o’ tea.”

“It is a pleasure, I assure you, which I appreciate highly,” said Reginald, finding his voice.

“And which fills me with delight and satisfaction,” said Northcote. Those stag-beetles which Phœbe, so to speak, had carried in in her handkerchief, were only too ready to fight.

“You had better have some tea first,” she said breathless, “before you talk so much of its good effects. Sit down, grandpapa, and have your muffin while it is hot; I know that is what you like. Do you care about china, Mr. May? but every one cares for china now-a-days. Look at that cup, and fancy grandmamma having this old service in use without knowing how valuable it is. Cream Wedgwood! You may fancy how I stared when I saw it; and in everyday use! most people put it up on brackets, when they are so lucky as to possess any. Tell Mr. May, grandmamma, how you picked it up. Mr. Northcote, there is an article in this review that I want you to look at. Papa sent it to me. It is too metaphysical for me, but I know you are great in metaphysics—”

“I am greater in china; may not I look at the Wedgwood first?”

“Perhaps you will turn over the literature to me,” said Reginald, “reviews are more in my way than teacups, though I say it with confusion. I know how much I am behind my age.”

“And I too,” whispered Phœbe, behind the book which she had taken up. “Don’t tell any one. It is rare, I know; and everybody likes to have something that is rare; but I don’t really care for it the least in the world. I have seen some bits of Italian 陶艺 indeed—but English pottery is not like Italian, any more than English skies.”

“You have the advantage of me, Miss Beecham, both as regards the pottery and the skies.”

“Ah, if it is an advantage; bringing poetry down to prose is not always an advantage, is it? Italy is such a dream—so long as one has never been there.”

“Yes, it is a dream,” said Reginald, with enthusiasm, “to everybody, I think; but when one has little money and much work all one’s life—poverty stands in the way of all kinds of enjoyment.”

“Poverty is a nice friendly sort of thing; a ground we can all meet on,” said Phœbe. “But don’t let us say that to grandpapa. How odd people are! he knows you are not Crœsus, but still he has a sort of feeling that you are a young prince, and do him the greatest honour in coming to his house; and yet, all the same, he thinks that money is the very grandest thing in existence. See what prejudice is! He would not allow that he had any class-reverence, and yet he can no more get rid of it—”

“Miss Beecham, it is very difficult for me to say anything on such a subject.”

“Very difficult, and you show your delicacy by not saying anything. But you know, apart from this, which is not gratifying, I am rather proud of grandpapa’s way of looking at some things. About saying out your opinions in public, and yet bearing no malice, for instance. Now, Mr. Northcote is the very Antipodes to you; therefore you ought to know him and find out what he means. It would be better for you both. That is what I call enlarging the mind,” said Phœbe with a smile; which was, to tell the truth, a very pretty smile, and filled with a soft lustre the blue eyes with which she looked at him. Whether it was this, or the cogency of her argument, that moved the young Anglican, it would be hard to say.

“If you are to be the promoter of this new science, I don’t object to studying under you,” he said with a great deal of meaning in his voice.

Phœbe gave him another smile, though she shook her head; and then she turned to the hero on the other side.

“Is it genuine, Mr. Northcote? is it as fine as I thought? There now, I told you, grandmamma! Have you been telling Mr. Northcote how you picked it up? I am sure you will present him with a cup and saucer for his collection in return for his praises.”

“Not for the world,” said Northcote, with profound seriousness; “break a set of cream Wedgwood! what do you take me for, Miss Beecham? I don’t mean to say that I would not give my ears to have it—all; but to break the set—”

“Oh, I beg your pardon! I was not prepared for such delicacy of feeling—such conscientiousness—”

“Ah!” said Northcote, with a long-drawn breath, “I don’t think you can understand the feelings of an enthusiast. A set of fine China is like a poem—every individual bit is necessary to the perfection of the whole. I allow that this is not the usual way of looking at it; but my pleasure lies in seeing it entire, making the tea-table into a kind of lyric, elevating the family life by the application of the principles of abstract beauty to its homeliest details. Pardon, Miss Beecham, but Mrs. Tozer is right, and you are wrong. The idea of carrying off a few lines of a poem in one’s pocket for one’s collection—”

“Now that’s what I call speaking up,” said Mrs. Tozer, the first time she had opened her lips, “that’s just what I like. Mr. Northcote has a deal more sense than the like of you. He knows what’s what. Old things like this as might have been my granny’s, they’re good enough for every day, they’re very nice for common use; but they ain’t no more fit to be put away in cupboards and hoarded up like fine china, no more than I am. Mr. Northcote should see our best—that’s worth the looking at; and if I’d known as the gentleman was coming—but you can’t put an old head on young shoulders. Phœbe’s as good as gold, and the trouble she takes with an old woman like me is wonderful; but she can’t be expected to think of everything, can she now, at her age?”

The two young men laughed—it was the first point of approach between them, and Phœbe restrained a smile, giving them a look from one to another. She gave Reginald his cup of tea very graciously.

“Mr. Northcote prefers the Wedgwood, and Mr. May doesn’t mind, grandmamma,” she said sweetly. “So it is as well to have the best china in the cupboard. Grandpapa, another muffin—it is quite hot; and I know that is what you like best.”

“Well, I’ll say that for Phœbe,” said Tozer, with his mouth full, “that whether she understands china or not I can’t tell, but she knows what a man likes, which is more to the purpose for a young woman. That’s what she does; and looks after folk’s comforts as I never yet saw her match. She’s a girl in a thousand, is Phœbe, junior. There be them as is more for dress,” he added, fond and greasy, looking at her seated modestly in that gown, which had filled with awe and admiration the experienced mind of Mrs. Sam Hurst; “and plays the pianny, and that sort of style of girl; but for one as minds the comforts of them about her——” Tozer turned back to the table, and made a gulp of his last piece of muffin. Eloquence could have no more striking climax; the proof of all his enthusiasm, was it not there?

“Don’t you play, Miss Beecham?” said Reginald, half-amused, half-angry.

“A little,” said Phœbe, with a laugh. She had brought down a small cottage piano out of the drawing-room, where nobody ever touched it, into a dark corner out of reach of the lamp. It was the only accomplishment upon which she prided herself. She got up from the table, when she had poured out another cup of tea for her grandfather, and without saying a word went to the little piano. It was not much of an instrument, and Reginald May was very little of a 行家. Northcote, who knew her gifts, gave himself up to listening, but the Tozers looked on, shaking their heads, and it was only after some time had passed, that Reginald began to understand that he was listening to something which he had never heard before. Ursula’s school-girl tunes had never interested him very much; he did not know what this was which seemed to creep into his heart by his ears. He got up by and by, and stole towards the piano bewildered.

“It’ll soon be over, sir,” said Tozer, encouragingly. “Don’t you run away, Mr. May. Them are queer tunes, I allow, but they don’t last long, and your company’s an honour. As for the playing, it’ll soon be over; you needn’t run away.”

第二十六章·大厅 •3,400字

It is unnecessary to say that the dinner party in the Hall bore very little resemblance to those simple amusements in No. 6, Grange Lane. There were three or four people to meet Mr. May, who, as an orator and literary man, had greater reputation even such a little way from home than he had in his own town. He was a very good preacher, and those articles of his were much admired as “thoughtful” papers, searching into many mental depths, and fathoming the religious soul with wonderful insight. Ladies especially admired them; the ladies who were intellectual, and found pleasure in the feeling of being more advanced than their neighbours. The Rector’s wife of the parish in which the Dorsets lived applied herself with great vigour to the art of drawing him out. She asked him questions with that air of delightful submission to an intellectual authority which some ladies love to assume, and which it pleases many men to accept. His daughters were not at all reverential of Mr. May, and it soothed him to get marks of devotion and literary submission out of doors. Even Sophy Dorset had gone through the phase of admiration for her cousin. This had been dissipated, it is true, long ago; but yet she did not laugh, as she usually did, at the believers in him. She listened to Mrs. Rector plying him with eager questions, asking his advice on that point and the other, and smiled, but was charitable. As for Cousin Anne, she was charitable by nature, and all the world got the advantage of it. Little Ursula was one of her prime favourites—a motherless girl, who was the eldest, and who had to work for the family, was of all others the thing which moved her sympathies most. The little Indian children had long ere this yielded to the charms of Aunt Anne. They followed her wherever she went like little spaniels, hanging on by her dress. She had to go up to the nursery to hear them say their prayers before she dressed for dinner.

“You see, this is a proof that with children one should never be discouraged,” she said; “for they did not take to me at first;” and she turned her mild countenance, beaming with soft light, upon Ursula. To be hampered by these babies clinging about her, to have them claiming imperiously her attention and her time, however she might be engaged; to give up to them the moments of leisure in which otherwise she might have had a little quiet and repose, this was what Anne Dorset considered as her recompense.

“Oh, I wish I could be as good to Amy and Robin! But I feel as if I should like to shake them often,” cried Ursula, “even though I love them with all my heart. Oh! Cousin Anne, I don’t think there is any one like you.”

“Yes, that is what she thinks her reward,” said Sophy. “I should like something better, if it was I. Don’t copy her, Ursula. It is better to have children of your own, and get other people to nurse them. Anne, you see, likes it. I want you to marry, and get all the good things in this life. Let us leave the self-denials to her; she likes them, you perceive.”

“I don’t know why you should always talk of marrying to me, Cousin Sophy,” said Ursula with gentle reproach. “I hope I am not a girl to think of such things.”

“And why not? Is it not the first duty of woman, you little simpleton?” said Sophy Dorset, with a laugh.

But Ursula could not imagine that it was only in this general way that her cousin spoke. She could not but feel that this big Clarence Copperhead, with the diamond buttons, and that huge expanse of shirt-front, had something to do with Sophy’s talk. There was six feet of him, which is a thing that goes a long way with a girl; and he was not bad-looking. And why did he come to Carlingford, having nothing in the world to do with the place? and coming to Carlingford, why was papa sought out, of all people, to be his tutor? Certainly the circumstances were such as invited conjecture, especially when added on to Sophy’s allusions. He took Ursula in to dinner, which fluttered her somewhat; and though he was much intent upon the dinner itself, and studied the 菜单 with a devotion which would have made her tremble for her housekeeping, had she been sufficiently disengaged to notice it, he yet found time to talk a little between the courses.

“I did not expect, when I saw you in London, that we were to meet again so soon, Miss May,” was the perfectly innocent remark with which he opened the conversation.

Ursula would have said it herself had he not said it, and all she could do was to answer, “No, indeed,” with a smile.

“And I am coming to your father to be coached,” continued the young man. “It is a funny coincidence, don’t you think so? I am glad you came to that ball, Miss May. It makes me feel that I know you. I don’t like starting off afresh, all at once, among people I don’t know.”

“No,” said Ursula; “I should not like it either. But there are other people you know in Carlingford. There is the lady who was at the ball—the young lady in black, I used to call her—Miss Beecham; you must know her better than you know me.”

“Who? Phœbe? really!” he said, elevating his eyebrows. “Phœbe in Carlingford! By Jove! how the governor will laugh! I should like to know,” with a conscious smile on his countenance, “what is doing there.”

“Her grandmamma is ill, and she is nursing her,” said Ursula simply, at which young Copperhead laughed again.

“Oh, that is how it is! Very good of her, don’t you think? Shouldn’t suppose she would be amusing, the old granny, and Phœbe likes to be amused. I must go to see her as soon as I can get there. You know, we are Dissenters at home, Miss May. Good joke, isn’t it? The governor will not hear a word against them. As a matter of fact, nobody does go to chapel in our rank of life; but the governor sometimes is as obstinate as an old pig.”

“I suppose he likes it best,” said Ursula, gently; and here a new course came round, and for the moment Clarence had something else to do. He resumed after the 主菜, which were poor, as he made a mental note.

“Is there anything to do at Carlingford, Miss May? I hope you skate. I am not much in the hunting way; nor your father, I suppose? for, to be sure, a hunting parson would never do. I am too heavy a weight for most horses, and the good of galloping over the country all day, after a poor brute of a fox!—but we must not say that before Sir Robert. I suppose it is dull?” he said, somewhat pathetically, looking in her face.

“We don’t think it dull, Mr. Copperhead. It may be, perhaps, for a gentleman.”

“That’s it,” said Clarence. “I don’t know if it’s because women have more resources, or because they want less; but you always get on better than we do, somehow; very lucky for you. You don’t expect so much. I believe that’s what it is.”

“Then that shows we are the most sensible,” said Ursula, roused, and a little indignant.

He paused, to make his choice between the inevitable turkey and the inevitable beef.

“I hope it’s braised,” he said, in a devout undertone. “You don’t expect so much, Miss May, that’s what it is; you’re always in the house. You don’t care for exercise. Bless you, if I didn’t take exercise, I should be fifteen stone before you could turn round. How much are you? about eight, perhaps; not much more. That makes a deal of difference: you don’t require to keep yourself down.”

Ursula did not make any answer. She was prepared to look upon him very favourably, and accept what he said as full of originality and force; but the tone the conversation had taken was not entirely to her mind. Phœbe could have managed it; but Ursula was not Phœbe. She was more disposed to take offence at the young man’s tone than to guide it into better ways.

“I hope your mother is well,” she said at last, falteringly, after a long pause. Ursula thought her companion would remark this pause, and think her displeased. She might have saved herself the trouble, for it was the braised turkey which kept Clarence quiet, not offence.

“Oh, quite well, I thank you. Not so well as when I am at home; she don’t like parting with me,” he said, “but, of course, I can’t be always at my mother’s apron-strings. Women forget that.”

“She was very kind when I was in London.”

“Yes, that just pleases her; she is never so happy as when she is buying things for somebody,” he replied, betraying an acquaintance with the exact manner of the kindness which somewhat disturbed poor Ursula: “that is exactly her way. I dare say she’ll come and see the Dorsets while I’m here.”

Then there was again a pause, and Clarence turned to speak to some one at his other side.

“No, I don’t hunt much,” he said; “I have come into the country to be coached. My father’s a modern sort of man, and wants a fellow to be up in history, and that sort of thing. Bore—yes; and I dare say Carlingford is very dull. Oh, yes, I will go out with the hounds now and then, if there is not a frost. I should rather like a frost for my part.”

It was a hunting lady who had started this new conversation, into which the stranger had drifted away, leaving Ursula stranded. She was slightly piqued, it must be allowed, and when Sophy asked her after dinner how she liked her companion, made a dignified reply.

“I have no doubt he is very nice,” she said; “I don’t know much of gentlemen. He talks of papa as if he were a school-master, and thinks Carlingford will be dull.”

“So it is, Ursula. I have often heard you say so.”

“Yes, perhaps; but a stranger ought to be civil,” said the girl, offended; and she went and entrenched herself by the side of Cousin Anne, where the new pupil could not come near her. Indeed he did not seem very anxious to do so, as Ursula soon saw. She blushed very hotly all by herself, under Cousin Anne’s shadow: that she could have been so absurd as ever to think—But his size, and the weight over which he had lamented, and his abundant whiskers and large shirt front, made it quite impossible for Ursula to think of him as a person to be educated. It must be Miss Beecham, she said to herself.

No thoughts of this kind crossed Mr. Clarence Copperhead’s mind, as he stretched his big limbs before the drawing-room fire after dinner, and said “Brava!” when the ladies sang. He knew “Brava” was the right thing to say. He liked to be at the Hall, which he had never visited before, and to know that it was undeniable gentry which surrounded him, and which at the piano was endeavouring to gain his approbation. He was so much his father’s son that he had a sense of pleasure and triumph in being thus elevated; and he had a feeling, more or less, of contempt for the clergyman, “only a parson,” who was to be his coach. He felt the power and the beauty of money almost as much as his father did. What was there he could not buy with it? the services of the most learned pundit in existence, for what was learning? or the prettiest woman going to be his wife, if that was what he wanted. It may be supposed then that he had very little attention indeed to bestow upon a girl like Ursula, who was only the daughter of his coach—nobody at all in particular—and that her foolish fancies on the subject might have been spared. He aired himself on the hearth-rug with great satisfaction, giving now and then a shake to one of his long limbs, and a furtive glance to see that all was perfect in the of the garment that clothed it. He had been ploughed it is true, but that did not interfere much with his mental satisfaction; for, after all, scholarship was a thing cultivated chiefly by dons and prigs, and poor men; and no doubt this other poor man, the parson, would be able to put all into his head that was necessary, just as much as would pay, and no more—a process the mere thought of which made Clarence yawn, yet which he had wound up his noble mind to submit to.

“Mind you, I don’t say I am going to work,” he had said to his mother; “but if you think he can put it into me, he may try,” and he repeated much the same sentiment, with a difference, to Sophy Dorset, who by way of civility, while the Rector’s wife paid court to Mr. May, talked to Clarence a little, from the corner of the ottoman close to the fire.

“Work! well, I suppose so, after a sort. I don’t mean to make myself ill with midnight oil and that sort of thing,” he said (he was not at all clear in his mind as to how the midnight oil was applied), “but if Mr. May can get it into me, I’ll give him leave; for one thing, I suppose there will be nothing else to do.”

“Not much in Carlingford; there are neither pictures, nor museums, nor fine buildings, nor anything of the sort; and very little society; a few tea-parties, and one ball in the season.”

Mr. Clarence Copperhead shrugged his large shoulders.

“I shan’t go to the tea-parties, that’s certain,” he said; “a fellow must hunt a little, I suppose, as the place is so destitute. As for pictures and museums, that don’t trouble me. The worst of going abroad is that you’ve always got to look at things of that sort. To have to do it at home would be beyond a joke.”

“Have you seen the box of curious things John sent me with the children?” said Sophy. “They are on the table at the end of the room,—yataghans, and I don’t know what other names they have, all sorts of Indian weapons. I should think you would be interested in them.”

“Thanks, Cousin Sophy, I am very well where I am,” he said. He looked at her in such a way that she might have appropriated this remark as a compliment, had she pleased; but Sophy laughed, and it is to be feared did not feel the compliment, for she turned right round to somebody else, and took no more notice of Clarence. He was so fully satisfied with himself that he had not any strong sense of neglect, though he had but little conversation with the company. He was quite satisfied to exhibit himself and his shirt-front before the fire.

Next day he accompanied the Mays back to Carlingford. Mr. May had enjoyed his visit. His mind was free for the moment; he had staved off the evil day, and he had a little money in his pocket, the remains of that extra fifty pounds which he had put on to Tozer’s bill. With some of it he had paid some urgent debts, and he had presented five pounds to Cotsdean to buy his wife a gown, and he had a little money in his pockets. So that in every way he was comfortable and more at ease than usual. The reckoning was four months off, which was like an eternity to him in his present mood of mind, and of course he would get the money before that time. There was so much time, indeed, that to begin to think of the ways and means of paying it at this early period seemed absurd. He was to have three hundred pounds for the year of Copperhead’s residence with him, if he stayed so long, and that would do, if nothing else. Therefore Mr. May was quite easy in his mind, not in the least feeling the possibility of trouble in store for him. And the visit had been pleasant. He had enlarged his acquaintance, and that among the very sort of people he cared to know. He had been very well received by all the Dorsets, and introduced by Sir Robert as a relation, and he had received some personal incense about his works and his gifts which was sweet to him. Therefore he was in very good spirits, and exceedingly amiable. He conversed with his future pupil urbanely, though he had not concealed his entire concurrence in Sir Robert’s opinion that he was “a cub.”

“What have you been reading lately?” he asked, when they had been transferred from the Dorsets’ carriage, to the admiration and by the obsequious cares of all the attendant officials, into the railway carriage. Mr. May liked the fuss and liked the idea of that superiority which attended the Dorsets’ guests. He had just been explaining to his companions that Sir Robert was the Lord of the Manor, and that all the homage done to him was perfectly natural; and he was in great good-humour even with this cub.

“Well, I’ve not been reading very much,” said Clarence, candidly. “What was the good? The governor did not want me to be a parson, or a lawyer, or anything of that sort, and a fellow wants some sort of a motive to read. I’ve loafed a good deal, I’m afraid. I got into a very good set, you know, first chop—Lord Southdown, and the Beauchamps, and that lot; and—well, I suppose we were idle, and that’s the truth.”

“I see,” said Mr. May; “a good deal of smoke and billiards, and so forth, and very little work.”

“That’s about it,” said the young man, settling himself and his trousers, which were the objects of a great deal of affectionate care on his part. He gave them furtive pulls at the knees, and stroked them down towards the ankle, as he got himself comfortably into his seat.

Mr. May looked at him with scientific observation, and Ursula with half-affronted curiosity; his self-occupation was an offence to the girl, but it was only amusing to her father. “An unmitigated cub,” Mr. May pronounced to himself; but there where he sat he represented three hundred a-year, and that, at least, was not to be despised. Ursula was not so charitable as her father; she was not amused by him in the slightest degree. Had he come down to Carlingford in humble worship of her pretty eyes, and with a romantic intention of making himself agreeable to her, the captivating flattery would have prepossessed Ursula, and prepared her to see him in a very pleasant light, and put the best interpretation upon all he did and said. But this pretty delusion being dissipated, Ursula was angry with herself for having been so foolish, and naturally angry with Clarence for having led her into it, though he was quite without blame in the matter. She looked at him in his corner—he had taken the best corner, without consulting her inclinations—and thought him a vulgar coxcomb, which perhaps he was. But she would not have been so indignant except for that little bit of injured feeling, for which really, after all, he was not justly to blame.

第二十七章 一对天敌 •3,900字

After the evening at Grange Lane which has been described, Reginald May met Northcote in the street several times, as was unavoidable, considering the size of the place, and the concentration of all business in Carlingford within the restricted length of the High Street. The two young men bowed stiffly to each other at first; then by dint of seeing each other frequently, got to inclinations a little more friendly, until at length one day when Northcote was passing by the College, as Reginald stood in the old doorway, the young chaplain feeling magnanimous on his own ground, and somewhat amused by the idea which suddenly presented itself to him, asked his Dissenting assailant if he would not come in and see the place. Reginald had the best of it in every way. It was he who was the superior, holding out a hand of favour and kindness to one who here at least, was beneath him in social consideration; and it was he who was the assailed, and, so to speak, injured party, and who nevertheless extended to his assailant a polite recognition, which, perhaps, no one else occupying the same position would have given. He was amused by his own magnanimity, andenjoyed it, and the pleasure of heaping coals of fire upon his adversary’s head was entirely delightful to him.

“I know you do not approve of the place or me,” he said, forgetting in that moment of triumph all his own objections to it, and the ground upon which these objections were founded. “Come in and see it, will you? The chapel and the rooms are worth seeing. They are fair memorials of the past, however little the foundation may be to your mind.”

He laughed as he spoke, but without ill-humour; for it is easy to be good-humoured when one feels one’s self on the gaining, not the losing side. As for Northcote, pride kept him from any demonstration of unwillingness to look at what the other had to show. He would not for worlds have betrayed himself. It was expedient for him, if he did not mean to acknowledge himself worsted, to put on a good face and accept the politeness cheerfully. So that it was on the very strength of the conflict which made them first aware of each other’s existence, that they thus came together. The Dissenter declared his entire delight in being taken to see the place, and with secret satisfaction, not easily put into words, the Churchman led the way. They went to all the rooms where the old men sat, some dozing by the fire, some reading, some busy about small businesses; one had a turning-lathe, another was illuminating texts, a third had a collection of curiosities of a heterogeneous kind, which he was cleaning and arranging, writing neat little labels in the neatest little hand for each article.

“The charity of our ancestors might have been worse employed,” said Reginald. “A home for the old and poor is surely as fine a kind of benevolence as one could think of—if benevolence is to be tolerated at all.”

“Ye-es,” said Northcote. “I don’t pretend to disapprove of benevolence. Perhaps the young who have a future before them, who can be of use to their country, are better objects still.”

“Because they will pay,” said Reginald; “because we can get something out of them in return; while we have already got all that is to be had out of the old people? A very modern doctrine, but not so lovely as the old-fashioned way.”

“I did not mean that,” said the other, colouring. “Certainly it ought to pay; everything, I suppose, is meant to pay one way or other. The life and progress of the young, or the gratified sentiment of the benefactor, who feels that he has provided for the old—which is the noblest kind of payment? I think the first, for my part.”

“For that matter, there is a large and most flourishing school, which you will come across without fail if you work among the poor. Do you work among the poor? Pardon my curiosity; I don’t know.”

“It depends upon what you call the poor,” said the other, who did not like to acknowledge the absence of this element in Salem Chapel; “if you mean the destitute classes, the lowest level, no; but if you mean the respectable, comfortable—”

“Persons of small income?” said Reginald. “I mean people with no incomes at all; people without trades, or anything to earn a comfortable living by; labouring people, here to-day and away to-morrow; women who take in washing, and men who go about hunting for a day’s work. These are the kind of people the Church is weighted with.”

“I don’t see any trace of them,” said the Nonconformist. “Smooth lawns, fine trees, rooms that countesses might live in. I can’t see any trace of them here.”

“There is no harm in a bit of grass and a few trees, and the rooms are cheaper in their long continuance than any flimsy new rubbish that could be built.”

“I know I am making an unfortunate quotation,” said Northcote; “but there is reason in it. It might be sold for so much, and given to the poor.”

“Cheating the poor, in the first place,” said Reginald, warmly concerned for what he felt to be his own; “just as the paddock an old horse dies in might bear a crop instead, and pay the owner; but what would become of the old horse?”

“Half-quarter of this space would do quite as well for your pensioners, and they might do without—”

“A chaplain!” said Reginald, laughing in spite of himself. “I know you think so. It is a sinecure.”

“Well, I think they may say their prayers for themselves; a young man like you, full of talent, full of capability—I beg your pardon,” said Northcote, “you must excuse me, I grudge the waste. There are so many things more worthy of you that you might do.”

“What, for example?”

“Anything almost,” cried the other; “digging, ploughing, building—anything! And for me too.”

This he said in an undertone; but Reginald heard, and did not carry his magnanimity so far as not to reply.

“Yes,” he said; “if I am wasted reading prayers for my old men, what are you, who come to agitate for my abolition? I think, too, almost anything would be better than to encourage the ignorant to make themselves judges of public institutions, which the wisest even find too delicate to meddle with. The digging and the ploughing might be a good thing for more than me.”

“I don’t say otherwise,” said the young Dissenter, following into the old fifteenth-century chapel, small but perfect, the young priest of the place. They stood together for a moment under the vaulted roof, both young, in the glory of their days, both with vague noble meanings in them, which they knew so poorly how to carry out. They meant everything that was fine and great, these two young men, standing upon the threshold of their life, knowing little more than that they were fiercely opposed to each other, and meant to reform the world each in his own way; one by careful services and visitings of the poor, the other by the Liberation Society and overthrow of the State Church; both foolish, wrong and right, to the utmost bounds of human possibility. How different they felt themselves standing there, and yet how much at one they were without knowing it! Northcote had sufficient knowledge to admire the perfect old building. He followed his guide with a certain humility through the details, which Reginald had already learned by heart.

“There is nothing so perfect, so beautiful, so real now-a-days,” said the young Churchman, with a natural expansion of mind over the beauty to which he had fallen heir. It seemed to him, as he looked up at the tall windows with their graceful tracery, that he was the representative of all who had worked out their belief in God within these beautiful walls, and of all the perpetual worshippers who had knelt among the old brasses of the early founders upon the worn floor. The other stood beside him with a half envy in his mind. The Dissenter did not feel himself the heir of those centuries in the same unhesitating way. He tried to feel that he was the heir of something better and more spiritual, yet felt a not ungenerous grudge that he could not share the other kinship too.

“It is very beautiful and noble,” he said. “I should like to feel for it as you do; but what I should like still better would be to have the same clear certainty of faith, the same conviction that what they were doing was the only right thing to do which made both building and prayer so unfaltering in those days. We can’t be so sure even of the span of an arch now.”

“No—nor can you be content with the old span, even though it is clearly the best by all rules,” said Reginald. The other smiled; he was the most speculative of the two, being perhaps the most thoughtful; and he had no fifteenth-century chapel to charm, nor old foundation to give him an anchor. He smiled, but there was a little envy in his mind. Even to have one’s life set out before one within clear lines like this, would not that be something? If it had but been possible, no doubt saying prayers for the world, even with no better than the old men of the College to say amen, had something more beautiful in it than tours of agitation for the Liberation Society; but Northcote knew that for him it was not possible, any more than was the tonsure of Reginald’s predecessor, who had said mass when first those pinnacles were reared towards heaven. After he had smiled he sighed, for the old faith was more lovely than all the new agitations; he felt a little ashamed of the Liberation Society, so long as he stood under that groined and glorious roof.

“May!” said some one, coming in suddenly. “I want you to go to the hospital for me. I am obliged to go off to town on urgent business—convocation work; and I must get a lawyer’s opinion about the reredos question; there is not a moment to lose. Go and see the people in the pulmonary ward, there’s a good fellow; and there are two or three bad accidents; and that old woman who is ill in Brown’s cottage, you saw her the other day; and the Simmonds in Back Grove Street. I should have had a day’s work well cut out, if I had not had this summons to town; but the reredos question is of the first importance, you know.”

“I’ll go,” said Reginald. There is nothing more effectual in showing us the weakness of any habitual fallacy or assumption than to hear it sympathetically, through the ears, as it were, of a sceptic. Reginald, seeing Northcote’s keen eyes gleam at the sound of the Rector’s voice, instinctively fell into sympathy with him, and heard the speech through him; and though he himself felt the importance of the reredos, yet he saw in a moment how such a question would take shape in the opinion of the young Dissenter, in whom he clearly saw certain resemblances to himself. Therefore he assented very briefly, taking out his note-book to put down the special cases of which the Rector told him. They had a confidential conversation in a corner, during which the new-comer contemplated the figure of Northcote in his strange semi-clerical garments with some amaze. “Who is your friend?” he said abruptly, for he was a rapid man, losing no time about anything.

“It is not my friend at all; it is my enemy who denounced me at the Dissenters’ meeting.”

“Pah!” cried the Rector, curling up his nostrils, as if some disagreeable smell had reached him. “A Dissenter here! I should not have expected it from you, May.”

“Nor I either,” said Reginald; but his colour rose. He was not disposed to be rebuked by any rector in Carlingford or the world.

“Are you his curate,” said Northcote, “that he orders you about as if you were bound to do his bidding? I hope, for your own sake, it is not so.”

Now it was Reginald’s turn to smile. He was young, and liked a bit of grandiloquence as well as another.

“Since I have been here,” he said, “in this sinecure, as you call it—and such it almost is—I have been everybody’s curate. If the others have too much work, and I too little, my duty is clear, don’t you think?”

Northcote made no reply. Had he known what was about to be said to him, he might have stirred up his faculties to say something; but he had not an idea that Reginald would answer him like this, and it took him aback. He was too honest himself not to be worsted by such a speech. He bowed his head with genuine respect. The apology of the Churchman whom he had assaulted, filled him with a kind of reverential confusion; he could make no reply in words. And need it be said that Reginald’s heart too melted altogether when he saw how he had confounded his adversary? That silent assent more than made up for the noisy onslaught. That he should have thus overcome Northcote made Northcote appear his friend. He was pleased and satisfied beyond the reach of words.

“Will you come to the hospital with me?” he said; and they walked out together, the young Dissenter saying very little, doing what he could to arrange those new lights which had suddenly flashed upon his favourite subject, and feeling that he had lost his landmarks, and was confused in his path. When the logic is taken out of all that a man is doing, what is to become of him? This was what he felt; an ideal person in Reginald’s place could not have made a better answer. Suddenly somehow, by a strange law of association, there came into his mind the innocent talk he had overheard between the two girls who were, he was aware, May’s sisters. A certain romantic curiosity about the family came into his mind. Certainly they could not be an ordinary family like others. There must be something in their constitution to account for this sudden downfall, which he had encountered in the midst of all his theories. The Mays must be people of a different strain from others; a peculiar race, to whom great thoughts were familiar; he could not believe that there was anything common or ordinary in their blood. He went out in silence, with the holder of the sinecure which he had so denounced, but which now seemed to him to be held after a divine fashion, in a way which common men had no idea of. Very little could he say, and that of the most commonplace kind. He walked quite respectfully by the young clergyman’s side along the crowded High Street, though without any intention of going to the hospital, or of actually witnessing the kind of work undertaken by his new friend. Northcote himself had no turn that way. To go and minister at a sick-bed had never been his custom; he did not understand how to do it; and though he had a kind of sense that it was the right thing to do, and that if any one demanded such a service of him he would be obliged to render it, he was all in the dark as to how he could get through so painful an office; whereas May went to it without fear, thinking of it only as the most natural thing in the world. Perhaps, it is possible, Northcote’s ministrations, had he been fully roused, would have been, in mere consequence of the reluctance of his mind, to undertake them, more real and impressive than those which Reginald went to discharge as a daily though serious duty; but in any case it was the Churchman whose mode was the more practical, the more useful. They had not gone far together, when they met the Rector hurrying to the railway; he cast a frowning, dissatisfied look at Northcote, and caught Reginald by the arm, drawing him aside.

“Don’t be seen walking about with that fellow,” he said; “it will injure you in people’s minds. What have you to do with a Dissenter—a demagogue? Your father would not like it any more than I do. Get rid of him, May.”

“I am sorry to displease either you or my father,” said Reginald stiffly; “but, pardon me, in this respect I must judge for myself.”

“Don’t be pig-headed,” said the spiritual ruler of Carlingford; but he had to rush off for his train, and had no time to say more. He left Reginald hot and angry, doubly disposed, as was natural, to march Northcote over all the town, and show his intimacy with him. Get rid of an acquaintance whom he chose to extend his countenance to, to please the Rector! For a man so young as Reginald May, and so lately made independent, such an act of subserviency was impossible indeed.

Before they entered the hospital, however, another encounter happened of a very different character. Strolling along in the centre of the pavement, endeavouring after the almost impossible combination of a yawn and a cigar, they perceived a large figure in a very long great-coat, and with an aspect of languor and 无聊 which was unmistakable a hundred yards off. This apparition called a sudden exclamation from Northcote.

“If it was possible,” he said, “I should imagine I knew that man. Are there two like him? but I can’t fancy what he can be doing here.”

那个 fellow!” said Reginald. “It’s a pity if there are two like him. I can’t tell you what a nuisance he is to me. His name is Copperhead; he’s my father’s pupil.”

“那么 is Copperhead! I thought there could not be another. He gives a sort of odd familiar aspect to the place all at once.”

“Then you are a friend of his!” said Reginald, with a groan. “Pardon the natural feelings of a man whose father has suddenly chosen to become a coach. I hate it, and my dislike to the thing is reflected on the person of the pupil. I suppose that’s what my antipathy means.”

“He does not merit antipathy. He is a bore, but there is no harm in him. Ah! he is quickening his pace; I am afraid he has seen us; and anybody he knows will be a godsend to him, I suppose.”

“I am off,” said Reginald; “you will come again? that is,” he added, with winning politeness, “I shall come and seek you out. We are each the moral Antipodes of the other, Miss Beecham says—from which she argues that we should be acquainted and learn the meaning of our differences.”

“I am much obliged to Miss Beecham.”

“Why, Northcote!” said Clarence Copperhead, bearing down upon them in his big grey Ulster, like a ship in full sail. “Morning, May; who’d have thought to see you here. Oh, don’t turn on my account! I’m only taking a walk; it don’t matter which way I go.”

“I am very much hurried. I was just about to hasten off to an appointment. Good-bye, Northcote,” said Reginald. “We shall meet again soon, I hope.”

“By Jove! this is a surprise,” said Clarence; “to see you here, where I should as soon have thought of looking for St. Paul’s; and to find you walking about cheek by jowl with that muff, young May, who couldn’t be civil, I think, if he were to try. What is the meaning of it? I suppose you’re just as much startled to see me. I’m with a coach; clever, and a good scholar and a good family, and all that; father to that young sprig: so there ain’t any mystery about me. What’s brought you here?”

“Work,” said Northcote, curtly. He did not feel disposed to enter into any kind of explanation.

“Oh, work! Now I do wonder that a fellow like you, with plenty of money in your pocket, should go in for work as you do. What’s the good of it? and in the Dissenting parson line of all things in the world! When a fellow has nothing, you can understand it; he must get his grub somehow. That’s what people think of you, of course. Me, I don’t do anything, and everybody knows I’m a catch, and all that sort of thing. Now I don’t say (for I don’t know) if your governor has as much to leave behind him as mine—But halt a bit! You walk as if we were going in for athletics, and doing a two mile.”

“I’m sorry to see you so easily blown,” said Northcote, not displeased in his turn to say something unpleasant. “What is it? or are you only out of training?”

“That’s it,” said Clarence, with a gasp. “I’m awfully out of training, and that’s the fact. We do, perhaps, live too well in Portland Place; but look here—about what we were saying—”

“Do you live with the Mays?”

“Worse luck! It’s what you call plain cooking; and bless us all, dinner in the middle of the day, and the children at table. But I’ve put a stop to that; and old May ain’t a bad old fellow—don’t bother me with work more than I like, and none of your high mightiness, like that fellow. I’ll tell you what, Northcote, you must come and see me. I haven’t got a sitting-room of my own, which is a shame, but I have the use of their rooms as much as I like. The sisters go flying away like a flock of pigeons. I’ll tell you what, I’ll have you asked to dinner. Capital fun it will be. A High Church parson cheek by jowl with a red-hot Dissenter, and compelled to be civil. By Jove! won’t it be a joke?”

“It is not a joke that either of us will enjoy.”

“Never mind, 生病 enjoy it, by Jove!” said Copperhead. “He daren’t say no. I’d give sixpence just to see you together, and the Bashaw of two tails—the young fellow. They shall have a party; leave it all to me.”

第二十八章 新学生 •4,000字

Mr. May, since the bargain was fairly concluded with the Copperheads, had thought a great deal about the three hundred a-year he was to get for his pupil. It almost doubled his income in a moment, and that has a great effect upon the imagination. It was true he would have another person to maintain on this additional income, but still that additional person would simply fill Reginald’s place, and it did not at first occur to him that what was good enough for himself, Mr. May, of St. Roque’s, was not good enough for any 帕尔文 在地球的表面。 Therefore the additional income represented a great deal of additional comfort, and that general expansion of expenditure, not going into any special extravagances, but representing a universal ease and enlargement which was congenial to him, and which was one of the great charms of money in his eyes. To be sure, when he reflected on the matter, he felt that the first half-year of Clarence’s payment ought to be appropriated to that bill, which for the present had brought him so much relief; but this would be so entirely to lose the benefit of the money so far as he was himself concerned, that it was only in moments of reflection that this appeared urgent. The bill to which Tozer’s signature had been appended did not oppress his conscience. After all, what was it? Not a very large sum, a sum which when put to it, and with time before him, he could so easily supply; and as for any other consideration, it was really, when you came to think of it, a quite justifiable expedient, not to be condemned except by squeamish persons, and which being never known, could do no harm in the world. He had not harmed anybody by what he had done. Tozer, who was quite able to pay it over and over again, would never know of it; and in what respect, he asked himself, was it worse to have done this than to have a bill really signed by a man of straw, whose “value received” meant nothing in the world but a simple fiction? Cotsdean was no more than a man of straw; if left to himself, he could not pay anything, nor had he anything really to do with the business for which his name stood sponsor; and Tozer’s name was merely placed there in the same fictitious way, without any trouble to Tozer, or burden of responsibility. What was the difference, except that it saved trouble and anxiety to everybody except the principal in the affair—he who ought to bear the brunt? 先生。 May recognised this without doubt. It was he who had reaped the advantage; and whether Cotsdean was the instrument who knew all about it, or Tozer, who did not know anything about it, it was he, Mr. May, whose natural duty it was to meet the claim and pay the money. He was an honest man; if he was occasionally a little slow in his payments, no one could throw any doubt upon his character. But, of course, should any unforeseen emergency arise, the pupil at once made that straight. 先生。 May felt that he had only to go to the bank, which generally did not encourage his visits, and tell them of his pupil, to have the money at once. Nobody could reject such unmistakeable security. So that really there was no further occasion for so much as thinking of Tozer; that was provided for; with the freest conscience in the world he might put it out of his mind. But how he could feel this so strongly, and at the same time revel in the consciousness of a fuller purse, more to enjoy, and more to spend, is a mystery which it would be difficult to solve. He did so, and many others have done so besides him, eating their cake, yet believing that they had their cake with the fullest confidence.

Some part of this illusion, however, was sharply dispelled at a very early date. Clarence Copperhead, who was not likely to err by means of too much consideration for the feelings of others, grumbled frankly at the mid-day meal.

“I don’t understand a two o’clock dinner,” he said; “it’s lunch, that’s what I call it; and I won’t be disagreeable about the kids, but I must have my dinner. Bless you! a man can’t live without his dinner. What is he to do? It is the sort of thing you can look forward to, whatever happens. If it’s a wet day, or anything of that sort, there’s always dinner; and after it’s over, if there’s music or a rubber, why that’s all very well; or if a man feels a bit sleepy, it doesn’t matter. Why, dinner’s your stand-by, wherever you are. I’d as soon do without my head, for my part.”

Ursula hastened to tell her father this with dismay in her looks.

“I’ve always heard that late dinners were so expensive; you require twice as many dishes. At two, one has only what is necessary; but at seven, you require to have fish, and soup, and 主菜, and all sorts of things, besides the joint. It was disgraceful of him to say it!” cried Ursula; “and I think he ought to be made to follow our plan, whatever it is, and not do everything he likes here.”

“That is all very true,” said Mr. May; “but he is right about the dinner; it is a great deal more agreeable.”

“And expensive, papa.”

“Well, perhaps it is a great deal to expect at your age; but if you read your cookery-book, as I have often said, when you were reading those novels, and learned how to toss up little dishes out of nothing, and make 主菜, and so forth, at next to no expense—”

The tears came into Ursula’s eyes at this unjust assault.

“Papa,” she said, “you ought to know better at your age. One forgives the boys for saying such silly things. How can I toss up little dishes out of nothing? If you only knew the price of butter, not to talk of anything else. Made dishes are the most expensive things! A leg of mutton, for instance; there it is, and when one weighs it, one knows what it costs; but there is not one of those 主菜 but costs 先令 for herbs and truffles and gravy and forcemeat, and a glass of white wine here, and a half pint of claret there. It is all very well to talk of dishes made out of nothing. The meat may not be very much—and men never think of the other things, I suppose.”

“It is management that is wanted,” said Mr. May, “to throw nothing away, to make use of everything, to employ all your scraps. If you once have a good sauce—which is as easy as daylight when you take the trouble—you can make all sorts of things out of a cold joint; but women never will take the trouble, and that is the secret of poor dinners. Not one in fifty will do it. If you wanted really to help us, and improve my position, you might, Ursula. I can’t afford to fall out with Copperhead, he is very important to me just at this moment; and perhaps it is better that I should give in to him at once about the late dinner.”

“You may say it is not my business,” said Ursula, “but we have already another maid, and now two dinners—for it is just the same as two dinners. He will not be any advantage to you like that, and why should he be so much harder to please than we are? Reginald never grumbled, who was much better bred and better educated than Mr. Copperhead.”

“And with so much money to keep up his dignity,” said her father mockingly. “No, it is not your business, the cookery-book is your business, and how to make the best of everything; otherwise I don’t want any advice from you.”

“What did he say?” cried Janey, rushing in as soon as her father had left the room. Ursula, a very general consequence of such interviews, was sitting by the fire, very red and excited, with tears glistening in her eyes.

“Of course I knew what he would say; he says it is not my business, and there are to be late dinners, and everything that man chooses to ask for. Oh, it is so hard to put up with it!” cried Ursula, her eyes flashing through her tears. “I amto read up the cookery-book and learn to make 主菜 for them; but to say we can’t afford it is not my business. I wonder whose business it is? It is I who have to go to the tradespeople and to bear it all if they grumble; and now this horrible man, who dares to tell me the coffee is not strong enough, as if I was a barmaid—”

“Barmaids don’t have to do with coffee, have they?” said matter-of-fact Janey; “but the fact is he is not a gentleman; why should you mind? What does it matter what a person like that says or does? You said so yourself, he is not a bit a gentleman. I wonder what Cousin Anne and Cousin Sophy could mean.”

“It is not their fault; they think of his mother, who is nice, who sent those things; but Mr. Copperhead knew about the things, which was not so nice of her, was it? But never mind, we must try to make the best of it. Get the cookery-book, Janey; perhaps if you were to read it out loud, and we were both to try to fix our mind upon it—for something must be done,” said Ursula gravely. “Papa will never find it out till all the money is spent, but we shall be poorer than we were before we had the pupil. Who is that, Janey, at the door?”

It was Phœbe, who came in blooming from the cold, in a furred jacket, at which the girls looked with unfeigned admiration. “The skating will soon come on in earnest now,” she said; “grandmamma is better, and I thought I might come and see you. I had a long talk with your brother the other day, did he tell you? and I made him know Mr. Northcote, one of our people. I know you will turn up your pretty nose, Ursula, at a Dissenter.”

“I should think so,” cried Janey; “we have nothing to do with such people, being gentlefolks, have we, Ursula? Oh, I forgot! I beg your pardon, I didn’t mean to say—”

Phœbe smiled upon her serenely. “I am not angry,” she said, “I understand all that; and in Carlingford I have no right, I suppose, to stand upon being a lady, though I always thought I was one. I am only a young woman here, and not so bad either for that, if you will promise, Janey, not to call me a young person—”

“Oh, Miss Beecham!”

“Mr. Copperhead is a Dissenter,” said Ursula, somewhat sullenly, “we put up with him because he is rich. Oh, it is all very disagreeable! I don’t want to know any new people whatever they are; I find the old ones bad enough. Reginald hates him too, a big lazy useless being that treats one as if one were a chambermaid!”

“Is it Clarence? It is not quite his fault. His mother is a lady, but his father is a brute,” said Phœbe, “thinking of nothing but his horrible money. Clarence is not so bad. It is because he has no imagination, and does not understand other people’s feelings; he does not mean it, poor fellow; he goes trampling about with his big feet upon everybody’s toes, and never is a bit the wiser. Here he is—he is coming in with your father. I suppose there must be a great deal in race,” she added with a soft little sigh, “Clarence looks a clown, and your father such a gentleman. I suppose I show just the same when I stand beside you.”

Now Phœbe was well aware that this was not the case, and Ursula’s indignant disclaimer made her rather laugh, because it was so unnecessary, than be pleased by its vehemence. There was an old convex mirror opposite which reflected the girls in miniature, making a pretty picture of them as they sat together, Ursula with her dark locks, and Phœbe in her golden hair, and the tall sharp school-girl, Janey, all elbows and angles, short petticoats and grey stockings. Janey was the only one in whom there could have been suspected any inferiority of race; but her awkwardness was that of youth, and her disordered hair and dress belonged also to her age, for she was at that troublesome period when frocks are constantly getting too short, and sleeves too scanty. Janey was shuffling slowly round the visitor, admiring her at every point; her garments were not made as dresses were made in Carlingford. Their fit and their texture were alike too perfect for anything that ever came out of High Street. The furred jacket had not been seen in Grange Lane before. Perhaps it was because the cold had become more severe, an ordinary and simple reason—or because Clarence Copperhead, who knew her, and in whose eyes it was important to bate no jot of her social pretensions, was here; and the furred jacket was beyond comparison with anything that had been seen for ages in Carlingford. The deep border of fur round the velvet, the warm waddings and paddings, the close fit up to the throat, were excellencies which warranted Janey’s tour of inspection. Phœbe perceived it very well, but did not confuse the girl by taking any notice, and in her heart she was herself slightly pre-occupied, wondering (as Ursula had done) what the man had come here for, and what he would say when he saw her. Both of these young women had a secret belief that something romantic, something more than the mere prose of reading in the first tutor’s house that happened to have been suggested to him, had brought young Copperhead to such an unlikely place as Carlingford. Ursula had by this time learned to reject this hypothesis with much indignation at herself for having entertained it, but Phœbe still felt slightly fluttered by this possibility, and was eager for the entrance of Clarence. She would know at once what had brought him, she said to herself, the moment she caught his eye.

And though Mr. May had reconciled himself so completely to the Tozer business, the appearance of Tozer’s granddaughter gave him a momentary shock. “What did you do with my grandfather’s letter? he thought her eyes said, and the meeting confused and disturbed him. This, however, was only for a moment. He was a man to whom it was always possible to make himself agreeable to women, and though he felt so easy in his mind about Tozer, still it was evident that to conciliate Tozer’s relation, and that so influential a relation, was on the whole a good thing to do. He was going up to her accordingly with outstretched hands, and the most amiable inquiries about her grandmother’s health, when, to his surprise, he was frustrated by Clarence who had come in before him—his large person swelling out, as it always seemed to do when he presented himself upon a new scene, with importance and grandeur.

“Miss Beecham!” he said, “really, who would have thought it? Now look here, I came to Carlingford thinking there was not a soul I knew in the place; and here have you turned up all at once, and Northcote (you know Northcote?). It is very queer.”

“It is odd, isn’t it?” said Phœbe quickly. “I was astonished to see Mr. Northcote, and though I heard you were coming I am not less surprised to see you.” “He has not come for me,” she said rapidly to herself, “nor for Ursula either; then who is it?” Phœbe demanded in the depths of her own bosom; that he should have come for nobody at all, but simply for his own purposes, to get a little information put into his head, seemed incredible to both the girls. Ursula, for her part, had been angry when she discovered his want of meaning, though why she would have found it hard to say. But Phœbe, for her part, was not angry. She took this like other things of the kind, with great and most philosophical calm, but she could not outgrow it all at once. For whom was it? His cousins, those Miss Dorsets? But they were much older, and not the kind of women for whom such an act was likely. Her mind wandered forth lively and curious in search of the necessary clue. She could not consent to the fact that no clue was necessary where no mystery was.

“I am glad to see that you venture out in this wintry weather,” said Mr. May; “you set us all a good example. I am always telling my girls that cold weather is no sufficient reason for staying indoors. I wish Ursula would do as you do.”

“Papa, how can you talk so?” said Janey, indignant, “when you know very well it is not the cold that keeps Ursula in, but because she has so much to do.”

“Oh, yes, one knows the sort of things young ladies have to do,” said Clarence, with a laugh; “read stories, and look up pretty dresses for their parties, eh, Miss Janey? and consult the fashion-books. Oh, of course you will deny it; but my mother makes me her confidant, and I know that’s what you all do.”

“To be sure,” said Phœbe, “we are not so clever as you are, and can’t do so many things. We know no Latin or Greek to keep our minds instructed; we acknowledge our infirmity; and we couldn’t play football to save our lives. Football is what you do in this season, when you don’t hunt, and before the ice is bearing? We are poor creatures; we can’t parcel out our lives, according as it is time for football or cricket. You must not be so severe upon girls for being so inferior to you.”

(“Oh, don’t be too hard upon him,”) whispered Ursula, in a parenthesis, afraid that this irony should drive the pupil to desperation. (“Hard upon him! he will never find it out,”) Phœbe whispered back in the same tone.

“Oh, hang it all, I don’t mean to be severe upon girls,” said Clarence, pulling his moustache with much complacency; “I am sorry for them, I can tell you. It ain’t their fault; I know heaps of nice girls who feel it horribly. What can they do? they can’t go in for cricket and football. There ought to be something invented for them. To be sure there is lawn-tennis, but that’s only for summer. I should go mad, I think, if I had nothing to do.”

“But you have more brain and more strength, you see, than we have; and besides, we are used to it,” said Phœbe. “I am afraid, Ursula, grandmamma will want me, and I must go.”

Here Mr. May said something to his daughter which filled Ursula with excitement, mingled of pleasure and displeasure.

“Papa says, will you come to dinner to-morrow at seven? It appears there is some one you know coming—a Mr. Northcote. I don’t know who he is, but it will be very kind if you will come on my account,” the girl concluded, whispering in her ear, “for how shall I ever get through a dinner-party? We never gave one in my life before.”

“Of course I will come,” said Phœbe. “Dinner-parties are not so common here that I should neglect the chance. I must thank Mr. May. But I hope you know who Mr. Northcote is,” she added, laughing. “I gave an account of myself loyally, before I permitted you to ask me; but Mr. Northcote—Oh, no! he does not belong to——the lower classes; but he is a fiery red-hot——”

“What?” cried eager Janey, pressing to the front. “Radical? I am a radical too; and Reginald used to be once, and so was Ursula. Oh, I wish it was to-night!” said Janey, clasping her hands.

“Not a radical, but a Dissenter; and you who are a clergyman, Mr. May! I like you, oh, so much for it. But I wonder what the people will say.”

“My dear Miss Beecham,” said the suave Churchman, quite ready to seize the chance of making a point for himself, “in the Church, fortunately, what the people say has not to be studied, as your unfortunate pastors, I am informed, have to do. While Mr. Copperhead is under my roof, I make his friends welcome—for his sake first, probably afterwards for their own.”

“Yes, I asked Northcote,” said Clarence; “I never thought they would have any objection. He’s not a common Dissenter, like the most of those fellows that have nothing but their salaries. He’s well off; he don’t require, bless you, to keep people in good temper, and toady to ’em, like most do. He’s as independent as I am; I don’t say that he’s quite as well off; but money always finds its level. I shouldn’t have thought of asking May to receive a common Dissenting fellow, like the rest.”

Phœbe laughed. It did not occur to the accomplished scion of the house of Copperhead, nor to the two girls, who were not experienced enough to think of such things, what was the meaning expressed in Phœbe’s laugh, which was not cheerful. Mr. May himself had the advantage of more discrimination.

“I hope you will find that, Dissenter or not, I know what is my duty to my friends,” he said. “What my guests may possess, or the exact nature of their opinions on all points, are not subjects to be discussed by me.”

“Oh, there is nothing to find fault with in ,” said Phœbe, with less than her usual universal courtesy; “you are always kind, Mr. May;” and then she laughed again. “Some people are very clever in finding out the vulnerable places,” she said.

“She is changed,” said Clarence, when she was gone. “She is not the jolly girl she used to be. She was always a very jolly girl; ready to help a fellow out of a scrape, you know. But Northcote’s a fearfully clever fellow. You should just hear him talk. He and May will go at it hammer and tongs, as sure as fate.”

第二十九章乌苏拉的主菜 •3,900字

It would be difficult to describe the anxiety with which that first “late dinner” was regarded by Ursula. Janey, too, had thrown herself into it heart and soul, until she received the crushing intimation from her father, that her company was not expected at this stately meal; a discovery which altogether extinguished poor Janey, accustomed to be always in the front whatever occurred, and to whom suggestions of things that could not be done by a girl who was not “out,” had never presented themselves. She retired to her own room dissolved in tears when this fearful mandate went forth, and for the rest of the morning was good for nothing, her eyes being converted into a sort of red pulp, her rough hair doubly dishevelled, her whole being run into tears. She was of no more use now to go errands between the kitchen and the drawing-room, or to read the cookery-book out loud, which was a process upon which Ursula depended very much, to fix in her mind the exact ingredients and painful method of preparation of the 主菜 at which she was toiling. Betsy, the former maid-of-all-work, now promoted under the title of cook, could be trusted to roast the saddle of mutton, which, on consideration that it was “a party,” had been thought preferable to a leg, and she could boil the fish, after a sort, and make good honest family soup, and the rice-pudding or apple-tart, which was the nearest approach to luxury indulged in at the Parsonage; but as for 主菜, Betsy did not know what they were. She had heard of made dishes indeed, and respectfully afar off had seen them when she was kitchen-maid at Lady Weston’s—the golden age of her youthful inexperience. But this was so long ago, that her recollections were rather confusing than useful to Ursula, when she went downstairs to make her first heroic effort.

“La, Miss, that ain’t how cook used to do ’em at Lady Weston’s,” Betsy said, looking on with unbelieving eyes. She was sure of this negative, but she was not sure of anything else, and utterly failed to give any active assistance, after driving the girl desperate with her criticisms. Altogether it was a confused and unpleasant day. When Reginald came in in the morning, his sister had no time to speak to him, so anxious was she and pre-occupied, and the drawing-room was being turned upside down, to make it look more modern, more elegant, more like the Dorsets’ drawing-room, which was the only one Ursula knew. The comfortable round table in the middle, round which the family had grouped themselves for so long, had been pushed aside into a corner, leaving one fresh patch of carpet, quite inappropriate, and unconnected with anything else; and instead of the work and the school-books which so often intruded there, all that was gaudy and uninteresting in the May library had been produced to decorate the table; and even a case of wax flowers, a production of thirty years since, which had been respectfully transferred to a china closet by Ursula’s better taste, but which in the dearth of ornament she had brought back again. Reginald carried off the wax flowers and replaced the table with his own hands, while Ursula scorched her cheeks over the 主菜 楼下。

“All this for Northcote,” he said, when she ran up for a moment, done up in a big white apron, her face crimson with the fire and anxiety combined: “for Miss Beecham has been here before, and you made no fuss about her then.”

“She came to tea,” said Ursula. “And I got a cake, which was all any one could do; but a dinner is a very different thing.” Indeed she had by this time come to share her father’s opinion, that dinner was the right and dignified thing in all cases, and that they had been hitherto living in a very higgledy-piggledy way. The dinner had gone to her head.

“Then it is for Northcote, as I say,” said Reginald. “Do you know who he is?”

“A Dissenter,” said Ursula, with a certain languor; “but so, you know, is Mr. Copperhead, and he is the chief person here now-a-days. Papa thinks there is nobody like him. And so is Phœbe.”

“Oh, have you come so far as that?” said Reginald, with a little tinge of colour in his face. He laughed, but the name moved him. “It is a pretty fresh sort of country name, not quite like such an accomplished person.”

“Oh, that is just like you men, with your injustice! Because she is clever you take it amiss; you are all jealous of her. Look at her pretty colour and her beautiful hair; if that is not fresh I should like to know what is. She might be Hebe instead of Phœbe,” said Ursula, who had picked up scraps of classical knowledge in spite of herself.

“You are a little goose,” said Reginald, pinching her ear, but he liked his sister for her generous partizanship. “Mind you don’t come to dinner with cheeks like that,” he said. “I like my sister to be herself, not a cook-maid, and I don’t believe in 主菜;” but he went away smiling, and with a certain warmth in his breast. He had gone up and down Grange Lane many times at the hour of sunset, hoping to meet Phœbe again, but that sensible young woman had no mind to be talked of, and never appeared except when she was certain the road was clear. This had tantalized Reginald more than he chose to avow, even to himself. Pride prevented him from knocking at the closed door. The old Tozers were fearful people to encounter, people whom to visit would be to damn himself in Carlingford; but then the Miss Griffiths were very insipid by the side of Phœbe, and the variety of her talk, though he had seen so little of her, seemed to have created a new want in his life. He thought of a hundred things which he should like to discuss with her—things which did not interest Ursula, and which the people about him did not understand much. Society at that time, as may be presumed, was in a poor way in Carlingford. The Wentworths and Wodehouses were gone, and many other nice people; the houses in Grange Lane were getting deserted, or falling into inferior hands, as was apparent by the fact that the Tozers—old Tozer, the butterman—had got one of them. The other people were mostly relics of a bygone state of things: retired old couples, old ladies, spinsters, and widows—excellent people, but not lively to talk to—and the Griffiths, above mentioned, put up with in consideration of tolerable good looks and “fun,” became tiresome when anything better was to be had. The mere apparition of Phœbe upon the horizon had been enough to show Reginald that there were other kinds of human beings in the world. It had not occurred to him that he was in love with her, and the idea of the social suicide implied in marrying old Tozer’s granddaughter, had not so much as once entered his imagination. Had he thought of it, he would have pulled that imagination up tight, like an unruly horse, the thing being too impossible to bear thinking of. But this had never entered his mind. He wanted to see Phœbe to talk to her, to be near her, as something very new, captivating and full of interest—that was all. No one else within his sphere could talk so well. The Rector was very great indeed on the reredos question, and the necessity of reviving the disused “Church” customs; but Reginald could not go so far as he did as to the importance of the reredos, and was quite in doubt whether it was not as well for most people to “direct” themselves by their own consciences as to be directed by the spiritual head of the parish, who was not over wise in his own concerns. His father, Reginald knew, could be very agreeable among strangers, but he seldom chose to be so in his own house. All this made the advent of Phœbe appear to him like a sudden revelation out of a different world. He was an Oxford man, with the best of education, but he was a simpleton all the same. He thought he saw in her an evidence of what life was like in those intellectual professional circles which a man may hope to get into only in London. It was not the world of fashion he was aware, but he thought in his simplicity that it was the still higher world of culture and knowledge, in which genius, and wit, and intellect stood instead of rank or riches. How Tozer’s granddaughter had got admission there, he did not ask himself, but this was what he thought, and to talk to her was a new sensation.

Nobody knew when Ursula took her place at the head of the table in her pretty white dress, which she had worn at the Dorsets’, how much toil and anxiety the preparations had given her. At the last moment, when her mind was so far clear of the 主菜, &c.—as clear as the mind of an inexperienced dinner-giver can be, until the blessed moment when they are eaten and done with—she had to take Sarah in hand, who was not very clear about the waiting, and to instruct her according to her own very imperfect knowledge how to fulfil her duties.

“Think it is not a dinner-party at all, but only just our ordinary luncheon, and don’t get fluttered; and when I look at you like Free Introduction come quite close, and I will whisper what you are to do. And oh, Sarah, like a good creature, don’t break anything!” said Ursula almost with tears.

These were all the directions she could give, and they, it must be allowed, were somewhat vague. The excitement was becoming to her. She sat down with a dreadful flutter in her heart, but with her eyes shining and sparkling. Clarence Copperhead, who extended an arm very carelessly to take her downstairs, absolutely certain of being a more important person than his guest Northcote, was roused for the first time to the consciousness that she was very pretty, which he had not found out before. “But no style,” he said to himself. Phœbe was the one who had style. She sat between Mr. May and the stranger, but devoted herself to her host chiefly, displaying a gentle contempt of the younger men in his presence. No anxiety was in her mind about the dinner. She did not follow the fate of those 主菜 round the table with terrible palpitations, as poor Ursula did; and, alas, the 主菜 were not good, and Ursula had the mortification to see the dishes she had taken so much trouble with, rejected by one and another. Reginald ate some, for which she blessed him, and so did Phœbe, but Mr. May sent his plate away with polite execrations.

“Tell your cook she shall go if she sends up such uneatable stuff again, Ursula,” her father cried from the other end of the table.

Two big tears dashed up hot and scalding into Ursula’s eyes. Oh, how she wished she could be dismissed like Betsy! She turned those two little oceans of trouble piteously, without knowing it, upon Northcote, who had said something to her, without being able to reply to him. And Northcote, who was but a young man, though he was a fiery political Dissenter, and who had come to the Parsonage with a curious mixture of pleasure and reluctance, immediately threw down any arms that nature might have provided him with, and fell in love with her there and then on the spot! to his own absolute consternation. This was how it happened. The moment was not romantic, the situation was not sublime. A little motherless housekeeper crying because her father scolded her in public for a piece of bad cookery. There is nothing in this to make an idyll out of; but such as it was, it proved enough for Horace Northcote; he yielded himself on the spot. Not a word was said, for Ursula felt that if she tried to talk she must cry, and anything further from her troubled thoughts than love it would be impossible to imagine; but then and there, so far as the young man was concerned, the story began. He talked very little for the rest of the meal, and Ursula did not exert herself, though she recovered slightly when the mutton turned out to be very good, and was commended; but what was the mutton in comparison with her 主菜, which she had made with her own hands, and which were a failure? She was reduced to silence, and she thought that the stranger at her left hand was nice, because he did not bother her, and was content with a very little talk.

“Oh, Phœbe, did you hear papa about those 主菜?” she cried, when they reached the drawing-room; and sitting down on the stool by the fire which Janey usually appropriated, she cried, poor child, with undisguised passion. “I had made them myself; I had been busy about them all day; I read the cookery-book till my head ached, and took such pains! and you heard what he said.”

“Yes, dear, I heard him; but he did not think what he was saying, it never occurred to him that it was you. Don’t shake your little head, I am sure of it; you know, Ursula, your papa is very agreeable and very clever.”

“Yes, I know he is clever; and he can be nice when he likes—”

“Did you like it?” cried Janey, bursting in, red-eyed and dishevelled in her morning frock. “Oh, no, I am not dressed, I don’t mean to, to let him get the better of me, and think I care. Only just for a moment to see you two. Oh, isn’t Phœbe grand in that dress? She is like a picture; you are nothing beside her, Ursula. Tell me, is it nice to have dinner instead of tea? Did it go off very well, did you enjoy yourselves? Or were you all unhappy, sitting round the table, eating beef and mutton,” cried Janey with all the scorn of ignorance, “at that ridiculous hour!”

“I was as miserable as I could be,” cried Ursula, “I was not happy at all. Enjoy myself! with the 主菜 on my mind, and after what papa said. Oh, run away, Janey, and dress, or else go to bed. Papa will be so angry if he comes up and finds you here.”

“I should like to make him frantic,” cried Janey with vindictive force, “I should just like to drive him out of his senses! Never mind, yes, I am angry; haven’t I a right to be angry? I am as tall as Ursula—I hope I know how to behave myself—and when there were people coming, and a real dinner—”

“Oh, I hear them,” cried Ursula in alarm, and Janey flew off, her hair streaming behind her. Phœbe put her arm round Ursula, and raised her from the stool. She was not perhaps a perfect young woman, but had her own ends to serve like other people; yet she had a friendly soul. She gave her friend a kiss to preface her admonition, as girls have a way of doing.

“I would not let Janey talk so,” she said, “I think you should not talk so yourself, Ursula, if you will forgive me, of your papa; he is very nice, and so clever. I should try all I could to please him, and I should not let any one be disrespectful to him if it was I.”

“Oh, Phœbe, if you only knew—”

“Yes, I know, gentlemen don’t understand often; but we must do our duty. He is nice, and clever, and handsome, and you ought to be proud of him. Dry your eyes, here they are really, coming upstairs. You must be good-humoured and talk. He is ever so much nicer than the young men,” said Phœbe, almost loud enough to be heard, as Clarence Copperhead, sauntering in advance of the others with his large shirt-front fully displayed, came into the room. He came in half whistling in serene indifference. Phœbe had “style,” it was true; but she was only a Dissenting parson’s daughter, and what were two such girls to Clarence Copperhead? He came in whistling an opera air, which he let drop only after he was well inside the door.

“Miss Beecham, let us have some music. I know you can play,” he said.

“If Miss May likes,” said Phœbe, covering his rudeness; and then she laughed, and added, “if you will accompany me.”

“Does Mr. Copperhead play too?”

“Oh beautifully. Has he not let you see his music? Won’t you bring it here and let us look over it? I dare say there are some things we can play together.”

“You can play everything,” said the young man. “And I’ll bring my violin, if you like.”

He was delighted; he quickened his steps almost into a run as he went away.

“You should not laugh at Mr. Copperhead,” Ursula retorted on her friend. “You should be good-humoured, too. You are better than I am, but you are not quite good, after all.”

“Violin!” said Mr. May. “Heaven and earth! is there going to be any fiddling? Miss Beecham, I did not expect you to bring such a horror upon me. I thought I had nothing but good to expect from you.”

“Wait till you hear him, sir,” said Phœbe.

Mr. May retired to the far corner of the room. He called young Northcote to him, who was standing beside Ursula, eager to talk, but not knowing how to begin. It was bad enough to be thus withdrawn from his chance of making himself agreeable; but the reader may imagine what was the Dissenter’s feelings when Mr. May, with a smile, turned upon him. Having given him a (tolerably) good dinner, and lulled him into a belief that his sins against the family were unknown, he looked at him, smiling, and began.

“Mr. Northcote, the first time I saw you, you were discoursing at an Anti-Establishment Meeting in the Town Hall.”

Northcote started. He blushed fiery red. “It is quite true. I wished to have told you; not to come here on false pretences; but Copperhead—and your son has been very kind—”

“Then I suppose your views are modified. Clergymen no longer appear to you the demons in human shape you thought them then; and my son, in particular, has lost his horns and hoofs?”

“Mr. May, you are very severe; but I own there is reason—”

“It was you who were severe. I was not quite sure of you till Copperhead brought you in. Nay,” said the clergyman, rubbing his hands; “do you think that I object to the utterance of a real opinion? Certainly not. As for Reginald, it was the thing that decided him; I leave you to find out how; so that we are positively in your debt. But I hope you don’t fiddle too. If you like to come with me to my study—”

Northcote gave a longing look round the room, which had become all at once so interesting to him. Mr. May was too clear-sighted not to see it. He thought, quite impartially, that perhaps it was an excusable weakness, even though it was his own society that was the counter attraction. They were two nice-looking girls. This was how he put it, being no longer young, and father to one of them; naturally, the two young men would have described the attraction of Phœbe and Ursula more warmly. Clarence Copperhead, who had come in with an armful of music and his fiddle, was not thinking of the girls, nor of anything but the sweet sounds he was about to make—and himself. When he began to tune his violin, Mr. May got up in dismay.

“This is more than mortal can stand,” he said, making as though he would have gone away. Then he changed his mind, for, after all, he was the chaperon of his motherless girl. “Get me the paper, Ursula,” he said. It would be hard to tell with what feelings Northcote contemplated him. He was the father of Ursula, yet he dared to order her about, to bring the tears to her eyes. Northcote darted the same way as she was going, and caught at the paper on a side-table, and brought it hastily. But alas, that was last week’s paper! he did not save her the trouble, but he brought upon himself a gleam of mischief from her father’s eyes. “Mr. Northcote thinks me a tyrant to send you for the paper,” he said, as he took it out of her hands. “Thank him for his consideration. But he was not always so careful of your peace of mind,” he added, with a laugh.

Ursula looked at him with a wondering question in her eyes; but those tears were no longer there which had gone to Northcote’s heart.

“I don’t know what papa means,” she said, softly; and then, “I want to beg your pardon, please. I was very silly. Will you try to forget it, and not tell any one, Mr. Northcote? The truth was, I thought I had done them nicely, and I was vexed. It was very childish,” she said, shaking her head with something of the same moisture floating back over the lustre in her pretty eyes.

“I will never tell any one, you may be sure,” said the young man; but Ursula did not notice that he declined to give the other pledge, for Reginald came up just then with wrath in his eyes.

“Is that idiot going to fiddle all night?” he cried (poor Clarence had scarcely begun); “as if anybody wanted to hear him and his tweedle-dees. Miss Beecham plays like St. Cecilia, Ursula; and I want to speak to her about something. Can’t you get that brute beguiled away?”

Clarence was the one who was in the little party; but he fiddled beatifically, with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, without the slightest suspicion of the fact, while Phœbe accompanied him, with little smiles at her friends, and shrugs of her shoulders. Reginald felt very strongly, though for the first time, that she was over doing the Scriptural maxim of being all things to all men.

第三章·牧师住宅的社交 •3,100字

After this dinner-party, such as it was, the Parsonage became gradually the centre of a little society, such as sometimes forms in the most accidental way in a house where there are young men and young women, and of which no one can say what momentous results may arise. They came together fortuitously, blown to one centre by the merest winds of circumstance, out of circles totally different and unlike. Why it was that Mr. May, so good a Churchman, permitted two people so entirely out of his sphere to become his habitual guests and the companions of his children was very perplexing to the outside world, who half in mere surprise, and a little in despite, wondered and commented till they were tired, or till they had become so familiar with the strange spectacle that it ceased to strike them. A rich pupil might be forgiven for being a Dissenter, indeed in Carlingford as elsewhere money made up for most deficiencies; but even natural complacency towards the rich pupil scarcely accounted for the reception of the others. The neighbours could never be quite sure whether the family at the Parsonage knew or did not know that their new friend Northcote was not only acting as Minister of Salem Chapel, but was the assailant of Reginald May at the Anti-Establishment Meeting, and various persons in Grange Lane held themselves for a long time on the tip-toe of preparation, ready to breathe to Mr. May the painful intelligence, in case he was unaware of it. But he never gave them the opportunity. Honestly, he had forgotten the speaker’s name at first, and only recognized him when he was introduced by young Copperhead; and then the situation was piquant and amused him, especially the evident confusion and consternation of the culprit when found out.

“I don’t know what he thinks he has done to you,” said Clarence, “I could scarcely make him come in. He says he is sure you can’t wish to see him.”

This was two days after the dinner, when Horace Northcote came to leave a respectful card, hoping that he might see Ursula at a door or window. Clarence had seized upon him and dragged him in, in spite of himself.

“On the contrary, I am very glad to see him,” said Mr. May, with a smile. He looked at the young Dissenter with a jeer in his eyes. He liked to punish him, having suddenly perceived that this jeer was much more potent than any serious penalty. “If he will promise not to slay me, I shan’t quarrel with him.” Mr. May was in such good spirits at this moment that he could afford to joke; his own magnanimity, and the other’s confused looks of guilt, overcame his gravity. “Come back again,” he said, holding out his hand; and though Horace retired for the moment utterly confounded, yet the attractions of the cheerful house overcame, after a while, his sense of humiliation and inappropriateness. If the injured family had condoned his offence, why should he mind? and the pleasant girlish friendliness, without any 到达彭塞, of Ursula, was enough to have set any man at his ease; the facts of the case being that Mrs. Hurst was away upon a long visit, and that, having no other gossip within the range of her acquaintance, Ursula did not know. Reginald, who did, had the same sense of magnanimity as his father had, and began to like the society of the congenial yet different spirit which it was so strange to him to find under a guise so unlike his own. And Northcote, on his side, finding no house to which he could betake himself among those whom Phœbe called “our own people;” found a refuge, which gradually became dearer and dearer to him, at the Parsonage, and in his profound sense of the generosity of the people who had thus received him, felt his own partizanship wax feebler and feebler every day. He seemed to see the ground cut from under his feet, as he watched the young chaplain at his work. Mr. May, to be sure, was no example of pastoral diligence, but he was a pleasant companion, and had put himself from the first in that position of moral superiority which naturally belongs to an injured person who can forgive heartily and without prejudice. And Ursula! He did not venture to call her Ursula, even in the secret depths of his heart. There a pronoun was enough, as, indeed, incipient Love generally finds it. She spoke to him, smiled at him in the street; and immediately life became a 维塔·诺瓦(Vita Nuova) to him. The young Dissenter was as Dante, and simple Ursula, with her housekeeping books in her hand, became another Beatrice. It is not every one who has the capacity for this perfect and absorbing sentiment; but Horace Northcote had, and for a long time Ursula was as unconscious of it as heart could desire.

Phœbe’s admission to the house had been more simple still. A girlish fancy on Ursula’s part, a fit of good-nature on her father’s, and then that secret thread of connection with Tozer which no one knew of, and the coming of Clarence Copperhead, to please whom Mr. May permitted himself to be persuaded to do much; and in addition to all this, her good looks, her pretty manners, her cleverness and the deference she had always shown in the proper quarter. Mr. May did not enter into the lists with his son, or think of offering himself as a suitor to Phœbe; but he liked to talk to her, and to watch what he called “her little ways,” and to hear her play when Clarence and his violin were otherwise disposed of. He was an experienced man, priding himself on a knowledge of human nature, and Phœbe’s “little ways” amused him greatly. What did she mean?—to “catch” Clarence Copperhead, who would be a great match, or to fascinate Northcote? Oddly enough Mr. May never thought of Reginald, though that young man showed an eagerness to talk to Phœbe which was more than equal with his own, and had always subjects laid up ready to discuss with her, when he could find the opportunity. Sometimes he would go up to her in the midst of the little party and broach one of these topics straight on end, without preface or introduction, as which was her favourite play of Shakespeare, and what did she think of the character of King Lear? It was not very wise, not any wiser than his neighbour was, who made pretty little Ursula into the ideal lady, the most gentle and stately figure in poetry; and yet no doubt there was something in both follies that was a great deal better than wisdom. The society formed by these two young pairs, with Clarence Copperhead as a heavy floating balance, and Mr. May and Janey—one philosophical, wise and mistaken; the other sharp-sighted and seeing everything—as spectators, was very pleasant to the close little coterie themselves, and nobody else got within the charmed circle. They grew more and more intimate daily, and had a whole vocabulary of domestic jokes and allusions which no one else could understand. It must be allowed, however, that the outside world was not pleased with this arrangement on either side of the question. The Church people were shocked with the Mays for harbouring Dissenters under any circumstances whatever, and there had not been a Minister at Salem Chapel for a long time so unpopular as Horace Northcote, who was always “engaged” when any of the connection asked him to tea, and preached sermons which went over their heads, and did not remember them when he met them in the street. Tozer was about the only one of the congregation who stood up for the young man. The others thanked Heaven that “he was but tempory,” and on the whole they were right, for certainly he was out of place in his present post.

As for Clarence Copperhead, he led an agreeable life enough among all these undercurrents of feeling, which he did not recognise with any distinctness. He was comfortable enough, pleased with his own importance, and too obtuse to perceive that he bored his companions; and then he considered himself to be slightly “sweet upon” both the girls. Ursula was his favourite in the morning, when he embarrassed her much by persistently seeking her company whenever liberated by her father; but Phœbe was the queen of the evening, when he would get his fiddle with an unfailing complacency which drove Reginald frantic. Whether it was mere good-nature or any warmer impulse, Phœbe was strangely tolerant of these fiddlings, and would go on playing for hours with serene composure, never tired and never impatient. Yet poor Clarence was not an accompanyist to be coveted. He was weak in the ear and defective in science, but full of a cheerful confidence which was as good as genius.

“Never mind, Miss Phœbe,” he would say cheerfully, when he had broken down for the twentieth time, “play on and I’ll catch you up.” He had thus a series of trysting places in every page or two, which might have been very laughable to an indifferent spectator, but which aggravated the Mays, father and son, to an intolerable extent. They were the two who suffered. As for Horace Northcote, who was not a great talker, it was a not disagreeable shield for his silent contemplation of Ursula, and the little things which from time to time he ventured to say to her. For conversation he had not the thirst which animated Reginald, and Ursula’s talk, though lively and natural, was not like Phœbe’s; but while the music went on he could sit by her in a state of silent beatitude, now and then saying something to which Ursula replied if she was disposed, or if she was not disposed put aside by a little shake of her head, and smiling glance at the piano. Sometimes it was simple wilfulness that made her silent; but Northcote set it down to an angelical sweetness which would not wound even the worst of performances by inattention. They were happy enough sitting there under the shelter of the piano, the young man absorbed in the dreams of a young love, the girl just beginning to realize the adoration which she was receiving, with a timid perception of it—half-frightened, half-grateful. She was in spite of herself amused by the idea only half understood, and which she could scarcely believe, that this big grown man, so much more important than herself in everybody’s eyes, should show so much respect to a little girl whom her father scolded, whom Reginald sent trotting about on all sorts of errands, and whom Cousin Anne and Cousin Sophy considered a child. It was very strange, a thing to call forth inextinguishable laughter, and yet with a strange touch of sweetness in it, which almost made her cry in wondering gratitude. What she thought of him, Ursula did not ask herself; that he should think 喜欢这个 of her was the bewildering, extraordinary, ridiculous fact that at present filled her girlish head.

But if they were sweet to Northcote, these evenings were the crown of Clarence Copperhead’s content and conscious success; he was supremely happy, caressing his fiddle between his cheek and his shoulder, and raising his pale eyes to the ceiling in an ecstasy. The music, and the audience, and the accompanyist all together were delightful to him. He could have gone on he felt not only till midnight, but till morning, and so on to midnight again, with short intervals for refreshment. Every ten minutes or so there occurred a break in the continuity of the strain, and a little dialogue between the performers.

“Ah, yes, I have missed a line; never mind; go on, Miss Phœbe, I will make up to you,” he said.

“It is those accidentals that have been your ruin,” said Phœbe laughing; “it is a very hard passage, let us turn back and begin again,” and then the audience would laugh, not very sweetly, and (some of them) make acrid observations; but the pianist was good-nature itself, and went back and counted and kept time with her head, and with her hand when she could take it from the piano, until she had triumphantly tided him over the bad passage, or they had come to the point of shipwreck again. During these labours, Phœbe, who was really a good musician, ought to have suffered horribly; but either she did not, or her good-nature was stronger than her good taste, for she went on serenely, sometimes for hours together, while her old and her young admirers sat secretly cursing (in such ways as are becoming to a clergyman) each in his corner. Perhaps she had a slight degree of pleasure in the evident power she had over father and son; but it was difficult fully to understand her views at this somewhat bewildering period of her life, in which she was left entirely to her own resources. She was herself groping a little through paths of uncertain footing, enjoying herself a great deal, but not seeing clearly where it led to, and having no definite purpose, or chart of those unknown countries in her mind.

“How you can go on,” said Reginald, on one of these occasions, having at length managed to seize upon and get her into a corner, “for hours, having your ears sacrificed and your patience tried by these fearful discords, and smile through it, is a mystery which I cannot fathom! If it was only consideration for your audience, that might be enough to move any one—but yourself—”

“I don’t seem to feel it so very much myself.”

“And yet you are a musician!”

“Don’t be too hard upon me, Mr May. I only play—a little. I am not like my cousins in the High Street, who are supposed to be very clever at music; and then poor Mr. Copperhead is a very old friend.”

“Poor Mr. Copperhead! poor us, you mean, who have to listen—and you, who choose to play.”

“You are very vindictive,” she said, with a piteous look. “Why should you be so vindictive? I do what I can to please my friends, and—there is no doubt about what poor Clarence likes best; if you were to show me as plainly what you would like—相当 plainly, as he does——”

“Don’t you know?” said Reginald, with glowing eyes. “Ah, well! if I may show you plainly—quite plainly, with the same results, you may be sure not to be left long in doubt. Talk to me! it is easier, and not so fatiguing. Here,” said the young man, placing a chair for her; “he has had your patient services for two hours. Do only half as much for me.”

“Ah! but talking is a different thing, and more—difficult—and more—personal. Well!” said Phœbe, with a laugh and a blush, taking the chair, “I will try, but you must begin; and I cannot promise, you know, for a whole hour.”

“After you have given that fellow two! and such a fellow! If it was Northcote, I might be equally jea—displeased, but I could understand it, for he is not a fool.”

“I think,” said Phœbe, looking towards the other end of the room, where Northcote was occupied as usual close to Ursula’s work-basket, “that Mr. Northcote manages to amuse himself very well without any help of mine.”

“Ah!” cried Reginald, startled; for of course it is needless to say that the idea of any special devotion to his little sister had never entered his mind. He felt disposed to laugh at first when the idea was suggested to him, but he gave a second look, and fellow-feeling threw a certain enlightenment upon the subject. “That would never do,” he said gravely; “I wonder I never thought of it before.”

“Why would it not do? She is very nice, and he is clever and a rising man; and he is very well off; and you said just now he was not a fool.”

“Nevertheless it would never do,” said Reginald, opposing her pointedly, as he had never opposed her before; and he remained silent for a whole minute, looking across the room, during which long interval Phœbe sat demurely on the chair where he had placed her, looking at him with a smile on her face.

“Well?” she said at length, softly, “it was talk you said you wanted, Mr. May; but you are not so ready to tune up your violin as Mr. Copperhead, though I wait with my fingers on the piano, so to speak.”

“I beg your pardon!” he cried, and then their eyes met, and both laughed, though, as far as Reginald was concerned, in an embarrassed way.

“You perceive,” said Phœbe, rising, “that it is not nearly so easy to please you, and that you don’t know half so exactly what you want, as Clarence Copperhead does, though you abuse him, poor fellow. I have got something to say to Ursula! though, perhaps, she does not want me any more than you do.”

“Don’t give me up for one moment’s distraction; and it was your fault, not mine, for suggesting such a startling idea.”

Phœbe shook her head, and waved her hand as a parting salutation, and then went across the room to where Ursula was sitting, where Horace Northcote at least found her very much in his way. She began at once to talk low and earnestly on some subject so interesting that it absorbed both the girls in a way which was very surprising and unpleasant to the young men, neither of whom had been able to interest the one whose attention he was specially anxious to secure half so effectually. Northcote, from the other side of the table, and Reginald from the other end of the room, gazed and gloomed with discomfited curiosity, wondering what it could be; while Clarence strutted uneasily about the piano, taking up his fiddle now and then, striking a note, and screwing up his strings into concord, with many impatient glances. But still the girls talked. Was it about their dresses or some nonsense, or was it a more serious subject, which could thus be discussed without masculine help? but this matter they never fathomed, nor have they found out till this hour.

第三十一章·社会 •2,900字

Notwithstanding such little social crosses, however, the society at the Parsonage, as thus constituted, was very agreeable. Mr. May, though he had his faults, was careful of his daughter. He sat in the drawing-room every evening till she retired, on the nights their visitors came, and even when it was Clarence only who remained, an inmate of the house, and free to go and come as he pleased. Ursula, he felt, must not be left alone, and though it is uncertain whether she fully appreciated the care he took of her, this point in his character is worth noting. When the young party went out together, to skate, for instance, as they did, for several merry days, Reginald and Janey were, he considered, sufficient guardians for their sister. Phœbe had no chaperon—“Unless you will take that serious office upon you, Ursula,” she said, shrugging her shoulders prettily; but she only went once or twice, so well was she able, even when the temptation was strongest, to exercise self-denial, and show her perfect power of self-guidance. As for old Tozer and his wife, the idea of a chaperon never entered their homely head. Such articles are unnecessary in the lower levels of society. They were anxious that their child should enjoy herself, and could not understand the reason of her staying at home on a bright frosty day, when the Mays came to the door in a body to fetch her.

“No, if they’d have gone down on their knees, nor if I had gone down on mine, would that girl have left me,” cried the old lady, with tears in her eyes. “She do behave beautiful to her old granny. If so be as I haven’t a good night, no power on earth would make that child go pleasuring. It’s ‘most too much at her age.”

But Phœbe confided to Ursula that it was not altogether anxiety about her grandmother.

“I have nobody of my own to go with. If I took grandpapa with me, I don’t think it would mend matters. Once or twice it was possible, but not every day. Go and enjoy yourself, dear,” she said, kissing her friend.

Ursula was disposed to cry rather than to enjoy herself, and appealed to Reginald, who was deeply touched by Phœbe’s fine feeling. He took his sister to the ice, but that day he went so far as to go back himself to No. 6, actually into the house, to make a humble protest, yet to insinuate his admiration. He was much impressed by, and approved highly of this reticence, having a very high standard of minor morals for ladies, in his mind, like most young men.

“She is not one of the girls who rush about everywhere, and whom one is sick of seeing,” he said.

“I think it is very silly,” cried Janey. “Who cares for a chaperon! and why shouldn’t Phœbe have her fun, like the rest, instead of shutting herself up in a stuffy room with that dreadful old Mrs. Tozer?”

Her brother reproved her so sharply for this speech that Janey withdrew in tears, still asking “Why?” as she rushed to her room. Clarence Copperhead, for his part, stroked his moustache and said it was a bore.

“For she is the best skater of all the ladies here,” he said. “I beg your pardon, Miss Ursula. She’s got so much go in her, and keeps it up like fun. She’s the best I know for keeping a fellow from getting tired; but as it’s Thursday, I suppose she’ll be there in the evening.”

Clarence never called them anything but Miss Ursula and Miss Phœbe, dropping the prefix in his thoughts. He felt that he was “a little sweet upon” them both; and, indeed, it had gleamed dully across his mind that a man who could marry them both need never be bored, but was likely always to find something “to do.” Choice, however, being necessary, he did not see his way so clearly as to which he would choose. “The mountain sheep are sweeter, but the valley sheep are fatter,” he said to himself, if not in these immortal words, yet with full appreciation of the sentiment. Ursula began to understand dinners with a judicious intelligence, which he felt was partly created by his own instructions and remarks; but in the evening it was Phœbe who reigned supreme. She was so sensible that most likely she could invent a 菜单 all out of her own head, he thought, feeling that the girl who got him through the “Wedding March” with but six mistakes, was capable of any intellectual feat. He had not the slightest doubt that it was in his power to marry either of the girls as soon as he chose to intimate his choice; and in the mean time he found it very agreeable to maintain a kind of mental possibility of future proprietorship of them both.

And thus the pleasant life ran on in the most agreeable absorption and abstraction from the world outside. “Don’t ask any one else; why should we have any one else?” they all said, except Janey, who had condescended to appear in the evening in her best frock, though she was not admitted at dinner, and who thought a few additional guests, and a round game now and then, would be delightful variations upon the ordinary programme; but the others did not agree with her. They became more and more intimate, mingling the brother and sister relationship with a something unnamed, unexpressed, which gave a subtle flavour to their talks and flirtations. In that incipient stage of love-making this process is very pleasant even to the spectators, full of little excitements and surprises, and sharp stings of momentary quarrel, and great revolutions, done with a single look, which are infinitely amusing to the lookers-on. The house became a real domestic centre, thought of by each and all with tender sentiment, such as made its owners somewhat proud of it, they could scarcely tell why. Even Mr. May felt a certain complacence in the fact that the young men were so fond of the Parsonage, and when he heard complaints of the coldness and dullness of domestic intercourse, smiled, and said that he did not feel it so, with that pleasant sense of something superior in himself to cause this difference, which is sweet to the greatest Stoic; for he was not as yet enlightened as to the entire indifference of the little circle to any charm in him, and would have been utterly confounded had any one told him that to the grave and reflective Northcote, whom he had treated with such magnanimous charity, binding him (evidently) by bonds of gratitude to himself for ever, it was little Ursula, and not her father, who was the magnet of attraction. Mr. May was a clever man, and yet it had not occurred to him that any comparison between his own society and that of Ursula was possible. Ursula! a child! He would have laughed aloud at the thought.

But all this pleasant society, though father and daughter both agreed that it cost nothing, for what is a cake and a cup of tea? and the late dinners and the extra maid, and the additional fires, and general enlargement of expenditure made immense inroads, it must be allowed, into the additional income brought by Clarence Copperhead. The first quarter’s payment was spent, and more than spent, before it came. The money that was to be laid up for that bill of Tozer’s—perhaps—had now no saving peradventure left in it; for the second half would not be due till two months after the Tozer bill, and would but be half, even if procurable at once. Mr. May felt a slight shock while this gleamed across his mind, but only for a moment. There was still a month, and a month is a long time, and in the mean time James was almost certain to send something, and his Easter offerings might, probably would, this year be something worth having. Why they should be better than usual this year Mr. May did not explain to himself; his head was a little turned it must be supposed by the momentary chance of having more money in his hands than he used to have. Already he had got into the habit of ordering what he wanted somewhat recklessly, without asking himself how the things he ordered were to be paid for, and, as so often happened, followed up that first tampering with the rules of right and wrong by a general recklessness of the most dangerous kind. He was not so much alone as he had been; his house, in which he was infinitely more amiable than of old, had become more pleasant to him; he liked his life better. His son was independent with an income of his own, and therefore he felt much more respect for him, and treated him as a companion. His daughter had developed, if not in the way of 主菜, a talent for dinners which raised her very much in his eyes; and naturally the regard shown to her by the visitors reacted upon Mr. May, though it had not crossed his mind as yet that any one could be in love with Ursula. All this made him happier in spite of himself. When you begin to esteem and be proud of your children your life is naturally happier than when you scoff and jeer at them, and treat them as creatures of inferior mould to yourself. Mr. May found out all at once that Reginald was a fine young fellow, that Ursula was pretty and pleasant, and that droll Janey, with her elf-locks and angles, was amusing at least, if no more. As for the little ones, they were considerably thrust into a corner when the elder youth forced itself into the front. They learned their lessons in corners, and had their tea by themselves, and were much humbled and subdued from the moment in which their school-books and toys had meandered over the whole house, and their looks and likings had been just as important as anything else. When there is no mother to protect them, the elder sister’s first lover marks a terribly critical period for the children of the house. They were banished from the drawing-room, except on special occasions, when they came 大年夜, in their best things, and were jeered at by Mr. Copperhead. He called them “the kids,” both Amy and Robin were aware, and they resented it unspeakably. Thus the inward happiness of the Mays confined itself to the upper regions of the family. Even Betsy regretted the days when, if she had more to do, she had at least “her kitchen to herself,” and nobody to share the credit. There was more fuss and more worry, if a trifle less labour, and the increase in consequence which resulted from being called cook, instead of maid-of-all-work, was scarcely so sweet in possession as had seemed in prospect.

“Them late dinners” were the object of her perpetual railings; “oh, how much more comfortable it was, if gentry would but think so, to have your dinner at two, and get done with your washing up before you was cleaned, or had any occasion to bother yourself about your cap!” When little Amy cried over the loneliness of “the children’s tea,” which they frequently had to pour out for themselves, Betty gave her a cake and a kiss, and felt disposed to cry too.

“And she don’t know, poor child, not the half,” said Betty, which was a kind of oracular sentence difficult for Betty herself to understand. The children had nothing to do with the late dinner; they were sent to bed earlier than they used to be, and scolded if any distant sounds of romps made itself audible at seven o’clock when their elders were dining; and then when the little ones went injured to bed, and Johnnie, indignant, worked at his lessons by himself in a corner of the old nursery, deeply aware that his school-boy boots and jacket were quite unfit for the drawing-room, the grown-up young people ran lightly upstairs, all smiles and pleasure, and those delightful evenings began.

The children sometimes could not get to sleep for the piano and the raspings of the fiddle, which sounds of mirth suggested nothing but the wildest enjoyment to them; and when the door opened now and then, bursts of laughter and mingling voices would come out like the sounds the Peri heard at the gates of Paradise. The elder ones were happy; their little atoms of individual life had all united for the moment into one sunshiny and broad foundation, on which everything seemed to rest with that strange sense of stability and continuance, which such a moment of happiness, though it carries every element of change in it, almost invariably brings. It felt as if it might go on for ever, and yet the very sentiment that inspired it made separation and convulsion inevitable—one of those strange paradoxes which occur every day.

Thus the year crept round, and winter melted away with all its amusements, and spring began. Mr. Northcote’s time at Salem Chapel was more than half over, a fact on which the congregation congratulated itself much.

“If so be as he had a settled charge of his own, I shouldn’t be sorry to see him gone to-morrow,” said one of the recent members.

“Settled charge! You take my word,” said Mrs. Pigeon, who was getting old, but always continued a woman of spirit, “he’ll never have a settled charge in our connection. He carries on here, ’cause he can’t help hisself, but he ain’t cut out for a pastor, and he’s a deal too thick with them Church folks. A parson, too! I’d ‘a thought he had more pride.”

“Nay, now, but I don’t wish him no harm,” said the first speaker; “he’s a civil spoken gentleman if he ain’t so free and so pleasant as a body looks for.”

“Civil spoken!” said the other; “one of our own ministers in our own connection! Bless you! they’re our servants, that’s what they are. I’d like to see one on ’em as ‘ud take upon him to be civil spoken to me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go as far as that,” cried Mrs. Brown; “we pays ’em their salary, and we ‘as a right to a civil word: but a minister’s a minister, and I’ll show him respect as long as he deserves it. I ain’t one for being too hard upon ministers, especially when they’re young men, as has their temptations like, we all know.”

“I don’t know what you call temptations,” said Mrs. Pigeon; “licking the dust under the feet of a Church parson! and after speaking up so bold against young May and them old cheats at the College. I wish he was gone from here, that’s what I wish, and our old pastor (if we can’t get none better) back again. He was one as knew his place, and wouldn’t have set his foot inside one of them Parsonages. Parsonages, indeed! kept up with our money. If ever there was an iniquity on this earth it’s a State Church, and all the argufying in the world won’t put that out of me.”

It happened that Northcote was in the poulterer’s shop, talking to the poulterer himself at this moment, and he heard the conclusion of this speech delivered with much unction and force. Such sentiments would have charmed him three months ago, and probably he would have thought this uneducated but strenuous partisan an extremely intelligent woman. He hurried away now with an uncomfortable smile. If an opinion is the right opinion, why should it have an air of absurdity thrown upon it by being thus uttered in ungrammatical language by a poulterer’s wife? Truth is the same by whomsoever stated; but yet, was not dogmatism on any subject the sign of an inexperienced and uncultivated, or a rude and untutored mind? What did this woman know of the Parsonage, which she supposed she helped to pay for? What had he himself known three months ago of Reginald May, whom he had assaulted so savagely? This Church family, which Mrs. Pigeon knew no better than to abuse, with what divine charity it had received himself, notwithstanding his public sin against it. When he thought of that public sin, Northcote’s countenance glowed with shame, and it continued to glow with a more agreeable warmth when he escaped into thought of the goodness which the Mays had shown him. Had there ever been such goodness? Was there ever so sweet a home of the heart as that faded, homely drawing-room? His heart beat high, his steps quickened; they carried him down Grange Lane in a path so often trod that he felt there must be a special track of his own under the garden walls, going Parsonage way.

第三十二章做爱 •2,800字

Mrs. Sam Hurst had been a long time out of Carlingford; she had been paying visits among her friends, with whom, though the young Mays would never believe it, she was very popular, for she was not ill-natured in her gossip, and she was often amusing in the fulness of her interest in other people. It was April when she came back, and the early warmth and softness of the spring were beginning to be felt in Grange Lane; the doors of the houses began to be left open, and the girls at the Parsonage had taken to running out and in without their hats, gleaming through the little shrubbery in front, and round to the back garden. One evening it was so mild that they all (which comprehensive term, sometimes extended to “the whole party,” began to be commonly used among them with that complacence in the exclusiveness of their little coterie, which every “set” more or less feels) came downstairs in a body, and wandered about among the laurel-bushes in the spring moonlight. There was Ursula and Mr. Northcote, Phœbe and Reginald, and Clarence Copperhead, with Janey behind, who followed where they went, but did not enjoy the ceremony. It was bad enough in the drawing-room; but moonlight, who cared about moonlight? Janey said to herself indignantly. She was the only one who looked up to Mrs. Hurst’s window, where there was a faint light, and when the voices became audible Janey perceived some one come behind the curtain and look out. The girl was divided between her faithful family feud against Mrs. Hurst, and a vague sense of satisfaction in her presence as a Marplot, who one way or other would infallibly interfere.

“She will say something to papa,” said Janey, her heart involuntary rising at the thought, though at the same time she shivered to think of the treachery involved to all the tenets of the family. Janey sat on the steps and listened to the others talking. No one pointed out the stars to her, or followed her about as Reginald followed Phœbe. As for Mr. Copperhead, Janey thought he was almost as lonely as she was. He had lighted his cigar, and was strolling up and down, interrupting both of the other pairs occasionally, breaking into the midst of Northcote’s astronomical lecture abruptly, and stopping Phœbe herself in the middle of a sentence. Janey, watching sharply from the steps, noticed, as a spectator has it in her power to do, that whereas Northcote was extremely impatient of the interruption, and discovered immediately that the stars could be seen better from another spot, Phœbe took it quite sweetly, and addressed herself to him as she went on, which Reginald did not like, Janey was sure. Were they in love with each other? the girl asked herself—was this how it was managed? When the moon went under a cloud for a moment Clarence Copperhead’s vast shirt-front made a kind of substitute down below. Janey lost the other two among the bushes, but she always beheld that orb of white moving backward and forward with two dark figures near. She felt sure Reginald did not want to have him in such close neighbourhood; but Phœbe’s voice went on talking to both alike. Janey was half-pleased, and half-indignant. She had a jealous dislike, such as most girls have, to see her brother engrossed by any one, but no more did she like to see another man preferred to Reginald; she was jealous both ways. As she sat and watched, a slight little creak came to her sharp ears, and looking up she saw Mrs. Hurst’s drawing-room window opened the very least little bit in the world. Ah! Janey said, with a long breath. There was nothing she would not have given to have talked it all over with Mrs. Hurst, and to hear what she would say, if she had not been the traditional adversary against whom all the family steeled their hearts.

That was a very pleasant evening; they all remembered it afterwards. It was the moment when Ursula discovered all in the darkness, when the moon was under that cloud, what Mr. Northcote meant. It flashed upon her like a sudden light, though they were standing in the shade of a great laurel. He did not make any declaration, nor say a word that she could remember. And yet all at once, by some magic which is not explainable, she found out that that was what he was meaning. This is not an admirable sentence; but it is difficult to know how to put it better. It was quite a strange discovery. It set her heart beating, thumping against her breast. She herself meant nothing whatever, and she never thought of any response, or of the time when he might ask her to make a response. The sensation of the moment was quite enough for Ursula. She was greatly startled, surprised, yet not surprised, touched and full of a wondering respect and sympathy, awe and half-amusement. Could it be possible, was what it was? Though he was not conscious of betraying himself in any way, Northcote thought he had done something to offend her. Her shy silence and withdrawal from him went to his heart; never had her society been so sweet, never had he had her so completely to himself. What had he done to alarm or offend her? He went home with his head full of this, able to think of nothing else.

And Phœbe went home too, escorted by Reginald and Clarence together, to her grandfather’s door, with her head buzzing with many thoughts. It was not her heart that was in a commotion, like little Ursula’s. She was more experienced, though she was not much older, and had gone through such discoveries before now. But a much more perplexing accident had befallen her. Reginald May had fallen in love with her, and Clarence Copperhead, after considerable resistance and hanging off, was making up his mind to propose. Yes. Phœbe felt with unerring instinct that this was the state of affairs. He was making up his mind to propose. So much of her and so little of her had at length made an end of all the prudent hesitations that lay under the crisp pie-crust of that starched and dazzling shirt front. That he should never be able to speak a word to her without that May! that fellow! “the son of my coach!” poking himself in, was a thing which at length had fired his cool blood to fever heat. Nobody else could play his accompaniments like that, or pull him through the “Wedding March” like that; and who would look better at the head of a table, or show better at a ball, or get on better in society? No one he knew, certainly. It was true she was only a Minister’s daughter, and without a penny; for the little fortune Mr. and Mrs. Beecham had carefully gathered together and preserved for their daughter, what was that to the Copperheads?—nothing, not a penny. But, on the other hand, Clarence felt that he himself, or rather his father, was rich enough to be able to afford a wife without money. There was no reason why he should marry money; and a wife like Phœbe, what a relief that would be, in the way of education! No need of any more coaching. She was clever, and fond of reading, and so forth. She would get everything up for him, if he went into parliament, or that sort of thing; why, she’d keep him posted up. “There ain’t many girls that could do that,” he said to himself. She would save him worlds of trouble; save his money even, for coaches and that sort of thing cost money; and then that fellow May would be out of it; his nose would be put out of joint. These are not eloquent sentiments, but so it was that Clarence’s natural feelings expressed themselves. He had intimated that he would see Miss Phœbe home, but May had stalked out side by side with him—had not left them for a moment; and Clarence determined that he would not stand it any longer. If there was no other way of shaking this fellow off, why, then he would make up his mind to it, and propose.

Phœbe somehow saw all this written in his fine countenance, and she saw at the same time that poor Reginald, who was (she thought) young and simple, and just the sort of poor boy to yield to such folly, was in love with her; and her head was buzzing with the double discovery. The first was (of course) the most important. She had no time to indulge her thoughts while she walked up between them, keeping them in play each with a word, talking all the way to fill up the somewhat sulky silence between them; but when she got safely within the garden door, and heard it shut behind her, and found herself in the quiet of the little green enclosure, with the budding trees and the lilac bushes for her only companions, the relief was very grateful to her. She could not go in all at once to make conversation for grandpapa and grandmamma, and give them the account they liked to hear, of how she had “enjoyed herself.” She took off her hat to be cooler, and walked slowly down under the moonlight, her head all throbbing and rustling with thought. The paths were bordered with primroses, which made a pale glimmer in the moon, and shed a soft fragrance about. Phœbe had nothing to appeal to Heaven about, or to seek counsel from Nature upon, as sentimental people might do. She took counsel with herself, the person most interested. What was the thing she ought to do? Clarence Copperhead was going to propose to her. She did not even take the trouble of saying to herself that he loved her; it was Reginald who did that, a totally different person, but yet the other was more urgent. What was Phœbe to do? She did not dislike Clarence Copperhead, and it was no horror to her to think of marrying him. She had felt for years that this might be on the cards, and there were a great many things in it which demanded consideration. He was not very wise, nor a man to be enthusiastic about, but he would be a career to Phœbe. She did not think of it humbly like this, but with a big capital—a Career. Yes; she could put him into parliament, and keep him there. She could thrust him forward (she believed) to the front of affairs. He would be as good as a profession, a position, a great work to Phœbe. He meant wealth (which she dismissed in its superficial aspect as something meaningless and vulgar, but accepted in its higher aspect as an almost necessary condition of influence), and he meant all the possibilities of future power. Who can say that she was not as romantic as any girl of twenty could be? only her romance took an unusual form. It was her head that was full of throbbings and pulses, not her heart. No doubt there would be difficulties and disagreeables. His father would oppose it, and Phœbe felt with a slight shiver that his father’s opposition was nothing to be laughed at, and that Mr. Copperhead had it in him to crush rebellion with a ferocious hand. And would Clarence have strength of mind or spirit to hold out? This was a very serious question, and one which included all the rest. If she accepted his proposal, would he have the heart to stand to it against his father? or would her consent simply involve her in a humiliating struggle which would end in defeat? That was the great question. If this should be the case, what use would there be in any sacrifice that Phœbe might make? A struggle with Mr. Copperhead would affect her father’s position as much or more than her own, and she knew that a great many of the congregation would infallibly side with Mr. Copperhead, feeling it a most dangerous precedent that a pastor’s daughter should be encouraged to think herself eligible for promotion so great, and thus interfere with the more suitable matrimonial prospects of wealthy young men who might happen to attend her father’s chapel. Such a thing the conscript fathers of the connection would feel ought to be put a stop to with a high hand. So it may be supposed that Phœbe had enough to think of, as she strolled about in the moonlight alone, between the two borders of primroses. Tozer thought she had gone upstairs to take off her “things,” and it was natural that when a girl got before a looking-glass she should forget the progress of time; so that he merely wondered at her non-appearance until the little chill of air stole in from the open door, and made Mrs.

“If it ain’t our Phœbe a-walking about in the moonlight like a play-actor!” said Tozer, in consternation, drawing aside the curtain to look out. “I’ll tell you what, old woman, the girl’s in love; and that’s what it is.” He thought this was a capital joke, and followed his witticism with a laugh.

“Not much wonder, neither, with all them young fellows about,” said the old lady. “You may laugh; but, Tozer, I ain’t so easy in my mind as you. If it’s him as they call Northcote, that don’t matter; but if it’s that big gabby of a Copperhead, there’s troubles a-coming; though he’s as rich, they do say, as Creases, whoever Creases might be, and it would be a credit to have the girl make a match like that out of our house.”

Whereat Tozer again laughed loud and long.

“Well,” he said, “if Mister Creases himself was here, I wouldn’t say as he was a bit too good for our Phœbe. Don’t you trouble your head, old woman; Copperhead or t’other one, let her make her choice. Phœbe junior’s the girl as’ll be their match, and you may take my word for that. Phœbe’s the one as will keep them in their right place, whoever they may be.”

Phœbe heard this laugh echo out into the quiet of the night. Of course, she did not know the cause of it, but it disturbed her in her thoughts. Poor, kind, excellent grandpapa, she said to herself, how would he get on with Mr. Copperhead? He would touch his forelock to so rich a man. He would go down metaphorically upon his knees before so much wealth; and what a fool Clarence would be thought on every side for wanting to marry her! Even his mother, who was a romantic woman, would not see any romance in it if it was she, Phœbe, who was the poor girl whom he wanted to marry. Ursula might have been different, who was a clergyman’s daughter, and consequently a lady by prescriptive right. But herself, Tozer’s granddaughter, Tom Tozer’s niece, fresh from the butter-shop, as it were, and redolent of that petty trade which big trade ignores, as much as the greatest aristocrat does! Phœbe was too sensible by far to vex or distress herself on this point, but she recognised it without any hesitation, and the question remained—was it for her advantage to enter upon this struggle, about which there could be no mistake, or was it not? And this question was very difficult. She did not dislike Clarence, but then she was not in love with him. He would be a Career, but he was not a Passion, she said to herself with a smile; and if the struggle should not turn out successful on her part, it would involve a kind of ruin, not to herself only, but to all concerned. What, then, was she to do? The only thing Phœbe decided upon was that, if she did enter upon that struggle, it 必须 be successful. Of this alone there could be no manner of doubt.

第三十三章•披露 •3,600字

“Well, young ladies!” said Mrs. Sam Hurst, “I left you very quiet, but there seems to be plenty going on now-a-days. What a beautiful moon there was last night! I put up my window to look at it, and all at once I found there was a party going on below. Quite a 香槟酒会. I have newly come from abroad, you know, and it seemed quite congenial. I actually rubbed my eyes, and said to myself, ‘I can’t have come home. It’s Boulogne still, it isn’t Carlingford!’”

“There was no company,” said Ursula with dignity; “there was only our own party. A friend of Reginald’s and a friend of mine join us often in the evening, and there is papa’s pupil—if you call that a party. We are just as quiet as when you went away. We never invite strangers. We are as much by ourselves as ever.”

“With a friend of Reginald’s, and a friend of yours, and papa’s pupil!” said Mrs. Hurst, laughing; “double your own number, Ursula! and I don’t suppose Janey counts yet. Why, there is a young man too many. How dare you waste the gifts of Providence, you prodigal child? And now let me hear who they are.”

“You may say Janey doesn’t count,” cried that young woman in person. “Oh, Mrs. Hurst, what a bore they are! If that’s society, I don’t care for society. One always following Ursula about whenever she moves, so that you can’t say a word to her; and the others pulling poor Phœbe to pieces, who hates them, I am sure. Phœbe was so jolly at first. She would talk to you, or she would play for you! Why, she taught Johnnie and me a part-song to sing with her, and said he had a delightful voice; but she never has any time to look at us now,” said Janey, stopping in this breathless enumeration of wrongs. “She is always taken up with those horrible men.”

“I suppose you call Reginald a horrible man?” said Ursula, with rising colour. “If that was my opinion of my own brother, I should take care not to say it, at least.”

“Oh, Reginald isn’t the worst! There’s your Mr. Northcote, and there’s that Copperhead—Woodenhead, we call him in the nursery. Oh, how papa can put up with him, I can’t tell! he never had any patience with us. You can’t think how dull he is, Mrs. Hurst! I suppose girls don’t mind when a man 继续, whether he’s stupid or not. I never heard Mr. Northcote say much that was interesting either; but he looks clever, and that is always something.”

“So Mr. Northcote is Ursula’s one,” said Mrs. Hurst, laughing. “You are a perfect jewel, Janey, and I don’t know how I should ever find out anything that’s going on, but for you. Northcote! it is a new name in Carlingford. I wonder I have not heard of him already; or have you kept him entirely to yourself, and let nobody know that there was a new man in the place?”

There was a little pause here. The girls knew nothing about Northcote, except the one fact that he was a Dissenter; but as Mrs. Hurst was an excellent Churchwoman, much better than they were, who had, perhaps, been brought up too completely under the shadow of the Church to believe in it implicitly, they hesitated before pronouncing before her that unfortunate name.

“I don’t know whether you are aware,” Ursula said at last, with some slowness and reluctance, “that papa’s pupil is of a Dissenting family. He is related, through his mother, to our cousins, the Dorsets.” (This fact Ursula put forth with a little triumph, as refuting triumphantly any ready conclusion as to the social standing of Dissenters.) “I think Mr. Northcote came first to the house with Mr. Copperhead. He is a Dissenter too.”

“Why, Ursula,” cried Mrs. Hurst, “not the man who attacked Reginald in the Meeting? It was all in the papers. He made a frightful violent speech about the College and the sinecure, and what a disgraceful thing it was that your brother, a young man, could accept it. You don’t mean him?”

Ursula was struck dumb. She looked up at her questioner with her lips falling apart a little, with a look of mingled consternation and fear.

“Of course it can’t be,” said the gossip, who was not ill-natured. “You never read the papers, but your papa does, and so does Reginald. Oh, you may be sure it is some other Northcote, though I don’t know the name.”

“Ursula doesn’t like to tell you,” said Janey; “but he’s the Dissenting Minister, I know he is. Well! I don’t care! He is just as good as anybody else. I don’t go in for your illiberal ways of thinking, as if no one was worth talking to except in the Church. Mr. Northcote is very nice. I don’t mind what you say. Do you mean to tell me that all those curates and people who used to plague our lives out were nicer? Mr. Saunders, for instance; he is a real good Churchman, I have always heard people say—”

“Hold your tongue, Janey; you don’t know anything about it,” said Mrs. Hurst, whom this wonderful disclosure elevated into authority. “A Dissenting Minister! Ah, me! what a thing it is for you poor girls to have no mother. I did not think your papa would have had so little consideration as to expose you to society like that. But men are so thoughtless.”

“I don’t know what right you have to speak of exposing us to society like that,” cried Ursula, quivering all over with sudden excitement.

She felt as if some one had dug a knife into her, and turned it round in the wound.

“Men have so little consideration,” repeated Mrs. Hurst, “especially when a girl is concerned. Though how your papa could have received a man who made such an assault upon him—even if he had passed over the attack upon Reginald, he was attacked himself.”

“It must be a mistake,” said Ursula, growing pale. Her hands came together half-unconsciously, and clasped in a mute gesture of appeal. “It is not possible; it cannot be true.”

“Well, it is very odd that your papa should show such charity, I allow. I don’t think it is in human nature. And Reginald, what does Reginald say? If it is that man, it will be the strangest thing I ever heard of. But there could not be two Northcotes, Dissenting Ministers in Carlingford, could there? It is very strange. I can’t think what your papa can have had in his head. He is a man who would do a thing for a deep reason, whether he liked it or not. How did this Mr. Northcote come first here?”

“Oh, it was through Mr. Copperhead,” said Janey. “It was the first dinner-party we had. You should have seen the fright Ursula was in! And papa would not let me come to dinner, which was a horrid shame. I am sure I am big enough, bigger than Ursula.”

“If he came with the pupil, that makes it all quite plain. I suppose your papa did not want to quarrel with his pupil. What a predicament for him, if that was the case! Poor Mr. May! Of course, he did not want to be uncivil. Why, it was in the ‘Gazette,’ and the ‘Express,’ and all the papers; an account of the Meeting, and that speech, and then a leading article upon it. I always file the ‘Express,’ so you can see it if you like. But what an embarrassment for your poor papa, Ursula, that you should have taken this man up! And Reginald, how could he put up with it, a touchy young man, always ready to take offence? You see now the drawback of not paying a little attention to what is going on round you. How uncomfortable you must have made them! It might be very well to look over an offence, not to be unpleasant to the stranger; but that you should have thoughtlessly led this man on into the position of an intimate—”

“I did nothing of the sort,” cried Ursula, growing red and growing pale, starting up from her work with a sense of the intolerable which she could not restrain. “What have I done to be spoken of so? I never led him on, or any one. What you say is cruel, very cruel! and it is not true.”

“Isn’t it true that he was here last night, following you about, as Janey says? Oh, I know how these sort of things go on. But you ought to think of your papa’s position, and you ought to think of Reginald. If it was to come to the Bishop’s ears that St. Roque’s Parsonage was a refuge for Dissenters! For I know who 选择您 friend is, Ursula! That Tozer girl, another of them! Indeed, I assure you, it makes me feel very uncomfortable. And Reginald, just at the very beginning of his career.”

Ursula did not make any reply. She bent her head down over her work, so low that her flushed cheeks could scarcely be seen, and went on stitching with energy and passion such as needles and thread are seldom the instruments of; and yet how much passion is continually worked away through needles and thread! Mrs. Hurst sat still for some time, looking at her, very little satisfied to keep silence, but feeling that she had discharged an efficient missile, and biting her lips not to say more to weaken its effect. When some time had passed in this way, and it was apparent that Ursula had no intention of breaking the silence, her visitor got up and shook out her skirts with a little flutter of indignation.

“You are offended,” she said, “though I must say it is very ill on your part to be offended. What motive can I have but your good, and regard for your poor dear papa? It is he that is always the victim, poor man, whether it is your vagaries he has to pay for, or Reginald’s high-flying. Oh, yes; you may be as angry as you like, Ursula; but you will find out the difference if your encouragement of this Dissenter interferes with something better—a living for Reginald, perhaps, or better preferment for your poor papa.”

“Oh!” cried Janey, awe-stricken; “but after all, it was not Ursula; it was papa himself. I think he must have done it to please Mr. Copperhead; for, Mrs. Hurst, you know Mr. Copperhead is very important. We have all to give in to him. He pays papa three hundred a-year.”

“Three thousand wouldn’t make up for it if it spoilt all your career,” cried the indignant woman, and she swept away without saying any more to Ursula, who kept quite still over her work without budging. Janey went downstairs meekly after her to open the door, whispering an entreaty that she would not be angry.

“No, no, I am not angry,” said Mrs. Hurst, “but I shall keep it up for a day or two. It is the best thing for her. I think she was struck with what I said.”

Janey stole upstairs again, feeling rather guilty; but Ursula took little notice of her. The dinner was ordered and everything settled for the day. She was busy with her week’s mending and darning, with the stockings and other things in a big basket beside her. When she came to some articles belonging to Janey, she threw them out with great impatience.

“You may surely mend your things yourself, you are big enough. You can talk for yourself and me too,” cried Ursula with sudden impetuosity; and then she sat and worked, her needle flying through the meshes of her darning, though it is hard to darn stockings in that impassioned way. They were socks of Johnnie’s, however, with holes in the heels that you could put your fist through, and the way in which the big spans filled themselves up under this influence was wonderful to see. Janey, who was not fond of mending, set to work quite humbly under the influence of this example, and made two or three attempts to begin a conversation but without avail.

The girls were seated thus in a disturbed and restless silence, working as if for their lives, when the usual little jar of the gate and sound of the bell downstairs announced a visitor. On ordinary occasions, they were both in the habit of rushing to the window when the gate was opened to see who was coming, and Janey had thrown aside her work to do so when a look from Ursula stopped her. High-spirited as Janey was, she did not dare to disobey that look. By right of the passion that had got possession of her, Ursula took the absolute command of the situation in a way she had never done before, and some sudden intuition made her aware who it was who was coming. The girls both sat there still and breathless, waiting for his appearance. He never came in the day, never had been seen in the Parsonage at that hour before, and yet Ursula was as certain who it was as if she had seen him a mile off. He came into the room, himself looking a little breathless and disturbed, and gave a quick impatient look at Janey as he went up to her sister. Ursula saw it and understood well enough. Janey was in his way; he had come this morning with a special purpose. Her heart sank down to her very shoes, and then rose again with a feverish and unreal leap. Was it not her duty to take the initiative, to cut away the very ground from beneath his feet? He took a seat, not far from where she was sitting, and made an effort to begin a little ordinary conversation, throwing frequent glances at Janey. He said it was a fine day, which was self-evident; that he almost feared they would be out; that he had come to—to tell her something he had forgotten last night, about—yes, about—Cassiopeia’s chair, to correct what he said about Orion—yes, that was it; and again he looked at Janey, who saw his looks, and wondered much what she ought to do—go away, as he evidently wished her, or stay and listen, which was the eager desire of her mind. When Ursula lifted her head from her darning, and looked at him with cheeks alternately white and crimson, Janey felt herself grow hot and breathless with kindred excitement, and knew that the moment had come.

“Mr. Northcote,” said Ursula, looking at him fixedly, so fixedly that a nervous trembling ran over him, “I have a question to ask you. You have been coming to us very often, and perhaps papa may know, but I don’t. Is it true that you made a speech about Reginald when you first came here?”

Janey, looking eagerly on, saw Northcote grow pale, nay, grey in the fresh daylight. The colour seemed to ebb out of him. He started very slightly, as if waking up, when she began to speak, and then sat looking at her, growing greyer and greyer. A moment elapsed before he made any reply.

“Yes, I did,” he said, with a half-groan of pain in his voice.

“You did! really you did! Oh!” cried Ursula, the hot tears falling suddenly out of her eyes, while she still looked at him, “I was hoping that it was all some horrible mistake, that you would have laughed. I hoped you would laugh and say no.”

Northcote cleared his throat; they were waiting for him to defend himself. Janey, holding herself on the leash, as it were, keeping herself back from springing upon him like a hound. Ursula gazed at him with great blazing reproachful eyes; and all he could do was to give that sign of embarrassment, of guilt, and confusion. He could not utter a word. By the time he had got himself wound up to the point of speech, Ursula, impatient, had taken the words out of his mouth.

“Reginald is my brother,” she said. “Whatever is against him is against us all; we have never had any separate interests. Didn’t you think it strange, Mr. Northcote, to come to this house, among us all, when you had been so unkind to him?”

“Miss May—”

He made a broken sort of outcry and motion of his head, and then cleared his throat nervously once more.

“Did you think how your own brothers and sisters would have stood up for you? that it would have been an offence to them if anybody had come to the house who was not a friend to you? that they would have had a right—”

“Miss May,” said the culprit; “all this I have felt to the bottom of my heart; that I was here on false pretences—that I had no right to be here. But this painful feeling was all quenched and extinguished, and turned into gratitude by the goodness of your father and brother. I did not even know that you had not been told. I thought you were aware from the beginning. You were colder than they were, and I thought it was natural, quite natural, for it is easier to forgive for one’s self than for those one loves; and then I thought you melted and grew kinder to me, that you saw how all my ideas were changed, all my feelings—my mind itself; changed by the great charity, the wonderful goodness I have found here!”

“Mr. Northcote!” Ursula had been struggling to break in all the time; but while he spoke her words dispersed, her feelings softened, and at the end she found nothing but that startled repetition of his name with which to answer him. No doubt if he had given her time the eloquence would have come back; but he was too much in earnest to be guilty of such a mistake.

“What can I say about it?” cried the young man. “It has filled me with shame and with happiness. I have been taken in my own trap—those whom I attacked as you say—went out of my way to attack, and abused like a fool because I knew nothing about them—have shown me what the Bible means. Your father and brother knew what I had done, they met me separately, quite independent of each other, and both of them held out their hands to me; why, except that I had offended them, I cannot tell. A stranger, belonging to an obscure class, I had no claim upon them except that I had done what ought to have closed their house against me. And you know how they have interpreted that. They have shown me what the Bible means.”

The two girls sat listening, both with their heads bent towards him, and their eyes fixed upon his face. When he stopped, Janey got up with her work in her lap, and coming a little nearer to Ursula, addressed her in a wondering voice.

“是吗 爸爸 he is talking of like that?” she said, under her breath.

“Yes,” he said, fervently, turning to her. “It is your father. He has made charity and kindness real things to me.”

“Poor papa!” said Ursula, whose tears were arrested in her eyes by the same surprised sensation, half-pleasure, half-pain, which hushed even Janey’s voice. They were “struck,” as Mrs. Hurst had said, but by such a strange mingling of feelings that neither knew what to make of them. Northcote did not understand what they meant; their words conveyed a slight shock of surprise, but no distinct idea to him; and when Janey, too much impressed to settle down again, went away after a while musingly, carrying her work in the upper skirt of her gown, held like a market-woman’s apron by her elbow against her side; and he found himself to have attained in the very confusion of his intentions to what he wished, i.e., an interview with Ursula by herself, he was almost too much agitated to take advantage of it. As for Ursula, she had floated a hundred miles away from that sensation of last night which, had no stronger feeling come in to bewilder her, would have made his errand very plain to her mind. She had ceased to think about him, she was thinking with a certain tenderness, and wondering, half-awed, half-amused, self-questioning, about her father. Was he so good as this? had he done this Christian action? were they all perhaps doing papa injustice? She was recalled to herself by Northcote’s next proceeding. He went to the door and closed it after Janey, who had left it open, of course, and then he came to the back of the chair on which stood the great basket of darning. His voice was tremulous, his eyes liquid and shining with emotion.

“Will you forgive me, since they have forgiven me? and may I ask something?” he said.

第三十四章 奢侈 •3,500字

Mr. May did not take any particular notice of what was going on around him among the young people. Nobody could have been more startled than he, had he been told of the purpose with which Horace Northcote, the Dissenting minister, had paid his early morning visit; and though he had a half-scornful, half-amused glimmer of insight into the feelings of his son, and saw that Clarence Copperhead was heavily veering the same way, it did not occur to him that any crisis was approaching. He was enjoying himself in his way, and he had not done that for a long time. He dearly liked the better way of living, the more liberal strain of housekeeping and expenditure; he liked the social meetings in the evening, the talk after dinner with the three young men, the half-fatherly flirtation with Phœbe, which she too enjoyed much, avowedly preferring him, with pretty coquetry, to the others. All this was very pleasant to him; and the additional money in his pocket was very pleasant, and when the post came in, one of these April mornings, and brought a letter from James, enclosing a draft for fifty pounds, his satisfaction was intense. The sight of the money brought an itching to his fingers, a restlessness about him generally. And yet it was not all that might have been desired, only fifty pounds! he had been buoying himself up by vain thoughts of how James this time, having been so long writing, would send a larger sum, which would at once tide him over the Tozer business, and on this account had been giving himself no trouble about it. Never before had he been so 漫不经心, although never before had the risk been so great. He had suffered so much about it last time, probably, that was why he took it so easily now; or was it because his trust in the chapter of accidents had grown greater since he was more dependent on it? or because of the generally expanded sense of living in him which made anxiety uncongenial anyhow? Whatever the cause was, this was the effect. A momentary disappointment when he saw how little James’s draft was—then a sense of that semi-intoxication which comes upon a poor man when a sum of money falls into his hands—gradually invaded his soul. He tried to settle down to his writing, but did not feel equal to the effort. It was too little for the purpose, he said to himself, for which he wanted it; but it was enough to do a great many pleasant things with otherwise. For the first time he had no urgent bills to swallow it up; the very grocer, a long-suffering tradesman who made less fuss than the others, and about whom Ursula made less fuss, had been pacified by a payment on account of the Copperhead money, and thus had his mouth stopped. Barring that bill, indeed, things were in a more comfortable state than they had been for a long time in the May household; and putting that out of account, James’s money would have been the nearest approach to luxury—reckoning luxury in its most simple form as money to spend without any absolutely forestalling claim upon it—which Mr. May had known for years. It is so seldom that poor people have this delicious sense of a little, ever so little surplus! and it would be hard to say how he could entertain the feeling that it was an overplus. There was something of the fumes of desperation perhaps, and impending fate in the lightness of heart which seized upon him. He could not keep still over his writing. He got up at last, and put James’s draft into his pocket-book, and got his hat to go out. It was a fine morning, full of that exhilaration which belongs only to the spring. He went to the bank, and paid in the money, getting a small sum at the same time for his own immediate use; but somehow his restlessness was scarcely satisfied by that very legitimate piece of business, and he extended his walk into the town, and strayed, half by chance, half by intention, to the old furniture shop at the other end of the High Street, which was a favourite resort of the higher classes in Carlingford, and where periodically there was an auction, at which sometimes great bargains were to be had. 先生。 May went into this dangerous place boldly. The sale was going on; he walked into the midst of temptation, forgetting the prayer against it, which no doubt he had said that morning. And as evil fate would have it, a carved book-case, the very thing he had been sighing for, for years, was at that moment the object of the auctioneer’s praises. It was standing against the wall, a noble piece of furniture, in which books would show to an advantage impossible otherwise, preserved from dust and damp by the fine old oak and glass door. 先生。 May’s heart gave a little jump. Almost everybody has wished for something unattainable, and this had been the object of his desires for years. He gave a little start when he saw it, and hurried forward. The bidding had actually begun; there was no time to think and consider, if he wished to have a chance, and it was going cheap, dead cheap. After a minute or two of competition the blood rose to his cheeks, he got thoroughly excited. The effect of this excitement was two-fold—not only did it drive all thought of prudence out of his head, but it raised by several pounds the price of the book-case, which, had he gone about it coolly, he might have had at a much cheaper rate. When he suddenly woke up to find himself the owner of it, a thrill of consternation ran over him—it was all so sudden; and it was perfectly innocent, if only he had any money; and to be sure he had James’s money, which was not enough to do anything else—certainly not to do the thing he wanted it for.

“Just what I have been wanting for years,” he said, as he examined his new acquisition, and the people about looked at him with additional respect he felt, not being used to see Mr. May so prompt in payment, and so ready with his money. This pleased him also. He walked home with his head a little turned still, although there was a quake and flutter underneath. Well! he said to himself, who could call it an extravagance? a thing he had wanted for years—a thing which was a necessity, not for luxury, but everyday use—a thing which was not dear, and which was very handsome and substantial, and 真的很好; how could any one say it was extravagant? Ursula might stare with her big eyes, but she was only a silly little girl, and women always were silly about expenses, alarmed by a big bold handsome purchase, though there was nobody better at the art of frittering away money in pretty nothings. When he got home, he began at once nervously to clear the space where it should stand. What an improvement it would be! and his books were getting spoiled daily in those unsightly, open shelves, entirely spoiled. It was exciting to anticipate its arrival, and the admiration and commotion in the house. He called in Betsy and gave her orders about it; how, if it came when he was absent, it was to be put in that particular place, no other.

“And mind that great care is taken, for it is valuable, and a beautiful piece of furniture,” he said.

“La, sir!” said Betsy, who was thunderstruck, though she knew it was not “her place” to show any feeling. He did not think it was necessary to appeal to Ursula on the same subject, but was rather glad to get out again, feeling the restlessness which had not been dissipated, but rather the reverse. He went and saw one or two poor people, to whom he was much more tolerant and kind than his wont, for in general Mr. May was not attracted towards the poor; and he gave them a shilling or two of the money he had drawn at the bank that morning—though somehow it had acquired a certain value in his eyes, and it was with a grudge that he took it out of his pocket. I must not spend this, he said to himself; but gave the shillings as a kind of tithe or propitiatory offering to Providence, that things might go well with him. Why should not things go well with him? He was not a bad man, he wronged nobody. He had done nothing to-day that a saint might not have done; he wanted the book-case, and he had the money, a sum not big enough for any more important purpose; but which was far better disposed of so than frittered away in nothings, as no doubt it would have otherwise been. By the afternoon, when the book-case arrived, he had convinced himself that it was not only quite reasonable, but a most lucky chance, a thing he could scarcely have hoped for, the opportunity and the money both coming in such exact accord with each other. When he returned from his walk the girls were looking at it, Ursula somewhat scared, Janey in open raptures.

“It is very nice indeed, papa,” said the elder girl; “but it must have cost a deal of money.”

“Be thankful that you haven’t got to pay for it,” he said, brusquely. He was not disposed to stand criticism. How it filled up his bare room, and made it, Mr. May thought, all at once into a library, though the old writing-table and shabby chairs looked rather worse perhaps than before, and suggested renewal in the most urgent way. To make it all of a piece, to put a soft Turkey carpet instead of the drugget, how pleasant it would be!—not extravagant, only a natural inclination towards the seemly, and a desire to have things around him becoming his position. No doubt such things were things which he ought to have in his position; a gentleman and a scholar, how humiliating it was that nothing but the barest elements of comfort should be within his reach. This was not how life ought to be; a poor creature like Clarence Copperhead, without birth, or breeding, or brains, or anything but money, was able to gratify every wish, while he—his senior, his superior! Instead of blaming himself, therefore, for his self-indulgence, Mr. May sympathized with himself, which is a much less safe thing to do; and accordingly, it soon began to appear to him that his self-denial all this time in not giving himself what he wanted had been extreme, and that what he had now done, in conceding himself so harmless a gratification, was what he ought to have done years ago. It was his own money sent to him by his dutiful son without conditions; and who had any right to interfere?

When he was at dinner, Betsy came behind his chair under pretence of serving him; Betsy, whose place was in the kitchen, who had no right to show in the dining-room at all, and whose confused toilette had caught Ursula’s eye and filled her with horror.

“Please, sir,” she said, breathing hot on Mr. May’s ear, till he shrank with sensitive horror. “Cotsdean’s in the kitchen. He says as how he must see you; and I can’t get him away.”

“Ah, Cotsdean? tell him if he has anything to say to me, to write it down.”

“Which he’s done, sir,” said Betsy, producing a little bit of paper rolled tightly together, “but I wasn’t to give it till I’d asked you to see him. Oh, please see him, sir, like a dear good gentleman. He looks like a man as is going off his head.”

“He is a fool,” said Mr. May, taking the paper, but setting his teeth as he did so. Evidently he must get rid of this fellow—already beginning to trouble him, as if he was not the best person to know when and how far he could go.

“Tell him I’ll attend to it, he need not trouble himself,” he said, and put the paper into his pocket, and went on with his dinner. Cotsdean, indeed! surely there had been enough of him. What were his trumpery losses in comparison with what his principal would lose, and how dare that fellow turn up thus and press him continually for his own poor selfish safety? This was not how Mr. May had felt three months before; but everything changes, and he felt that he had a right to be angry at this selfish solicitude. Surely it was of as much consequence to him at least as to Cotsdean. The man was a fussy disagreeable fool, and nothing more.

And as it happened they sat late that night at dinner, without any particular reason, because of some discussion into which Clarence and Reginald fell, so that it was late before Mr. May got back to his room, where his books were lying in a heap waiting their transportation. They seemed to appeal to him also, and ask him reproachfully how they had got there, and he went to work arranging them all with all the enthusiasm natural to a lover of books. He was a book-lover, a man full of fine tastes and cultured elegant ways of thinking. If he had been extravagant (which he was not) it would have been in the most innocent, nay delightful and laudable way. To attach any notion of criminality, any suspicion of wrong-doing to such a virtuous indulgence, how unjust it would be! There was no company upstairs that evening. Copperhead had strolled out with Reginald to smoke his cigar, much against the will of the latter, and was boring him all the way to the College with accounts of his own lavish expenditure, and how much he had given for this and that; his cameos, his diamond studs, the magnificent dressing-case which was the wonder of the Parsonage. “Hang it all, what is the good of having money if you don’t spend it?” said Clarence, and Reginald, who had not much money to spend, felt as near hating him as it was in his nature to do. Thus Mr. May was released from duty in the drawing-room, where Ursula, palpitating with many thoughts which were altogether new to her, sat doing her darning, and eluding as well as she could Janey’s questions. Janey was determinedly conversational that night. She drove Ursula nearly out of her senses, and kept Johnnie—who had crept into the drawing-room in high delight at finding it for once free to him—from learning his lessons.

“Oh, how nice it is to be by ourselves,” said Janey, “instead of all those new people. I don’t mind Phœbe; but strange men in the house, what a nuisance they are, always getting in one’s way—don’t you think so, Ursula?”

Ursula made no reply, and after awhile even Janey sank into silence, and the drawing-room, usually so gay, got a cold and deserted look. The new life which had come in had left its mark, and to go back to what had once been so pleasant in the past was no longer possible. Johnnie and Janey might like it, having regained their former places, but to Ursula the solitude was horrible. She asked herself, with a great blush and quiver, what she would do if that temporary filling up of new interests and relationships was to fall away, as was likely, and leave her to the old life unbroken, to Janey’s childish society and questions, and papa’s imperious and unmodified sway. She grew pale and chill at the very thought.

But Mr. May, as we have said, was off duty. He forgot all about Cotsdean and the note in his pocket, and set to work with the most boyish simplicity of delight to arrange his books in his new shelves. How well they looked! never before had their setting done them justice. There were books in gorgeous bindings, college prizes which had never shown at all, and which now gleamed out in crimson and gold from behind the glass, and made their owner’s heart beat with pleasure. Alas! to think how much innocent pleasure is denied us by the want of that small sum of money! and worse still, how an innocent pleasure becomes the reverse of innocent when it is purchased by the appropriation of something which should have been employed elsewhere. Perhaps, however, the sense of guilt which he kept under, added zest in Mr. May’s mind to the pleasure of his acquisition; he was snatching a fearful joy, Heaven knows how soon the penalty might overwhelm him. In the mean time he was determined to take the good of it, and enjoy what he had gained.

When the books were all in he sat down at his table and surveyed it, rubbing his dusty hands. How much that is childish, how much that is fresh, and youthful, and innocent must be in the mind of a man (you would say) who could be thus excited about a book-case! and yet this was not the kind of man whom you would call unsophisticated and youthful. It was probably the state of suppressed excitement in which he was, the unreality of his position, that helped him to that sense of elation as much as anything else; for emotion is a Proteus ready to take any form, and pain itself sometimes finds vent in the quick blazing up of fictitious delight, as much as in the moanings that seem more accordant with its own nature. He put his hand into his pocket for his pencil to make a note of the contents of the new shelves, and then he found Cotsdean’s note, which he had not forgotten, but which he had felt no desire to remember. When he felt it between his fingers his countenance fell a little; but he took it out and read it with the smile still upon his face. It was a dirty little roll of paper, scribbled in pencil.

“Rev. Sir,

“I hope as you are not forgetting the 15th. Pleas excuse anxiety and bad writing, i am a poor nervous man I no, a word of answer just to say as it is all right will much oblidge.

“Rev. Sir,
“鄙人,

“T. Cotsdean.”

Betsy knocked at the door as he read this, with a request for an answer to Mr. Cotsdean’s note. “Little Bobby, sir, is waiting for it in the kitchen.”

“Give Bobby some supper,” said Mr. May, “tell him to tell his father it’s all right, and I shan’t forget. You understand? He is a troublesome little fool; but it’s all right, and I shan’t forget, and give the child some supper, Betsy. He ought not to be out so late.”

“He is a delicate little thing, sir, thankye, sir,” said Betsy, half-frightened by her master’s amiability; and he smiled and repeated,

“Tell him it’s all right.”

Was it all right, the 15th? Cotsdean must have made a mistake. Mr. May’s countenance paled, and the laugh went off; he opened a drawer in his writing-table and took out a book, and anxiously consulted an entry in it. It was the 18th certainly, as clear as possible. Something had been written on the opposite page, and had blotted slightly the one on which these entries were written; but there it stood, the 18th April. Mr. May prided himself on making no mistakes in business. He closed the book again with a look of relief, the smile coming back once more to his face. The 18th, it was three days additional, and in the time there was no doubt that he would find out what was the right thing to do.

第三十五章·百万富翁 •3,400字

何先生 May woke next morning, it was not the book-case he thought of, but that date which had been the last thing in his mind on the previous night. Not the 15th,—the 18th. Certainly he was right, and Cotsdean was wrong. Cotsdean was a puzzle-headed being, making his calculations by the rule of thumb; but he had put down the date, and there could be no possible mistake about it. He got up disposed to smile at the poor man’s ignorance and fussy restlessness of mind. “I have never left him in the lurch, he may trust to me surely in the future,” Mr. May said to himself, and smiled with a kind of condescending pity for his poor agent’s timidity; after all, perhaps, as Cotsdean had so little profit by it, it was not wonderful that he should be uneasy. After this, it might be well if they did anything further of the sort, to divide the money, so that Cotsdean too might feel that he had got something for the risk he ran; but then, to be sure, if he had not the money he had no trouble, except by his own foolish anxiety, for the payment, and always a five-pound note or two for his pains. 但是先生 May said to himself that he would do no more in this way after the present bill was disposed of; no, he would make a stand, he would insist upon living within his income. He would not allow himself to be subject to these perpetual agitations any more. It would require an effort, but after the effort was made all would be easy. So he said to himself; and it was the 18th, not the 15th, three days more to make his arrangements in. It had come to be the 12th now, and up to this moment he had done nothing, having that vague faith in the Indian mail which had been realized, and yet had not been realized. But still he had nearly a week before him, which was enough certainly. Anything that he could do in six months, he said to himself, he could easily do in six days—the mere time was nothing; and he smiled as he dressed himself leisurely, thinking it all over. Somehow everything looked perfectly easy to him this time; last time he had been plunged into tragic despair; now, and he did not know why, he took it quite easily; he seemed to fear nothing. There were various ways of getting the money as natural as the daylight, and in the mean time why should he make himself unhappy? As soon as he was ready he went to his room and had another look at the book-case which, with his best books in it, all in order and ranged in unbroken lines, looked everything a book-case ought to look. It made him feel more of a man somehow, more like the gentleman and scholar he had meant to be when he started in life; he had not intended then to be a poor district incumbent all his life, with a family of eight children. His book-case somehow transported him back to the days when he had thought of better things for himself, and when life had held an ideal for him. Perhaps at the best of times it had never been a very high ideal; but when a man is over fifty and has given up doing anything but struggle through each day as it comes, and get out of his work as best he may, doing what he must, leaving undone what he can, any ideal almost seems something higher than himself; but the recollection of what he had meant to be, came back to him strongly when he looked at his carved oak. It had not been carried out; but still he felt rehabilitated and better in his own opinion as he stood beside this costly purchase he had made, and felt that it changed his room and all his surroundings.

“My people came down to the Hall last night,” Clarence Copperhead said to him at breakfast, “and the Governor is coming over along with Sir Robert. He’d like to see you, I am sure, and I suppose they’ll be going in for sight-seeing, and that sort of thing. He is a dab at sight-seeing, is the Governor. I can’t think how he can stand it for my part.”

“Then you must remember that I put myself at his orders for the day,” said Mr. May graciously. “Sir Robert is not a bad guide, but I am a better, though it sounds modest to say it; and, Ursula, of course Mr. Copperhead will take luncheon with us.”

“Don’t think of that,” said Clarence, “he’s queer and likes his own way. Just as likely as not he’ll think he ought to support the hotels of the place where he is—sort of local production, you know. I think it’s nonsense, but that is how it is—that’s the man.”

“We shall look for him all the same,” said Mr. May, with a nod at Ursula; and a sudden project sprang up in his mind, wild as projects so often are. This father whom his fancy, working upon what Clarence said, immediately invested with all the prodigal liberality of a typical rich man; this stranger to whom a hundred pounds was less then a penny was to himself, would give him the money he wanted. What so easy? He drew a long breath, and though he had not been aware that he was anxious, he was suddenly conscious of a sense of relief. Yes, to be sure, what so simple, what so likely? he would explain his monetary necessities lightly and with grace, and Mr. Copperhead would supply them. He was in the mildest state of desperation, the painless stage, as may be seen, when this strange idea entered into his head. He hugged it, though he was a man of the world and might have known better, and it produced a kind of elation which would have been a very strange spectacle to any looker-on who knew what it meant. The thing seemed done when he next thought of it ten minutes later, settled as if it had been so for years. Mr. Copperhead would make it all right for him, and after that he would undertake such risks no more.

Mr. Copperhead, however, did not come for two days, though Ursula spent all the morning and a great deal of trouble in arranging a luncheon for him; but on the second morning he came, driven by Sir Robert, who had changed horses on the road, and who was in a somewhat irritated and excited condition, very glad to get rid of his visitor.

“I hope you don’t mind having your toes trodden on, May,” he said, privately; “that fellow is never happy but when he’s insulting some one.” And indeed Mr. Copperhead began this favourite pastime at once by making very big eyes at the sight of Ursula. “A-ha!” he said, rubbing his hands, and elevating his eyebrows; and he gave a meaning laugh as he shook hands with her, and declared that he did not expect to find young ladies here. “I haven’t a great deal of education myself, and I never knew it could be carried on so pleasantly,” he said. “You’re a lucky young dog, Clar, that’s what you are;” and the son laughed with the father at this excellent joke, though the rest of the company looked on with great gravity. Ursula, for her part, turned with wondering eyes from the new-comer to her old friend, Sir Robert.

“What does he mean?” she asked, with an appealing look.

“He is the greatest brute I know,” said poor Sir Robert, under his breath; and he went off suddenly on the plea of business, leaving his unpleasant visitor in Mr. May’s hands, who undertook the charge not unwillingly, being possessed by his own plan. Mr. Copperhead went all over Carlingford. He inspected the town-hall, the infirmary, and the church, with the business-like air of a man who was doing his duty.

“Poor little place, but well enough for the country,” he said. “A country-town’s a mistake in my opinion. If I had it in my power I’d raze them all to the ground, and have one London and the rest green fields. That’s your sort, Mr. May. Now you don’t produce anything here, what’s the good of you? All unproductive communities, sir, ought to be swept off the face of the earth. I’d let Manchester and those sort of places go on till they burst; but a bit of a little piggery like this, where there’s nothing doing, no trade, no productions of any kind.”

“We like it all the same,” said Mr. May; “we small sort of people who have no enterprise like you—”

“I dare say you like it! To be sure, you can moon about here as much as you please, and make believe to do something, and there’s nobody to contradict you. In a great centre of industry you couldn’t live like that; you must work or you’ll get pushed aside altogether; unless, of course, you’re a millionnaire to start with,” Mr. Copperhead added, with a noisy laugh.

“Which I am not certainly—very much the reverse—in short, a poor man with a large family, which I suppose is a thing about as objectionable in a centre of industry as anything can be.”

“The large family ain’t objectionable if you make ’em work,” said Mr. Copperhead; “it all depends on that. There’s always objections, you know,” he said, with a jocular grin, “to pretty girls like that daughter of yours put straight in a young fellow’s way. You won’t mind my saying it? They neither work themselves nor let others work—that sort. I think we could get on with a deal fewer women, I must allow. There’s where Providence is in a mistake. We don’t want ’em in England; it’s a waste of raw material. They’re bad for the men, and they ain’t much good for themselves, that I can see.”

“You are a little hard upon the ladies, Mr. Copperhead.”

“Not I—we can’t do without ’em of course, and the surplus we ought to export as we export other surpluses; but I object to them in a young man’s way, not meaning anything unpleasant to you. And perhaps if I had been put up to it sooner—but let’s hope there’s no mischief done. What is this now? some of your antiquities, I suppose. Oh yes, let’s have a look at it; but I confess it’s the present age I like best.”

“This is the College,” cried Mr. May, swallowing certain sensations which impaired his sense of friendliness; “but not an educational college, a foundation for old men—decayed citizens, as they are called—founded in the fifteenth century. My son is the chaplain, and will be very glad to show it you. There are twelve old men here at present, very comfortably looked after, thanks to the liberal arrangements of the founder. They attend chapel twice a day, where Reginald officiates. It is very agreeable to me to have him settled so near me.”

“Cunning I call it,” said Mr. Copperhead, with his hoarse laugh; “does you credit; a capital snug nest—nothing to do—and pay—pay good now? those old fellows generally managed that; as it was priests that had the doing of it, of course they did well for their own kind. Good Lord, what a waste of good money all this is!” he continued, as they went into the quadrangle, and saw the little park beyond with its few fine trees; “half-a-dozen nice villas might be built on this site, and it’s just the sort of place I should fancy where villas would pay. Why don’t the Corporation lay hands on it? And your son lives here? Too dull for me; I like a little movement going on, but I dare say he likes it; and with how much a year?”

“Two hundred and fifty; and some advantages beside—”

“Bravo!” said Mr. Copperhead, “now how many curates could you get for that two and a-half? I’ve got a great respect for you, Mr. May; you know what’s what. That shows sense, that does. How do you do, sir? fine old place you’ve got here—capital snug appointment. I’ve just been saying to your father I admire his sense, looking out for you a nice fat easy appointment like this.”

Reginald turned from red to white, and then to portentous blackness. The subject was of all others the one least likely to please him.

“It is not very fat,” he said, with a look of offence, quite undeserved by the chief sufferer, towards his father, “nor very easy. But come in. It is rather an interesting old place. I suppose you would like to see the Chapel, and the old captain’s rooms; they are very fine in their way.”

“Thank you; we’ve been seeing a deal already, and I feel tired. I think I’ll—let you off the chapel. Hallo! here’s another old friend—Northcote, by George! and what are doing here I should like to know, a blazing young screamer of the Liberation Society, in a high and dry parson’s rooms? This is as good as a play.”

“I suppose one is not required to stay at exactly the same point of opinion all one’s life,” said Northcote, with a half-smile.

“By George! but you are though, when you’re a public man; especially when you’re on a crusade. Haven’t I heard you call it a crusade? I can tell you that changing your opinion is just the very last thing the public will permit you to do. But I shan’t tell for my part—make yourself easy. Clarence, don’t you let it out; your mother, fortunately, is out of the way. The world shall never know through me that young Northcote, the anti-state Churchman, was discovered hob-nobbing with a snug chaplain in a sinecure appointment. Ha, ha! had you there.”

“To do Northcote justice,” said Mr. May; “he began life in Carlingford by pointing out this fact to the neighbourhood; that it was a sinecure, and that my son and I—”

“Would it not be more to the point to inspect the chapel?” said Reginald, who had been standing by impatiently playing with a big key; upon which Mr. Copperhead laughed more loudly than before.

“We’ll not trouble the chapel,” he said, “railway stations are more in my way; you are all a great deal finer than I am, and know a deal more, I suppose; but my roughness has served its purpose on the whole, better perhaps for some things—yes, for some things, Clar, and you may thank your stars, old boy. If you had been a parson’s son, by George! there would have been no fat appointment waiting for you.”

“After all, my son’s appointment is not so very fat,” said Mr. May, forcing a laugh. “It is not so much as many a boy at school gets from his father.”

“Ah, you mean my boy at school! he’s an extravagant dog. His mother and he, sir, are made of different clay from me; they are porcelain and I am delft. They want fine velvet cupboards to stand themselves in, while I’m for the kitchen dresser. That’s the difference. But I can afford it, thank Heaven. I tell Clarence that he may thank his stars that I can afford it, and that he isn’t born a poor man’s son. He has been plucked at Oxford, you know,” he said, with a big laugh, thrusting forth his chest as Clarence thrust forth his shirt-front, with an apparent complacency over the very plucking. My son can afford to be plucked, he seemed to say. He got up as he spoke, and approaching the fireplace turned his back to it, and gathered up his coat-tails under his arm. He was no taller than Mr. May, and very little taller than Reginald; but they both shrank into insignificance beside the big self-assertive figure. He looked about the room as if he was thinking of “buying up” the whole contents of it, and thought very little of them. A glance of contempt, a shrug more implied than actual, testified his low opinion of everything around. When he withdrew his eyes from the furniture he shook out his leg, as Clarence had done his, and gave a pull to his trousers that they might sit properly. He had the word “Rich” painted in big letters all over him, and he seemed to feel it his vocation to show this sense of superiority. Clarence by his side, the living copy of the great man’s appearance and manners, strutted and put himself forward like his father, as a big calf might place itself beside the parent cow. Mr. Copperhead did not look upon his offspring, however, with the cow’s motherly complacency. He laughed at him openly, with cynical amusement. He was clever in his way, and Clarence was stupid; and besides he was the proprietor, and Clarence, for all he was porcelain, was his goods and chattels. When he looked at him, a wicked leer of derision awoke in his eye.

“Yes, my boy,” he said, “thank your stars; you would not make much of it if you were a poor man. You’re an ornament that costs dear; but I can afford you. So, Northcote, you’re changing your opinions—going over to the Church, eh? Extremes meet, they say; I shouldn’t have thought it—”

“I am doing nothing of the kind,” said Northcote stoutly. He was not in a mood to be taken to task by this Mammon of unrighteousness, and indeed had at all times been a great deal too independent and unwilling to submit to leading members of the connection. Mr. Copperhead, however, showed no resentment. Northcote too, like Clarence, had a father before him, and stood on quite a different footing from the ordinary young pastor, whose business it was to be humble and accept all that his betters might portion out.

“Well,” he said, “you can afford to please yourself, and that’s always something. By the way, isn’t it time to have something to eat? If there is a good hotel near—”

“Luncheon will be waiting at my house,” said Mr. May, who was still doing his best to please the man upon whom he had built such wild hopes, “and Ursula will be waiting.”

“Ah, ah, the young lady! so she will. I wouldn’t miss that for something; but I don’t like putting you to so much expense. My son here has an excellent appetite, as you must have found out by this time, and for my part so have I. I think it a thousand pities to put you to this trouble—and expense.”

“Pray don’t think of that,” said Mr. May with courtesy, which belied his feelings, for he would have liked nothing so well as to have knocked down his complacent patron. He led the way out, almost with eagerness, feeling Mr. Copperhead to be less offensive out of doors than within four walls. Was this the sort of man to be appealed to for help as he had thought? Probably his very arrogance would make him more disposed towards liberality. Probably it would flatter his sense of consequence, to have such a request made to him. Mr. May was very much at sea, letting I dare not wait upon I would; afraid to speak lest he should shut this door of help by so doing, and afraid to lose the chance of any succour by not speaking. He tried hard, in spite of all his difficulties, to be smooth and agreeable to a man who had so much in his power; but it was harder work than he could have thought.

第三十六章 父与子 •4,100字

Ursula had prepared a very careful luncheon for the stranger. She thought him disagreeable, but she had not looked at him much, for, indeed, Ursula’s mind was much unsettled. Horace Northcote had spoken to her that morning, after Mrs. Hurst’s visit and her retaliation upon him, as no man yet had ever spoken to her before. He had told her a long story, though it was briefly done, and could have been expressed in three words. He was not of her species of humanity; his ways of thinking, his prejudices, his traditions, were all different from hers, and yet that had happened to him which happens all over the world in every kind of circumstances—without knowing how it was, he had got to love her. Yes, he knew very well how it was, or rather, he knew when it was, which is all that is to be expected from a lover. It was on the evening of the 主菜, the first dinner-party, and he had gone on ever since, deeper and deeper, hearing her say many things which he did not agree in, and tracing her life through a score of little habits which were not congenial to his, yet loving her more and more for all that was new to him, and even for the things which were uncongenial. He had told her all this, and Ursula had listened with a kind of awe, wondering at the ardour in the young man’s eyes, and the warmth with which he spoke; wondering and trembling a little. She had guessed what he meant the night before, as has been said, and this had touched her with a little thrill of awakened feeling; but the innocent girl knew no more about passion than a child, and when she saw it, glowing and ardent, appealing to her, she was half-alarmed, half-overawed by the strange sight. What answer could she make to him? She did not know what to say. To reject him altogether was not in Ursula’s heart; but she could not respond to that strange, new, overwhelming sentiment, which put a light in his eyes which she dared not meet; which dazzled her when she ventured a glance at him. “Was he to go away?” he asked, his voice, too, sounding musical and full of touching chords. Ursula could not tell him to go away either. What she did say to him, she never quite knew; but at least, whatever it was, it left him hopeful, if unsatisfied.

And since that time her mind had been in a strange confusion, a confusion strange but sweet. Gratified vanity is not a pretty title to give to any feeling, and yet that mixture of gratification and gratitude, and penetrating pleasure in the fact of being elevated from an often-scolded and imperfect child to an admired and worshipped woman is, perhaps, of all the sensations that feminine youth is conscious of, the most poignant in its sweetness. It went through her whole life; sometimes it made her laugh when she was all alone, and there was nothing of a laughter-producing nature in her way; and sometimes it made her cry, both the crying and the laughter being one. It was strange, very strange, and yet sweet. Under the influence of this, and of the secret homage which Northcote paid her whenever they met; and which she now understood as she had never understood it before, the girl’s whole nature expanded, though she did not know. She was becoming sweet to the children, to puzzled Janey, to every one around her. Her little petulances were all subdued. She was more sympathetic than she had ever been before. And yet she was not in love with her lover. It was only that the sunshine of young life had caught her, that the highest gratification of youth had fallen to her share unawares. All this might have been, and yet some one else come in to secure Ursula’s real love; but in the mean time she was all the happier, all the better for the love which she did not return.

This is a digression from our immediate subject, which was the luncheon prepared for Mr. Copperhead. Ursula sent up an urgent message for Phœbe, who came to her in her prettiest morning dress, very carefully arranged, but with a line of care upon her brow.

“I will come if you wish it, dear,” she said; “but I don’t want to meet Mr. Copperhead. I don’t like him.”

“Neither do I like him,” cried Ursula. “He said something disagreeable the little moment he was here. Oh, I don’t remember what it was, but something. Please stay. What am I to do with them all by myself? If you will help me, I may get through.”

Phœbe kissed her with a tremulous kiss; perhaps she was not unwilling to see with her own eyes what the father of Clarence meant, and what brought him here. She sat down at the window, and was the first to see them coming along the street.

“What a gentleman your father looks beside them,” cried Phœbe; “both of them, father and son; though Clarence, after all, is a great deal better than his father, less like a British snob.”

Ursula came and stood by her, looking out.

“I don’t think he is much better than his father,” she said.

Phœbe took her hand suddenly and wrung it, then dropped it as if it had hurt her. What did it all mean? Ursula, though rays of enlightenment had come to her, was still perplexed, and did not understand.

Mr. Copperhead did not see her till he went to luncheon, when Phœbe appeared with little Amy May looking like a visitor, newly arrived. She had run upstairs after that first sight of him from the window, declaring herself unable to be civil to him except at table. The great man’s face almost grew pale at the sight of her. He looked at Ursula, and then at Clarence, and laughed.

“’Wheresoever the carcase is the eagles are gathered together,’” he said. “That’s Scripture, ain’t it, Miss Ursula? I am not good at giving chapter and verse.”

“What does it mean?” asked Ursula.

She was quite indifferent to Mr. Copperhead, and perfectly unconscious of his observation. As for Phœbe, on the contrary, she was slightly agitated, her placid surface ruffled a little, and she looked her best in her agitation. Mr. Copperhead looked straight at her across the table, and laughed in his insolent way.

“So you are here too, Miss Phœbe!” he said. “I might think myself in the Crescent if I didn’t know better. I met young Northcote just now, and now you. What may you be doing here, might one ask? It is what you call a curious coincidence, ain’t it, Clarence and you both here?”

“I said so when Mr. Clarence came,” said Phœbe. “I came to take care of my grandmother, who is ill; and it was a very lucky thing for me that I had met Miss May at your ball, Mr. Copperhead.”

“By Jove, wasn’t it!” said Clarence, roused to some dull sense of what was going on. “We owe all the fun we have had here to that, so we do. Odd, when one thinks of it; and thought so little of it then, didn’t we? It’s a very queer world.”

“So you’ve been having fun here?” said his father. “I thought you came here to work; that’s how we old fellows get taken in. Work! with young ladies dangling about, and putting things into your head! I ought to have known better, don’t you think so, Miss Ursula? 完全 could have taught me a thing or two.”

“I?” said Ursula, startled. “I don’t know what I could teach any one. I think Mr. Clarence Copperhead has kept to his hours very steadily. Papa is rather severe; he never would take any excuse from any of us when we were working with him.”

“He is not so severe now, I’ll be bound,” said Mr. Copperhead. “Lets you have your fun a little, as Clarence tells me; don’t you, May? Girls will be girls, and boys, boys, whatever we do; and I am sure, Miss Phœbe, you have been very entertaining, as you always were.”

“I have done my best,” said Phœbe, looking him in the face. “I should have had a dull life but for the Parsonage, and I have tried to be grateful. I have accompanied your son on the violin a great many evenings, and I hope our friends have liked it. Mr. Clarence is a promising player, though I should like him to trust less to his ear; but we always pulled through.”

“Thanks to you,” said Clarence, in the middle of his cutlet

He did not quite see why she should flourish this music in his father’s face; but still he was loyal in a dull fashion, and he was obstinate, and did not mean to be “sat upon,” to use his own words. As for Phœbe, her quick mind caught at once the best line of policy. She determined to deliver Ursula, and she determined at the same time to let her future father-in-law (if he was to be her father-in-law) see what sort of a person he had to deal with. As soon as she made up her mind, her agitation disappeared. It was only the uncertainty that had cowed her; now she saw what to do.

“So!” said Mr. Copperhead, “musical evenings! I hope you have not turned poor Clar’s head among you, young ladies. It’s not a very strong head; and two is more than a match for one. I dare say he has had no chance between you.”

“Make yourself quite easy,” said Phœbe, with her sweetest smile; “he was only one of a party. Mr. Reginald May and Mr. Northcote are both very pleasant companions. Your son is bored sometimes, but the rest of us are never bored. You see, he has been accustomed to more brilliant society; but as for us, we have no particular pretensions. We have been very happy. And if there has been two to one, it has been the other way.”

“I think I must let your people know of your gaieties, Miss Phœbe. If your mother sent you here, I don’t doubt it was for a purpose, eh? She knows what she’s about, and she won’t like it if she knows you are fritting away your chances and your attentions. She has an eye for business, has Mrs. Beecham,” said the leading member, with a laugh.

“You cannot tell mamma more about me than she knows already,” said Phœbe, with rising colour.

And by this time every one else at table was uncomfortable. Even Clarence, who had a dull appreciation of his father’s jokes when they were not levelled at himself, and who was by no means indisposed to believe that “girls,” generally, were “after him,” and that even in this particular case Phœbe herself might have come to Carlingford on purpose to complete his conquest, even Clarence was moved.

“I don’t know what you mean by brilliant society,” he said. “I know I’m the dull one among you clever people. I don’t say much, but I know it all the same; and it’s awfully good of you to pull me through all that music. I don’t begrudge you your laugh after. Is my mother coming over, sir, to see the place?”

“To see what? There is not much in the place,” said Mr. Copperhead. “You’re coming back with me, my boy. I hope it won’t inconvenience you, May. I’ve other views for him. Circumstances alter cases, you know. I’ve been turning it over in my head, and I think I can see my way to another arrangement.”

“That, of course, is entirely in your own hands,” said Mr. May, with a cheerfulness he did not feel. His heart sank, but every rule of good society made it incumbent upon him to show no failure at such a moment. “Copperhead, see that your father has some wine. Well, I suppose our poor little Carlingford is not much of a place; no trade, no movement, no manufactures—”

“The sort of place that should be cleared off the face of the earth,” said the millionnaire; “meaning no offence, of course. That’s my opinion in respect to country towns. What’s the good of them? Nests of gossip, places where people waste their time, and don’t even amuse themselves. Give me green fields and London, that is my sort. I don’t care if there was not another blessed brick in the country. There is always something that will grow in a field, corn or fat beasts—not that we couldn’t get all that cheaper from over the water if it was managed as it ought to be. But a place like this, what’s the good of it? Almshouses and chaplains, and that kind of rubbish, and old women; there’s old women by the score.”

“They must be somewhere, I suppose,” said Mr. May. “We cannot kill them off, if they are inoffensive, and keep the laws. So that, after all, a country town is of use.”

“Kill ’em off—no; it’s against what you benevolent humbugs call the spirit of the time, and Christianity, and all that; but there’s such a thing as carrying Christianity too far; that’s my opinion. There’s your almshouses now. What’s the principle of them? I call it encouraging those old beggars to live,” said Mr. Copperhead; “giving them permission to burden the community as long as they can manage it; a dead mistake, depend upon it, the greatest mistake in the world.”

“I think there is a great deal to be said in favour of Euthanasia,” said Phœbe, quietly stepping into the conversation; “but then it would have to be with the consent of the victims. When any one found himself useless, unnecessary to the world, or unhappy in it—”

“Humbug and nonsense,” said Mr. Copperhead. “A likely thing for anybody to do. No, it is not a question for law-making. Let ’em die out naturally, that’s my opinion. Don’t do anything to hurry ’em—that is, I don’t see my way to it; but let ’em go quiet, and don’t bring ’em cordials and feather-beds, and all that middyeval nonsense, to keep ’em going as long as possible. It’s wicked, that’s what it is.”

“At all events,” said Mr. May, who, poor man, was bent on pleasing, “it is refreshing to hear opinions so bold and original. Something new is always a blessing. I cannot say I agree with you—”

“No parson would be bold enough for that. Christianity’s been a capital thing for the world,” said Mr. Copperhead, “I don’t say a word against it; but in these go-ahead days, sir, we’ve had enough of it, that’s to say when it’s carried too far. All this fuss about the poor, all the row about dragging up a lot of poor little beggars to live that had far better die, and your almshouses to keep the old ones going, past all nature! Shovel the mould over them, that’s the thing for the world; let ’em die when they ought to die; and let them live who can live—that’s my way of thinking—and what’s more, I’m right.”

“What a fine thing for you, Mr. Clarence,” cried Phœbe, “who are going into Parliament! to take up your father’s idea and work it out. What a speech you could make on the subject! I saw a hospital once in Paris that would make such a wonderful illustration. I’ll tell you about it if you like. Poor old wretched people whose life was nothing but wretchedness kept going, kept living for years and years—why, no one could tell; for I am sure it would have been better, far better for them to die and be done with it. What a speech you might make when you bring a bill into Parliament to abolish almshouses and all sorts of charities!” she added with a laugh, turning from Clarence, at whom she had been looking, to his father, who was puzzled, and did not know how to understand the young woman’s eyes.

“I’ll never make much of a speech in Parliament,” said Clarence; “unless you make it for me,” he added in an undertone. But no one else was speaking, and the undertone was quite audible. Meanwhile Phœbe had not ceased to look at his father, and held him with a pair of eyes not like the Ancient Mariner’s. Mr. Copperhead was confused, his power even of insolence was cowed for the moment. He obeyed quite docilely the movement made to leave the table. Was it possible that she defied him, this Minister’s daughter, and measured her strength against his? Mr. Copperhead felt as if he could have shaken the impertinent girl, but dared not, being where he was.

And lunch being over, Mr. May led his pupil’s father into his study. “I want to show you what your boy has been doing,” he said, pointing to a line of books which made the millionnaire’s soul shrink within him. “I have not bothered him with classics; what was the use as he is not going back to Oxford? but I have done my best for him in a practical way. He has read history, largely as you see, and as much as I could give him of political and constitutional—”

“Yes, yes,” said Mr. Copperhead, reading the titles of some of the books under his breath. They impressed him deeply, and took away for a moment his self-confidence. It was his habit to boast that he knew nothing about books; but in their presence he shrank, feeling that they were greater than he, which was, there is little doubt, a sign of grace.

“If you wish to remove Clarence,” said Mr. May, “perhaps I had better make out a scheme of reading for him.”

“Look here,” cried the rich man, “I didn’t want to remove him; but there he is, the first I see of him, cheek for jowl with a good-looking girl. I don’t mean to say a word against Miss May, I’ve no doubt she’s charming; but anyhow there she is side by side with Clar, who is no more able to resist that sort of thing—”

Mr. May laughed, and this time with unmitigated amusement. “Do you mean Ursula? I think I can answer for it that she made no attempts upon him for which resistance would be necessary.”

“That’s all very well to say; but bless you they do it, every one,” said Mr. Copperhead, “without exception, when a young fellow’s well off and well-looking; and as if one wasn’t bad enough, you’ve got Phœbe Beecham. You won’t tell me she doesn’t mean anything?—up to any mischief, a real minister’s daughter. I don’t mean anything uncivil to you or yours. I suppose a parson’s different; but we know what a minister’s daughter is in our connection. Like the men themselves, in short, who are always pouncing on some girl with a fortune if her relations don’t take care. And Clarence is as weak as a baby; he takes after his mother—a poor bit of a feeble creature, though he’s like me in exterior. That’s how it is, you perceive; I don’t quite see my way to letting him go on.”

“That is of course precisely as you please,” said Mr. May, somewhat sharply. He would preserve his dignity even though his heart was sinking; but he could not keep that tone of sharpness out of his voice.

“Of course it is as I please. I’ll pay up of course for the second three months, if you choose, fair and square. I meant him to stay, and I’ll pay. But that’s all. You’ve no further claim upon me that I know of; and I must say that for a tutor, a regular coach, to keep girls in his house, daughters, or whatever you choose to call them, is something monstrous. It’s a thing no fellow’s friends would put up with. It’s what I call dishonourable.”

“Perhaps,” said Mr. May, with all the self-possession he was master of, “you will let your son know at once that he must pack and go. I dare say, Sir Robert can take him, and we will send the portmanteaux. In such a case, it is better there should not be a moment’s delay.”

“Clarence!” cried Mr. Copperhead, walking to the door and opening it. “Come along, look sharp, you’re to go. I’ll take you with me, do you hear? And May will see to sending you your boxes. Quick, come along, there’s no time to lose.”

“Go!” said Clarence, coming in startled, with his eyebrows rising almost into his hair. “Go? What do you mean? Out of the Parsonage? The Governor’s been having too much sherry,” he said, coming close to Mr. May’s arm; he had himself been taking too much of the sherry, for the good reason that nobody had taken any notice of what he did, and that he had foreseen the excitement that was coming. “You don’t mean it, I know,” he added aloud; “I’ll go over for the night if Sir Robert will have me, and see my mother—”

“Ask May,” said Mr. Copperhead, “you’ll believe him, I suppose; he’s as glad to get rid of you as I am to take you away.”

“Is this true?” cried Clarence, roused and wondering, “and if so, what’s happened? I ain’t a baby, you know, to be bundled about from one to another. The Governor forgets that.”

“Your father,” said Mr. May, “chooses to remove you, and that is all I choose to say.”

“But, by George, I can say a deal more,” said Mr. Copperhead. “You simpleton, do you think I am going to leave you here where there’s man-traps about? None of such nonsense for me. Put your things together, I tell you. Phœbe Beecham’s bad enough at home; but if she thinks she’s to have you here to pluck at her leisure, she and her friends—”

“W—hew!” said Clarence, with a long whistle. “So that’s it. I am very sorry, father, if these are your sentiments; but I may as well tell you at once I shan’t go.”

“You—must go.”

“No,” he said, squaring his shoulders and putting out his shirt front; he had never been roused into rebellion before, and perhaps without these extra glasses of sherry he would not have had the courage now. But what with sherry, and what with 恋情, and what with the thing he called love, Clarence Copperhead mounted all at once upon a pedestal. He had a certain dogged obstinacy in him, suspected by nobody but his mother, who had little enough to say in the guidance of her boy. He set himself square like a pugilist, which was his notion of resistance. Mr. May looked on with a curious mixture of feelings. His own sudden and foolish hope was over, and what did it matter to him whether the detestable father or the coarse son should win? He turned away from them with contempt, which was made sharp by their utter uselessness to himself. Had it been possible that he might have what he wanted from Mr. Copperhead, his patience would have held out against any trial; but the moment that hope was over, what further interest had he in the question? He went to his writing-table and sat down there, leaving them to fight it out as they would, by themselves. It was no affair of his.

第三十七章·一个愉快的夜晚 •2,600字

The result, however, was a compromise. Clarence Copperhead went off with his father and Sir Robert to the Hall for the night, but was to return next day, and Phœbe was left in a condition of some excitement behind them, not quite knowing what to think. She was as sure as ever that he had made up his mind to propose; but he had not done it, and what effect his father’s visit, and perhaps his mother’s entreaties, might have upon him, Phœbe could not tell. The crisis excited her beyond any excitement which she would have thought possible in respect to Clarence Copperhead. She was more like an applicant for office kept uncertain whether she was to have a desirable post or not, than a girl on the eve of a lover’s declaration. This was her own conception of the circumstances. She did not dislike Clarence; quite the reverse. She had no sympathy with Ursula’s impatience of his heavy vanity. Phœbe had been used to him all her life, and had never thought badly of the heavy boy whom she had been invited to amuse when she was six years old, and whom she had no particular objection to amuse still, let the others wonder at her as they might. Poor Reginald, contemplating bitterly her many little complacencies to his rival, set them down hastily to an appreciation of that rival’s worldly advantages, which was not quite a just sentence. It was true, and yet it was not true; other feelings mingled in Phœbe’s worldliness. She did, indeed, perceive and esteem highly the advantages which Clarence could give her; but she had not the objections to Clarence himself that the others had. She was willing, quite willing, to undertake the charge of him, to manage, and guide, and make a man of him. And yet, while it was not pure worldliness, much less was it actual love which moved her. It was a kind of habitual affection, as for the “poor thing, but mine own, sir,” of the jester. He was but a poor creature, but Phœbe knew she could make something of him, and she had no distaste to the task. When she began to perceive that Reginald, in so many ways Clarence’s superior, was at her disposal, a sense of gratification went through Phœbe’s mind, and it certainly occurred to her that the feeling he might inspire would be a warmer and a more delightful one than that which would fall to Clarence Copperhead; but she was not tempted thereby to throw Clarence off for the other. No, she was pleased, and not unwilling to expend a little tender regret and gratitude upon poor Reginald. She was ready to be “kind” to him, though every woman knows that is the last thing she ought to be to a rejected lover; and she was full of sympathy for the disappointment which, nevertheless, she fully intended was to be his lot. This seems paradoxical, but it is no more paradoxical than human creatures generally are. On this particular evening her heart beat very high on account of Clarence, to know if he would have strength of mind to hold his own against his father, and if he would come back to her and ask her, as she felt certain he meant to do, that one momentous question. Her heart would not have been broken had he not done so, but still she would have been disappointed. Notwithstanding when the evening came, the absence of Clarence was a relief to Phœbe as well as to the rest of the party, and she gave herself up to the pleasures of a few hours of half-tender intercourse with Reginald, with a sense of enjoyment such as she seldom felt. This was very wrong, there is no denying it, but still so it was. She was anxious that Clarence should come back to her, and ask her to be his wife; and yet she was pleased to be rid of Clarence, and to give her whole attention and sympathy to Reginald, trying her best to please him. It was very wrong; and yet such things have happened before, and will again; and are as natural, perhaps, as the more absolute and unwavering passion which has no doubt of its object, passion like Northcote’s, who had neither eyes nor ears for anything but Ursula. The four were alone together that evening, and enjoyed it thoroughly. Clarence was away, who, to all but Phœbe, was an interruption of their intercourse; and Mr. May was away in his study, too much absorbed to think of any duties that ought to have devolved upon him as chaperon; and even Janey was out of the way, taking tea with Mrs. 赫斯特。 So the two young pairs sat round the table and talked; the girls, with a mutual panic, which neither breathed to the other, keeping together, avoiding separation into pairs. Ursula out of very shyness and fright alone, lest another chapter of the strange, novel, too moving love-tale might be poured into her ears; but Phœbe with more settled purpose, to prevent any disclosure on the part of Reginald. The evening was mixed up of pleasure and pain to the two young men, each eager to find himself alone with the girl whom he loved; but it is to be feared the girls themselves had a furtive guilty enjoyment of it, which they ought not to have had. Open and outrageous love-making is not half so delicate a pastime as that in which nothing distinct dare be said, but all is implication, conveyed and understood without words.

It was with fear and trembling at last that Phœbe went to the piano, which was at the other end of the room, after making all the resistance which was possible.

“Thank Heaven, that idiot and his fiddle aren’t here to-night to interfere!” cried Reginald.

Phœbe shook her head at him, but ventured on no words; and how she did exert herself on the piano, playing things which were a great deal too classical for Reginald, who would have preferred the simplest stock piece, under cover of which he might have talked to her hanging over her chair, and making belief to turn over the music! This was what he wanted, poor fellow. He had no heart nor ears for Beethoven, which Phœbe played to him with a tremor in her heart, and yet, the wicked little witch, with some enjoyment too.

“This is not the sort of thing you play when Copperhead is here,” he said at last, driven to resistance.

“Oh, we play Mendelssohn,” said Phœbe, with much show of innocence; and then she added, “You ought to feel the compliment if I play Beethoven to you.”

“So I ought, I suppose,” said Reginald. “The truth is, I don’t care for music. Don’t take your hands off the keys.”

“Why, you have done nothing but worry me to play!”

“Not for the music,” said Reginald, quite satisfied to have got his will. “Why will you not talk to me and play to me, as I wish?”

“Perhaps, if I knew what you wish—” Phœbe said, in spite of herself.

“Oh, how I should like to tell you! No, not Beethoven; a little, just a little music. Heavens!” cried Reginald, as she crashed into a fortissimo, “another sonata! Listen, I am not equal to sonatas. Nay, Miss Beecham, play me a little nothing—talk to me.”

She shook her head at him with a laugh, and went on playing the hardest piece of music she could think of, complicating herself in difficult chords and sudden accidentals. If there had been anybody there to hear who could have understood, Phœbe’s performance would, no doubt, have appeared a masterpiece of brilliant execution, as it was; but the two others were paying not the slightest attention, and as for Reginald, he was in a state of tantalized vexation, which half-amused himself, and filled the performer with an exhilarating sense of successful mischief. Northcote was trying to say—what was he not trying to say?—to Ursula, under cover of the music, which was the best shield he could have had; and perhaps in reality, though Reginald was tantalized to the utmost degree of tantalization, even he had a certain enjoyment in the saucy self-defence which was more mischievous than cruel. He stood behind Phœbe’s chair, now and then meeting her laughing glance with one of tender appeal and reproach, pleased to feel himself thus isolated with her, and held an arm’s-length in so genial a way. He would have his opportunity after a while, when there would be no piano to give her a momentary refuge, and then he would say out all that was in his heart, with no possible shadow of a rival to interfere with him. Angry? no; as he stood behind her, watching her fingers fly over the keys, a delightful calm stole over Reginald. Now and then she would throw a half-mocking glance at him upward over her shoulder, as she swept over the resounding board. When the sonata was concluded, Phœbe sprang up from the piano, and went back to the table. She proposed that they should play a game at cards, to which Ursula agreed. The young men shrugged their shoulders and protested; but, after all, what did it matter, so long as they were together? They fell into their places quite naturally, the very cards assisting; and so the moments flew by. There was not so much sound as usual in the old faded drawing-room, which had come to look so bright and homelike; not so much sound of voices, perhaps less laughter—yet of all the evenings they had spent there together, that was the one they looked back upon, all four, with most tender recollection. They had been so happy, or, if not happy, so near (apparently) to happiness, which is better sometimes than happiness itself.

“Don’t let Reginald come with me,” Phœbe whispered, as she kissed her friend, and said good night, “or ask Mr. Northcote to come too.”

“Why?” said Ursula, with dreamy eyes; her own young tide of life was rising, invading, for the moment, her perceptions, and dulling her sense of what was going on round her. There was no time, however, for anything more to be said, for Reginald was close behind with his hat in his hand. Phœbe had to resign herself, and she knew what was coming. The only thing was, if possible, to stop the declaration on the way.

“This is the first chance I have had of seeing you home without that perpetual shadow of Copperhead—”

“Ah, poor Clarence!” said Phœbe. “I wonder how he is getting on away from us all to-night.”

“Poor Clarence!” echoed Reginald aghast. “You don’t mean to say that you—miss him, Miss Beecham? I never heard you speak of him in that tone before.”

“Miss him! no, perhaps not exactly,” said Phœbe, with a soft little sigh; “but still—I have known him all my life, Mr. May; when we were quite little I used to be sent for to his grand nursery, full of lovely toys and things—a great deal grander than mine.”

“And for that reason—” said Reginald, becoming bitter, with a laugh.

“Nothing for that reason,” said Phœbe; “but I noticed it at six as I should at twenty. I must have been a horrid little worldly-minded thing, don’t you think? So you see there are the associations of a great many years to make me say Poor Clarence, when anything is the matter with him.”

“He is lucky to rouse your sympathies so warmly,” cried Reginald, thoroughly wretched; “but I did not know there was anything the matter.”

“I think there will be if he has to leave our little society, where we have all been so happy,” said Phœbe, softly. “How little one thought, coming here a stranger, how pleasant it was to be! I especially, to whom coming to Carlingford was rather—perhaps I might say a humiliation. I am very fond of grandpapa and grandmamma now, but the first introduction was something of a shock—I have never denied it; and if it had not been for sweet kind Ursula and you—all.”

The little breathless fragmentary pause which Phœbe made between the you and the “all,” giving just a ghost of emphasis to the pronoun, sounded to poor Reginald in his foolishness almost like a caress. How cleverly it was managed, with just so much natural feeling in it as gave it reality! They were approaching No. 6, and Martha, the maid, already was visible at the open door.

“Then you do give me some share—some little share,” he cried, with a broken voice. “Ah, if you would only let me tell you what your coming has been to me. It has opened up my life; I feel everything different, the old earth itself; there is a new light upon the whole world—”

“Hush, here is Martha!” cried Phœbe, “she will not understand about new lights. Yes, it has been pleasant, very pleasant; when one begins to sigh and realize how pleasant a thing has been, I always fear it is going to be broken up.”

不祥之兆!” cried Reginald, fervently, taking the hand she had put out to bid him good night, and holding it fast to detain her; and was there moisture in the eyes which she lifted to him, and which glistened, he thought, though there was only the distant light of a lamp to see them by?

“You must not keep me now,” cried Phœbe, “here is grandpapa coming. Good night, Mr. May, good night.”

Was Phœbe a mere coquette pure et simple? As soon as she had got safe within these walls, she stooped down over the primroses to get rid of Martha, and then in the darkness had a cry, all by herself, on one side of the wall, while the young lover, with his head full of her, checked, but not altogether discouraged, went slowly away on the other. She cried, and her heart contracted with a real pang. He was very tender in his reverential homage, very romantic, a true lover, not the kind of man who wants a wife or wants a clever companion to amuse him, and save him the expense of a coach, and be his to refer to in everything. That was an altogether different kind of thing. Phœbe went in with a sense in her mind that perhaps she had never touched so close upon a higher kind of existence, and perhaps never again might have the opportunity; but before she had crossed the garden, she had begun once more to question whether Clarence would have the fortitude to hold his own against everything that father or mother could do to change his mind. Would he have the fortitude? Would he come back to her, safe and determined, or would he yield to arguments in favour of some richer bride, and come back either estranged or at the least doubtful? This gave her a pang of profound anxiety at the bottom of her heart.

第三十八章 远征 •4,100字

先生。 May did not come upstairs that evening. It was not that he was paralysed as he had been on the previous occasion, when he sat as now and heard Phœbe go away after her first visit, and when the wind blowing in from the open door playfully carried to his feet the scribbled note with Tozer’s name. He was not stupefied as then, nor was he miserable. The threatened withdrawal of Clarence Copperhead was more to him than the impending ruin meant by that bill which was so nearly due. He was occupied by that to the exclusion of the other. It would be a most serious change to him in every way. He had calculated on the continuance of this additional income for at least a year, and short of the year it would have done him no good, but had simply plunged him into additional expense. It was this he was thinking of, and which kept him in his study after the young people had assembled. Cotsdean had come again while Mr. May was at dinner, which by some curious unconscious aggravation on his part was the time he especially chose as most convenient for him; and he had again sent a dirty note by Bobby, imploring his principal to think of the impending fate, and not to desert him. 先生。 May was angry at this perpetual appeal. “Why should I desert him, the idiot?” he said to himself; and moved by the man’s persistence, he took out his pocket-book again, and made out beyond all chance of mistake, that it was the 18th. Why should the fool insist upon its being the 15th with such perpetual iteration? There were the figures as plain as possible, 18th April. 先生。 May wrote a peremptory note announcing this fact to Cotsdean, and then returned to his own thoughts. Sir Robert had asked him to go over that morning and spend the day at the Hall with the Copperheads, not knowing of any breach between them. He thought he had better do this. If Clarence determined to stay, that would be a great thing in his favour, and he had seen that the young man’s dull spirit was roused; and if that hope failed, there might still be advantage even in this sudden breaking of the bond. Part of the second quarter was gone, and the father had offered three months additional pay. These two payments would make up the hundred and fifty pounds at once, and settle the business. Thus, in either way, he should be safe, for if Clarence went away the money would be paid; and if he stayed, Mr. May himself had made up his mind to risk the bold step of going to the bank and asking an advance on this inalienable security. All these deliberations made his mind easy about the bill. It must come right one way or another; he might have chosen perhaps not to run it quite so close; but after all the 15th was only to-morrow, and there were still three days. While his mind was full of these things he did not care to go upstairs. He heard the voices of the young people, but he was too much engrossed with his own calculations to care to join them. It was a close thing, he said to himself, a very close thing; but still he felt that he could do it—surely he could do it. 如果先生 Copperhead settled with him—and he was the sort of man, a man to whom money was nothing, to do so on the spot if he took it into his head—then all was right. 如果先生。 Copperhead did not do so, the bank, though his past transactions with it had not been encouraging, would certainly make all right on account of these Copperhead payments, which were as certain as any payments could be. He went to bed early, being engrossed by these thoughts, not even saying good-night to Ursula, as was his wont; and he made up his mind to take an early breakfast, and start the first thing in the morning for the Hall. There was an early train which would suit admirably. He could not afford to drive, as Sir Robert had done, changing horses half way. He went upstairs to bed, somewhat heavily, but not discontented, seeing his way. After all, the great thing in life is to see your way. It does not matter so much whether that way is great or small, so long as you can see it plain before you. 先生。 May breathed a sigh of anxiety as he ended the day. He had a great many things on his mind; but still he was not altogether heavy-hearted or discouraged beyond measure; things, he felt, would shape themselves better than he had hoped. He was not perhaps going to be so much better off than of old, as he thought possible when Clarence Copperhead came. Such delusive prospects do glimmer across a poor man’s path when any apparent expansion of means occurs to him; but in the majority of cases he has to consent to see the fine fictitious glow die away. 先生。 May was not ignorant of this experience already.

He was silent at breakfast, but not disagreeable, and Ursula was too much taken up with her own concerns to pay much attention to him. Ursula’s concerns were developing with a rapidity altogether extraordinary. In the mind of a girl of twenty, unforestalled by any previous experience, the process that goes on between the moment when the surprising, overwhelming discovery rushes upon her that some one loves her in the old way of romance, until the corresponding moment when she finds out that her own heart too has been invaded by this wonderful sentiment, which is like nothing that was ever known before, is of a very rapid description. It is like the bursting of a flower, which a day’s sunshine brings to the blooming point like a miracle, though it is in reality the simplest result of nature. Already there began to glow a haze of brightness about those three months past in which everything had begun. When or how it began she could not now tell. The glow of it was in her eyes and dazzled her. She heard the voices of the others sounding vaguely through this bright mist in which she herself was isolated; when she was obliged to reply, she called herself back with an effort, and did so—but of her own will she seldom spoke. How Janey chattered, how the children maundered on about their little concerns, which were of consequence to nobody! Papa was the person whom Ursula really respected this morning, for he had more sense than to talk. How could people talk, as if there was pleasure in that? But papa had more sense, he had things to think of—too. So the girl approved her father, and thought more highly of him, and never inquired what it might be that occupied his mind, and kept him from noticing even when the children were unruly. And it would be giving the reader an unfair idea of the children, if we attempted to conceal that they did take advantage of their opportunities, and were as unruly as well-conditioned children in the circumstances were likely to be. Mr. May took no notice; he took his coffee hurriedly and went off to the station.

“If I don’t return this evening you need not be alarmed. I shall come back at the latest to-morrow morning,” he said.

The children all rushed to the window to see him go away; even Ursula looking out dreamily remarked him too, as she seldom did; and Mrs. Sam Hurst at her window, wondering where her neighbour could be going, heaved a deep sigh of admiration, which though she was not “in love,” as the girls thought, with Mr. May, was a passing tribute to his good looks and training. He looked a gentleman every inch of him—an English gentleman, spotless in linen, speckless in broadcloth, though his dress was far from new; the freshness of sound health and a clear conscience on his handsome face, though he was no longer young. His abundant hair, steel-grey, slightly crisped under his hat, not curling exactly, but with a becoming twist in it—clerical, yet not too clerical, a man given to no extremes, decorously churchmanlike, yet liberal and tolerant of the world. Though she was too wise to compromise her own comfort by marrying him, Mrs. Hurst felt that there was a great pleasure in making his daughters anxious about her “intentions,” and that even to be said to be in love with such a man was no shame, but rather the reverse.

He went away accordingly, taking a short cut to the railway, and thus missing Cotsdean, who came breathless ten minutes after he was gone, and followed him to the train; but too late.

“Well, well,” Cotsdean said to himself, wiping his forehead, “Old Tozer has plenty, it ain’t nothing to him to pay. They can settle it between ’em.”

Cotsdean himself was easier in his mind than he had ever been before on such an occasion. His clergyman, though personally an awful and respect-inspiring personage, was so far as money went a man of straw, as he well knew, and his name on a bill was very little worth; but Tozer was a man who could pay his way. A hundred and fifty pounds, or even ten times that, would not ruin the old shopkeeper. Cotsdean’s sense of commercial honour was not so very keen that the dishonouring of his bill in the circumstances should give him a very serious pang. He would not be sold up, or have an execution put into his shop when the other party to the bill was so substantial a person. Of course Tozer, when he signed it, must have been told all about it, and Cotsdean did not see how with two such allies against ruin, anything very serious could befall him. He was uneasy indeed, but his uneasiness had no such force in it as before. He went back to his shop and his business prepared to take the matter as calmly as possible. He was but passive in it. It could not harm him much in the eyes of his banker, who knew his affairs too well to be much astonished at any such incident, and Tozer and Mr. May must settle it between them. It was their affair.

Meanwhile Mr. May rattled along in the railway towards the Hall. He got a dog-cart at the little inn at the station to take him over, though generally when he went to see the Dorsets it was his custom to walk. “But what were a few shillings?” he said to himself, the prodigality of desperation having seized upon him. In any case he could pay that, and if he was to be ruined, what did a few shillings more or less matter? but the discomfort of walking over those muddyroads, and arriving with dirty boots and a worn-out aspect, mattered a great deal. He reached the Hall at a propitious moment, when Mr. Copperhead was in the highest good-humour. He had been taken over the place, from one end to another, over the stables, the farm-buildings, the farm itself from end to end, the preserves, the shrubberies, the greenhouses, everything; all of which details he examined with an unfailing curiosity which would have been highly flattering to the possessors if it had not been neutralized by a strain of comment which was much less satisfactory. When Mr. May went in, he found him in the dining-room, with Sir Robert and his daughters standing by, clapping his wings and crowing loudly over a picture which the Dorsets prized much. It represented a bit of vague Italian scenery, mellow and tranquil, and was a true “Wilson,” bought by an uncle of Sir Robert’s, who had been a connoisseur, from the Master himself, in the very country where it was painted; and all these details pleased the imagination of the family, who, though probably they would have been but mildly delighted had they possessed the acquaintance of the best of contemporary painters, were proud that Uncle Charles had known Italian Wilson, and had bought a picture out of his studio. A Hobbema or a Poussin would scarcely have pleased them as much, for the worst of an old Master is that your friends look suspiciously upon it as a copy; whereas Wilson is scarcely old enough or precious enough to be copied. They were showing their picture and telling the story to the millionnaire with an agreeable sense that, though they were not so rich, they must, at least, have the advantage of him in this way.

“Ha!” said Mr. Copperhead, “you should see my Turner. Didn’t I show you my Turner? I don’t venture to tell you, Sir Robert, what that picture cost me. It’s a sin, it is, to keep that amount of capital hanging useless upon a bit of wall. The Wilson may be all very well. I ain’t a judge of art, and I can’t give my opinion on that point, though it’s a common sort of a name, and there don’t seem to be much in it; but everybody knows what a Turner means. Here’s May; he’ll be able to tell you as well as another. It means a few cool thousands, take my word for it. It means, I believe, that heaps of people would give you your own price. I don’t call it a profitable investment, for it brings in no interest; but they tell me it’s a thing that grows in value every year. And there it is, Sir, hanging up useless on my wall in Portland Place, costing a fortune, and bringing in not a penny. But I like it; I like it, for I can afford it, by George! Here’s May; he knows what that sort of thing is; he’ll tell you that a Turner is worth its weight in gold.”

“Thank you, I don’t think I need any information on that subject,” said Sir Robert. “Besides, I saw your Turner. It is a pretty picture—if it is authentic; but Wilson, you know—”

“Wasn’t a big-enough swell not to be authentic, eh?” said Mr. Copperhead. “Common name enough, and I don’t know that I ever heard of him in the way of painting; but I don’t pretend to be a judge. Here’s May; now, I dare say he knows all about it. Buying’s one thing, knowing’s another. Your knowing ones, when they’ve got any money, they have the advantage over us, Sir Robert; they can pick up a thing that’s good, when it happens to come their way, dirt cheap; but fortunately for us, it isn’t often they’ve got any money,” he added, with a laugh, slapping Mr. May on the shoulder in a way which made him totter. But the clergyman’s good-humour was equal even to this assault. It is wonderful how patient and tolerant we can all be when the motive is strong enough.

“That is true,” he said; “but I fear I have not even the compensation of knowledge. I know enough, however, to feel that the possessor of a Turner is a public personage, and may be a public benefactor if he pleases.”

“How that? If you think I am one to go lending my pictures about, or leaving them to the nation when I’m done for, that’s not my sort. No, I keep them to myself. If I consent to have all that money useless, it is for myself, you may depend, and not for other people. And I’ll leave it to my boy Clarence, if he behaves himself. He’s a curiosity, too, and has a deal of money laid out on him that brings no interest, him and his mother. I’ll leave it to Clar, if he doesn’t make a low marriage, or any folly of that kind.”

“You should make it an heir-loom,” said Sir Robert, with sarcasm too fine for his antagonist; “leave it from father to son of your descendants, like our family diamonds and plate.”

Anne and Sophy looked at each other and smiled, the one sadly, the other satirically. The Dorset family jewels were rose-diamonds of small value, and the plate was but moderate in quantity, and not very great in quality. Poor Sir Robert liked to blow his little trumpet too, but it was not so blatant as that of his visitor, whose rude senses did not even see the intended malice.

“By George! I think I will,” he said. “I’m told it’s as safe as the bank, and worth more and more every year, and if it don’t bring in anything, it don’t eat anything; eh, May? Look here; perhaps I was hasty the other day,” he said, pushing the clergyman a little apart from the group with a large hand on his shoulder. “Clarence tells me you’re the best coach he ever saw, and that he’s getting on like a house on fire.”

“He does make progress, I think,” answered the tutor, thus gracefully complimented.

“But all the same, you know, I had a right to be annoyed. Now a man of your sense—for you seem a man of sense, though you’re a parson, and know what side your bread’s buttered on—ought to see that it’s an aggravating thing when a young fellow has been sent to a coach for his instruction, and to keep him out of harm’s way, to find him cheek by jowl with a nice-looking young woman. That’s not what a father has a right to expect.”

“You couldn’t expect me to do away with my daughter because I happened to take a pupil?” said Mr. May, half-amused; “but I can assure you that she has no designs upon your son.”

“So I hear, so I hear,” said the other, with a mixture of pique and satisfaction. “Won’t look at him, Clar tells me; got her eye on some one else, little fool! She’ll never have such a chance again. As for having no designs, that’s bosh, you know; all women have designs. I’m a deal easier in my mind when I’m told she’s got other fish to fry.”

“Other fish to fry?” said Mr. May; this time he was wholly amused, and laughed. “This is news to me. However, we don’t want to discuss my little Ursula; about your son it will be well that I should know, for I might be forming other engagements. This moment is a time of pecuniary pressure with me,” he added, with the ingratiating smile and half-pathetic frankness of the would-be borrower. “I have not taken pupils before, but I want money for the time. My son’s settlement in life, you see, and—but the father of a large family can always find good reasons for wanting money.”

“That’s it,” said Mr. Copperhead, seriously. “Why are you the father of a large family? That’s what I ask our ministers. It’s against all political economy, that is. According as you’ve no money to give ’em, you go and have children—when it should be just the other way.”

“That may be very true; but there they are, and can’t be done away with; and I do want money, as it happens, more now than I shall want it a year hence, or, perhaps, even six months hence.”

“Most people do,” said Mr. Copperhead, withdrawing his hand from his pocket, and placing his elbow tightly against the orifice of that very important part of him. “It’s the commonest thing in the world. I want money myself, for that matter. I’ve always got a large amount to make up by a certain date, and a bill to pay. But about Clar, that’s the important matter. As he seems to have set his mind on it, and as you assure me there’s no danger—man-traps, or that sort of thing, eh?”

The colour came to Mr. May’s cheek; but it was only for a moment. To have his own daughter spoken of as a man-trap gave him a momentary thrill of anger; but, as he would have applied the word quite composedly to any other man’s daughter, the resentment was evanescent. He did not trust himself to answer, however, but nodded somewhat impatiently, which made the millionnaire laugh the more.

“Don’t like the man-trap?” he said. “Bless you, they’re all alike, not yours more than the rest. But as I was saying, if it’s warranted safe I suppose he’ll have to stay. But I don’t stand any nonsense, May; and look here, your music and all that ain’t in the agreement. He can have a master for his music, he’s well enough able to pay for it; but I won’t have a mistress, by George, to put folly into his head.”

“I am to forbid him the drawing-room, I suppose, and take his fiddle from him! I have no objections. Between ourselves, as I am not musical, it would be very agreeable to me; but perhaps he is rather over the age, don’t you think, for treatment of that kind?”

Clarence had come in, and stood watching the conversation, with a look Mr. Copperhead was not prepared for. Those mild brown eyes, which were his mother’s share in him, were full a-stare with sullen resolution, and his heavy mouth shut like that of a bull-dog. He lingered at the door, looking at the conversation which was going on between his father and his tutor, and they both noticed him at the same moment, and drew the same conclusion. Mr. May was in possession of the , as the French say, and he added instinctively in an undertone,

“Take care; if I were you I would not try him too far.”

Mr. Copperhead said nothing; but he stared too, rather aghast at this new revelation. What! his porcelain, his Dresden figure of a son, his crowning curiosity, was he going to show a will of his own? The despot felt a thrill go over him. What kind of a sentiment love was in his mind it would be hard to tell; but his pride was all set on this heavy boy. To see him a man of note, in Parliament, his name in the papers, his speeches printed in the “Times,” was the very heaven of his expectations. “Son of the famous Copperhead, the great contractor.” He did not care about such distinction in his own person; but this had been his dream ever since Clarence came into being. And now there he stood gloomy, obdurate. If he had made up his mind to make a low marriage, could his father hinder him—could anything hinder him? Mr. Copperhead looked at his son and quailed for the first time in his life.

“May,” he said, hurriedly, “do the best you can; he’s got all his mother’s d——d obstinacy, you can see, can’t you? but I’ve set my heart on making a man of him—do the best you can.”

Mr. May thought to himself afterwards if he had only had the vigour to say, “Pay me six months in advance,” the thing would have been done. But the lingering prejudices of breeding clung about him, and he could not do it. Mr. Copperhead, however, was very friendly all the rest of the day, and gave him private looks and words aside, to the great admiration of the Dorsets, to whom the alliance between them appeared remarkable enough.

第三十九章·一场灾难 •2,900字

先生。 May left the Hall before dinner, notwithstanding the warm invitation which was given to him to stay. He was rather restless, and though it was hard to go out into the dark just as grateful odours began to steal through the house, it suited him better to do so than to spend the night away from home. Besides, he comforted himself that Sir Robert’s cook was not first-rate, not good enough to make it a great temptation. It was a long walk to the station, for they had no horses at liberty to drive him, a fact at which he was slightly offended, though he was aware that Sir Robert’s stable was but a poor one. He set out just as the dressing-bell began to ring, fortified with a glass of sherry and a biscuit. The night was mild and soft, the hedgerows all rustling with the new life of the spring, and the stars beginning to come out as he went on; and on the whole the walk was pleasant, though the roads were somewhat muddy. As he went along, he felt himself fall into a curious dreamy state of mind, which was partly fatigue perhaps, but was not at all unpleasant. Sometimes he almost seemed to himself to be asleep as he trudged on, and woke up with a start, thinking that he saw indistinct figures, the skirt of a dress or the tail of a long coat, disappearing past him, just gone before he was fully awake to what it was. He knew there was no one on the lonely road, and that this was a dream or illusion, but still he kept seeing these vanishings of indistinct wayfarers, which did not frighten him in the least, but half-amused him in the curious state of his brain. He had got rid of his anxiety. It was all quite plain before him what to do,—to go to the Bank, to tell them what he had coming in, and to settle everything as easily as possible. The consciousness of having this to do acted upon him like a gentle opiate or dream-charm. When he got to the railway station, and got into a carriage, he seemed to be floating somehow in a prolonged vision of light and streaks of darkness, not quite aware now far he was going, or where he was going, across the country; and even when he arrived at Carlingford he roused himself with difficulty, not quite certain that he had to get out; then he smiled at himself, seeing the gas-lights in a sort of vague glimmer about him, not uncomfortable, but misty and half-asleep. “If Sir Robert’s sherry had been better, I should have blamed that,” he said to himself; and in fact it was a kind of drowsy, amiable mental intoxication which affected him, he scarcely could tell how. When he got within sight of his own house, he paused a moment and looked up at the lights in the windows. There was music going on; Phœbe, no doubt, for Ursula could not play so well as that, and the house looked full and cheerful. He had a cheerful home, there was no doubt of that. Young Copperhead, though he was a dunce, felt it, and showed an appreciation of better things in his determination not to leave the house where he had been so happy. 先生。

Upstairs in the drawing-room another idyllic evening had begun. Phœbe “had not intended to come,” but was there notwithstanding, persuaded by Ursula, who, glad for once to escape from the anxieties of dinner, had celebrated tea with the children, to their great delight, though she was still too dreamy and pre-occupied to respond much to them. And Northcote had “not intended to come.” Indeed, he had gone further than this, he had intended to keep away. But when he had eaten his solitary dinner, he, too, had strayed towards the centre of attraction, and walking up and down in forlorn contemplation of the lighted windows, had been spied by Reginald, and brought in after a faint resistance. So the four were together again, with only Janey to interpose an edge of general criticism and remark into the too personal strain of the conversation. Janey did not quite realize the importance of the place she was occupying, but she was keenly interested in all that was going on, very eager to understand the relationships in which the others stood, and to see for herself what progress had been made last night while she was absent. Her sharp girlish face, in which the eyes seemed too big for the features, expressed a totally different phase of existence from that which softened and subdued the others. She was all eyes and ears, and watchful scrutiny. It was she who prevented the utterance of the half-dozen words trembling on Northcote’s lips, to which Ursula had a soft response fluttering somewhere in her pretty throat, but which was not destined to be spoken to-night; and it was she who made Phœbe’s music quite a simple performance, attended with little excitement and no danger. Phœbe was the only one who was grateful to her, and perhaps even Phœbe could have enjoyed the agitations of the evening better had Janey been away. As it was, these agitations were all suppressed and incipient; they could not come to anything; there were no hairbreadth escapes, no breathless moments, when the one pursued had to exercise her best skill, and only eluded the pursuer by a step or two. Janey, with all her senses about her, hearing everything, seeing everything, neutralized all effort on the part of the lovers, and reduced the condition of Ursula and Phœbe to one of absolute safety. They were all kept on the curb, in the leash, by the presence of this youthful observer; and the evening, though full of a certain excitement and mixture of happiness and misery, glided on but slowly, each of the young men outdoing the other in a savage eagerness for Janey’s bed-time.

“Do you let her sit up till midnight every night?” said Reginald, with indignation.

“Let me sit up!” cried Janey, “as if I was obliged to do what she tells me!”

Ursula gave a little shrug to her pretty shoulders, and looked at the clock.

“It is not midnight yet; it is not nine o’clock,” she said, with a sigh. “I should have thought papa would have come home before now. Can he be staying at the Hall all night?”

Just then, however, there was the well-known ring at the bell, and Ursula ran downstairs to see after her father’s supper. Why couldn’t Janey make herself useful and do that, the little company thought indignantly and with one accord, instead of staying here with her sharp eyes, putting everybody out? Mr. May’s little dinner, or supper, served on a tray, was very comfortable, and he ate it with great satisfaction, telling Ursula that he had, on the whole, spent a pleasant day.

“The Dorsets were kind, as they always are, and Mr. Copperhead was a little less disagreeable than he always is; and you may look for Clarence back again in a day or two. He is not going to leave us. You must take care that he does not fall in love with you, Ursula. That is the chief thing they seem to be afraid of.”

“Fall in love with me!” cried Ursula. “Oh, papa, where are your eyes? He has fallen in love, but not with me. Can’t you see it? It is Phœbe he cares for.”

Mr. May was startled. He raised his head with a curious smile in his eyes, which made Ursula wonder painfully whether her father had taken much wine at the Hall.

“Ah, ha! is that what they are frightened for?” he said, and then he shrugged his shoulders. “She will show bad taste, Ursula; she might do better; but I suppose a girl of her class has not the delicacy—So that is what they are frightened for! And what are the other fish have to fry?”

“爸爸!”

“Yes. He told me he was not alarmed about you; that you had other fish to fry, eh! Well, it’s too late for explanations to-night. What’s that? Very odd, I thought I saw some one going out at the door—just a whiff of the coat-tails. I think my digestion must be out of order. I’ll go into the study and get my pills, and then I think I’ll go to bed.”

“Won’t you come upstairs to the drawing-room?” said Ursula, faltering, for she was appalled by the idea of explanations. What had she to explain, as yet? Mr. May shook his head, with that smile still upon his face.

“No, you’ll get on excellently well without me. I’ve had a long walk, and I think I’ll go to bed.”

“You don’t look very well, papa.”

“Oh, yes, I’m well enough; only confused in the head a little with fatigue and the things I’ve had to think about. Good-night. Don’t keep those young fellows late, though one of them is your brother. You can say I’m tired. Good-night, my dear.”

It was very seldom that he called her “my dear,” or, indeed, said anything affectionate to his grown-up children. If Ursula had not been so eager to return to the drawing-room, and so sure that “they” would miss her, she would have been anxious about her father; but as it was, she ran upstairs lightly when he stopped speaking, and left him going into the study, where already his lamp was burning. Betsy passed her as she ran up the stairs, coming from the kitchen with a letter held between two folds of her apron. Poor papa! no doubt it was some tiresome parish business to bother him, when he was tired already. But Ursula did not stop for that. How she wanted to be there again, among “them all,” even though Janey still made one! She went in breathless, and gave her father’s message only half-articulately. He was tired. “We are never to mind; he says so.” They all took the intimation very easily. Mr. May being tired, what did that matter? He would, no doubt, be better to-morrow; and in the mean time those sweet hours, though so hampered by Janey, were very sweet.

Betsy went in, and put down the note before Mr. May on his table. He was just taking out his medicine from the drawer, and he made a wry face at the note and at the pills together.

“Parish?” he said, curtly.

“No, sir; it’s from Mr. Cotsdean. He came this morning, after you’d gone, and he sent over little Bobby.”

“那会。”

A presentiment of pain stole over him. He gave Betsy a nod of dismissal, and went on with what he was doing. After he had finished, he took up the little note from the table with a look of disgust. It was badly scrawled, badly folded, and dirty. Thank Heaven, Cotsdean’s communications would soon be over now.

Janey had proposed a round game upstairs. They were all humble in their desire to conciliate that young despot. Reginald got the cards, and Northcote put chairs round the table. He placed Ursula next to himself, which was a consolation, and sat down by her, close to her, though not a word, except of the most commonplace kind, could be said.

Just then—what was it? an indescribable thrill through the house, the sound of a heavy fall. They all started up from their seats to hear what it was. Then Ursula, with a cry of apprehension, rushed downstairs, and the others after her. Betsy, alarmed, had come out of the kitchen, followed by her assistant, and was standing frightened, but irresolute; for Mr. May was not a man to be disturbed with impunity. And this might be nothing—the falling of a chair or a table, and nothing more.

“What is it?” cried Ursula, in an anxious whisper.

She was the leader in the emergency, for even Reginald held back. Then, after a moment’s pause, she opened the door, and with a little cry rushed in. It was, as they feared, Mr. May who had fallen; but he had so far recovered himself as to be able to make efforts to rise. His face was towards them. It was very pale, of a livid colour, and covered with moisture, great beads standing on his forehead. He smiled vaguely when he saw the circle of faces.

“Nothing—nothing—a faintness,” he faltered, making again an effort to rise.

“What is it, papa? Oh, what’s the matter?” cried Janey, rushing at him and seizing him by the arm. “Get up! get up! what will people think? Oh, Ursula, how queer he looks, and he feels so heavy. Oh, please get up, papa!”

“Go away,” said Mr. May, “go away. It is—a faintness. I am very well where I am—”

But he did not resist when Reginald and Northcote lifted him from the floor. He had a piece of paper tightly clasped in his hand. He gave them a strange suspicious look all round, and shrank when his eyes fell upon Phœbe. “Don’t let her know,” he said. “Take me away, take me away.”

“Reginald will take you upstairs, papa—to your room—to bed; you ought to go to bed. It is the long walk that has worn you out. Oh, Reginald, don’t contradict him, let him go where he pleases. Oh, papa, where ,那恭喜你, you going?” cried Ursula, “the other way; you want to go to bed.”

“This way, take me—somewhere,” said the sufferer; though he could not stand he made a step, staggering between them, and an effort to push towards the hall door, and when they directed him in the other direction to the staircase which led to his room, he struggled feebly yet violently with them. “No, no, no, not there!” he cried. The sudden confusion, dismay, and alarm into which the family was plunged, the strange sense of a catastrophe that came upon them, cannot be told. Ursula, calling out all the time that they were not to contradict him, insisted imperiously with words and gestures that he should be taken upstairs. Janey, altogether overcome, sat down on the lower steps of the staircase and cried. Reginald almost as pale as his father, and not saying a word, urged him towards the stairs. To get him up to his room, resisting as well as he could, and moaning inarticulate remonstrances all the way, was no easy business. As the procession toiled along Phœbe was left below, the only one in possession of her faculties. She sent the housemaid hurriedly off for the doctor, and despatched Betsy to the kitchen.

“Hot water is always wanted,” said Phœbe; “see that you have enough in case he should require a bath.”

Then with her usual decision she stepped back into the study. It was not vulgar curiosity which was in Phœbe’s mind, nor did it occur to her that she had no right to investigate Mr. May’s private affairs. If she could find what had done it, would not that be a great matter, something to tell the doctor, to throw light on so mysterious a seizure? Several bits of torn paper were lying on the floor; but only one of these was big enough to contain any information. It was torn in a kind of triangular shape, and contained a corner of a letter, a section of three lines,

“must have mistaken the date
presented to-day,
paid by Tozer,”

was what she read. She could not believe her eyes. What transactions could there be between her grandfather and Mr. May? She secured the scrap of paper, furtively putting it into her pocket. It was better to say nothing either to the doctor, or any one else, of anything so utterly incomprehensible. It oppressed Phœbe with a sense of mystery and of personal connection with the mystery, which even her self-possession could scarcely bear up against. She went into the kitchen after Betsy, avowedly in anxious concern for the boiling of the kettle.

“Hot water is good for everything,” said Phœbe; “mamma says a hot bath is the best of remedies. Did Mr. May have anything—to worry him, Betsy? I suppose it is only fatigue, and that he has taken too long a walk.”

“I don’t believe in the long walk, Miss,” said Betsy, “it’s that Cotsdean as is always a-tormenting with his dirty letters. When that man comes bothering here, master is always put out.”

“Cotsdean? I don’t know the name.”

“Don’t say nothing, Miss,” said Betsy, sinking her voice, “but you take my word it’s money. Money’s at the bottom of everything. It’s something, as sure as you’re alive, as master has got to pay. I’ve been a deal with gentlefolks,” added Betsy, “and ne’er a one of them can abide that.”

第 XL 章• 罪人 •5,000字

Phœbe’s mind was full of many and somewhat agitating thoughts. She went upstairs with a restless haste, which she would have been the first to condemn, to the room where the others were congregated, when they had laid Mr. May on his bed with no small difficulty, and were now consulting what to do. Ursula had fallen a little from the position of command she had taken up. To get him to bed, to send for the doctor, these were evident practical steps to take; but after having done these she was bewildered and fell back upon her advisers.

“We can’t do anything, we can only wait and watch him,” Reginald was saying, as Phœbe, herself unseen, looked in at the anxious party; and without asking any question she turned and went downstairs again, and hastily putting on her shawl and hat, went out, shutting the door softly, and ran home on the shady side of Grange Lane, where nobody could see her. It was a very quiet road, and she was not disturbed by any unreasonable alarms. It was still early when she got home, earlier than usual, and her intention was not to stay there at all, but to go back again and offer her assistance to Ursula, for whom she had left a message to this effect. Phœbe was full of genuine regard and friendliness towards the Mays.

She felt that she had obligations to all of them, to the parson-father for submitting to her presence, nay, encouraging it, and to Ursula for receiving her with that affectionate fervour of friendship which had completely changed the tenor of Phœbe’s life at Carlingford. She was obliged to them, and she knew that she was obliged to them. How different these three months would have been but for the Parsonage; what a heavy leaden-coloured existence without variety and without interest she must have lived; whereas it had gone by like a summer day, full of real life, of multiplied interests, of everything that it was most desirable to have. Not at home and in London could she have had the advantages she had enjoyed here. Phœbe was sensible enough—or perhaps we might use a less complimentary word—worldly enough, to count within those manifest benefits the advantage of seeing more of Clarence Copperhead, and of drawing him within the charmed circle of her influence, and she was grateful to the Mays, for this was their doing. And then, on the other hand, quite a different thing, her heart was touched and softened with gratitude to Reginald for loving her; of all her gratitudes, perhaps this indeed was the most truly felt. They had given her unbounded kindness, friendliness, everything that is most sweet to the solitary; and over and above, as if these were not enough, they had made her the exquisite present of a heart, the best thing that can be given or received by man. Phœbe felt herself penetrated with gratitude for all this, and she resolved that, if anything she could do could benefit the Mays, the effort on her part should not be wanting. “Paid by Tozer.” What had been paid by Tozer? What had her grandfather to do with it. Could it be he who had lent money to Mr. May? Then Phœbe resolved, with a glow on her face, he should forgive his debtors. She went in with her mind fully made up, whatever might happen, to be the champion of the sufferer, the saviour of the family. This would show them that their kindness had been appreciated. This would prove even to Reginald that, though she would not sacrifice her own prospects by marrying him, yet that she was grateful to him, to the bottom of her heart. Her mind was full of generous ardour as she went in. She knew her power; her grandfather had never yet refused her anything, never resisted her, and it did not seem likely that he should begin now.

Mrs. Tozer was by herself in the parlour, dozing over the fire. She woke up with a little start when Phœbe came in and smiled at the sight of her.

“I didn’t expect as you’d have come so soon,” she said; “you’ve broke up early to-night, darling. Couldn’t you have no music? I didn’t look for you for an hour or more.”

“You know, grandmamma, it is Mr. Copperhead who teases me most for music, and he is not here.”

“是的是的, I know,” said the old lady, nodding her head with many smiles. “I know a deal more about it than you think for, Phœbe, and don’t you think as I disapprove, for it’s quite the other way. But you won’t tell me as there ain’t others as cares for music as well as young Copperhead. I’ve seen one as couldn’t take his eyes off of you while you were playing.”

“Hush, grandmamma; the others like music for music’s sake, or perhaps for my sake; but Mr Copperhead likes it for his own sake, and therefore he is the one who insists upon it. But this is not the reason why I have come home so soon. Mr. May has been taken suddenly ill.”

“Lord bless us!” cried Mrs. Tozer, “deary, deary me! I’m very sorry, poor gentleman, I hope it ain’t anything serious. Though he’s a church parson, he’s a very civil-spoken man, and I see his children drag him into his own house one day as me and Tozer was passing. I said to Tozer at the time, you take my word, whatever folks say, a man as lets his children pull him about like that ain’t a bad one. And so he’s ill, poor man! Is there anything as we can do to help, my dear? They ain’t rich, and they’ve been as kind to you as if you’d been one of their own.”

“I thought that would be the first thing you would ask me,” said Phœbe gratefully, giving her a kiss—“dear grandmamma, it is like your kind heart—and I ran off to see that you were quite well and comfortable, thinking perhaps if you did not want me I might go back to poor Ursula for the night.”

To hear her granddaughter call Miss May by her Christian name was in itself a pleasure to Mrs. Tozer. She gave Phœbe a hug. “So you shall, my darling, and as for a bottle of good wine or that, anything as is in the house, you know you’re welcome to it. You go and talk to your grandfather; I’m as comfortable as I can be, and if you’d like to run back to that poor child—”

“Not before you are in bed,” said Phœbe, “but if you please I’ll go and talk to grandpapa as you said. There are things in which a man may be of use.”

“To be sure,” said Mrs. Tozer, doubtfully; “your grandfather ain’t a man as is much good in sickness; but I won’t say as there ain’t some things—”

“Yes, grandmamma, I’ll take your advice and run and talk to him; and by the time I come back you will be ready for bed.”

“Do, my dear,” said Mrs. Tozer. She was very comfortable, and did not care to move just then, and, as Phœbe went away, looked after her with dreamy satisfaction. “Bless her! there ain’t her match in Carlingford, and the gentlefolks sees it,” said Mrs. Tozer to herself. But she had no idea how Phœbe’s heart was beating as she went along the dimly-lighted passage, which led to a small room fitted up by Tozer for himself. She heard voices in earnest talk as she approached, but this made her only the more eager to go in, and see for herself what was going on. There could be no doubt, she felt sure of it, that the discussion here had some connection with the calamity 那里. What it was she had not the slightest idea; but that somehow the two were connected she felt certain. The voices were loud as she approached the door.

“I’ll find out who done it, and I’ll punish him—as sure as that’s my name, though I never put it on that there paper,” Tozer was saying. Phœbe opened the door boldly, and went in. She had never seen her grandfather look so unlike himself. The knot of the big white neckerchief round his neck was pushed away, his eyes were red, giving out strange lights of passion. He was standing in front of the fireplace gesticulating wildly. Though it was now April and the weather very mild and genial, there were still fires in the Tozer sitting-rooms, and as the windows were carefully shut, Phœbe felt the atmosphere stifling. The other person in the room was a serious, large man, whom she had already seen more than once; one of the chief clerks in the bank where Tozer kept his account, who had an old acquaintance with the butterman, and who was in the habit of coming when the bank had anything to say to so sure a customer about rates of investment or the value of money. He was seated at one side of the fire, looking very grave and shaking his head as the other spoke.

“That is very true, and I don’t say anything against it. But, Mr. Tozer, I can’t help thinking there’s some one else in it than Cotsdean.”

“What one else? what is the good of coming here to me with a pack of nonsense? He’s a poor needy creature as hasn’t a penny to bless himself with, a lot of children, and a wife as drinks. Don’t talk to me of some one else. That’s the sort of man as does all the mischief. What, Phœbe! run away to your grandmother, I don’t want you here.”

“I am very sorry to interrupt you, grandpapa. Mayn’t I stay? I have something to say to you—”

Tozer turned round and looked at her eagerly. Partly his own fancy, and partly his wife’s more enlightened observations, had made him aware that it was possible that Phœbe might one day have something very interesting to reveal. So her words roused him even in the midst of his pre-occupation. He looked at her for a second, then he waved his hand and said,

“I’m busy; go away, my dear, go away; I can’t talk to you now.”

Phœbe gave the visitor a look which perplexed him; but which meant, if he could but have read it, an earnest entreaty to him to go away. She said to herself, impatiently, that he would have understood had he been a woman; but as it was he only stared with lack-lustre eyes. What was she to do?

“Grandpapa,” she said, decisively, “it is too late for business to-night. However urgent it may be, you can’t do anything to-night. Why, it is nearly ten o’clock, and most people are going to bed. See Mr. ——, I mean this gentleman—to-morrow morning the first thing; for you know, however anxious you may be, you can’t do anything to-night.”

“That is true enough,” he said, looking with staring eyes from her to his visitor, “and more’s the pity. What had to be done should ha’ been done to-day. It should have been done to-day, sir, on the spot, not left over night like this, to give the villain time to get away. It’s a crime, Phœbe, that’s what it is—that’s the fact. It’s a crime.”

“Well, grandpapa, I am very sorry; but it will not mend matters, will it, if sitting up like this, and agitating yourself like this, makes you ill? That will not do away with the crime. It is bed-time, and poor grandmamma is dozing, and wondering what has become of you. Grandpapa——”

“Phœbe, go away, it ain’t none of your business; you’re only a bit of a girl, and how can you understand? If you think I’m going to sit down with it like an old fool, lose my money, and what is worse nor my money, let my very name be forged before my eyes—”

Phœbe gave so perceptible a start that Tozer stopped short, and even the banking-clerk looked at her with aroused curiosity.

“Forged!” she cried, with a gasp of dismay; “is it so bad as that?” She had never been more near betraying herself, showing a personal interest more close than was natural. When she saw the risk she was running, she stopped short and summoned all her energies. “I thought some one had pilfered something,” she said with an attempt at a laugh. “I beg your pardon, grandpapa; but anyhow what can you do to-night? You are keeping—this gentleman—and yourself out of bed. Please put it off till to-morrow.”

“I think so too,” said the banker’s clerk. “I’ll come to you in the morning as I go to the Bank. Perhaps I may have been wrong; but I think there’s more in it than meets the eye. To-morrow we can have the man Cotsdean up and question him.”

“After he’s had time to take himself off,” said Tozer, vehemently. “You take my word he ain’t in Carlingford, not now, let alone to-morrow.”

“Then that shows,” said Phœbe, quietly, “that it is of no use making yourself ill to-night. Grandpapa, let this gentleman go—he wants to go; and I have something to say to you. You can do anything that is necessary to-morrow.”

“I think so indeed,” said Mr. Simpson, of the Bank, getting up at last, “the young lady is quite right. We can’t act hastily in a thing like this. Cotsdean’s a man of good character, Mr. Tozer; all that has to be taken into account—and he is not a beggar. If he has done it, we can recover something at least; but if he has been taken advantage of—I think the young lady is a good counsellor, and that it’s much the best to wait till to-morrow.”

Phœbe seized upon her grandfather’s arm to restrain him, and held him back. “Good-night,” she said; “grandpapa, stay with me, I have something to say to you. Listen; you don’t think me very silly, do you, grandpapa dear?”

“Silly!” he said, listening to the steps of the departing visitor as they receded along the passage. “What has a chit like you to do with business? I tell you it’ll kill me. Me a-signing of accommodation bills for a bit of a small shopkeeper like that Cotsdean! I tell you it’ll make an end of me, that will, unless I gets my money and clears myself afore the world. And here you’ve been and sent away Simpson, and who’s to manage for me? I ain’t a lawyer to know what to do. Get away, get away, and leave me to myself, I can’t be disturbed with women-folks when I’ve got real business in hand.”

“I’ll manage for you,” said Phœbe; “you need not stare at me like that, grandpapa—”

“Go out o’ the room this moment, Miss!” he cried furious; “you! here’s a sort of thing for me to put up with. Sam Tozer wasn’t born yesterday that a bit of an impudent girl should take upon her to do for him. Manage for me! go out o’ my sight; I’m a fool, am I, and in my dotage to have a pack of women meddling in my affairs?”

Phœbe had never met with such an outburst of coarse anger in her life before, and it gave her a shock, as such assaults naturally do to people brought up softly, and used to nothing but kindness. For a moment she wavered, doubtful whether she should not proudly abandon him and his affairs altogether; but this was to abandon her friends too. She mastered herself accordingly, and the resentment which she could not help feeling—and stood pale but quiet opposite to the infuriated old man. His grey eyes seemed to give out sparks of fire. His hair bristled up on his head like the coat of a wild animal enraged. He went up and down on the hearth-rug like the same animal in a cage, shaking his fist at some imaginary culprit.

“Once I get him, see if I let him go,” he cried, his voice thick with fast-coming words and the foam of fury. “Let the bank do as it likes; I’ll have him, I will. I’ll see justice on the man as has dared to make free with my name. It ain’t nothing to you, my name; but I’ve kep’ it honest, and out of folk’s mouths, and see if I’ll stand disgrace thrown on it now. A bill on me as never had such a thing, not when I was struggling to get on! Dash him! damn him!” cried the old man, transported with rage. When he had come to this unusual and terrible length, Tozer paused dismayed. He had lost his temper before in his life; but very seldom had he been betrayed into anything so desperate as this. He stopped aghast, and cast a half-frightened look at Phœbe, who stood there so quiet, subdued out of her usual force, pale and disapproving—his own grandchild, a pastor’s daughter! and he had forgotten himself thus before her. He blushed hotly, though he was not used to blushing, and stopped all at once. After such frightful language, so unbecoming a deacon of Salem, so unlike a consistent member of the connection, what could he say?

“Grandpapa,” said Phœbe softly, “it is not good to be so angry; you are made to say things you are sorry for. Will you listen to me now? Though you don’t think it, and perhaps won’t believe it, I have found out something quite by chance—”

He went up to her and clutched her by the arm. “Then what are you a-standing there for, like a figure in stone? Can’t you out with it, and ease my mind? Out with it, I tell you! Do you want to drive me out of my senses?”

He was so much excited that he shook her in the hot paroxysm of returning rage. Phœbe was not frightened, but indignation made her pale. She stood without flinching, and looked at him, till poor old Tozer let go his hold, and dropping into a chair, covered his face with his hands. She was too generous to take advantage of him, but went on quietly, as if nothing had occurred.

“Grandpapa, as I tell you, I have found out something by chance that has to do with the thing that troubles you; but I don’t know quite what it is. Tell me first, and then—is this the thing?” said Phœbe, curiously, taking up a slip of paper from the table, a stamped piece of paper, in a handwriting which seemed horribly familiar to her, and yet strange. Tozer nodded at her gloomily, holding his head between his hands, and Phœbe read over the first few words before her with an aching heart, and eyes that seemed to ache in sympathy. Only a few words, but what evidence of guilt, what pitiful misery in them! She did not even think so much of the name on the back, which was and was not her grandfather’s name. The rest of the bill was written in a hand disguised and changed; but she had seen a great deal of similar writing lately, and she recognized it with a sickening at her heart. In the kind of fatherly flirtation which had been innocently carried on between Phœbe and her friend’s father, various productions of his in manuscript had been given to her to read. She was said, in the pleasant social jokes of the party, to be more skilled in interpreting Mr. May’s handwriting than any of his family. She stood and gazed at the paper, and her eyes filled with tears of pain and pity. The openness of this self-betrayal, veiled as it was with a shadow of disguise which could deceive no one who knew him, went to Phœbe’s heart. What could he have done it for? Mere money, the foolish expenses of every day, or, what would be more respectable, some vague mysterious claim upon him, which might make desperate expedients necessary? She stood, temporarily stupefied, with her eyes full, looking at that pitiful, terrible, guilty bit of paper, stupefied by the sudden realization of her sudden guess at the truth—though, indeed, the truth was so much more guilty and appalling than any guess of hers.

“Well,” said Tozer, “you’ve seen it, and now what do you think of it? That’s my name, mind you, my name! I hope the Almighty will grant me patience. Stuck on to what they calls a kite, an accommodation bill. What do you think of that, Miss Phœbe? A-a-ah! if I had hold of him—if I had him under my fists—if I had him by the scruff of the neck!”

“Grandpapa, doesn’t it say in the Bible we are to forgive when harm is done to us?”

Phœbe had begun to tremble all over; for the first time she doubted her own power.

He got up again, and began to prowl about the table, round and round, with the same wild look in his eyes.

“I am not one as would go again’ Scripture,” he said, gloomily; “but that’s a spiritual meaning as you’re too young to enter into. You don’t suppose as Scripture would approve of crime, or let them escape as had wronged their fellow-creatures? There wouldn’t be no business, no justice, no trade, on such a rule as that.”

“But, grandpapa—”

“Don’t you but me. You’ve seen me in good spirits and good temper, Phœbe, my girl; but you don’t know old Sam Tozer when his spirit’s up. D—— him!” cried the old man, striking his hand violently on the table; “and you may tell your father, as is a Minister, that I said so. The Bible’s spiritual; but there’s trade, and there’s justice. A man ain’t clear of what he’s done because you forgive him. What’s the law for else? Forgive! You may forgive him as fast as you like, but he’s got to be punished all the same.”

“But not by you.”

“By the law!” cried Tozer. His inflamed eyes seemed to glare upon her, his rough grey hair bristled on his head, a hot redness spread across his face beneath his fiery eyes, which seemed to scorch the cheek with angry flames. “The law that ain’t a individual. That’s for our protection, whether we like it or not. What’s that got to do with forgiving? Now, looking at it in a public way, I ain’t got no right to forgive.”

“Grandpapa, you have always been so kind, always so good to everybody. I have heard of so many things you have done—”

“That is all very well,” said Tozer, not without a certain gloomy complacence, “so long as you don’t touch me. But the moment as you touches me, I’m another man. That’s what I can’t bear, nor I won’t. Them as tries their tricks upon me shan’t be let off, neither for wife nor child; and don’t you think, my girl, though you’re Phœbe, junior, that you are a-going for to come over me.”

Phœbe could not but shiver in her fright and agitation; but distressed and excited as she was, she found means to take a step which was important indeed, though at the moment she did not fully realize its importance, and did it by instinct only. She had a handkerchief in her hand, and almost without consciousness of what she was doing, she crushed up the miserable bit of paper, which was the cause of so much evil and misery, in its folds. He was far too impassioned and excited to observe such a simple proceeding. It was the suggestion of a moment, carried out in another moment like a flash of lightning. And as soon as she had done this, and perceived what she had done, fortitude and comfort came back to Phœbe’s soul.

“You will not hear what I have found out, and now I do not choose to tell you, grandpapa,” she said, with an air of offence. “Unless you wish to be ill, you will do much better to go to bed. It is your usual hour, and I am going to grandmamma. Say good-night, please. I am going out again to stay all night. Mr. May is ill, and I ought to help poor Ursula.”

“You go a deal after them Mays,” said Tozer, with a cloud over his face.

“Yes. I wonder whom else I should go after? Who has been kind to me in Carlingford except the Mays? Nobody. Who has asked me to go to their house, and share everything that is pleasant in it? None of your Salem people, grandpapa. I hope I am not ungrateful, and whatever happens, or whatever trouble they are in,” cried Phœbe, fervently, “I shall stand up for them through thick and thin, wherever I go.”

The old man looked at her with a startled look.

“You speak up bold,” he said; “you won’t get put upon for want of spirit; and I don’t know as what you’re saying ain’t the right thing—though I don’t hold with the Church, nor parsons’ ways. I’d do a deal myself, though you think me so hard and cross, for folks as has been kind to you.”

“I know you will, grandpapa,” said Phœbe, with a slight emphasis which startled him, though he did not know why; and she kissed him before she went to her grandmother, which she did with a perfectly composed and tranquil mind. It was astonishing how the crackle of that bit of paper in her handkerchief calmed and soothed her. She recovered her breath, her colour, and her spirits. She ran up to her room and changed her dress, which was silk, for a soft merino one, which made no rustling; and then she folded the bill carefully, and put it into the safe keeping of the little purse which she always carried in her pocket. No one would think of searching for it there, and she would always have it at hand whatever happened. When she had made these needful arrangements, she went to old Mrs. Tozer, and took her comfortably upstairs. Never was there a more devoted nurse. The old lady chatted cheerfully, yet sympathetically, of the poor gentleman and his illness, with the half-satisfaction of an invalid in hearing of some one else who is ill.

“And be sure you take him some of the port wine as the doctor ordered, and Tozer paid that dear for. I don’t care for it, not a bit, Phœbe. I’d sooner have it from the grocer’s, at two shillings a bottle. That’s what I’ve always been used to, when I did take a glass of wine now and again. But I dare say as Mr. May would like it, poor gentleman.”

When Mrs. Tozer had laid her head, all nodding with white muslin frills, edged with cotton lace, upon her pillow, Phœbe, noiseless in her soft merino gown, went back, accompanied by Martha, to the Parsonage, where Ursula’s careworn face lighted a little at sight of her. Ursula had left her father for the moment in Betsy’s care, to get something that was wanted, and she stole into the dining-room on hearing of her friend’s arrival, and talked a little in a whisper, though the sick man was on the upper floor, and could not possibly have heard anything. Northcote was still there, sitting with Reginald, too anxious and excited to go away; and they all conversed in whispers, the three of them talking together for the benefit of the new-comer.

“Not paralysis; at least, he does not think so; a great mental shock—but we can’t tell a bit what it was—coming when he was dreadfully tired, and not able to bear it.”

They all spoke together, each of them saying a few words, and kept close together in the centre of the room, a curious little half-frightened group, overawed and subdued by the sudden change and strange calamity dropt into their midst. Phœbe seemed to bring them new life and hope.

“If it is going to be an illness,” she said, “you gentlemen had better go home and go to bed, to be able to help us when we want help. Anyhow, what good can they do, Ursula? They had much better go to bed.”

Ursula looked at them with a certain regret; though they could not do much good, it was a relief to come and whisper a few words to them now and then, giving them news of the patient. But Phœbe was right, and there was nothing to be said against her decision. The two young women and the faithful Betsy were enough, and, indeed, more than enough to watch over Mr. May.

第 XLI 章• 上午的工作 •4,400字

“Go and lie down for an hour,” whispered Phœbe. “I am not sleepy at all. I have sat up before, and never felt it, you never did, I can see it in your poor little white face; and besides, I am steadier, because I am not so anxious. Now go, Ursula, if you are really fond of me, as you say—”

“Oh, Phœbe! if you think he is a little better. Oh, how horrible it is to be sleepy, as if you were all body, and had no heart at all!”

“You have plenty of heart, but you have never been used to this nursing. Leave your door open, so that I may call you in a moment. I have sat up often. Now go, to please me,” said Phœbe. She had another object than mere rest to her friend, who at last, very much ashamed and crying softly, yet so weary that nothing on this earth seemed so desirable to her as sleep, crept to her room, and lay down there as the pale morning began to dawn. Betsy slept heavily in an easy-chair outside the door of the sick-room. She was there at hand in case anything was wanted, but she was happily unconscious where she was, sleeping the sleep of hard work and a mind undisturbed. Phœbe had seen that the patient was stirring out of the dull doze in which his faculties had been entirely stilled and stupefied. He was rousing to uneasiness, if not to full consciousness. Two or three times he made a convulsive movement, as if to raise himself; once his eyes, which were half open, seemed to turn upon her with a vague glimmer of meaning. How strangely she felt towards him, as she sat there in the grey of the morning, sole guardian, sole confidant of this erring and miserable man! The thought ran through her with a strange thrill. He was nothing to her, and yet he was absolutely in her power, and in all heaven and earth there seemed no one who was capable of protecting him, or cared to do so, except herself only. She sat looking at him with a great pity in her mind, determined to be his true protector, to deliver him from what he himself had done. She had not realized at first what it was he had done, and indeed it was only now that its full enormity, or rather its full consequences (which were the things that affected her most urgently), made themselves apparent to her. Generalizations are unsafe things; and whether it was because she was a woman that Phœbe, passing over the crime, fixed her thoughts upon the punishment, I do not venture to say; but she did so. After all a few lines of writing on a bit of paper is not a crime which affects the imagination of the inexperienced. Had it been a malicious slander Phœbe would have realized the sin of it much more clearly; but the copy of her grandfather’s signature did not wound her moral sense in the same way, though it was a much more serious offence. 那个先生 May could have intended to rob him of the money appeared impossible to her; and no doubt the borrowing of the signature was wrong—very wrong. Yes, of course it was horribly, fatally wrong; but still it did not set her imagination aglow with indignant horror, as smaller affairs might have done. But the consequences—disgrace, ruin, the loss of his position, the shame of his profession, moral death indeed, almost as frightful as if he had been hanged for murder. She shivered as she sat by him, veiled by the curtain, and thought of her grandfather’s vindictive fierceness; only she stood between him and destruction, and Phœbe felt that it was by no legitimate means that she was doing so, not by her influence over her grandfather as she had hoped, but only by an unjustifiable expedient which in itself was a kind of crime. This, however, brought a slight smile on her face. She took out her little purse from her pocket, and looked at the bit of paper carefully folded in it. The faint perfume of the Russia leather had already communicated itself to the document, which had not been so pleasant in Tozer’s hands. As she looked at it lying peacefully on her lap, her attention was suddenly called by the patient, who sat upright and looked furtively about him, with his hand upon the coverings ready to throw them off. His ghastly white face peered at her from behind the curtain with wild eagerness—then relaxed, when he met her eye, into a kind of idiot smile, a painful attempt to divert suspicion, and he fell back again with a groan. The trance that had stupefied him was over; he had recovered some kind of consciousness, how much or how little she could not tell.

“Mr. May,” said Phœbe, softly. “Mr. May! do you know me?”

She could not tell what answer he made, or if he made any answer. He crouched down under the bed-clothes, pulling them over his face, trying to hide himself from her; from which she divined that he did recognize her, confused though his faculties were. Then a hoarse murmuring sound seemed to come out of the pillow. It was some time before she could make out what it was.

“Where am I?” he said.

With the lightning speed of sympathy and pity, Phœbe divined what his terror was. She said, almost whispering,

“At home, in your own bed—at home! and safe. Oh, don’t you know me—I am Phœbe.” Then after a pause, “Tozer’s granddaughter; do you know me now?”

The strange, scared, white-faced spectre shrank under his covering, till she could see no more of him except two wild eyes full of terror which was almost madness.

“Listen!” she said eagerly, “try to understand! Oh, Mr. May, try to understand! I know about it—I know everything, and you are safe—quite safe; you need not have any fear!”

He did not follow what she said, Phœbe perceived with pain and terror. Even the impression made by the first sight of her seemed to fade from his mind. His grasp relaxed upon the curtains and coverlet; and then the hoarse murmuring was resumed. Straining all her ears, she made out that he was not speaking to her or any one, but moaned to himself, saying the same words over and over again. It took her a long time to make out even what these words were. When at last she did make them out they filled the girl with an alarm beyond words.

“It used to be hanging,” he said. “Hard labour; can I bear hard labour? And the children—the children! Hard labour—for life. Hanging—was soon over. The children! I cannot bear it. I never was put to—hard labour—in all my life.”

Phœbe was too sick at heart to listen to more. She drew a little apart, but near enough to be seen by him. If he chose to spring up, to fling himself from the window, as she had heard of men doing in delirium, who could restrain him? Not she, a slight girl, nor Betsy, even if Betsy could be roused to the danger. She did not know how long the vigil which followed lasted, but it seemed like years to her; and when at last she was relieved by the joyful sound of Reginald’s voice and footstep coming up the stairs, she felt disposed to run to the glass at once, and look if her hair had grown white, or her countenance permanently changed with the terror. Reginald, for his part, thought of his father in the second place only, as children are apt to do; he came up to her first, and with a thrill in his voice of surprise and emotion, addressed her hastily by her name.

“Phœbe! is it who are watching—you, darling?”

“Hush! I sent Ursula to bed; she was so tired. Don’t leave him. I am frightened,” cried Phœbe. “He is wandering in his mind. Oh, don’t leave him, Mr. May!”

“I will do exactly as you tell me,” said Reginald, in a confused transport of feeling, the very anxiety in his mind helping to destroy his self-control. He stooped down and kissed her hands before she could divine what he was about to do. “Only you or an angel would have done it,” he cried, with a tremulous voice.

Was it not natural that he should think that some thought of him had made Phœbe so careful of his father? His heart was swelling, too full to hold, with a sudden joy, which expanded the pain, and made that greater too.

“Oh, what does it matter about me? Mr. May, think what I am saying. Don’t leave him for a moment. He might throw himself out of the window, he might do some harm to himself. Ah! again!” said Phœbe, trembling.

But this time it was only a convulsive start, nothing more. The patient dropped down again softly upon his pillows, and relapsed into his doze, if doze it could be called, in which his faculties were but half-dormant, and his open eyes contradicted all the appearances of natural sleep.

When she was relieved from the sick room—and now she had a double motive in getting away—Phœbe stole softly into the faded little place where Ursula lay, still fast asleep, though fully dressed, and bathed her face and strained eyes. “I wonder if my hair is grey underneath,” she said to herself. “I wonder nothing has happened to me.” But a great deal had happened to her. Such a night is rarely encountered by so young a creature, or such an alarming charge undertaken. And sudden hot kisses upon little, cold, agitated hands, worn by fatigue to nervous perception of every touch, are very exciting and strange to a girl. They had given her a kind of electric shock. She was not in love with Reginald, and therefore she felt it all the more, and her heart was still throbbing with the suddenness and excitement of the incident. And after she had made an effort to get over this, there remained upon her mind the disturbing burden of a knowledge which no one shared, and a responsibility which was very heavy and terrible, and too tremendous for her slight shoulders. After she had made that hasty toilette, she sat down for a moment at the foot of the bed on which Ursula lay sleeping, unconscious of all those mysteries, and tried to think. It is not an easy process at any time, but after a long night’s watching, terror, and agitation, it seemed more impossible to Phœbe than it had ever done before. And she had so much occasion for thought, so much need of the power of judging clearly. What was she to do?—not to-morrow, or next week, but now. She had taken the responsibility of the whole upon herself by the sudden step she had taken last night; but, bold as she had been, Phœbe was ignorant. She did not know whether her theft of the bill would really stop the whole proceedings, as had seemed so certain last night; and what if she was found out, and compelled to return it, and all her labour lost! A panic took possession of her as she sat there at the foot of Ursula’s bed, and tried to think. But what is the use of trying to think? The more you have need of them, the more all mental processes fail you. Phœbe could no more think than she could fly. She sat down very seriously, and she rose up in despair, and, thought being no longer among her possibilities, resolved to do something at once, without further delay, which would be a consolation to herself at least. How wonderful it was to go out in the fresh early morning, and see the people moving about their work, going up and down with indifferent faces, quite unconcerned about the day and all it might bring forth! She went up Grange Lane with a curious uncertainty as to what she should do next, feeling her own extraordinary independence more than anything else. Phœbe felt like a man who has been out all night, who has his own future all in his hands, nobody having any right to explanation or information about what he may choose to do, or to expect from him anything beyond what he himself may please to give. Very few people are in this absolutely free position, but this was how Phœbe represented it to herself, having, like all other girls, unbounded belief in the independence and freedom possessed by men. Many times in her life she had regarded with envy this independence, which, with a sigh, she had felt to be impossible. But now that she had it, Phœbe did not like it. What she would have given to have gone to some one, almost any one, and told her dilemma, and put the burden a little off her shoulders! But she durst not say a word to any one. Very anxious and pre-occupied, she went up Grange Lane. 首页? She did not know; perhaps she would have thought of something before she reached the gate of No. 6. And accordingly, when she had lifted her hand to ring the bell, and made a step aside to enter, an inspiration came to Phœbe. She turned away from the door and went on up into the town, cautiously drawing her veil over her face, for already the apprentices were taking down the shutters from her uncle’s shop, and she might be seen. Cotsdean’s shop was late of opening that morning, and its master was very restless and unhappy. He had heard nothing more about the bill, but a conviction of something wrong had crept into his mind. It was an altogether different sensation from the anxiety he had hitherto felt. This was no anxiety to speak of, but a dull pain and aching conviction that all was not right. When he saw the young lady entering the shop, Cotsdean’s spirits rose a little, for a new customer was pleasant, and though he thought he had seen her, he did not know who she was. She was pleasant to look upon, and it was not often that any one came so early.

“I wanted to speak to you, please,” said Phœbe. “Will you mind if I speak very plainly, without any ceremony? Mr. Cotsdean, I am Mr. Tozer’s granddaughter, and live with him at No. 6 in the Lane. I dare say you have often seen me with Miss May.”

“Yes—yes, Miss, certainly,” he said, with a thrill of alarm and excitement running through him. He felt his knees knock together under cover of the counter, and yet he did not know what he feared.

“Will you please tell me frankly, in confidence, about——the bill which was brought to my grandfather yesterday?” said Phœbe, bringing out the question with a rush.

Whether she was doing wrong, whether she might bring insult upon herself, whether it was an interference unwarrantable and unjustifiable, she could not tell. She was in as great a fright as Cotsdean, and more anxious still than he was; but fortunately her agitation did not show.

“What am I to tell you about it, Miss?” said the man, terrified. “Is it Mr. Tozer as has sent you? Lord help me! I know as he can sell me up if he has a mind; but he knows it ain’t me.”

“Don’t speak so loud,” said Phœbe, trembling too. “Nobody must hear; and remember, you are never, never to talk of this to any one else; but tell me plainly, that there may be no mistake. Is it—Mr. May?”

“Miss Tozer,” said Cotsdean, who was shaking from head to foot, “if that’s your name—I don’t want to say a word against my clergyman. He’s stood by me many a day as I wanted him, and wanted him bad; but as I’m a living man, that money was never for me; and now he’s a-gone and left me in the lurch, and if your grandfather likes he can sell me up, and that’s the truth. I’ve got seven children,” said the poor man, with a sob breaking his voice, “and a missus; and nothing as isn’t in the business, not a penny, except a pound or two in a savings’ bank, as would never count. And I don’t deny as he could sell me up; but oh! Miss, he knows very well it ain’t for me.”

“Mr. Cotsdean,” said Phœbe, impressively, “you don’t know, I suppose, that Mr. May had a fit when he received your note last night?”

“Lord help us! Oh! God forgive me, I’ve done him wrong, poor gentleman, if that’s true.”

“It is quite true; he is very, very ill; he can’t give you any advice, or assist you in any way, should grandpapa be unkind. He could not even understand if you told him what has happened.”

Once more Cotsdean’s knees knocked against each other in the shadow of the counter. His very lips trembled as he stood regarding his strange visitor with scared and wondering eyes.

“Now listen, please,” said Phœbe, earnestly; “if any one comes to you about the bill to-day, don’t say anything about . Say you got it—in the way of business—say anything you please, but don’t mention . If you will promise me this, I will see that you don’t come to any harm. Yes, I will; you may say I am not the sort of person to know about business, and it is quite true. But whoever comes to you remember this—if you don’t mention Mr. May, I will see you safely through it; do you understand?”

Phœbe leant across the counter in her earnestness. She was not the kind of person to talk about bills, or to be a satisfactory security for a man in business; but Cotsdean was a poor man, and he was ready to catch at a straw in the turbid ocean of debt and poverty which seemed closing round him. He gave the required promise with his heart in his mouth.

Then Phœbe returned down the street. Her fatigue began to tell upon her, but she knew that she dared not give in, or allow that she was fatigued. However heavy with sleep her eyes might be, she must keep awake and watchful. Nothing, if she could help it, must so much as turn the attention of the world in Mr. May’s direction. By this time she was much too deeply interested to ask herself why she should do so much for Mr. May. He was her charge, her burden, as helpless in her hands as a child; and nobody but herself knew anything about it. It was characteristic of Phœbe’s nature that she had no doubt as to being perfectly right in the matter, no qualm lest she should be making a mistake. She felt the weight upon her of the great thing she had undertaken to do, with a certain half-pleasing sense of the solemnity of the position and of its difficulties; but she was not afraid that she was going wrong or suffering her fancy to stray further than the facts justified; neither was she troubled by any idea of going beyond her sphere by interfering thus energetically in her friend’s affairs. Phœbe did not easily take any such idea into her head. It seemed natural to her to do whatever might be wanted, and to act upon her own responsibility. Her self-confidence reached the heroic point. She knew that she was right, and she knew moreover that in this whole matter she alone was right. Therefore the necessity of keeping up, of keeping alert and vigilant, of holding in her hand the threads of all these varied complications was not disagreeable to her, though she fully felt its importance—nay, almost exaggerated it in her own mind if that could be. She felt the dangerous character of the circumstances around her, and her heart was sore with pity for the culprit, or as she called him to herself the chief sufferer; and yet all the same Phœbe felt a certain sense of satisfaction in the great role she herself was playing. She felt equal to it, though she scarcely knew what was the nest step she ought to take. She was walking slowly, full of thought, to Tozer’s door, pondering upon this, when the sound of rapid wheels behind roused her attention, and looking up, surprised, she suddenly saw leaping out of a dog-cart the imposing figure of Clarence Copperhead, of whom she had not been thinking at all. He came down with a heavy leap, leaving the light carriage swinging and quivering behind him with the shock of his withdrawal.

“Miss Phœbe!” he said, breathless; “here’s luck! I came over to see you, and you are the first person I set eyes on—”

He was rather heavy to make such a jump, and it took away his breath.

“To see me?” she said, laughing, though her heart began to stir. “That is very odd. I thought you must have come to see poor Mr. May, who is so ill. You know—”

“May be hanged!” said the young man; “I mean—never mind—I don’t mean him any harm, though, by Jove, if you make such a pet of him, I don’t know what I shall think. Miss Phœbe, I’ve come over post-haste, as you may see; chiefly to see you; and to try a horse as well,” he added, “which the governor has just bought. He’s a very good ‘un to go; and pleased the governor would be if he knew the use I had put him to,” he concluded, with a half-laugh.

Phœbe knew as well as he did what that use was. He had brought his father’s horse out for the first time, to carry him here to propose to her, in spite of his father. This was the delicate meaning which it amused him to think of. She understood it all, and it brought a glow of colour to her face; but it did not steel her heart against him. She knew her Clarence, and that his standard of fine feeling and mental elevation was not high.

“Look here,” he said, “I wish I could speak to you, Miss Phœbe, somewhere better than in the street. Yes, in the garden—that will do. It ain’t much of a place either to make a proposal in, for that’s what I’ve come to do; but you don’t want me to go down on my knees, or make a fuss, eh? I got up in the middle of the night to be here first thing and see you. I never had a great deal to say for myself,” said Clarence, “you won’t expect me to make you fine speeches; but I am fond of you—awfully fond of you, Phœbe, that’s the truth. You suit me down to the ground, music and everything. There’s no girl I ever met that has taken such a hold upon me as you.”

Phœbe heard him very quietly, but her heart beat loud. She stood on the gravel between the flower-borders, where the primroses were beginning to wither, and glanced over her life of the past and that of the future, which were divided by this moment like the two beds of flowers; one homely, not very distinguished, simple enough—the other exalted by wealth to something quite above mediocrity. Her heart swelled, full as it was with so many emotions of a totally different kind. She had gained a great prize, though it might not be very much to look at; more or less, she was conscious this golden apple had been hanging before her eyes for years, and now it had dropped into her hand. A gentle glow of contentment diffused itself all over her, not transport, indeed, but satisfaction, which was better.

“Mr. Copperhead—” she said, softly.

“No, hang it all, call me Clarence, Phœbe, if you’re going to have me!” he cried, putting out his big hands.

“Grandmamma is looking at us from the window,” she said, hurriedly, withdrawing a little from him.

“Well, and what does that matter? The old lady won’t say a word, depend upon it, when she knows. Look here, Phœbe, I’ll have an answer. Yes or no?”

“Have you got your father’s consent—Clarence?”

“Ah, it is yes then! I thought it would be yes,” he cried, seizing her in his arms. “As for the governor,” added Clarence, after an interval, snapping his fingers, “I don’t care for the governor. When I’ve set my mind on a thing, it ain’t the governor, or twenty governors, that will stop me.”

第四十二章 精神上的巨大震撼 •2,600字

“Have you any notion what was the cause?”

“None,” said Reginald. “Oh, no, none at all,” said Ursula. They were all three standing at the door of the sick-room, in which already a great transformation had taken place. The doctor had sent a nurse to attend upon the patient. He had told them that their father was attacked by some mysterious affection of the brain, and that none of them were equal to the responsibility of nursing him. His children thus banished had set the door ajar, and were congregated round it watching what went on within. They did not know what to do. It was Northcote who was asking these questions; it was he who was most active among them. The others stood half-stunned, wholly ignorant, not knowing what to do.

“I don’t think papa is ill at all,” said Janey. “Look how he glares about him, just as I’ve seen him do when he was writing a sermon, ready to pounce upon any one that made a noise. He is watching that woman. Why should he lie in bed like that, and be taken care of when he is just as well as I am? You have made a mistake all the rest of you. I would go and speak to him, and tell him to get up and not make all this fuss, if it was me.”

“Oh, Janey! hold your tongue,” said Ursula; but she, too, looked half-scared at the bed, and then turned wistful inquiring eyes to Northcote. As for Reginald, he stood uncertain, bewildered, all the colour gone out of his face, and all the energy out of his heart. He knew nothing of his father’s affairs, or of anything that might disturb his mind. His mind; all that his son knew of this was, that whatsoever things disturbed other minds his father had always contemptuously scouted all such nonsense. “Take some medicine,” Mr. May had been in the habit of saying. “Mind! you mean digestion,” was it nothing more than some complicated indigestion that affected him now?

“Is it anything about—money?” said Northcote.

They all turned and looked at him. The idea entered their minds for the first time. Yes, very likely it was money.

“We have always been poor,” said Ursula, wistfully. Northcote took her hand into his; none of them except Ursula herself paid any attention to this involuntary, almost unconscious caress, and even to her it seemed a thing of course, and quite natural that he should be one of them, taking his share in all that was going on.

“I—am not poor,” he said, faltering. “You must not think me presumptuous, May. But the first thing to be done is to get him out of his difficulties, if he is in difficulties—and you must let me help to do it. I think you and I should go out and see about it at once.”

“Go—where?” Reginald, like most young people, had taken little notice of his father’s proceedings. So long as things went smoothly, what had he to do with them? When there was a pressure for money, he knew he should hear of it, at least in the shape of reproaches and sneers from his father at his useless life, and the expenses of the family. But even these reproaches had died away of late, since Reginald had possessed an income of his own, and since the revenues of the Parsonage had been increased by Clarence Copperhead. Reginald was more helpless than a stranger. He did not know where to turn. “Do you think we could ask him? I am almost of Janey’s opinion. I don’t think he is so ill as he seems.”

And then they all paused and looked again into the room. The nurse was moving softly about, putting everything in order, and Mr. May watched her from the bed with the keenest attention. His face was still livid and ghastly in colour; but his eyes had never been so full of eager fire in all the experience of his children. He watched the woman with a close attention which was appalling; sometimes he would put his covering half aside as if with the intention of making a spring. He was like some imprisoned animal seeing a possibility of escape. They looked at him, and then at each other, with a miserable helplessness. What could they do? He was their father, but they knew nothing about him, and just because he was their father they were more slow to understand, more dull in divining his secrets than if he had been a stranger. When there came at last a suggestion out of the silence, it was Northcote who spoke.

“I don’t see how you can leave him, May. It is plain he wants watching. I will go if you will let me—if Ursula will say I may,” said the young man with a little break in his voice. This roused them all to another question, quite different from the first one. Her brother and sister looked at Ursula, one with a keen pang of involuntary envy, the other with a sharp thrill of pleasurable excitement. Oddly enough they could all of them pass by their father and leave him out of the question, more easily, with less strain of mind, than strangers could. Ursula for her part did not say anything; but she looked at her lover with eyes in which two big tears were standing. She could scarcely see him through those oceans of moisture, bitter and salt, yet softened by the sense of trust in him, and rest upon him. When he stooped and kissed her on the forehead before them all, the girl did not blush. It was a solemn betrothal, sealed by pain, not by kisses.

“Yes, go,” she said to him in words which were half sobs, and which he understood, but no one else.

“You perceive,” he said, “it is not a stranger interfering in your affairs, May, but Ursula doing her natural work for her father through me—her representative. God bless her! I am Ursula now,” he said with a broken laugh of joy; then grew suddenly grave again. “You trust me, May?”

Poor Reginald’s heart swelled; this little scene so calmly transacted under his eyes, would it ever happen for him, or anything like it? No, his reason told him—and yet; still he was thinking but little of his father. He had his duty too, and this happened to be his duty; but no warmer impulse was in the poor young fellow’s heart.

And thus the day went on. It was afternoon already, and soon the sky began to darken. When his children went into the room, Mr. May took no notice of them—not that he did not know them; but because his whole faculties were fixed upon that woman who was his nurse, and who had all her wits about her, and meant to keep him there, and to carry out the doctor’s instructions should heaven and earth melt away around her. She too perceived well enough how he was watching her, and being familiar with all the ways, as she thought, of the “mentally afflicted,” concluded in her mind that her new patient was further gone than the doctor thought.

“I hope as you’ll stay within call, sir,” she said significantly to Reginald; “when they’re like that, as soon as they breaks out they’re as strong as giants; but I hope he won’t break out, not to-day.”

Reginald withdrew, shivering, from the idea thus presented to him. He stole down to his father’s study, notwithstanding the warning she had given him, and there with a sick heart set to work to endeavour to understand his father—nay, more than that, to try to find him out. The young man felt a thrill of nervous trembling come over him when he sat down in his father’s chair and timidly opened some of the drawers. Mr. May was in many respects as young a man as his son, and Reginald and he had never been on those confidential terms which bring some fathers and sons so very close together. He felt that he had no business there spying upon his father’s privacy. He could not look at the papers which lay before him. It seemed a wrong of the first magnitude, wrought treacherously, because of the helplessness of the creature most concerned. He could not do it. He thrust the papers back again into the drawer. In point of fact there were no secrets in the papers, nor much to be found out in Mr. May’s private life. All its dark side might be inferred from, without being revealed in, the little book which lay innocently on the desk, and which Reginald looked over, thinking no harm. In it there were two or three entries which at length roused his curiosity. Cotsdean, October 10th. Cotsdean, January 12th. C. & T. April 18th. What did this mean? Reginald remembered to have seen Cotsdean paying furtive visits in the study. He recollected him as one of the few poor people for whom his father had a liking. But what could there be between them? He was puzzled, and as Betsy was passing the open door at the time, called her in. The evening was falling quickly, the day had changed from a beautiful bright morning to a rainy gusty afternoon, tearing the leaves and blossoms from the trees, and whirling now and then a shower of snowy petals, beautiful but ill-omened snow, across the dark window. Beyond that the firmament was dull; the clouds hung low, and the day was gone before it ought. When Betsy came in she closed the door, not fastening it, but still, Reginald felt, shutting him out too much from the sick-bed, to which he might be called at any moment. But he was not alarmed by this, though he remarked it. He questioned Betsy closely as to his father’s possible connection with this man. In such a moment, confidential, half-whispered interviews are the rule of a house. Every one has so much to ask; so much to say in reply; so many particulars to comment upon which the rest may have forgotten. She would have liked to enter upon the whole story, to tell how the master was took, and how she herself had thought him looking bad when he came in; but even to talk about Cotsdean was pleasant.

“I told Miss Beecham,” said Betsy, “and I told the other gentleman, Mr. Northcote, as was asking me all about it. It’s months and months since that Cotsdean got coming here—years I may say; and whenever he came master looked bad. If you’ll believe me, Mr. Reginald, it’s money as is at the bottom of it all.”

“Money? hush, what was that? I thought I heard something upstairs.”

“Only the nurse, sir, as is having her tea. I’m ready to take my oath as it’s money. I’ve been in service since I was nine years old,” said Betsy, “I’ve had a deal of experience of gentlefolks, and it’s always money as is the thing as sets them off their head. That’s what it is. If that Cotsdean didn’t come here something about money, never you believe me no more.”

“Cotsdean! a poor shopkeeper! what could he have to do with my father’s affairs?” Reginald was not speaking to the woman, but drearily to himself. If this was the only clue to the mystery, what a poor clue it was!

“I dunno, sir,” said Betsy, “it ain’t for me to tell; but one thing I’m sure of—Lord bless us, what’s that?”

Reginald rushed to the door, nearly knocking her down as he pushed her aside with his hand. When they got outside, it was only the hat-stand in the hall that had fallen, something having been torn off from it apparently in mad haste, and the door had opened and shut. Reginald rushed upstairs, where the nurse was sitting quietly at her tea, the bed-curtains being drawn.

“All right, sir; he’s in a nice sleep,” said that functionary; “I didn’t light no candles, not to disturb him, poor gentleman.”

Reginald tore the curtains aside, then turned and dashed downstairs, and out into the windy twilight. In that moment of stillness and darkness the patient had escaped. He could see a strange figure walking rapidly, already half way up Grange Lane, and rushed on in pursuit without taking thought of anything. The sick man had seized upon a long coat which had been hanging in the hall, and which reached to his heels. Reginald flew on, going as softly as he could, not to alarm him. Where could he be going, utterly unclothed except in this big coat? Was it simply madness that had seized him, nothing more or less? He followed, with his heart beating loudly. There seemed nobody about, no one to whom he could make an appeal to help him, even if he could overtake the rapidly progressing fugitive. But even while this thought crossed his mind, Reginald saw another figure, broad and tall, developing in the distance, coming towards them, which stopped short, and put out an arm to stop the flight. Even that moment gave him the advantage, and brought him near enough to make out that it was Mr. Copperhead.

“The very man I want,” he heard him say with his loud voice, putting his arm within that of Mr. May, who resisted, but not enough to attract the attention of the new-comer, as Reginald came up breathless and placed himself on his father’s other side. The darkness prevented any revelation of the strange appearance of the fugitive, and Mr. Copperhead was not lively of perception in respect to people unconnected with himself.

“You, too,” he cried, nodding at Reginald, “come along. I’ve come to save that boy of mine from a little artful—Come, both of you. The sight of a young fellow like himself will shame him more than anything; and you, May, you’re the very man I want—”

“Not there, not there, for God’s sake!” said Mr. May, with a hoarse cry, “not there, my God! Reginald! it used to be hanging. Do you mean to give me up?”

“Hold him fast,” Reginald whispered in desperation, “hold him fast! It is madness.”

“Lord bless us!” said Mr. Copperhead, but he was a man who was proud of his strength, and not given to timidity. He held his captive fast by the arm, while Reginald secured him on the other side. “Why, what’s this, May? rouse yourself up; don’t give in, man. No, you ain’t mad, not a bit of you. Come along, wait here at Tozer’s for me, while I do my business; and then I’ll look after . Come on.”

There was a violent but momentary struggle; then all at once the struggling man yielded and allowed himself to be dragged within the garden-door. Was it because an ordinary policeman, one of the most respectful servants of the law, who would have saluted Mr. May with the utmost reverence, was just then coming up? He yielded; but he looked at his son with a wild despair which made Reginald almost as desperate as himself in maddening ignorance and terror.

“Ruin! ruin!” he murmured hoarsely, “worse than death.”

第四十三章·冲突 •6,600字

The day which had intervened between Phœbe’s morning walk, and this darkling flight along the same road, had been full of agitation at the house of the Tozers. Phœbe, who would willingly have spared her lover anything more than the brief intercourse which was inevitable with her relations, could find no means of sending him away without breakfast. She had escaped from him accordingly, weary as she was, to make arrangements for such a meal as she knew him, even in his most sentimental mood, to love—a thing which required some time and supervision, though the house was always plentifully provided. When she had hastily bathed her face and changed her dress she came back to the room where she had left him, to find him in careless conversation with Tozer, who only half-recovered from the excitement of last night, but much overawed by a visit from so great a personage, had managed to put aside the matter which occupied his own thoughts, in order to carry on a kind of worship of Clarence, who was the son of the richest man he had ever heard of, and consequently appeared to the retired butterman a very demigod. Clarence was yawning loudly, his arms raised over his head in total indifference to Tozer, when Phœbe came into the room; and the old man seized upon the occasion of her entrance to perform another act of worship.

“Ah, here’s Phœbe at last. Mr. Copperhead’s come in from the country, my dear, and he’s going to make us proud, he is, by accepting of a bit of breakfast. I tell him it’s a wretched poor place for him as has palaces at his command; but what we can give him is the best quality, that I answers for—and you’re one as knows how things should be, even if we ain’t grand ourselves.”

“Have you palaces at your command, Clarence?” she said, with a smile. Notwithstanding the fatigue of the night, the fresh air and her ablutions, and the agitation and commotion of her mind, made Phœbe almost more animated and brilliant than usual. Her eyes shone with the anxiety and excitement of the crisis, and a little, too, with the glory and delight of success; for though Clarence Copperhead was not very much to brag of in his own person, he still had been the object before her for some time back, and she had got him. And yet Phœbe was not mercenary, though she was not “in love” with her heavy lover in the ordinary sense of the word. She went towards him now, and stood near him, looking at him with a smile. He was a big, strong fellow, which is a thing most women esteem, and he was not without good looks; and he would be rich, and might be thrust into a position which would produce both honour and advantage; and lastly, he was her own, which gives even the most indifferent article a certain value in some people’s eyes.

“Palaces? I don’t know, but nice enough houses; and you know you like a nice house, Miss Phœbe. Here, I haven’t said a word to the old gentleman. Tell him; I ain’t come all this way for nothing. You’ve always got the right words at your fingers’ end. Tell him, and let’s get it over. I think I could eat some breakfast, I can tell you, after that drive.”

“Grandpapa,” said Phœbe, slightly tremulous, “Mr. Copperhead wishes me to tell you that—Mr. Copperhead wishes you to know why——”

“Bless us!” cried Clarence with a laugh. “Here is a beating about the bush! She has got her master, old gentleman, and that is what she never had before. Look here, I’m going to marry Phœbe. That’s plain English without any phrases, and I don’t know what you could say to better it. Is breakfast ready? I’ve earned it for my part.”

“Going to marry Phœbe!” Tozer gasped. He had heard from his wife that such a glory was possible; but now, when it burst upon him, the dazzling delight seemed too good to be true. It thrust the forgery and everything out of his head, and took even the power of speech from him. He got up and gazed at the young people, one after the other, rubbing his hands, with a broad grin upon his face; then he burst forth all at once in congratulation.

“God bless you, sir! God bless you both! It’s an honour as I never looked for. Rising in the world was never no thought of mine; doing your duty and trusting to the Lord is what I’ve always stood by; and it’s been rewarded. But she’s a good girl, Mr. Copperhead; you’ll never regret it, sir. She’s that good and that sensible, as I don’t know how to do without her. She’ll do you credit, however grand you may make her; and if it’s any comfort to you, as she’s connected with them as knows how to appreciate a gentleman—” said Tozer, breaking down in his enthusiasm, his voice sinking into a whisper in the fulness of his heart.

“Grandpapa!” said Phœbe, feeling sharply pricked in her pride, with a momentary humiliation, “there are other things to be thought of,” and she gave him a look of reproach which Tozer did not understand, but which Clarence did vaguely. Clarence, for his part, liked the homage, and was by no means unwilling that everybody should perceive his condescension and what great luck it was for Phœbe to have secured him. He laughed, pleased to wave his banner of triumph over her, notwithstanding that he loved her. He very fond of her, that was true; but still her good fortune in catching him was, for the moment, the thing most in his thoughts.

“Well, old gentleman,” he said, “you ain’t far wrong there. She is a clever one. We shall have a bad time of it with the governor at first; for, of course, when there’s no money and no connections, a man like the governor, that has made himself, ain’t likely to be too well pleased.”

“As for money, Mr. Copperhead, sir,” said Tozer with modest pride, “I don’t see as there’s anything to be said against Phœbe on that point. Her mother before her had a pretty bit of money, though I say it, as shouldn’t—”

“Ah, yes—yes,” said Clarence. “To be sure; but a little bit of coin like that don’t count with us. The governor deals in hundreds of thousands; he don’t think much of your little bits of fortunes. But I don’t mind. She suits me down to the ground, does Phœbe; and I don’t give that for the governor!” cried the young man valiantly. As for Phœbe herself, it is impossible to imagine any one more entirely put out of her place, and out of all the comfort and satisfaction in her own initiative which she generally possessed, than this young woman was, while these two men talked over her so calmly. It is doubtful whether she had ever been so set aside out of her proper position in her life, and her nerves were overstrained and her bodily strength worn out, which added to the sense of downfall. With almost a touch of anger in her tone she, who was never out of temper, interrupted this talk.

“I think breakfast is ready, grandpapa. Mr. Clarence Copperhead wants some refreshment after his exertions, and in preparation for the exertions to come. For I suppose your papa is very likely to follow you to Carlingford,” she added, with a low laugh, turning to her lover. “I know Mr. Copperhead very well, and I should not like my first meeting with him after I had thwarted all his views.”

“Phœbe! you don’t mean to desert me? By Jove! I’ll face him and twenty like him if you’ll only stand by me,” he cried; which was a speech that made amends.

She suffered him to lead her into breakfast less formally than is the ordinary fashion, and his hand on her trim waist did not displease the girl. No; she understood him, knew that he was no great things; but yet he was hers, and she had always meant him to be hers, and Phœbe was ready to maintain his cause in the face of all the world.

The breakfast was to Clarence’s taste, and so was the company—even old Tozer, who sat with his mouth agape in admiration of the young potentate, while he recounted his many grandeurs. Clarence gave a great deal of information as to prices he had paid for various things, and the expenses of his living at Oxford and elsewhere, as he ate the kidneys, eggs, and sausages with which Phœbe’s care had heaped the table. They had no 鹅肝酱, it is true, but the simple fare was of the best quality, as Tozer had boasted. Mrs. Tozer did not come downstairs to breakfast, and thus Phœbe was alone with the two men, who suited each other so much better than she could have hoped. The girl sat by them languidly, though with a beating heart, wondering, as girls will wonder sometimes, if all men were like these, braggards and believers in brag, worshippers of money and price. No doubt, young men too marvel when they hear the women about them talking across them of 花边, or of little quarrels and little vanities. Phœbe had more brains than both of her interlocutors put together, and half-a-dozen more added on; but she was put down and silenced by the talk. Her lover for the moment had escaped from her. She could generally keep him from exposing himself in this way, and turn the better side of him to the light; but the presence of a believer in him turned the head of Clarence. She could not control him any more.

“A good horse is a deuced expensive thing,” he said; “the governor gave a cool hundred and fifty for that mare that brought me over this morning. He bought her from Sir Robert; but he didn’t know, Phœbe, the use I was going to put her to. If he’d known, he’d have put that hundred and fifty in the sea rather than have his beast rattled over the country on such an errand.” Here he stopped in the midst of his breakfast, and looked at her admiringly. “But I don’t repent,” he added. “I’d do it again to-morrow if it wasn’t done already. If you stand by me, I’ll face him, and twenty like him, by Jove!”

“You don’t say nothing,” said her grandfather. “I wouldn’t be so ungrateful. Gentlemen like Mr. Copperhead ain’t picked up at every roadside.”

“They ain’t, by Jove!” said Clarence; “but she’s shy, that’s all about it,” he added, tenderly; “when we’re by ourselves, I don’t complain.”

Poor Phœbe! She smiled a dismal smile, and was very glad when breakfast was over. After that she took him into the garden, into the bright morning air, which kept her up, and where she could keep her Clarence in hand and amuse him, without allowing this revelation of the worst side of him. While they were there, Martha admitted the visitor of yesterday, Mr. Simpson from the Bank, bringing back to Phœbe’s mind all the other matter of which it had been full.

“Don’t you think you ought to go and see about the horse and the dog-cart?” she said suddenly, turning to her lover with one of those sudden changes which kept the dull young man amused. “You don’t know what they may be about.”

“They can’t be up to much,” said Clarence. “Thank you, Miss Phœbe, I like you better than the mare.”

“But you can’t be here all day, and I can’t be here all day,” she said. “I must look after grandmamma, and you ought to go down and inquire after poor Mr. May—he is so ill. I have been there all night, helping Ursula. You ought to go and ask for him. People don’t forget all the duties of life because—because a thing of this sort has happened—”

“Because they’ve popped and been accepted,” said graceful Clarence. “By Jove! I’ll go. I’ll tell young May. I’d like to see his face when I tell him the news. You may look as demure as you like, but you know what spoons he has been upon you, and the old fellow too—made me as jealous as King Lear sometimes,” cried the happy lover, with a laugh. He meant Othello, let us suppose.

“Nonsense, Clarence! But go, please go. I must run to grandmamma.”

Mr. Simpson had gone in, and Phœbe’s heart had begun to beat loudly in her throat; but it was not so easy to get rid of this ardent lover, and when at last he did go, he was slightly sulky, which was not a state of mind to be encouraged. She rushed upstairs to her grandmother’s room, which was over the little room where Tozer sat, and from which she could already hear sounds of conversation rapidly rising in tone, and the noise of opening and shutting drawers, and a general rummage. Phœbe never knew what she said to the kind old woman, who kissed and wept over her, exulting in the news.

“I ain’t been so pleased since my Phœbe told me as she was to marry a minister,” said Mrs. Tozer, “and this is a rise in life a deal grander than the best of ministers. But, bless your heart, what shall I do without you?” cried the old woman, sobbing.

Presently Tozer came in, with an air of angry abstraction, and began to search through drawers and boxes.

“I’ve lost something,” he answered, with sombre looks, to his wife’s inquiry. Phœbe busied herself with her grandmother, and did not ask what it was. It was only when he had searched everywhere that some chance movement directed his eyes to her. She was trembling in spite of herself. He came up to her, and seized her suddenly by the arm. “By George!” he cried, “I’m in a dozen minds to search you!”

“Tozer! let my child alone. How dare you touch her—her as is as good as Mr. Copperhead’s lady? What’s she got to do with your dirty papers? Do you think Phœbe would touch them—with a pair of tongs?” cried the angry grandmother.

Phœbe shrank with all the cowardice of guilt. Her nerves were unstrung by weariness and excitement. And Tozer, with his little red eyes blazing upon her, was very different in this fury of personal injury, from the grandfather of the morning, who had been ready to see every virtue in her.

“I believe as you’ve got it!” he cried, giving her a shake. It was a shot at a venture, said without the least idea of its truth; but before the words had crossed his lips, he felt with a wild passion of rage and wonder that it was true. “Give it up, you hussy!” he shrieked, with a yell of fury, his face convulsed with sudden rage, thickly and with sputtering lips.

“Tozer!” cried his wife, flinging herself between them, “take your hands off the child. Run, run to your room, my darling; he’s out of his senses. Lord bless us all, Sam, are you gone stark staring mad?”

“Grandpapa,” said Phœbe, trembling, “if I had it, you may be sure it would be safe out of your way. I told you I knew something about it, but you would not hear me. Will you hear me now? I’ll make it up to you—double it, if you like. Grandmamma, it is a poor man he would drive to death if he is not stopped. Oh!” cried Phœbe, clasping her hands, “after what has happened this morning, will you not yield to me? and after all the love you have shown me? I will never ask anything, not another penny. I will make it up; only give in to me, give in to me—for once in my life! Grandpapa! I never asked anything from you before.”

“Give it up, you piece of impudence! you jade! you d—d deceitful——”

He was holding her by the arm, emphasizing every new word by a violent shake, while poor old Mrs. Tozer dropped into a chair, weeping and trembling.

“Oh! it ain’t often as he’s like this; but when he is, I can’t do nothing with him, I can’t do nothing with him!” she cried.

But Phœbe’s nerves strung themselves up again in face of the crisis. She shook him off suddenly with unexpected strength, and moving to a little distance, stood confronting him, pale but determined.

“If you think you will get the better of me in this way, you are mistaken,” she said. “I am not your daughter; how dare you treat me so? Grandmamma, forgive me. I have been up all night. I am going to lie down,” said Phœbe. “If grandpapa has anything more to say against me, he can say it to Clarence. I leave myself in his hands.”

Saying this, she turned round majestically, but with an anxious heart, and walked away to her room, every nerve in her trembling. When she got there, Phœbe locked the door hastily, in genuine terror; and then she laughed, and then she cried a little. “And to think it was here all the time!” she said to herself, taking out the little Russia leather purse out of her pocket. She went into the closet adjoining her room, and buried it deep in her travelling trunk which was there, relieving herself and her mind of a danger. Then—Phœbe did what was possibly the most sensible thing in the world, in every point of view. She went to bed; undressed herself quietly, rolled up her hair, and lay down with a grateful sense of ease and comfort. “When Clarence comes back he will be disappointed; but even for Clarence a little disappointment will be no harm,” said the sensible young woman to herself. And what comfort it was to lie down, and feel all the throbs and pulses gradually subsiding, the fright going off, the satisfaction of success coming back, and gradually a slumberous, delicious ease stealing over her. Of all the clever things Phœbe had done in her life, it must be allowed that there was not one so masterly as the fact that she, then and there, went to sleep.

All this had taken up a good deal of time. It was twelve when Mr. Simpson of the bank disturbed the lovers in the garden, and it was one o’clock before Phœbe put a stop to all Tozer’s vindictive plans by going to bed. What he said to Mr. Simpson, when he went back to him, is not on record. That excellent man of business was much put out by the long waiting, and intimated plainly enough that he could not allow his time to be thus wasted. Mr. Simpson began to think that there was something very strange in the whole business. Tozer’s house was turned upside down by it, as he could hear by the passionate voices and the sound of crying and storming in the room above; but Cotsdean was secure in his shop, apparently fearing no evil, as he had seen as he passed, peering in with curious eyes. What it meant he could not tell; but it was queer, and did not look as if the business was straight-forward.

“When you find the bill, or make up your mind what to do, you can send for me,” he said, and went away, suspicious and half-angry, leaving Tozer to his own devices. And the afternoon passed in the most uncomfortable lull imaginable. Though he believed his granddaughter to have it, he looked again over all his papers, his drawers, his waste-basket, every corner he had in which such a small matter might have been hid; but naturally his search was all in vain. Clarence returned in the afternoon, and was received by poor old Mrs. Tozer, very tremulous and ready to cry, who did not know whether she ought to distrust Phœbe or not, and hesitated and stumbled over her words till the young man thought his father had come in his absence, and that Phœbe had changed her mind. This had the effect of making him extremely eager and anxious, and of subduing the bragging and magnificent mood which the triumphant lover had displayed in the morning. He felt himself “taken down a peg or two,” in his own fine language. He went to the Parsonage and tried very hard to see Ursula, to secure her help in case anything had gone wrong, and then to Reginald, whose vexation at the news he felt sure of, and hoped to enjoy a sight of. But he could see no one in the absorbed and anxious house. What was he to do? He wandered about, growing more and more unhappy, wondering if he had been made to fling himself into the face of fate for no reason, and sure that he could not meet his father without Phœbe’s support. He could not even face her relations. It was very different from the day of triumph he had looked for; but, as Phœbe had wisely divined, this disappointment, and all the attending circumstances, did not do him any harm.

It was late in the afternoon when Northcote called. He too had acted on the information given by Betsy, and had gone to Cotsdean, who made him vaguely aware that Tozer had some share in the business in which Mr. May was involved, and who, on being asked whether it could be set right by money, grew radiant and declared that nothing could be easier. But when Northcote saw Tozer, there ensued a puzzling game at cross purposes, for Tozer had no notion that Mr. May had anything to do with the business, and declined to understand.

“I ain’t got nothing to do with parsons, and if you’ll take my advice, sir, it ‘ud be a deal better for you to give ’em up too. You’re a-aggravating the connection for no good, you are,” said Tozer, surely by right of his own troubles and perplexities, and glad to think he could make some one else uncomfortable too.

“I shall do in that respect as I think proper,” said Northcote, who was not disposed to submit to dictation.

“Fact is, he’s a deal too well off for a minister,” Tozer said to his wife when the young man disappeared, “they’re too independent that sort; and I don’t know what he means by his Mays and his fine folks. What have we got to do with Mr. May?”

“Except that he’s been good to the child, Tozer; we can’t forget as he’s been very good to the child.”

“Oh, dash the child!” cried the old man, infuriated; “if you say much more I’ll be sorry I ever let you see her face. What has she done with my bill?”

“Bill? if it’s only a bill what are you so put out about!” cried Mrs. Tozer. “You’ll have dozens again at Christmas, if that is all you want.”

But the laugh was unsuccessful, and the old man went back to his room to nurse his wrath and to wonder what had come to him. Why had his granddaughter interfered in his business, and what had he to do with Mr. May?

Phœbe got up refreshed and comfortable when it was time for the family tea, and came down to her lover, who had come back, and was sitting very dejected by old Mrs. Tozer’s side. She was fresh and fair, and in one of her prettiest dresses, having taken pains for him; and notwithstanding Tozer’s lowering aspect, and his refusal to speak to her, the meal passed over very cheerfully for the rest of the party, and the two young people once more withdrew to the garden when it was over. The presence of Clarence Copperhead protected Phœbe from all attack. Her grandfather dared not fly out upon her as before, or summon her to give up what she had taken from him. Whatever happened, this wonderful rise in life, this grand match could not be interfered with. He withdrew bitter and exasperated to his own den, leaving his poor wife crying and wretched in the family sitting-room. Mrs. Tozer knew that her husband was not to be trifled with, and that, though the circumstances of Phœbe’s betrothal subdued him for the moment, this effect in all probability would not last; and she sat in terror, watching the moments as they passed, and trembling to think what might happen when the young pair came in again, or when Clarence at last went away, leaving Phœbe with no protection but herself. Phœbe, too, while she kept her dull companion happy, kept thinking all the while of the same thing with a great tremor of suppressed agitation in her mind; and she did not know what was the next step to take—a reflection which took away her strength. She had taken the bill from her trunk again and replaced it in her pocket. It was safest carried on her person, she felt; but what she was to do next, even Phœbe, so fruitful in resources, could not say. When Northcote came back in the evening she felt that her game was becoming more and more difficult to play. After a brief consultation with herself, she decided that it was most expedient to go in with him, taking her big body-guard along with her, and confiding in his stupidity not to find out more than was indispensable. She took Northcote to her grandfather’s room, whispering to him on the way to make himself the representative of Cotsdean only, and to say nothing of Mr. May.

“Then you know about it?” said Northcote amazed.

“Oh, hush, hush!” cried Phœbe; “offer to pay it on Cotsdean’s part, and say nothing about Mr. May.”

The young man looked at her bewildered; but nodded his head in assent, and then her own young man pulled her back almost roughly, and demanded to know what she meant by talking to that fellow so. Thus poor Phœbe was between two fires. She went in with a fainting yet courageous heart.

“Pay the money!” said Tozer, who by dint of brooding over it all the day had come to a white heat, and was no longer to be controlled. “Mr. Northcote, sir, you’re a minister, and you don’t understand business no more nor women do. Money’s money—but there’s more than money here. There’s my name, sir, as has been made use of in a way!—me go signing of accommodation bills! I’d have cut off my hand sooner. There’s that girl there, she’s got it. She’s been and stolen it from me, Mr. Northcote. Tell her to give it up. You may have some influence, you as is a minister. Tell her to give it up, or, by George, she shall never have a penny from me! I’ll cut her off without even a shilling. I’ll put her out o’ my will—out o’ my house.”

“I say, Phœbe,” said Clarence, “look here, that’s serious, that is; not that I mind a little pot of money like what the poor old fellow’s got; but what’s the good of throwing anything away?”

“Make her give it up,” cried Tozer hoarsely, “or out of this house she goes this very night. I ain’t the sort of man to be made a fool of. I ain’t the sort of man—Who’s this a-coming? some more of your d—d intercessors to spoil justice,” cried the old man, “but I won’t have ’em. I’ll have nothing to say to them. What, who? Mr. Copperhead’s father? I ain’t ashamed to meet Mr. Copperhead’s father; but one thing at a time. Them as comes into my house must wait my time,” cried the butterman, seeing vaguely the group come in, whom we left at his doors. “I’m master here. Give up that bill, you brazen young hussy, and go out of my sight. How dare you set up your face among so many men? Give it up!” he cried, seizing her by the elbow in renewed fury. The strangers, though he saw them enter, received no salutation from him. There was one small lamp on the table, dimly lighted, which threw a faint glow upon the circle of countenances round, into which came wondering the burly big Copperhead, holding fast by the shoulder of Mr. May, whose ghastly face, contorted with wild anxiety, glanced at Tozer over the lamp. But the old man was so much absorbed at first that he scarcely saw who the new-comers were.

“What’s all this about?” said Mr. Copperhead. “Seems we’ve come into the midst of another commotion. So you’re here, Clar! it is you I want, my boy. Look here, Northcote, take hold, will you? there’s a screw loose, and we’ve got to get him home. Take hold, till I have had a word with Clarence. That’s a thing that won’t take long.”

Clarence cast a glance at Phœbe, who even in her own agitation turned and gave him a tremulous smile of encouragement. The crisis was so great on all sides of her that Phœbe became heroic.

“I am here,” she said, with all the steadiness of strong emotion, and when he had received this assurance of support, he feared his father no more.

“All right, sir,” he said almost with alacrity. He was afraid of nothing with Phœbe standing by.

“Make her give me up my bill,” said Tozer; “I’ll hear nothing else till this is settled. My bill! It’s forgery; that’s what it is. Don’t speak to me about money! I’ll have him punished. I’ll have him rot in prison for it. I’ll not cheat the law—You people as has influence with that girl, make her give it me. I can’t touch him without the bill.”

Mr. May had been placed in a chair by the two young men who watched over him; but as Tozer spoke he got up, struggling wildly, almost tearing himself out of the coat by which they held him. “Let me go!” he said. “Do you hear him? Rot in prison! with hard labour; it would kill me! And it used to be hanging! My God—my God! Won’t you let me go?”

Tozer stopped short, stopped by this passion which was greater than his own. He looked wonderingly at the livid face, the struggling figure, impressed in spite of himself. “He’s gone mad,” he said. “Good Lord! But he’s got nothing to do with it. Can’t you take him away?”

“Grandpapa,” said Phœbe in his ear, “here it is, your bill; it was he who did it—and it has driven him mad. Look! I give it up to you; and there he is—that is your work. Now do what you please—”

Trembling, the old man took the paper out of her hand. He gazed wondering at the other, who somehow moved in his excitement by a sense that the decisive moment had come, stood still too, his arm half-pulled out of his coat, his face wild with dread and horror. For a moment they looked at each other in a common agony, neither the one nor the other clear enough to understand, but both feeling that some tremendous crisis had come upon them. “He—done it!” said Tozer appalled and almost speechless. “He done it!” They all crowded round, a circle of scared faces. Phœbe alone stood calm. She was the only one who knew the whole, except the culprit, who understood nothing with that mad confusion in his eyes. But he was overawed too, and in his very madness recognized the crisis. He stood still, struggling no longer, with his eyes fixed upon the homely figure of the old butterman, who stood trembling, thunderstruck, with that fatal piece of paper in his hand.

Tozer had been mad for revenge two moments before—almost as wild as the guilty man before him—with a fierce desire to punish and make an example of the man who had wronged him. But this semi-madness was arrested by the sight of the other madman before him, and by the extraordinary shock of this revelation. It took all the strength out of him. He had not looked up to the clergyman as Cotsdean did, but he had looked up to the gentleman, his customer, as being upon an elevation very different from his own, altogether above and beyond him; and the sight of this superior being, thus humbled, maddened, gazing at him with wild terror and agony, more eloquent than any supplication, struck poor old Tozer to the very soul. “God help us all!” he cried out with a broken, sobbing voice. He was but a vulgar old fellow, mean, it might be, worldly in his way; but the terrible mystery of human wickedness and guilt prostrated his common soul with as sharp an anguish of pity and shame as could have befallen the most heroic. It seized upon him so that he could say or do nothing more, forcing hot and salt tears up into his old eyes, and shaking him all over with a tremor as of palsy. The scared faces appeared to come closer to Phœbe, to whom these moments seemed like years. Had her trust been vain? Softly, but with an excitement beyond control, she touched him on the arm.

“That’s true,” said Tozer, half-crying. “Something’s got to be done. We can’t all stand here for ever, Phœbe; it’s him as has to be thought of. Show it to him, poor gentleman, if he ain’t past knowing; and burn it, and let us hear of it no more.”

Solemnly, in the midst of them all, Phœbe held up the paper before the eyes of the guilty man. If he understood it or not, no one could tell. He did not move, but stared blankly at her and it. Then she held it over the lamp and let it blaze and drop into harmless ashes in the midst of them all. Tozer dropped down into his elbow-chair sniffing and sobbing. Mr. May stood quite still, with a look of utter dulness and stupidity coming over the face in which so much terror had been. If he understood what had passed, it was only in feeling, not in intelligence. He grew still and dull in the midst of that strange madness which all the time was only half-madness, a mixture of conscious excitement and anxiety with that which passes the boundaries of consciousness. For the moment he was stilled into stupid idiotcy, and looked at them with vacant eyes. As for the others, Northcote was the only one who divined at all what this scene meant. To Reginald it was like a scene in a pantomime—bewildering dumb show, with no sense or meaning in it. It was he who spoke first, with a certain impatience of the occurrence which he did not understand.

“Will you come home, sir, now?” he said. “Come home, for Heaven’s sake! Northcote will give you an arm. He’s very ill,” Reginald added, looking round him pitifully in his ignorance; “what you are thinking of I can’t tell—but he’s ill and—delirious. It was Mr. Copperhead who brought him here against my will. Excuse me, Miss Beecham—now I must take him home.”

“Yes,” said Phœbe. The tears came into her eyes as she looked at him; he was not thinking of her at the moment, but she knew he had thought of her, much and tenderly, and she felt that she might never see him again. Phœbe would have liked him to know what she had done, and to know that what she had done was for him chiefly—in order to recompense him a little, poor fellow, for the heart he had given her, which she could not accept, yet could not be ungrateful for. And yet she was glad, though there was a pang in it, that he should never know, and remain unaware of her effort, for his own sake; but the tears came into her eyes as she looked at him, and he caught the gleam of the moisture which made his heart beat. Something moved her beyond what he knew of; and his heart thrilled with tenderness and wonder; but how should he know what it was?

“Give my love to Ursula,” she said. “I shall not come to-night as she has a nurse, and I think he will be better. Make her rest, Mr. May—and if I don’t see her, say good-bye to her for me——”

“再见?”

“Yes, good-bye—things have happened—Tell her I hope she will not forget me,” said Phœbe, the tears dropping down her cheeks. “But oh, please never mind me, look at him, he is quite quiet, he is worn out. Take him home.”

“There is nothing else to be done,” said poor Reginald, whose heart began to ache with a sense of the unknown which surrounded him on every side. He took his father by the arm, who had been standing quite silent, motionless, and apathetic. He had no need for any help, for Mr. May went with him at a touch, as docile as a child. Northcote followed with grave looks and very sad. Tozer had been seated in his favourite chair, much subdued, and giving vent now and then to something like a sob. His nerves had been terribly shaken. But as he saw the three gentlemen going away, nature awoke in the old butterman. He put out his hand and plucked Northcote by the sleeve. “I’ll not say no to that money, not now, Mr. Northcote, sir,” he said.

第四十四章菲比的最后审判 •5,000字

“Now if you please,” said Mr. Copperhead. “I think it’s my turn. I wanted May to hear what I had got to say, but as he’s ill or mad, or something, it is not much good. I can’t imagine what all these incantations meant, and all your play, Miss Phœbe, eyes and all. That sort of thing don’t suit us plain folks. If you don’t mind following your friends, I want to speak to old Tozer here by himself. I don’t like to have women meddling in my affairs.”

“Grandpapa is very tired, and he is upset,” said Phœbe. “I don’t think he can have any more said to him to-night.”

“By George, but he shall though, and you too. Look here,” said Mr. Copperhead, “you’ve taken in my boy Clarence here. He’s been a fool, and he always was a fool; but you’re not a fool, Miss Phœbe. You know precious well what you’re about. And just you listen to me; he shan’t marry you, not if he breaks his heart over it. I ain’t a man that thinks much of breaking hearts. You and he may talk what nonsense you like, but you shan’t marry my boy; no, not if there wasn’t another woman in the world.”

“He has asked me,” said Phœbe; “but I certainly did not ask him. You must give your orders to your son, Mr. Copperhead. You have no right to dictate to me. Grandpapa, I think you and I have had enough for to-night.”

With this Phœbe began to close the shutters, which had been left open, and to put away books and things which were lying about. Tozer made a feeble attempt to stop her energetic proceedings.

“Talk to the gentleman, Phœbe, if Mr. Copperhead ‘as anything to say to you—don’t, don’t you go and offend him, my dear!” the old man cried in an anxious whisper; and then he raised himself from the chair, in which he had sunk exhausted by the unusual commotions to which he had been subjected. “I am sure, sir,” Tozer began, “it ain’t my wish, nor the wish o’ my family, to do anything as is against your wishes—”

“Grandpapa,” said Phœbe, interrupting him ruthlessly, “Mr. Copperhead’s wishes may be a rule to his own family, but they are not to be a rule to yours. For my part I won’t submit to it. Let him take his son away if he pleases—or if he can,” she added, turning round upon Clarence with a smile. “Mr. Clarence Copperhead is as free as I am to go or to stay.”

“By Jove!” cried that young man, who had been hanging in the background, dark and miserable. He came close up to her, and caught first her sleeve and then her elbow; the contact seemed to give him strength. “Look here, sir,” he said, ingratiatingly, “we don’t want to offend you—I don’t want to fly in your face; but I can’t go on having coaches for ever, and here’s the only one in the world that can do the business instead of coaches. Phœbe knows I’m fond of her, but that’s neither here nor there. Here is the one that can make something of me. I ain’t clever, you know it as well as I do—but she is. I don’t mind going into parliament, making speeches and that sort of thing, if I’ve got her to back me up. But without her I’ll never do anything, without her you may put me in a cupboard, as you’ve often said. Let me have her, and I’ll make a figure, and do you credit. I can’t say any fairer,” said Clarence, taking the rest of her arm into his grasp, and holding her hand. He was stupid—but he was a man, and Phœbe felt proud of him, for the moment at least.

“You idiot!” cried his father, “and I was an idiot too to put any faith in you; come away from that artful girl. Can’t you see that it’s all a made-up plan from beginning to end? What was she sent down here for but to catch you, you oaf, you fool, you! Drop her, or you drop me. That’s all I’ve got to say.”

“Yes, drop me, Clarence,” said Phœbe, with a smile; “for in the mean time you hurt me. See, you have bruised my arm. While you settle this question with your father, I will go to grandmamma. Pardon me, I take more interest in her than in this discussion between him and you.”

“You shan’t go,” cried her lover, “not a step. Look here, sir. If that’s what it comes to, her before you. What you’ve made of me ain’t much, is it? but I don’t mind what I go in for, as long as she’s to the fore. Her before you.”

“Is that your last word?” said Mr. Copperhead.

“Yes.” His son faced him with a face as set and cloudy as his own. The mouth, shut close and sullen, was the same in both; but those brown eyes which Clarence got from his mother, and which were usually mild in their expression, looking out gently from the ruder face to which they did not seem to belong, were now, not clear, but muddy with resolution, glimmering with dogged obstinacy from under the drooping eyelids. He was not like himself; he was as he had been that day when Mr. May saw him at the Dorsets, determined, more than a match for his father, who had only the obstinacy of his own nature, not that dead resisting force of two people to bring to the battle. Clarence had all the pertinacity that was not in his mother, to reinforce his own. Mr. Copperhead stared at his son with that look of authority, half-imperious, half-brutal, with which he was in the habit of crushing all who resisted him; but Clarence did not quail. He stood dull and immovable, his eyes contracted, his face stolid, and void of all expression but that of resistance. He was not much more than a fool, but just by so much as his father was more reasonable, more clear-sighted than himself, was Clarence stronger than his father. He held Phœbe by the sleeve, that she might not escape him; but he faced Mr. Copperhead with a dull determination that all the powers of earth could not shake.

For the moment the father lost his self-control.

“Then I’ll go,” he said, “and when you’ve changed your mind, you can come to me; but—” here he swore a big oath, “mind what you’re about. There never was a man yet but repented when he set himself against me.”

Clarence made no answer. Talking was not in his way. And Mr. Copperhead showed his wondering apprehension of a power superior to his own, by making a pause after he had said this, and not going away directly. He stopped and tried once more to influence the rebel with that stare. “Phœbe—Phœbe—for God’s sake make him give in, and don’t go against Mr. Copperhead!” cried Tozer’s tremulous voice, shaken with weakness and anxiety. But Phœbe did not say anything. She felt in the hesitation, the pause, the despairing last effort to conquer, that the time of her triumph had nearly come. When he went away, they all stood still and listened to his footsteps going along the passage and through the garden. When he was outside he paused again, evidently with the idea of returning, but changed his mind and went on. To be left like this, the victors on a field of domestic conflict, is very often not at all a triumphant feeling, and involves a sense of defeat about as bad as the reality experienced by the vanquished. Phœbe, who was imaginative, and had lively feeling, felt a cold shiver go over her as the steps went away one by one, and began to cry softly, not knowing quite why it was; but Clarence, who had no imagination, nor any feelings to speak of, was at his ease and perfectly calm.

“What are you crying for?” he said, “the governor can do what he likes. I’d marry you in spite of a hundred like him. He didn’t know what he was about, didn’t the governor, when he tackled me设立的区域办事处外,我们在美国也开设了办事处,以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

“But, Clarence, you must not break with your father, you must not quarrel on my account—”

“That’s as it may be,” he said, “never you mind. When it’s cleverness that’s wanted, it’s you that’s wanted to back me up—but I can stick to my own way without you; and my way is this,” he said, suddenly lifting her from the ground, holding her waist between his two big hands, and giving her an emphatic kiss. Phœbe was silenced altogether when this had happened. He was a blockhead, but he was a man, and could stand up for his love, and for his own rights as a man, independent of the world. She felt a genuine admiration for her lout at that moment; but this admiration was accompanied by a very chill sense of all that might be forfeited if Mr. Copperhead stood out. Clarence, poor and disowned by his father, would be a very different person from the Clarence Copperhead who was going into parliament, and had “a fine position” in prospect. She did not form any resolutions as to what she would do in that case, for she was incapable of anything dishonourable; but it made her shiver as with a cold icy current running over; and as for poor old Tozer he was all but whimpering in his chair.

“Oh, Lord!” he cried. “A great man like Mr. Copperhead affronted in my ‘umble ‘ouse. It’s what I never thought to see. A friend of the connection like that—your father’s leading member. Oh, Phœbe, it was an evil day as brought you here to make all this mischief! and if I had known what was going on!” cried Tozer, almost weeping in his despair.

“You are tired, grandpapa,” said Phœbe. “Don’t be frightened about us. Mr. Copperhead is very fond of Clarence, and he will give in; or if he doesn’t give in, still we shall not be worse off than many other people.” But she said this with a secret panic devouring her soul, wondering if it was possible that such a horrible revolution of circumstances and change of everything she had looked for, could be. Even Clarence was silenced, though immovable. He went away soon after, and betook himself to his room at the Parsonage, where all his possessions still were, while Phœbe attended upon her grandmother, whose agitation and fear she calmed without saying much. Tozer, quite broken down, retired to bed; and when they were all disposed of, Phœbe went out to the garden, and made a mournful little promenade there, with very serious thoughts. If Clarence was to be cast off by his father what could she do with him? It was not in Phœbe to abandon the stupid lover, who had stood up so manfully for her. No, she must accept her fate however the balance turned; but if this dreadful change happened what should she do with him? The question penetrated, and made her shiver to the depths of her soul; but never even in imagination did she forsake him. He was hers now, come good or ill; but the prospect of the ill was appalling to her. She went up and down the garden-path slowly in the silence, looking up to the stars, with her heart very full. Phœbe felt that no usual burden had been put upon her. Last night her occupation had been one of the purest charity, and this Providence had seemed to recompense in the morning, by dropping at her very feet the prize she had long meant to win; but now she was down again after being lifted up so high, and a great part of its value was taken out of that prize. Was she mercenary or worldly-minded in her choice? It would be hard to say so, for she never questioned with herself whether or not she should follow Clarence into obscurity and poverty, if things should turn out so. She would never abandon him, however bad his case might be; but her heart sunk very low when she thought of her future with him, without the “career” which would have made everything sweet.

Mr. Copperhead, too, had very serious thoughts on this subject, and sat up long drinking brandy-and-water, and knitting his brows, as he turned the subject over and over in his mind, recognizing with disgust (in which nevertheless there mingled a certain respect) that Clarence would not yield, he was as obstinate as himself, or more so. He had gone to the inn, where he was alone, without any of his usual comforts. It was perhaps the first time in his prosperous life that he had ever been really crossed. Joe had never attempted to do it, nor any of the first family. They had married, as they had done everything else, according to his dictation; and now here was his useless son, his exotic plant, his Dresden china, not only asserting a will of his own, but meaning to have it; and showing a resolution, a determination equal to his own. His mother had never shown anything of this. She had yielded, as every one else had yielded (Mr. Copperhead reflected), to whatever he ordered. Where had the boy got this unsuspected strength? A kind of smile broke unawares over the rich man’s face, as he asked himself this question, a smile which he chased away with a frown, but which nevertheless had been there for a moment roused by a subtle suggestion of self-flattery. Where, but from himself, had his gentleman-son (as the millionnaire proudly held him to be) got that strength of obstinacy? He chased the thought and the smile away with a frown, and went to bed gloomily nursing his wrath; but yet this suggestion which he himself had made was more flattering to himself than words can say. As for Clarence, the only other person deeply concerned, after he had asked for Mr. May, and expressed his regret to learn how ill he was, the young man smoked a cigar on the doorsteps, and then went peaceably, without either care or anxiety, to bed, where he slept very soundly till eight o’clock next morning, which was the hour at which he was called, though he did not always get up.

When Mr. Copperhead began the new day, he began it with a very unwise idea, quickly carried out, as unwise ideas generally are. Feeling that he could make nothing of his son, he resolved to try what he could make of Phœbe; a young woman, nay, a bit of a girl not more than twenty, and a minister’s daughter, brought up in reverence of the leading member—any resistance on her part seemed really incredible. He could not contemplate the idea of giving up all the cherished plans of his life by a melodramatic renunciation of his son. To give up Clarence whom he had trained to be the very apex and crowning point of his grandeur, was intolerable to him. But Mr. Copperhead had heard before now of young women, who, goaded to it, had been known to give up their lover rather than let their lover suffer on their account, and if this had ever been the case, surely it might be so in the present instance. Had he not the comfort of the Beecham family in his hands? Could not he make the Crescent Chapel too hot to hold them? Could he not awaken the fears of scores of other fathers very unlikely to permit their favourite sons to stray into the hands of pastors’ daughters? There was nothing indeed to be said against Mr. Beecham, but still it would be strange if Mr. Copperhead, out and away the richest man in the community, could not make the Crescent too hot to hold him. He went down the Lane from the “George,” where he had slept, quite early next morning, with this purpose full in his head, and, as good luck (he thought) would have it, found Phœbe, who had been restless all night with anxiety, and had got up early, once more walking up and down the long garden-path, reflecting over all that had happened, and wondering as to what might happen still. What a piece of luck it was! He was accustomed to have fortune on his side, and it seemed natural to him. He went up to her with scarcely a pause for the usual salutations, and plunged at once into what he had to say.

“Miss Phœbe, I am glad to find you alone. I wanted a word with you,” he said, “about the affair of last night. Why shouldn’t you and I, the only two sensible ones in the business, settle it between ourselves? Old Tozer is an old ass, begging your pardon for saying so, and my son is a fool—”

“I do not agree to either,” said Phœbe gravely, “but never mind, I will certainly hear what you have to say.”

“What I have to say is this. I will never consent to let my son Clarence marry you.” Here he was interrupted by a serious little bow of assent from Phœbe, which disconcerted and angered him strangely. “This being the case,” he resumed more hotly, “don’t you think we’d better come to terms, you and me? You are too sensible a girl, I’ll be bound, to marry a man without a penny, which is what he would be. He would be properly made an end of, Miss Phœbe, if he found out, after all his bravado last night, that you were the one to cast him off after all.”

“He cannot find that out,” said Phœbe with a smile; “unfortunately even if I could have done it under brighter circumstances my mouth is closed now. I desert him now, when he is in trouble! Of course you do not know me, so you are excused for thinking so, Mr. Copperhead.”

The rich man stared. She was speaking a language which he did not understand. “Look here, Miss Phœbe,” he said, “let’s understand each other. High horses don’t answer with me. As for deserting him when he’s in trouble, if you’ll give him up—or desert him, as you call it—he need never be in trouble at all. You can stop all that. Just you say no to him, and he’ll soon be on his knees to me to think no more of it. You know who I am,” Mr. Copperhead continued with a concealed threat. “I have a deal of influence in the connection, though I say it that shouldn’t, and I’m very well looked on in chapel business. What would the Crescent do without me? And if there should be an unpleasantness between the minister and the leading member, why, you know, Miss Phœbe, no one better, who it is that would go to the wall.”

She made no answer, and he thought she was impressed by his arguments. He went on still more strongly than before. “Such a clever girl as you knows all that,” said Mr. Copperhead, “and suppose you were to marry Clarence without a penny, what would become of you? What would you make of him? He is too lazy for hard work, and he has not brains enough for anything else. What would you make of him if you had him? That’s what I want to know.”

“And that is just what I can’t tell you,” said Phœbe smiling. “It is a very serious question. I suppose something will turn up.”

“What can turn up? You marry him because he is going into parliament, and could give you a fine position.”

“I confess,” said Phœbe with her usual frankness, “that I did think of his career; without that the future is much darker, and rather depressing.”

“Yes, you see that! A poor clod of a fellow that can’t work, and will be hanging upon you every day, keeping you from working—that you will never be able to make anything of.”

“Mr. Copperhead,” said Phœbe sweetly, “why do you tell all this to me? Your mere good sense will show you that I cannot budge. I have accepted him being rich, and I cannot throw him over when he is poor. I may not like it—I don’t like it—but I am helpless. Whatever change is made, it cannot be made by me.”

He stared at her in blank wonder and dismay. For a moment he could not say anything. “Look here,” he faltered at last, “you thought him a great match, a rise in the world for you and yours; but he ain’t a great match any longer. What’s the use then of keeping up the farce? You and me understand each other. You’ve nothing to do but to let him off; you’re young and pretty, you’ll easily find some one else. Fools are plenty in this world,” he added, unable to refrain from that one fling. “Let him off and all will be right. What’s to prevent you? I’d not lose a moment if I were you.”

Phœbe laughed. She had a pretty laugh, soft yet ringing like a child’s. “You and I, I fear, are no rule for each other,” she said. “Mr. Copperhead, what prevents me is a small thing called honour, that is all.”

“Honour! that’s for men,” he said hastily, “and folly for them according as you mean it; but for women there’s no such thing, it’s sham and humbug; and look you here, Miss Phœbe,” he continued, losing his temper, “you see what your father will say to this when you get him into hot water with his people! There’s more men with sons than me; and if the Crescent ain’t too hot to hold him within a month—Do you think I’ll stand it, a beggarly minister and his belongings coming in the way of a man that could buy you all up, twenty times over, and more!”

The fury into which he had worked himself took away Mr. Copperhead’s breath. Phœbe said nothing. She went on by his side with soft steps, her face a little downcast, the suspicion of a smile about her mouth.

“By George!” he cried, when he had recovered himself, “you think you can laugh at me. You think you can defy me, you, a bit of a girl, as poor as Job!”

“I defy no one,” said Phœbe. “I cannot prevent you from insulting me, that is all; which is rather hard,” she added, with a smile, which cost her an effort, “seeing that I shall have to drag your son through the world somehow, now that you have cast him off. He will not give me up, I know, and honour prevents me from giving him up. So I shall have hard work enough, without any insults from you. It is a pity,” said Phœbe, with a sort of sympathetic regret for herself so badly used. “I could have made a man of him. I could have backed him up to get on as well as most men; but it will certainly be uphill work now.”

She did not look at the furious father as she spoke. She was quite calm, treating it reflectively, regretfully, as a thing past and over. Mr. Copperhead tried to burst forth again in threats and objurgations; but in spite of himself, and though she never said another word, the big, rich, noisy man was silenced. He went away, threatening to appeal to her father, which Phœbe, with a last effort, begged him smilingly to do. But this was the last of which she was capable. When she had closed the door after him, she rushed upstairs to her room, and cried bitterly. Everything was very dark to her. If he did appeal to her father, the appeal would spread confusion and dismay through the pastor’s heart and family; and what was to become of herself, with Clarence on her hands, who could do nothing that was useful, and could earn neither his own living nor hers? All this was very terrible to Phœbe, and for a moment she contemplated the unheard of step of having a headache, and staying upstairs. But she reflected that her poor old grandfather had done 他的 duty, at no small sacrifice, according to her bidding, yesterday; and she bathed her eyes heroically, and collected her strength and went down to breakfast as usual. It was her duty, which she must do.

As for Mr. Copperhead, he took a long walk, to reflect upon all the circumstances, which were complicated enough to cause him much trouble. He could not give up his cherished scheme, his Member of Parliament, his crown of glory. It was what he had been looking forward to for years. He tried to realize the failure of his hopes, and could not—nay, would not, feeling it more than he could bear. No; without his gentleman son, his University man, his costly, useless production, who was worth so much money to him, yet brought in nothing, he felt that he must shrink in the opinion of all his friends, even of his own sons, the “first family,” who had so envied, sneered at, undervalued Clarence, yet had been forced to be civil to him, and respect their father’s imperious will as he chose that it should be respected. What a sorry figure he should cut before all of them if he cast off Clarence, and had to announce himself publicly as foiled in all his plans and hopes! He could not face this prospect; he shrank from it as if it had involved actual bodily pain. The men who would laugh at his failure were men of his own class, to whom he had bragged at his ease, crowing and exulting over them, and he felt that he could not face them if all his grand anticipations collapsed. There was nothing for it but to give in. And on the other hand this girl Phœbe was a very clever girl, able not only to save the expense of coaches, but to cram the boy, and keep him up better than any coach could do. She could make his speeches for him, like enough, Mr. Copperhead thought, and a great many reasons might be given to the world why she had been chosen instead of a richer wife for the golden boy. Golden girls, as a general rule, were not of so much use. “Fortune ain’t worth thinking of in comparison with brains. It was brains I wanted, and I’ve bought ’em dear; but I hope I can afford it,” he almost heard himself saying to an admiring, envious assembly; for Mr. Copperhead so far deserved his success that he could accept a defeat when it was necessary, and make the best of it. When he had nearly ended his walk, and had reached in his thoughts to this point, he met his son, who was walking up from the Parsonage to No. 6 in the Lane. Clarence looked cheerful enough as he walked along, whistling under his breath, towards his love; but when he saw his father, a change came over his face. Once more his eyelids drooped over his eyes, and those muddy brown orbs got fixed in dull obstinacy; once more his upper lip shut down sullen and fast upon the lower. The entire expression of his face changed. Mr. Copperhead saw this afar off, from the moment his son perceived him, and the sight gave to all his thinking that force which reality gives to imagination; the risk he was running became doubly clear.

“Good morning, Clarence,” he said.

“Good morning, sir,” responded the other, with lowering brows and close-shut mouth.

“I suppose you were coming to the George to me? Come along, I’ve had no breakfast; and let’s hope, my boy, that you’re in a better mind than last night.”

“Look here, sir,” said Clarence; “you might as well ask one of those houses to walk with you to the George, and show a better mind. I’m of one mind, and one only. I’ll marry Phœbe Beecham, whether you like it or not, and no other woman in this world.”

“Is that your last word?” said the father, curiously repeating, without being aware of it, his question of the previous night.

“That’s my last word,” said the son, contemplating his father sullenly from under the heavy lids of his obstinate eyes.

“Very well,” said Mr. Copperhead; “then come along to breakfast, for I’m hungry, and we can talk it over there.”

第四十五章最后 •2,400字

This is how Phœbe’s difficulties ended. Contrary to her every expectation, Mr. Copperhead made a great brag of her powers wherever he went. “Money is money,” he said, “but brains is brains, all the same—we can’t get on without ’em—and when you want to make a figure in the world, sir, buy a few brains if they fall in your way—that’s my style. I’ve done with stupid ones up till now; but when I see there’s a want of a clever one, I ain’t such a fool as to shut my eyes to it. They cost dear, but I’m thankful to say I can afford that, ay, and a good deal more.” Thus everything was satisfactorily arranged. Tozer and his wife cried together for joy on the wedding-day, but they did not expect to be asked to that ceremony, being well aware that Phœbe, having now completely entered into the regions of the great, could not be expected to have very much to say to them. “Though I know, the darling, as she’d just be the same if she was here, and wouldn’t let nobody look down upon you and me,” said the old woman.

“She’s a wonderful girl, she is,” said old Tozer. “Wind us all round her little finger, that’s what she could do—leastways, except when there was principle in it, and there I stood firm. But I’ve done things for Phœbe as I wouldn’t have done for no other breathing, and she knew it. I wouldn’t give in to her tho’ about church folks being just as good as them as is more enlightened. That’s agin’ reason. But I’ve done things for ’em along of her!—Ah! she’s a wonderful girl is Phœbe—Phœbe, Junior, as I always call her. There ain’t her match between here and London, and that’s what I’ll always say.”

But we will not try to describe the glory and joy that filled Mr. Beecham’s house in the Terrace, when Mrs. Clarence Copperhead went back there with all their friends to the wedding-breakfast, which was in the very best style, and regardless of expense. Even at that moment it gave Phœbe a little pang to see her mother in the bright colours which she loved, but which made her so much pinker and fatter than was needful. Little Mrs. Copperhead, in dim neutral tints, looked like a little shadow beside the pastor’s buxom wife, and was frightened and ill at ease and sad to the heart to lose her boy, who had been all she possessed in the world. Sophy Dorset, specially asked for the purpose with Ursula May, who was a bridesmaid, looked on with much admiration at the curious people, so rich, so fine, and so overwhelming, among whom her father had found it so remarkable to meet not one person whom he knew. “Now, Ursula,” she said, “if you had played your cards properly that beautiful bridegroom and that nice little house in Mayfair, and the privilege, perhaps, of writing M.P. after your name some time or other, might all have been yours instead of Miss Beecham’s. Why did you let her carry off the prize?”

“Cousin Sophy!” cried Ursula indignantly. “As if I ever thought of him as a prize! But I know you are only laughing at me. The strange thing is that she likes him, though I am sure she knew very well that Reginald—Oh, when one thinks how many people there are in this world who do not get what they wish most—and how many people there are—” Ursula paused, involved in her own antithesis, and Sophy ended it for her with a sigh.

“Who do—and the one is no happier than the other, most times, little Ursula; but you don’t understand that, and as you are going to be one of the blessed ones, you need not take to making reflections; that is my privilege, my dear.”

“Oh, Cousin Sophy, why were not you one of those blessed ones too?” cried Ursula, clasping her arms suddenly round her kind friend. This, be it understood, was after the breakfast was over, and when, in the deep gloom which generally concludes a wedding day, everybody had gone home. The two were in a magnificent large bedchamber in Portland Place, in the vast silent mansion of the Copperheads, where at present there was nothing more cheerful than the bridegroom’s soft-eyed mother, taking herself dreadfully to task for not being happy, and trying not to cry, though there was to be a great dinner and entertainment that night.

“Don’t you know?” said Sophy, putting her aside with a certain proud coldness, and a momentary laugh, “he I loved proved false; that is to say, in simple language, he turned out so poor a creature that it is very good of me not to despise humanity for his sweet sake. Never mind. If all had gone well, and he had been a real man instead of the sham image of one, I don’t suppose I should have ever been among the blessed ones. Anne is, who never thought of such mysteries at all; and so you will be, my little Ursula—very happy. I am sure of it—though how you can manage to be happy, my dear, marrying a man who is not a good Churchman, it is not for me to say.”

“Cousin Sophy, have I been brought up in a way to make me so fond of Churchmen?” said Ursula solemnly. She could not have told how much or how little she knew about her father’s behaviour, and the “shock to his mental system;” but vaguely and by instinct there was a great deal that she did know.

“You have been behind the scenes too much perhaps,” said Sophy Dorset, shrugging her shoulders, “but don’t think any worse of the world than you ought, if you can’t think very much better. No class is good or bad, Ursula. Men are but men all over the world.”

This made Ursula cry, though it is difficult to say why. She thought it cynical, and probably so will the reader. Perhaps Sophy Dorset abandoned the cause of mankind too easily, as most people of her temperament and age are disposed to do. Anyhow the evening entertainment took place and was very fine, and every honour was done to Clarence Copperhead’s marriage, especially by his mother, who appeared in the most lovely satin that eyes ever saw, and diamonds—and almost succeeded all the evening in keeping herself from crying, but not entirely. She did break down when the health of bridegroom and bride was drunk as it ought to be; but recovered herself hastily when the mother on the other side gave her a kiss of sympathy. Though it was an honest kiss it filled poor little Mrs. Copperhead’s mind with the most unchristian feelings, and gave her strength to keep up for the rest of the evening, and do her duty to the last. Nevertheless Phœbe was the best of daughters-in-law, and ended by making her husband’s mother dependent on her for most of the comforts of her life. And Clarence got into Parliament, and the reader, perhaps (if Parliament is sitting), may have had the luck to read a speech in the morning paper of Phœbe’s composition, and if he ever got the secret of her style would know it again, and might trace the course of a public character for years to come by that means. But this secret is one which no bribe nor worldly inducement will ever tempt our lips to betray.

Northcote was released from the charge of Salem Chapel directly after these events, by the return of the minister safe and sound from his holiday, to the great delight of the congregation, though they had not been very fond of their old pastor before. Now they could not sufficiently exult over the happy re-instalment. “The other one never crossed our doors from the day he came till now as he’s going away,” said one indignant member; “nor took no more notice of us chapel folks nor if we were dirt beneath his feet.” “That time as the Meeting was held, when he spoke up again’ the sinecure, was the only time as my mind was satisfied,” cried another. “And a deal came of it after, making friends with the very man he had abused.” “All his friends was Church folks,” said a third; “he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, that’s what I calls him; and a poor moralist as a preacher, with never a rousing word in them things as he called his sermons. We’re well rid of the likes of him, though he may be clever. I don’t give much for that kind of cleverness; and what’s the good of you, minister or not minister, if you can’t keep consistent and stick to your own side.” The chorus was so strong that the echo of it moved Tozer, who was a kind of arch-deacon and leading member too, in his way, where he sat twiddling his thumbs in his little room. “I’m one as is qualified to give what you may call a casting vote,” said Tozer, “being the oldest deacon in Salem, and one as has seen generations coming and going. And as for Church and Chapel, I’ve served ’em both, and seen the colour of their money, and there’s them as has their obligations to me, though we needn’t name no names. But this I will say, as I’m cured of clever men and them as is thought superior. They ain’t to be calculated upon. If any more o’ them young intellectuals turns up at Carlingford, I’ll tell him right out, ‘You ain’t the man for my money.’ I’ll say to him as bold as brass, ‘I’ve been young, and now I’m old, and it’s my conviction as clever young men ain’t the sort for Salem. We want them as is steady-going, and them as is consistent; good strong opinions, and none o’ your charity, that’s what we wants here.’” Now Tozer had loved clever young men in his day more well than wisely, as everybody knew, and this deliverance carried all the more weight in consequence, and was echoed loudly by one general hum of content and applause.

Northcote took this very quietly, but he retired, after he had married Ursula, from the office of pastor, for which he was not fitted, and from the Liberation Society, and various other societies, coming to see that Disestablishment was not a panacea for national evils any more than other things. He was in the habit of quoting his brother-in-law, Reginald May, as the best man he knew; but this did not make him a Churchman; for naturally he could not say the same of other members of the same class and family. He was shaken out of his strong opinions; but it is doubtful how far this was good for him, for he was a man of warlike disposition, and not to have something which he could go to the stake for—something which he could think the devil’s own stronghold to assail, was a drawback to him, and cramped his mental development; but he was happy in his home with his pretty Ursula, which is probably all the reader will care to know. He paid Tozer’s hundred and fifty pounds. And he made no inquiries, and tried not to ask himself what all that strange scene had meant—and whatever it did mean it was over for ever, and nobody asked any further questions or made any revelations on the subject. 至于先生。 May, his mysterious illness went on for some time, the doctors never venturing to put any name to it. It was “mental shock,” and perhaps aberration, though he was sane enough to calm down after that incomprehensible scene. 先生。 Simpson of the Bank had a good guess at the secret of the enigma, but even Tozer got hazy about it after a while, and though he knew that he had done Mr. May a wonderful service, could scarcely have told what it was—and neither, when it was all over, could the culprit have told. He got better and worse for about a year, and then he died, his strength failing him without any distinct reason, no one could tell how. Reginald got the living and stepped into his father’s place, making a home for the children, which sharp Janey rules over, not so softly or steadily as Ursula, with a love of theories and experiments not quite consistent with the higher graces of housekeeping, yet with an honest meaning through it all. As the times are so unsettled, and no one can tell what may become within a year of any old foundation, the trustees have requested Reginald to retain his chaplaincy at the old College; so that he is in reality a pluralist, and almost rich, though they say the hardest-worked man in Carlingford. He has his vagaries too, which no man can live without, but he is the kindest guardian to his brothers and sisters, and bears with Janey’s freaks with exemplary gentleness. And he has a curate, whom in the course of nature Janey will probably marry—though this has not yet been revealed to either party, who have reached only the first stage of hating each other up to this time. It is not thought in the family that Reginald will ever marry. She was never worthy of him, the sisters say; but he thinks differently, as yet at least.

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