第 9 节
作者:尘小春      更新:2021-02-18 23:45      字数:9322
  should induce her; and eating it almost contemporaneously。
  〃Put plenty sugar;〃 added she; referring to the Chinese infusion; 〃mind;
  I hae a sweet tooth。〃
  〃You have a sweet set;〃 said he; approaching another morsel。
  They showed themselves by way of smile; and confirmed the accusation。
  〃Aha! lad;〃 answered she; 〃they've been the death o' mony a herrin'!〃
  〃Now; what does that mean in English; Christie?〃
  〃My grinders(a full stop。)
  〃Which you approve(a full stop。)
  〃Have been fatal(a full stop。)
  〃To many fishes!〃
  Christie prided herself on her English; which she had culled from books。
  Then he made her drink from the cup; and was ostentatious in putting his
  lips to the same part of the brim。
  Then she left the table; and inspected all things。
  She came to his drawers; opened one; and was horror…struck。
  There were coats and trousers; with their limbs interchangeably
  intertwined; waistcoats; shirts; and cigars; hurled into chaos。
  She instantly took the drawer bodily out; brought it; leaned it against
  the tea…table; pointed silently into it; with an air of majestic
  reproach; and awaited the result。
  〃I can find whatever I want;〃 said the unblushing bachelor; 〃except
  money。〃
  〃Siller does na bide wi' slovens! hae ye often siccan a gale o' wind in
  your drawer?〃
  〃Every day! Speak English!〃
  〃Aweel! How _do_ you _do?_ that's Ennglish! I daur say。〃
  〃Jolly!〃 cried he; with his mouth full。 Christie was now folding up and
  neatly arranging his clothes。
  〃Will you ever; ever be a painter?〃
  〃I am a painter! I could paint the Devil pea…green!〃
  〃Dinna speak o' yon lad; Chairles; it's no canny。〃
  〃No! I am going to paint an angel; the prettiest; cleverest girl in
  Scotland; 'The Snowdrop of the North。'〃
  And he dashed into his bedroom to find a canvas。
  〃Hech!〃 reflected Christie。 〃Thir Ennglish hae flattering tongues; as
  sure as Dethe; 'The Snawdrap o' the Norrth!'〃
  CHAPTER VIII。
  GATTY'S back was hardly turned when a visitor arrived; and inquired; 〃Is
  Mr。 Gatty at home?〃
  〃What's your will wi' him?〃 was the Scottish reply。
  〃Will you give him this?〃
  〃 What est?〃
  〃Are you fond of asking questions?〃 inquired the man。
  〃Ay! and fules canna answer them;〃 retorted Christie。
  The little document which the man; in retiring; left with Christie
  Johnstone purported to come from one Victoria; who seemed; at first
  sight; disposed to show Charles Gatty civilities。 〃Victoriato Charles
  Gatty; greeting! (salutem)。〃 Christie was much struck with this instance
  of royal affability; she read no further; but began to think; 〃Victoree!
  that's the queen hersel。 A letter fra the queen to a painter lad! Picters
  will rise i' the mairketit will be an order to paint the bairns。 I hae
  brought him luck; I am real pleased。〃 And on Gatty's return; canvas in
  hand; she whipped the document behind her; and said archly; 〃I hae
  something for ye; a tecket fra a leddy; ye'll no want siller fra this
  day。〃
  〃Indeed!〃
  〃Ay! indeed; fra a great leddy; it's vara gude o' me to gie ye it; heh!
  tak it。〃
  He did take it; looked stupefied; looked again; sunk into a chair; and
  glared at it。
  〃Laddy!〃 said Christie。
  〃This is a new step on the downward path;〃 said the poor painter。
  〃Is it no an orrder to paint the young prence?〃 said Christie; faintly。
  〃No!〃 almost shrieked the victim。 〃It's a writ! I owe a lot of money。
  〃Oh; Chairles!〃
  〃See! I borrowed sixty pounds six months ago of a friend; so now I owe
  eighty!〃
  〃All right!〃 giggled the unfriendly visitor at the door; whose departure
  had been more or less fictitious。
  Christie; by an impulse; not justifiable; but natural; drew her
  oyster…knife out; and this time the man really went away。
  〃Hairtless mon!〃 cried she; 〃could he no do his am dirrty work; and no
  gar me gie the puir lad th' action; and he likeit me sae weel!〃 and she
  began to whimper。
  〃And love you more now;〃 said he; 〃don't you cry; dear; to add to my
  vexation。〃
  〃Na! I'll no add to your vexation;〃 and she gulped down her tears。
  〃Besides; I have pictures painted worth two hundred pounds; this is only
  for eighty。 To be sure you can't sell them for two hundred pence when you
  want。 So I shall go to jail; but they won't keep me long。
  Then he took a turn; and began to fall into the artistic; or true view of
  matters; which; indeed; was never long absent from him。
  〃Look here; Christie;〃 said he; 〃I am sick of conventional assassins;
  humbugging models; with dirty beards; that knit their brows; and try to
  look murder; they never murdered so much as a tom…cat。 I always go in for
  the real thing; and here I shall find it。〃
  〃Dinna gang in there; lad; for ony favor。〃
  〃Then I shall find the accessories of a picture I have in my headchains
  with genuine rust and ancient mouldering stones with the stains of time。〃
  His eye brightened at the prospect。
  〃You among fiefs; and chains; and stanes! Ye'll break my hairt; laddy;
  ye'll no be easy till you break my hairt。〃 And this time the tears would
  not be denied。
  〃I love you for crying; don't cry;〃 and he fished from the chaotic drawer
  a cambric handkerchief; with which he dried her tears as they fell。
  It is my firm belief she cried nearly twice as much as she really wanted
  to; she contrived to make the grief hers; the sympathy his。 Suddenly she
  stopped; and said:
  〃I'm daft; ye'll accept a lane o' the siller fra me; will ye no?〃
  〃No!〃 said he。 〃And where could you find eighty pound?〃
  〃Auchty pund;〃 cried she; 〃it's no auchty pund that will ding Christie
  Johnstone; laddy。 I hae boats and nets worth twa auchtys; and I hae forty
  pund laid by; and I hae seven hundred pund at London; but that I canna
  meddle。 My feyther lent it the king or the queen; I dinna justly mind;
  she pays me the interest twice the year。 Sac ye ken I could na be sae
  dirty as seek my siller; when she pays me th' interest。 To the very day;
  ye ken。 She's just the only one o' a' my debtors that's hoenest; but
  never heed; ye'll no gang to jail。〃
  〃I'll hold my tongue; and sacrifice my pictures;〃 thought Charles。
  〃Cheer up!〃 said Christie; mistaking the nature of his thoughts; 〃for it
  did na come fra Victoree hersel'。 It wad smell o' the musk; ye ken。 Na;
  it's just a wheen blackguards at London that makes use o' her name to
  torment puir folk。 Wad she pairsecute a puir lad? No likely。〃
  She then asked questions; some of which were embarrassing。 One thing he
  could never succeed in making her understand; how; since it was sixty
  pounds he borrowed; it could be eighty pounds he owed。
  Then once more she promised him her protection; bade him be of good
  cheer; and left him。
  At the door she turned; and said: 〃Chairles; here's an auld wife seeking
  ye;〃 and vanished。
  These two young people had fallen acquainted at a Newhaven wedding。
  Christie; belonging to no one; had danced with him all the night; they
  had walked under the stars to cool themselves; for dancing reels; with
  heart and soul; is not quadrilling。
  Then he had seen his beautiful partner in Edinburgh; and made a sketch of
  her; which he gave her; and by and by he used to run down to Newhaven;
  and stroll up and down a certain green lane near the town。
  Next; on Sunday evenings; a long walk together; and then it came to
  visits at his place now and then。
  And here。 Raphael and Fornarina were inverted; our artist used to work;
  and Christie tell him stories the while。
  And; as her voice curled round his heart; he used to smile and look; and
  lay inspired touches on his subject。
  And she; an artist of the tongue (without knowing herself one); used to
  make him grave; or gay; or sad; at will; and watch the effect of her art
  upon his countenance; and a very pretty art it isthe _viva voce_
  story…teller'sand a rare one among the nations of Europe。
  Christie had not learned it in a day; when she began; she used to tell
  them like the other Newhaven people; with a noble impartiality of detail;
  wearisome to the hearer。
  But latterly she had learned to seize the salient parts of a narrative;
  her voice had compass; and; like all fine speakers; she traveled over a
  great many notes in speaking; her low tones were gorgeously rich; her
  upper tones full and sweet; all this; and her beauty; made the hours she
  gave him very sweet to our poor artist。
  He was wont to bask in her music; and tell her in return how he loved
  her; and how happy they were both to be as soon as he had acquired a
  name; for a name was wealth; he told her。 And although Christie Johnstone
  did not let him see how much she took all this to heart and believed it;
  it was as sweet music to her as her own honeysuckle breath to him。
  She improved him。
  He dropped cigars; and medical students; and similar abominations。
  Christie's cool; fresh breath; as she hung over him while painting;
  suggested to him that smoking might; peradventure; be a sin against
  nature as well as against cleanliness。
  And he improved her; she learned from art to look into nature (the usual
  process of mind)。
  She had noticed too little the flickering gold of the leaves at evening;
  the purple hills; and the shifting stories and glories of the sky; but
  now; whatever she saw