第 110 节
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温暖寒冬 更新:2024-04-09 19:50 字数:9162
“I thought she’d got some maggot in her head; she’s gone about
wi’ her mouth buttoned up so all day。 It’s all wi’ going so among
them servants at the Chase; as we war fools for letting her。 She
thinks it ’ud be a finer life than being wi’ them as are akin to her
and ha’ brought her up sin’ she war no bigger nor Marty。 She
thinks there’s nothing belongs to being a lady’s maid but wearing
finer clothes nor she was born to; I’ll be bound。 It’s what rag she
can get to stick on her as she’s thinking on from morning till night;
as I often ask her if she wouldn’t like to be the mawkin i’ the field;
for then she’d be made o’ rags inside and out。 I’ll never gi’ my
consent to her going for a lady’s maid; while she’s got good friends
to take care on her till she’s married to somebody better nor one o’
them valets; as is neither a common man nor a gentleman; an’
must live on the fat o’ the land; an ’s like enough to stick his hands
under his coat…tails and expect his wife to work for him。”
“Aye; aye;” said Mr。 Poyser; “we must have a better husband
for her nor that; and there’s better at hand。 Come; my wench; give
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over crying and get to bed。 I’ll do better for you nor letting you go
for a lady’s maid。 Let’s hear no more on’t。”
When Hetty was gone upstairs he said; “I canna make it out as
she should want to go away; for I thought she’d got a mind t’ Adam
Bede。 She’s looked like it o’ late。”
“Eh; there’s no knowing what she’s got a liking to; for things
take no more hold on her than if she was a dried pea。 I believe that
gell; Molly—as is aggravatin’ enough; for the matter o’ that—but I
believe she’d care more about leaving us and the children; for all
she’s been here but a year come Michaelmas; nor Hetty would。
But she’s got this notion o’ being a lady’s maid wi’ going among
them servants—we might ha’ known what it ’ud lead to when we
let her go to learn the fine work。 But I’ll put a stop to it pretty
quick。”
“Thee ’dst be sorry to part wi’ her; if it wasn’t for her good;”
said Mr。 Poyser。 “She’s useful to thee i’ the work。”
“Sorry? Yes; I’m fonder on her nor she deserves—a little hard…
hearted hussy; wanting to leave us i’ that way。 I can’t ha’ had her
about me these seven year; I reckon; and done for her; and taught
her everything wi’out caring about her。 An’ here I’m having linen
spun; an’ thinking all the while it’ll make sheeting and table…
clothing for her when she’s married; an’ she’ll live i’ the parish wi’
us; and never go out of our sights—like a fool as I am for thinking
aught about her; as is no better nor a cherry wi’ a hard stone
inside it。”
“Nay; nay; thee mustna make much of a trifle;” said Mr。 Poyser;
soothingly。 “She’s fond on us; I’ll be bound; but she’s young; an’
gets things in her head as she can’t rightly give account on。 Them
young fillies ’ull run away often wi’…out knowing why。”
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Her uncle’s answers; however; had had another effect on Hetty
besides that of disappointing her and making her cry。 She knew
quite well whom he had in his mind in his allusions to marriage;
and to a sober; solid husband; and when she was in her bedroom
again; the possibility of her marrying Adam presented itself to her
in a new light。 In a mind where no strong sympathies are at work;
where there is no supreme sense of right to which the agitated
nature can cling and steady itself to quiet endurance; one of the
first results of sorrow is a desperate vague clutching after any
deed that will change the actual condition。 Poor Hetty’s vision of
consequences; at no time more than a narrow fantastic calculation
of her own probable pleasures and pains; was now quite shut out
by reckless irritation under present suffering; and she was ready
for one of those convulsive; motiveless actions by which wretched
men and women leap from a temporary sorrow into a lifelong
misery。
Why should she not marry Adam? She did not care what she
did; so that it made some change in her life。 She felt confident that
he would still want to marry her; and any further thought about
Adam’s happiness in the matter had never yet visited her。
“Strange!” perhaps you will say; “this rush of impulse to…wards
a course that might have seemed the most repugnant to her
present state of mind; and in only the second night of her
sadness!”
Yes; the actions of a little trivial soul like Hetty’s; struggling
amidst the serious sad destinies of a human being; are strange。 So
are the motions of a little vessel without ballast tossed about on a
stormy sea。 How pretty it looked with its parti…coloured sail in the
sunlight; moored in the quiet bay!
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“Let that man bear the loss who loosed it from its moorings。”
But that will not save the vessel—the pretty thing that might
have been a lasting joy。
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Chapter XXXII
Mrs。 Poyser “Has Her Say Out”
HE next Saturday evening there was much excited
discussion at the Donnithorne Arms concerning an
T
incident which had occurred that very day—no less than a
second appearance of the smart man in top…boots said by some to
be a mere farmer in treaty for the Chase Farm; by others to be the
future steward; but by Mr。 Casson himself; the personal witness to
the stranger’s visit; pronounced contemptuously to be nothing
better than a bailiff; such as Satchell had been before him。 No one
had thought of denying Mr。 Casson’s testimony to the fact that he
had seen the stranger; nevertheless; he proffered various
corroborating circumstances。
“I see him myself;” he said; “I see him coming along by the
Crab…tree Meadow on a bald…faced hoss。 I’d just been t’ hev a
pint—it was half after ten i’ the fore…noon; when I hev my pint as
reg’lar as the clock—and I says to Knowles; as druv up with his
waggon; ‘You’ll get a bit o’ barley to…day; Knowles;’ I says; ‘if you
look about you’; and then I went round by the rick…yard; and
towart the Treddles’on road; and just as I come up by the big ash…
tree; I see the man i’ top…boots coming along on a bald…faced
hoss—I wish I may never stir if I didn’t。 And I stood still till he
come up; and I says; ‘Good morning; sir;’ I says; for I wanted to
hear the turn of his tongue; as I might know whether he was a
this…country man; so I says; ‘Good morning; sir: it ’ll ’old hup for
the barley this morning; I think。 There’ll be a bit got hin; if we’ve
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good luck。’ And he says; ‘Eh; ye may be raight; there’s noo tallin’;’
he says; and I knowed by that”—here Mr。 Casson gave a wink—
“as he didn’t come from a hundred mile off。 I daresay he’d think
me a hodd talker; as you Loamshire folks allays does hany one as
talks the right language。”
“The right language!” said Bartle Massey; contemptuously。
“You’re about as near the right language as a pig’s squeaking is
like a