第 12 节
作者:旅游巴士      更新:2021-10-16 18:45      字数:9316
  shrill; quavering speech was of doors that had been                 left unfastened; pails
  that   had   got   mislaid;   calves   whose     feeding…time   was   overdue;   and   the
  various little faults      and lapses that chequer a farmhouse routine。                 Now
  and     again;    when     election   time   came    round;    she   would    unstore     her
  recollections of the old names round which the fight                   had waged in the
  days   gone   by。     There   had   been   a     Palmerston;   that   had   been   a   name
  down Tiverton way;           Tiverton was not a far journey as the crow flies; but
  to    Martha      it  was   almost    a  foreign   country。     Later    there   had    been
  Northcotes      and   Aclands;     and   many   other     newer    names     that   she   had
  forgotten;   the   names   changed;   but   it   was     always   Libruls   and   Toories;
  Yellows and Blues。          And they      always quarrelled and shouted as to who
  was right and who         was wrong。        The one they quarrelled about most was
  a fine     old gentleman with an angry face … she had seen his                   picture on
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  the walls。     She had seen it on the floor too;         with a rotten apple squashed
  over it; for the farm had        changed its politics from time to time。           Martha
  had never      been on one side or the other; none of 〃they〃 had ever                 done
  the farm a stroke of good。          Such was her sweeping           verdict; given with
  all a peasant's distrust of the       outside world。
  When the half…frightened curiosity had somewhat                faded away; Emma
  Ladbruk   was   uncomfortably   conscious   of          another   feeling   towards   the
  old woman。        She was a quaint         old tradition; lingering about the place;
  she   was   part   and   parcel   of   the   farm   itself;   she   was   something   at   once
  pathetic   and   picturesque   …   but   she   was   dreadfully   in   the way。     Emma
  had come to the farm full of plans for little             reforms and improvements;
  in part the result of training       in the newest ways and methods; in part the
  outcome of       her own ideas and fancies。         Reforms in the kitchen         region;
  if   those   deaf   old   ears   could   have   been   induced   to  give   them   even   a
  hearing; would have met with short             shrift and scornful rejection; and the
  kitchen   region     spread   over   the   zone   of   dairy   and   market   business   and
  half the work of the household。           Emma; with the latest         science of dead…
  poultry   dressing   at   her   finger…tips;   sat by;   an   unheeded   watcher;   while
  old Martha trussed the          chickens for the market…stall as she had trussed
  them     for   nearly    four…score    years   …  all  leg  and   no   breast。   And     the
  hundred      hints  anent   effective    cleaning    and   labour…   lightening    and   the
  things that make for wholesomeness              which the young woman was ready
  to impart or to put into       action dropped away into nothingness before that
  wan;     muttering; unheeding presence。            Above all; the coveted         window
  corner; that was to be a dainty; cheerful oasis in              the gaunt old kitchen;
  stood   now   choked   and   lumbered   with         a   litter   of   odds   and   ends   that
  Emma; for all her nominal            authority; would not have dared or cared to
  displace;     over them seemed to be spun the protection of something                  that
  was    like   a  human    cobweb。      Decidedly      Martha     was   in   the   way。    It
  would have been an unworthy meanness to have                    wished to see the span
  of that brave old life shortened          by a few paltry months; but as the days
  sped by Emma was           conscious that the wish was there; disowned though
  it   might be; lurking at the back of her mind。
  She   felt   the   meanness   of   the   wish   come   over   her   with a   qualm   of
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  self…reproach   one   day   when   she   came   into   the     kitchen   and   found   an
  unaccustomed state of things in that            usually busy quarter。       Old Martha
  was not working。         A    basket of corn was on the floor by her side; and
  out   in   the   yard   the   poultry   were   beginning   to   clamour   a   protest   of
  overdue feeding…time。         But Martha sat huddled in a          shrunken bunch on
  the window seat; looking out with her              dim old eyes as though she saw
  something stranger than         the autumn landscape。
  〃Is anything the matter; Martha?〃 asked the young               woman。
  〃'Tis   death;   'tis   death   a…coming;〃   answered   the   quavering   voice;   〃I
  knew 'twere coming。          I knew it。      'Tweren't for nothing that old Shep's
  been howling all        morning。      An' last night I heard the screech…owl give
  the    death…cry; and   there were   something white   as run   across           the   yard
  yesterday; 'tweren't a cat nor a stoat; 'twere         something。      The fowls knew
  'twere    something;     they   all   drew    off   to  one   side。   Ay;    there's  been
  warnings。      I knew     it were a…coming。〃
  The young woman's eyes clouded with pity。                 The old      thing sitting
  there so white and shrunken had once been a               merry; noisy child; playing
  about in lanes and hay…lofts         and farmhouse garrets; that had been eighty
  odd   years    ago;   and   now   she   was   just   a   frail   old   body   cowering   under
  the approaching chill of the death that was coming at              last to take her。     It
  was not probable that much could be              done for her; but Emma hastened
  away to get assistance        and counsel。      Her husband; she knew; was down
  at a tree… felling some little distance off; but she might find some                 other
  intelligent soul who knew the old woman better than                she did。    The farm;
  she    soon    found     out;  had    that   faculty    common        to   farmyards     of
  swallowing up and losing its human              population。      The poultry followed
  her   in   interested  fashion;   and   swine  grunted   interrogations   at   her   from
  behind   the   bars   of   their   styes;   but   barnyard   and rickyard;   orchard   and
  stables and dairy; gave no reward            to her search。      Then; as she retraced
  her steps towards        the kitchen; she came suddenly on her cousin; young
  Mr。     Jim;   as   every   one   called   him;   who    divided    his  time    between
  amateur horse…dealing; rabbit…shooting; and             flirting with the farm maids。
  〃I'm afraid old Martha is dying;〃 said Emma。               Jim    was not the sort
  of person to whom one had to break news               gently。
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  〃Nonsense;〃 he said; 〃Martha means to live to a                   hundred。      She told
  me so; and she'll do it。〃
  〃She   may   be   actually   dying   at   this   moment;   or   it   may     just   be   the
  beginning of the break…up;〃 persisted Emma;                  with a feeling of contempt
  for the slowness and dulness            of the young man。
  A grin spread over his good…natured features。
  〃It   don't   look   like   it;〃   he   said;   nodding   towards   the   yard。    Emma
  turned   to   catch   the   meaning   of   his    remark。      Old   Martha   stood   in   the
  middle   of   a   mob   of     poultry   scattering   handfuls   of   grain   around   her。
  The      turkey…cock;       with   the   bronzed     sheen    of   his   feathers    and    the
  purple…red of his wattles; the gamecock; with the                 glowing metallic lustre
  of his Eastern plumage; the hens;             with their ochres and buffs and umbers
  and   their   scarlet    combs;   and   the   drakes;   with   their   bottle…green   heads;
  made   a   medley   of   rich   colour;   in   the   centre   of   which   the   old   woman
  looked   like   a   withered   stalk   standing   amid   a      riotous   growth   of   gaily…
  hued   flowers。      But   she   threw   the    grain   deftly   amid   the   wilderness   of
  beaks;   and   her     quavering   voice   carried   as   far   as   the   two   people   who
  were      watching      her。   She     was    still  harping    on   the  theme     of   death
  coming to the farm。
  〃I knew 'twere a…coming。