第 21 节
作者:温暖寒冬      更新:2024-04-09 19:50      字数:9242
  not to mention that I’m always spending more than I can afford in
  bricks and mortar; so that I get savage at a lame beggar when he
  asks   me   for   sixpence。   Those   poor   lean   cobblers;   who   think   they
  can   help   to   regenerate   mankind   by   setting   out   to   preach   in   the
  morning   twilight   before       they   begin    their   day’s   work;   may    well
  have  a   poor  opinion   of  me。   But   come;   let   us   have   our   luncheon。
  Isn’t Kate coming to lunch?”
  “Miss     Irwine    told  Bridget    to   take   her   lunch   upstairs;”     said
  Carroll; “she can’t leave Miss Anne。”
  “Oh; very well。 Tell Bridget to say I’ll go up and see Miss Anne
  presently。 You can use your right arm quite well now; Arthur;” Mr。
  Irwine continued; observing that Captain Donnithorne had taken
  his arm out of the sling。
  “Yes;    pretty    well;  but   Godwin      insists   on  my    keeping     it  up
  constantly for some time to come。 I hope I shall be able to get away
  to   the   regiment;      though;     in  the   beginning      of  August。     It’s  a
  desperately       dull  business     being    shut    up   at  the   Chase    in   the
  summer  months;   when   one   can   neither   hunt  nor   shoot;   so   as   to
  make one’s self pleasantly sleepy in the evening。 However; we are
  to   astonish   the   echoes   on   the   30th   of   July。   My   grandfather   has
  given     me    carte    blanche     for   once;    and    I   promise      you    the
  entertainment shall be worthy of the occasion。 The world will not
  see   the   grand   epoch   of   my   majority   twice。   I   think   I   shall   have   a
  lofty throne for you; Godmamma; or rather two; one on   the  lawn
  and another in the ballroom; that you may sit and look down upon
  us like an Olympian goddess。”
  “I   mean    to   bring   out   my   best   brocade;    that   I  wore   at  your
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  christening   twenty   years   ago;”   said   Mrs。   Irwine。   “Ah;   I   think   I
  shall see your poor mother flitting about in her white dress; which
  looked   to   me   almost  like   a   shroud   that   very   day;   and   it was  her
  shroud only three months after; and your little cap and christening
  dress   were   buried   with   her   too。   She   had   set   her   heart   on   that;
  sweet     soul!   Thank      God    you    take   after   your    mother’s     family;
  Arthur。 If you had been a puny; wiry; yellow baby; I wouldn’t have
  stood godmother to you。 I should have been sure you would turn
  out    a  Donnithorne。       But    you   were    such    a  broad…faced;      broad…
  chested; loud…screaming rascal; I knew you were every inch of you
  a Tradgett。”
  “But you might have been a little too hasty there; Mother;” said
  Mr。 Irwine; smiling。 “Don’t you remember how it was with Juno’s
  last   pups?   One   of   them   was   the   very   image   of   its   mother;   but   it
  had   two  or  three   of   its   father’s   tricks   notwithstanding。   Nature   is
  clever enough to cheat even you; Mother。”
  “Nonsense; child! Nature never makes a ferret in the shape of a
  mastiff。 You’ll never persuade me that I can’t tell what men are by
  their outsides。 If I don’t like a man’s looks; depend upon it I shall
  never   like  him。   I   don’t   want   to   know   people   that   look   ugly   and
  disagreeable;       any   more     than   I  want    to   taste   dishes    that  look
  disagreeable。   If   they   make   me   shudder   at   the   first   glance;   I   say;
  take them away。 An ugly; piggish; or fishy eye; now; makes me feel
  quite ill; it’s like a bad smell。”
  “Talking of eyes;” said Captain Donnithorne; “that reminds me
  that   I’ve   got   a   book   I   meant   to   bring   you;   Godmamma。   It   came
  down in a parcel from London the other day。 I know you are fond
  of   queer;    wizard…like      stories。   It’s  a  volume     of  poems;     ‘Lyrical
  Ballads。’ Most of them seem to be twaddling stuff; but the first is in
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  a   different  style—‘The   Ancient   Mariner’   is   the   title。   I   can   hardly
  make head or tail of it as a story; but it’s a strange; striking thing。
  I’ll send   it  over  to  you;   and   there  are  some   other  books   that  you
  may     like   to  see;  Irwine—pamphlets           about    Antinomianism         and
  Evangelicalism;        whatever      they   may    be。   I  can’t  think    what    the
  fellow means by sending such things to me。 I’ve written to him to
  desire that from henceforth he will send me no book or pamphlet
  on anything that ends in ism。”
  “Well; I don’t know that I’m very fond of isms myself; but I may
  as   well   look   at  the   pamphlets;   they  let  one   see   what  is   going   on。
  I’ve   a   little   matter   to   attend   to;   Arthur;”   continued   Mr。   Irwine;
  rising to leave the room; “and then I shall be ready to set out with
  you。”
  The little matter that Mr。 Irwine had to attend to took him up
  the old stone staircase (part of the house was very old) and made
  him pause before a door at which he knocked gently。 “Come in;”
  said    a  woman’s      voice;   and   he   entered    a  room   so   darkened       by
  blinds     and   curtains    that   Miss    Kate;   the   thin   middle…aged      lady
  standing by the bedside; would not have had light enough for any
  other  sort  of  work   than   the   knitting   which   lay   on   the   little   table
  near   her。   But   at   present   she   was   doing   what   required   only   the
  dimmest   light—sponging   the   aching   head   that   lay   on   the   pillow
  with  fresh  vinegar。   It  was   a  small   face;   that   of   the   poor   sufferer;
  perhaps it had once been pretty; but now it was worn and sallow。
  Miss Kate came towards her brother and whispered; “Don’t speak
  to  her;   she   can’t bear  to   be   spoken   to   to…day。”   Anne’s   eyes   were
  closed; and her brow contracted as if from intense pain。 Mr。 Irwine
  went   to   the   bedside   and   took   up   one   of   the   delicate   hands   and
  kissed it; a slight pressure from the small fingers told him   that it
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  was worth…while to have come upstairs for the sake of doing that。
  He lingered a moment; looking at her; and then turned away and
  left the room; treading very gently—he had taken off his boots and
  put on slippers before he came upstairs。 Whoever remembers how
  many  things   he   has   declined   to   do   even   for   himself;   rather   than
  have the trouble of putting on or taking off his boots; will not think
  this last detail insignificant。
  And   Mr。   Irwine’s   sisters;   as   any   person   of   family   within   ten
  miles      of   Broxton      could     have    testified;    were     such     stupid;
  uninteresting   women!   It   was   quite   a   pity   handsome;   clever   Mrs。
  Irwine   should  have   had   such   commonplace   daughters。   That   fine
  old lady  herself  was   worth  driving  ten  miles   to  see;   any  day;   her
  beauty; her well…preserved faculties; and her old…fashioned dignity
  made   her      a  graceful    subject    for  conversation      in  turn   with    the
  King’s health; the sweet new patterns in cotton dresses; the news
  from   Egypt;   and   Lord   Dacey’s   lawsuit;   which   was   fretting   poor
  Lady Dacey to death。 But no one ever thought of mentioning the
  Miss     Irwines;    except    the   poor    people    in  Broxton      village;   who
  regarded   them   as   deep   in   the   science   of   medicine;   and   spoke   of
  them   vaguely   as   “the   gentlefolks。”   If  any   one   had   asked   old   Job
  Dummilow         who     gave    him    his  flannel    jacket;    he   would     have
  answered; “the gentlefolks; last winter”; and widow Steene dwelt
  much on the virtues of the “stuff” the gentlefolks gave her for her
  cough。 Under this name too; they were used with great effect as a
  means   of  taming  refractory   children;   so   that   at   the   sight   of   poor
  Miss Anne’s sallow face; several small urchins had a terrified sense
  that    she   was   cognisant     of  all  their   worst    misdemeanours;         and
  knew the precise number of stones with which they had intended
  to hit Farme