英语听力 学英语,练听力,上听力课堂! 注册 登录
> 在线听力 > 有声读物 > 世界名著 > 译林版·炉边蟋蟀 >  第2篇

双语·炉边蟋蟀 第二声

所属教程:译林版·炉边蟋蟀

浏览:

2022年04月21日

手机版
扫描二维码方便学习和分享

Caleb Plummer and his Blind Daughter lived all alone by themselves, as the Story Books say—and my blessing, with yours, to back it I hope, on the Story Books, for saying anything in this work-a-day world!—Caleb Plummer and his Blind Daughter lived all alone by themselves, in a little cracked nutshell of a wooden house, which was, in truth, no better than a pimple on the prominent red-brick nose of Gruff and Tackleton. The premises of Gruff and Tackleton were the great feature of the street;but you might have knocked down Caleb Plummer's dwelling with a hammer or two, and carried off the pieces in a cart.

If any one had done the dwelling-house of Caleb Plummer the honour to miss it after such an inroad, it would have been, no doubt, to commend its demolition as a vast improvement. It stuck to the premises of Gruff and Tackleton like a barnacle to a ship's keel, or a snail to a door, or a little bunch of toadstools to the stem of a tree.But it was the germ from which the full-grown trunk of Gruff and Tackleton had sprung;and, under its crazy roof, the Gruff before lasthad, in a small way, made toys for a generation of old boys and girls, who had played with them, and found them out, and broken them, and gone to sleep.

I have said that Caleb and his poor Blind Daughter lived here. I should have said that Caleb lived here, and his poor Blind Daughter somewhere else—in an enchanted home of Caleb's furnishing, where scarcity and shabbiness were not, and trouble never entered.Caleb was no sorcerer;but in the only magic art that still remains to us, the magic of devoted, deathless love, Nature had been the mistress of his study;and, from her teaching, all the wonder came.

The Blind Girl never knew that ceilings were discoloured, walls blotched and bare of plaster here and there, high crevices unstopped and widening every day, beams mouldering and tending downward. The Blind Girl never knew that iron was rusting, wood rotting, paper peeling off;the size, and shape, and true proportion of the dwelling, withering away.The Blind Girl never knew that ugly shapes of delf and earthenware were on the board;that sorrow and faint-heartedness were in the house;that Caleb's scanty hairs were turning greyer and more grey before her sightless face.The Blind Girl never knew they had a master, cold, exacting, and uninterested—never knew that Tackleton was Tackleton, in short;but lived in the belief of an eccentric humorist, who loved to have his jest with them, and who, while he was the Guardian Angel of their lives, disdained to hear one word of thankfulness.

And all was Caleb's doing;all the doing of her simple father! ;But he, too, had a Cricket on his Hearth;and listening sadly to its music when the motherless Blind Child was very young that Spirit had inspired him with the thought that even her great deprivation might be almost changed into a blessing, and the girl made happy by these little means. For all the Cricket tribe are potent Spirits, even though the people who hold converse with them do not know it(which is frequently the case),and there are not in the unseen world voices more gentle and more true, that may be so implicitly relied on, or that are so certain to give none but tenderest counsel, as the Voices in which the Spirits of the Fireside and the Hearth address themselves to humankind.

Caleb and his daughter were at work together in their usual working-room, which served them for their ordinary living-room as well;and a strange place it was. There were houses in it, fnished and unfnished, for Dolls of all stations in life.Suburban tenements for Dolls of moderate means;kitchens and single apartments for Dolls of the lower classes;capital town residences for Dolls of high estate.Some of these establishments were already furnished according to estimate, with a view to the convenience of Dolls of limited income;others could be fitted on the most expensive scale, at a moment's notice, from whole shelves of chairs and tables, sofas, bedsteads, and upholstery.The nobility and gentry and public in general, for whose accommodation these tenements were designed, lay here and there, in baskets, staring straight up at the ceiling;but in denoting their degrees in society, and confining them to their respective stations(which experience shows to be lamentably diffcult in real life),the makers of these Dolls had far improved on Nature, who is often froward and perverse;for they, not resting on such arbitrary marks as satin, cotton print, and bits of rag, had superadded striking personal differences which allowed of no mistake.Thus, the Doll-lady of distinction had wax limbs of perfect symmetry;but only she and her compeers.The next grade in the social scale being made of leather, and the next of coarse linen stuff.As to the common people, they had just so many matches out of tinder-boxes for their arms and legs, and there they were—established in their sphere at once, beyond the possibility of getting out of it.

There were various other samples of his handicraft besides Dolls in Caleb Plummer's room. There were Noah's arks, in which the Birds and Beasts were an uncommonly tight fit, I assure you;though they could be crammed in, anyhow, at the roof, and rattled and shaken into the smallest compass.By a bold poetical licence, most of these Noah's arks had knockers on the doors;inconsistent appendages, perhaps, as suggestive of morning callers and a Postman, yet a pleasant fnish to the outside of the building.There were scores of melancholy little carts, which, when the wheels went round, performed most doleful music.Many small fiddles, drums, and other instruments of torture;no end of cannon, shields, swords, spears, and guns.There were little tumblers in red breeches, incessantly swarming up high obstacles of red tape, and coming down, head frst, on the other side;and there were innumerable old ;gentlemen of respectable, not to say venerable appearance, insanely flying over horizontal pegs, inserted, for the purpose, in their own street-doors.There were beasts of all sorts;horses, in particular, of every breed, from the spotted barrel on four pegs with a small tippet for a mane, to the thorough-bred rocker on his highest mettle.As it would have been hard to count the dozens upon dozens of grotesque fgures that were ever ready to commit all sorts of absurdities on the turning of a handle, so it would have been no easy task to mention any human folly, vice, or weakness that had not its type, immediate or remote, in Caleb Plummer's room.And not in an exaggerated form, for very little handles will move men and women to as strange performances as any Toy was ever made to undertake.

In the midst of all these objects, Caleb and his daughter sat at work. The Blind Girl busy as a Doll's dressmaker;Caleb painting and glazing the four-pair front of a desirable family mansion.

The care imprinted in the lines of Caleb's face, and his absorbed and dreamy manner, which would have sat well on some alchemist or abstruse student, were at frst sight an odd contrast to his occupation and the trivialities about him. But trivial things, invented and pursued for bread, become very serious matters of fact:and, apart from this consideration, I am not at all prepared to say, myself, that if Caleb had been a Lord Chamberlain, or a Member of Parliament, or a lawyer, or even a great speculator, he would have dealt in toys one whit less whimsical, while I have a very great doubt whether they would have been as harmless.

“So you were out in the rain last night, father, in your beautiful new great-coat,”said Caleb's daughter.

“In my beautiful new great-coat,”answered Caleb, glancing towards a clothes-line in the room, on which the sackcloth garment previously described was carefully hung up to dry.

“How glad I am you bought it, father!”

“And of such a tailor too,”said Caleb.“Quite a fashionable tailor. It's too good for me.”

The Blind Girl rested from her work, and laughed with delight.

“Too good, father!What can be too good for you?”

“I'm half ashamed to wear it, though,”said Caleb, watching the effect of what he said upon her brightening face,“upon my word!When I hear the boys and people say behind me,‘Halloa!Here's a swell!'I don't know which way to look. And when the beggar wouldn't go away last night;and, when I said I was a very common man, said,‘No, your Honour!Bless your Honour, don’t say that!’I was quite ashamed.I really felt as if I hadn’t a right to wear it.”

Happy Blind Girl!How merry she was in her exultation!

“I see you, father,”she said, clasping her hands,“as plainly as if I had the eyes I never want when you are with me. A blue coat—”

“Bright blue,”said Caleb.

“Yes, yes!Bright blue!”exclaimed the girl, turning up her radiant face;“the colour I can just remember in the blessed sky!You told me it was blue before!A bright blue coat—”

“Made loose to the fgure,”suggested Caleb.

“Yes!loose to the figure!”cried the Blind Girl, laughing heartily;“and in it, you, dear father, with your merry eye, your smiling face, your free step, and your dark hair—looking so young and handsome!”

“Halloa!Halloa!”said Caleb.“I shall be vain presently!”

“I think you are already,”cried the Blind Girl, pointing at him in her glee.“I know you, father!Ha, ha, ha!I've found you out, you see!”

How different the picture in her mind, from Caleb, as he sat observing her!She had spoken of his free step. She was right in that.For years and years he had never once crossed that threshold at his own slow pace, but with a footfall counterfeited for her ear;and never had he, when his heart was heaviest, forgotten the light tread that was to render hers so cheerful and courageous!

Heaven knows!But I think Caleb's vague bewilderment of manner may have half originated in his having confused himself about himself and everything around him, for the love of his Blind Daughter. How could the little man be otherwise than bewildered, after labouring for so many years to destroy his own identity, and that of all the objects that had any bearing on it?

“There we are,”said Caleb, falling back a pace or two to form the better judgment of his work;“as near the real thing as sixpenn'orth of halfpence is to sixpence. What a pity that the whole front of the house opens at once!If there was only a staircase in it now, and regular doors to the rooms to go in at!But that's the worstof my calling, I'm always deluding myself, and swindling myself.”

“You are speaking quite softly. You are not tired, father?”

“Tired!”echoed Caleb with a great burst of animation.“What should tire me, Bertha?I was never tired. What does it mean?”

To give the greater force to his words, he checked himself in an involuntary imitation of two half-length stretching and yawning fgures on the mantel-shelf, who were represented as in one eternal state of weariness from the waist upwards;and hummed a fragment of a song. It was a Bacchanalian song, something about a Sparkling Bowl.He sang it with an assumption of a Devil-may-care voice, that made his face a thousand times more meagre and more thoughtful than ever.

“What!You're singing, are you?”said Tackleton, putting his head in at the door.“Go it!I can't sing.”

Nobody would have suspected him of it. He hadn't what is generally termed a singing face, by any means.

“I can't afford to sing,”said Tackleton.“I'm glad you can. I hope you can afford to work too.Hardly time for both, I should think?”

“If you could only see him, Bertha, how he's winking at me!”whispered Caleb.“Such a man to joke!You'd think, if you didn't know him, he was in earnest—wouldn't you now?”

The Blind Girl smiled and nodded.

“The bird that can sing and won't sing must be made to sing, they say,”grumbled Tackleton.“What about the owl that can't sing, ;and oughtn't to sing, and will sing;is there anything that he should be made to do?”

“The extent to which he's winking at this moment!”whispered Caleb to his daughter.“Oh, my gracious!”

“Always merry and light-hearted with us!”cried the smiling Bertha.

“Oh!you're there, are you?”answered Tackleton.“Poor Idiot!”

He really did believe she was an Idiot;and he founded the belief, I can't say whether consciously or not, upon her being fond of him.

“Well!and being there,—how are you?”said Tackleton in his grudging way.

“Oh!well;quite well!And as happy as even you can wish me to be. As happy as you would make the whole world, if you could!”

“Poor Idiot!”muttered Tackleton.“No gleam of reason. Not a gleam!”

The Blind Girl took his hand and kissed it;held it for a moment in her own two hands;and laid her cheek against it tenderly before releasing it. There was such unspeakable affection and such fervent gratitude in the act, that Tackleton himself was moved to say, in a milder growl than usual:

“What's the matter now?”

“I stood it close beside my pillow when I went to sleep last night, and remembered it in my dreams. And when the day broke, and the glorious red sun—the red sun, father?”

“Red in the mornings and the evenings, Bertha,”said poor Caleb, with a woeful glance at his employer.

“When it rose, and the bright light I almost fear to strike myself against in walking, came into the room, I turned the little tree towards it, and blessed Heaven for making things so precious, and blessed you for sending them to cheer me!”

“Bedlam broke loose!”said Tackleton under his breath.“We shall arrive at the strait-waistcoat and muffers soon. We're getting on!”

Caleb, with his hands hooked loosely in each other, stared vacantly before him while his daughter spoke, as if he really were uncertain(I believe he was)whether Tackleton had done anything to deserve her thanks or not. If he could have been a perfectly free agent at that moment, required, on pain of death, to kick the toy merchant, or fall at his feet, according to his merits, I believe it would have been an even chance which course he would have taken.Yet Caleb knew that with his own hands he had brought the little rose-tree home for her so carefully, and that with his own lips he had forged the innocent deception which should help to keep her from suspecting how much, how very much, he every day denied himself, that she might be happier.

“Bertha!”said Tackleton, assuming, for the nonce, a little cordiality.“Come here.”

“Oh, I can come straight to you!You needn't guide me!”she rejoined.

“Shall I tell you a secret, Bertha?”

“If you will!”she answered eagerly.

How bright the darkened face!How adorned with light the listening head!

“This is the day on which little what's-her-name, the spoilt child, Peerybingle's wife, pays her regular visit to you—makes her fantastic Picnic here, an't it?”said Tackleton with a strong expression of distaste for the whole concern.

“Yes,”replied Bertha.“This is the day.”

“I thought so,”said Tackleton.“I should like to join the party.”

“Do you hear that, father?”cried the Blind Girl in an ecstasy.

“Yes, yes, I hear it,”murmured Caleb with the fixed look of a sleep-walker;“but I don't believe it. It's one of my lies, I've no doubt.”

“You see I—I want to bring the Peerybingles a little more into company with May Fielding,”said Tackleton.“I'm going to be married to May.”

“Married!”cried the Blind Girl, starting from him.

“She's such a con-founded idiot,”muttered Tackleton,“that I was afraid she'd never comprehend me. Ah, Bertha!Married!Church, parson, clerk, beadle, glass coach, bells, breakfast, bridecake, favours, marrow-bones, cleavers, and all the rest of the tomfoolery.A wedding, you know;a wedding.Don't you know what a wedding is?”

“I know,”replied the Blind Girl in a gentle tone.“I understand!”“Do you?”muttered Tackleton.“It's more than I expected. Well!On that account I want to join the party, and to bring May and her mother.I'll send in a little something or other, before the afternoon.A cold leg of mutton, or some comfortable trife of that sort.You'll expect me?”

“Yes,”she answered.

She had drooped her head, and turned away;and so stood, with her hands crossed, musing.

“I don't think you will,”muttered Tackleton, looking at her;“for you seem to have forgotten all about it already. Caleb!”

“I may venture to say I'm here, I suppose,”thought Caleb.“Sir!”

“Take care she don't forget what I've been saying to her.”

“She never forgets,”returned Caleb.“It's one of the few things she an't clever in.”

“Every man thinks his own geese swans,”observed the toy merchant with a shrug.“Poor devil!”

Having delivered himself of which remark with infinite contempt, old Gruff and Tackleton withdrew.

Bertha remained where he had left her, lost in meditation. The gaiety had vanished from her downcast face, and it was very sad.Three or four times she shook her head, as if bewailing some remembrance or some loss;but her sorrowful reflections found no vent in words.

It was not until Caleb had been occupied some time in yoking a team of horses to a waggon by the summary process of nailing the ;harness to the vital parts of their bodies, that she drew near to his working-stool, and, sitting down beside him, said:

“Father, I am lonely in the dark. I want my eyes, my patient, willing eyes.”

“Here they are,”said Caleb.“Always ready. They are more yours than mine, Bertha, any hour in the four-and-twenty.What shall your eyes do for you, dear?”

“Look round the room, father.”

“All right,”said Caleb.“No sooner said than done, Bertha.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It's much the same as usual,”said Caleb.“Homely, but very snug. The gay colours on the walls;the bright fowers on the plates and dishes;the shining wood, where there are beams or panels;the general cheerfulness and neatness of the building,—make it very pretty.”

Cheerful and neat it was, wherever Bertha's hands could busy themselves. But nowhere else were cheerfulness and neatness possible in the old crazy shed which Caleb's fancy so transformed.

“You have your working dress on, and are not so gallant as when you wear the handsome coat?”said Bertha, touching him.

“Not quite so gallant,”answered Caleb.“Pretty brisk, though.”

“Father,”said the Blind Girl, drawing close to his side, and stealing one arm round his neck,“tell me something about May. She is very fair?”

“She is indeed,”said Caleb. And she was indeed.It was quite arare thing to Caleb not to have to draw on his invention.

“Her hair is dark,”said Bertha pensively,“darker than mine. Her voice is sweet and musical, I know.I have often loved to hear it.Her shape—”

“There's not a Doll's in all the room to equal it,”said Caleb.“And her eyes!—”

He stopped;for Bertha had drawn closer round his neck, and, from the arm that clung about him, came a warning pressure which he understood too well.

He coughed a moment, hammered for a moment, and then fell back upon the song about the sparkling bowl, his infallible resource in all such diffculties.

“Our friend, father, our benefactor. I am never tired, you know, of hearing about him.—Now, was I ever?”she said hastily.

“Of course not,”answered Caleb,“and with reason.”

“Ah!With how much reason!”cried the Blind Girl. With such fervency, that Caleb, though his motives were so pure, could not endure to meet her face;but dropped his eyes, as if she could have read in them his innocent deceit.

“Then tell me again about him, dear father,”said Bertha.“Many times again!His face is benevolent, kind, and tender. Honest and true, I am sure it is.The manly heart that tries to cloak all favours with a show of roughness and unwillingness, beats in its every look and glance.”

“And makes it noble,”added Caleb in his quiet desperation.

“And makes it noble,”cried the Blind Girl.“He is older than May, father.”

“Ye-es,”said Caleb reluctantly.“He's a little older than May. But that don't signify.”

“Oh, father, yes!To be his patient companion in infrmity and age;to be his gentle nurse in sickness, and his constant friend in suffering and sorrow;to know no weariness in working for his sake;to watch him, tend him, sit beside his bed and talk to him awake, and pray for him asleep;what privileges these would be!What opportunities for proving all her truth and her devotion to him!Would she do all this, dear father?”

“No doubt of it,”said Caleb.

“I love her, father;I can love her from my soul!”exclaimed the Blind Girl. And, saying so, she laid her poor blind face on Caleb's shoulder, and so wept and wept, that he was almost sorry to have brought that tearful happiness upon her.

In the meantime there had been a pretty sharp commotion at John Peerybingle's, for little Mrs. Peerybingle naturally couldn't think of going anywhere without the Baby;and to get the Baby under way took time.Not that there was much of the Baby, speaking of it as a thing of weight and measure, but there was a vast deal to do about and about it, and it all had to be done by easy stages.For instance, when the Baby was got, by hook and by crook, to a certain point of dressing, and you might have rationally supposed that anothertouch or two would fnish him off, and turn him out a tiptop Baby challenging the world, he was unexpectedly extinguished in a fannel cap, and hustled off to bed;where he simmered(so to speak)between two blankets for the best part of an hour.From this state of inaction he was then recalled, shining very much and roaring violently, to partake of—well?I would rather say, if you'll permit me to speak generally—of a slight repast.After which he went to sleep again.Mrs.Peerybingle took advantage of this interval, to make herself as smart in a small way as ever you saw anybody in all your life;and, during the same short truce, Miss Slowboy insinuated herself into a spencer of a fashion so surprising and ingenious, that it had no connection with herself, or anything else in the universe, but was a shrunken, dog's-eared, independent fact, pursuing its lonely course without the least regard to anybody.By this time, the Baby, being all alive again, was invested, by the united efforts of Mrs.Peerybingle and Miss Slowboy, with a cream-coloured mantle for its body, and a sort of nankeen raised pie for its head;and so, in course of time, they all three got down to the door, where the old horse had already taken more than the full value of his day's toll out of the Turnpike Trust, by tearing up the road with his impatient autographs;and whence Boxer might be dimly seen in the remote perspective, standing looking back, and tempting him to come on without orders.

As to a chair, or anything of that kind for helping Mrs. Peerybingle into the cart, you know very little of John, if you think that was necessary.Before you could have seen him lift her from the ;ground, there she was in her place, fresh and rosy, saying,“John!How can you?Think of Tilly!”

If I might be allowed to mention a young lady's legs on any terms, I would observe of Miss Slowboy's that there was a fatality about them which rendered them singularly liable to be grazed;and that she never effected the smallest ascent or descent without recording the circumstance upon them with a notch, as Robinson Crusoe marked the days upon his wooden calendar. But, as this might be considered ungenteel, I'll think of it.

“John!You've got the basket with the Veal and Ham Pie and things, and the bottles of Beer?”said Dot.“If you haven't, you must turn round again this very minute.”

“You're a nice little article,”returned the Carrier,“to be talking about turning round, after keeping me a full quarter of an hour behind my time.”

“I am sorry for it, John,”said Dot in a great bustle,“but I really could not think of going to Bertha's—I would not do it, John, on any account—without the Veal and Ham Pie and things, and the bottles of Beer. Way!”

This monosyllable was addressed to the horse, who didn't mind it at all.

“Oh, do way, John!”said Mrs. Peerybingle.“Please!”

“It'll be time enough to do that,”returned John,“when I begin to leave things behind me. The basket's safe enough.”

“What a hard-hearted monster you must be, John, not to havesaid so at once, and save me such a turn!I declare I wouldn't go to Bertha's without the Veal and Ham Pie and things, and the bottles of Beer, for any money. Regularly once a fortnight ever since we have been married, John, have we made our little Picnic there.If anything was to go wrong with it, I should almost think we were never to be lucky again.”

“It was a kind thought in the frst instance,”said the Carrier;“and I honour you for it, little woman.”

“My dear John!”replied Dot, turning very red.“Don't talk about honouring me. Good gracious!”

“By-the-bye—”observed the Carrier—“that old gentleman—”

Again so visibly and instantly embarrassed!

“He's an odd fsh,”said the Carrier, looking straight along the road before them.“I can't make him out. I don't believe there's any harm in him.”

“None at all. I'm—I'm sure there's none at all.”

“Yes,”said the Carrier, with his eyes attracted to her face by the great earnestness of her manner.“I am glad you feel so certain of it, because it's a confirmation to me. It's curious that he should have taken it into his head to ask leave to go on lodging with us;an't it?Things come about so strangely.”

“So very strangely,”she rejoined in a low voice, scarcely audible.

“However, he's a good-natured old gentleman,”said John,“and pays as a gentleman, and I think his word is to be relied upon, like ;a gentleman's. I had quite a long talk with him this morning:he can hear me better already, he says, as he gets more used to my voice.He told me a great deal about himself, and I told him a good deal about myself, and a rare lot of questions he asked me.I gave him information about my having two beats, you know, in my business;one day to the right from our house and back again;another day to the left from our house and back again(for he's a stranger, and don't know the names of places about here);and he seemed quite pleased.‘Why, then I shall be returning home tonight your way,'he says,‘when I thought you’d be coming in an exactly opposite direction.That’s capital!I may trouble you for another lift, perhaps, but I’ll engage not to fall so sound asleep again.’He was sound asleep, sure-ly!—Dot!what are you thinking of?”

“Thinking of, John?I—I was listening to you.”

“Oh!That's all right!”said the honest Carrier.“I was afraid, from the look of your face, that I had gone rambling on so long as to set you thinking about something else. I was very near it, I'll be bound.”

Dot making no reply, they jogged on, for some little time, in silence. But, it was not easy to remain silent very long in John Peerybingle's cart, for everybody on the road had something to say.Though it might only be“How are you?”and, indeed, it was very often nothing else, still, to give that back again in the right spirit of cordiality, required, not merely a nod and a smile, but as wholesome an action of the lungs withal as a long-winded Parliamentary speech.Sometimes, passengers on foot, or horseback, plodded on a little way beside the cart, for the express purpose of having a chat;and then there was a great deal to be said on both sides.

Then, Boxer gave occasion to more good-natured recognitions of, and by, the Carrier, than half-a-dozen Christians could have done!Everybody knew him all along the road—especially the fowls and pigs, who, when they saw him approaching, with his body all on one side, and his ears pricked up inquisitively, and that knob of a tail making the most of itself in the air, immediately withdrew into remote back-settlements, without waiting for the honour of a nearer acquaintance. He had business elsewhere;going down all the turnings, looking into all the wells, bolting in and out of all the cottages, dashing into the midst of all the Dame Schools, futtering all the pigeons, magnifying the tails of all the cats, and trotting into the public-houses like a regular customer.Wherever he went, somebody or other might have been heard to cry,“Halloa!here's Boxer!”and out came that somebody forthwith, accompanied by at least two or three other somebodies, to give John Peerybingle and his pretty wife Good day.

The packages and parcels for the errand cart were numerous;and there were many stoppages to take them in and give them out, which were not by any means the worst parts of the journey. Some people were so full of expectation about their parcels, and other people were so full of wonder about their parcels, and other people were so full of inexhaustible directions about their parcels, and John ;had such a lively interest in all the parcels, that it was as good as a play.Likewise, there were articles to carry, which required to be considered and discussed, and in reference to the adjustment and disposition of which councils had to be holden by the Carrier and the senders:at which Boxer usually assisted, in short fts of the closest attention, and long fits of tearing round and round the assembled sages, and barking himself hoarse.Of all these little incidents, Dot was the amused and open-eyed spectatress from her chair in the cart;and as she sat there, looking on—a charming little portrait framed to admiration by the tilt—there was no lack of nudgings and glancings and whisperings and envyings among the younger men.And this delighted John the Carrier beyond measure;for he was proud to have his little wife admired, knowing that she didn't mind it—that, if anything, she rather liked it perhaps.

The trip was a little foggy, to be sure, in the January weather;and was raw and cold. But who cared for such trifles?Not Dot, decidedly.Not Tilly Slowboy, for she deemed sitting in a cart, on any terms, to be the highest point of human joys;the crowning circumstance of earthly hope.Not the Baby, I'll be sworn;for it's not in Baby nature to be warmer or more sound asleep, though its capacity is great in both respects, than that blessed young Peerybingle was, all the way.

You couldn't see very far in the fog, of course;but you could see a great deal!It's astonishing how much you may see in a thicker fog than that, if you will only take the trouble to look for it. Why, even to sit watching for the Fairyrings in the fields, and for the patches of hoar frost still lingering in the shade, near hedges and by trees, was a pleasant occupation, to make no mention of the unexpected shapes in which the trees themselves came starting out of the mist, and glided into it again.The hedges were tangled and bare, and waved a multitude of blighted garlands in the wind;but there was no discouragement in this.It was agreeable to contemplate;for it made the freside warmer in possession, and the summer greener in expectancy.The river looked chilly;but it was in motion, and moving at a good pace—which was a great point.The canal was rather slow and torpid;that must be admitted.Never mind.It would freeze the sooner when the frost set fairly in, and then there would be skating and sliding;and the heavy old barges, frozen up somewhere near a wharf, would smoke their rusty iron chimney-pipes all day, and have a lazy time of it.

In one place there was a great mound of weeds or stubble burning;and they watched the fre, so white in the daytime, faring through the fog, with only here and there a dash of red in it, until, in consequence, as she observed, of the smoke“getting up her nose,”Miss Slowboy choked—she could do anything of that sort, on the smallest provocation—and woke the Baby, who wouldn't go to sleep again. But Boxer, who was in advance some quarter of a mile or so, had already passed the outposts of the town, and gained the corner of the street where Caleb and his daughter lived;and, long before they had reached the door, he and the Blind Girl were on the pavement ;waiting to receive them.

Boxer, by the way, made certain delicate distinctions of his own, in his communication with Bertha, which persuade me fully that he knew her to be blind. He never sought to attract her attention by looking at her, as he often did with other people, but touched her invariably.What experience he could ever have had of blind people or blind dogs I don't know.He had never lived with a blind master;nor had Mr.Boxer the elder, nor Mrs.Boxer, nor any of his respectable family on either side, ever been visited with blindness, that I am aware of.He may have found it out for himself, perhaps, but he had got hold of it somehow;and therefore he had hold of Bertha too, by the skirt, and kept hold, until Mrs.Peerybingle and the Baby, and Miss Slowboy and the basket, were all got safely within doors.

May Fielding was already come;and so was her mother—a little querulous chip of an old lady with a peevish face, who, in right of having preserved a waist like a bedpost, was supposed to be a most transcendent fgure;and who, in consequence of having once been better off, or of labouring under an impression that she might have been, if something had happened which never did happen, and seemed to have never been particularly likely to come to pass—but it's all the same—was very genteel and patronising indeed. Gruff and Tackleton was also there, doing the agreeable, with the evident sensation of being as perfectly at home, and as unquestionably in his own element, as a fresh young salmon on the top of the GreatPyramid.

“May!My dear old friend!”cried Dot, running up to meet her.“What a happiness to see you!”

Her old friend was, to the full, as hearty and as glad as she;and it really was, if you'll believe me, quite a pleasant sight to see them embrace. Tackleton was a man of taste, beyond all question.May was very pretty.

You know sometimes, when you are used to a pretty face, how, when it comes into contact and comparison with another pretty face, it seems for the moment to be homely and faded, and hardly to deserve the high opinion you have had of it. Now, this was not at all the case, either with Dot or May;for May's face set off Dot's, and Dot's face set off May's, so naturally and agreeably, that, as John Peerybingle was very near saying when he came into the room, they ought to have been born sisters—which was the only improvement you could have suggested.

Tackleton had brought his leg of mutton, and, wonderful to relate, a tart besides—but we don't mind a little dissipation when our brides are in the case;we don't get married every day—and, in addition to these dainties, there were the Veal and Ham Pie, and“things,”as Mrs. Peerybingle called them;which were chiefy nuts and oranges, and cakes, and such small deer.When the repast was set forth on the board, flanked by Caleb's contribution, which was a great wooden bowl of smoking potatoes(he was prohibited, by solemn compact, from producing any other viands),Tackleton led ;his intended mother-in-law to the post of honour.For the better gracing of this place at the high festival, the majestic old soul had adorned herself with a cap, calculated to inspire the thoughtless with sentiments of awe.She also wore her gloves.But let us be genteel, or die!

Caleb sat next his daughter;Dot and her old schoolfellow were side by side;the good Carrier took care of the bottom of the table. Miss Slowboy was isolated, for the time being, from every article of furniture but the chair she sat on, that she might have nothing else to knock the Baby's head against.

As Tilly stared about her at the dolls and toys, they stared at her and at the company. The venerable old gentlemen at the street-doors(who were all in full action)showed especial interest in the party, pausing occasionally before leaping, as if they were listening to the conversation, and then plunging wildly over and over, a great many times, without halting for breath—as in a frantic state of delight with the whole proceedings.

Certainly, if these old gentlemen were inclined to have a fiendish joy in the contemplation of Tackleton's discomfiture, they had good reason to be satisfed. Tackleton couldn't get on at all;and the more cheerful his intended bride became in Dot's society, the less he liked it, though he had brought them together for that purpose.For he was a regular dog in the manger, was Tackleton;and, when they laughed and he couldn't, he took it into his head, immediately, that they must be laughing at him.

“Ah, May!”said Dot.“Dear, dear, what changes!To talk of those merry school days makes one young again.”

“Why, you an't particularly old at any time, are you?”said Tackleton.

“Look at my sober, plodding husband there,”returned Dot.“He adds twenty years to my age at least. Don't you, John?”

“Forty,”John replied.

“How many you'll add to Mary's, I am sure I don't know,”said Dot, laughing.“But she can't be much less than a hundred years of age on her next birthday.”

“Ha, ha!”laughed Tackleton. Hollow as a drum that laugh, though.And he looked as if he could have twisted Dot's neck comfortably.

“Dear, dear!”said Dot.“Only to remember how we used to talk, at school, about the husbands we would choose. I don't know how young, and how handsome, and how gay, and how lively mine was not to be!And as to May's!—Ah dear!I don't know whether to laugh or cry, when I think what silly girls we were.”

May seemed to know which to do;for the colour flashed into her face, and tears stood in her eyes.

“Even the very persons themselves—real live young men—we fxed on sometimes,”said Dot.“We little thought how things would come about. I never fixed on John, I'm sure;I never so much as thought of him.And, if I had told you you were ever to be married to Mr.Tackleton, why, you'd have slapped me.Wouldn't you, May?”

Though May didn't say yes, she certainly didn't say no, or express no, by any means.

Tackleton laughed—quite shouted, he laughed so loud. John Peerybingle laughed too, in his ordinary good-natured and contented manner;but his was a mere whisper of a laugh to Tackleton's.

“You couldn't help yourselves, for all that. You couldn't resist us, you see,”said Tackleton.“Here we are!Here we are!Where are your gay young bridegrooms now?”

“Some of them are dead,”said Dot;“and some of them forgotten. Some of them, if they could stand among us at this moment, would not believe we were the same creatures;would not believe that what they saw and heard was real, and we could forget them so.No!they would not believe one word of it!”

“Why, Dot!”exclaimed the Carrier.“Little woman!”

She had spoken with such earnestness and fire, that she stood in need of some recalling to herself, without doubt. Her husband's check was very gentle, for he merely interfered, as he supposed, to shield old Tackleton;but it proved effectual, for she stopped, and said no more.There was an uncommon agitation, even in her silence, which the wary Tackleton, who had brought his half-shut eye to bear upon her, noted closely, and remembered to some purpose too.

May uttered no word, good or bad, but sat quite still, with her eyes cast down, and made no sign of interest in what had passed. The good lady her mother now interposed, observing, in the frst instance, that girls were girls, and bygones bygones, and that, so long as youngpeople were young and thoughtless, they would probably conduct themselves like young and thoughtless persons:with two or three other positions of a no less sound and incontrovertible character.She then remarked, in a devout spirit, that she thanked Heaven she had always found in her daughter May a dutiful and obedient child:for which she took no credit to herself, though she had every reason to believe it was entirely owing to herself.With regard to Mr.Tackleton, she said, That he was in a moral point of view an undeniable individual, and That he was in an eligible point of view a son-in-law to be desired, no one in their senses could doubt.(She was very emphatic here.)With regard to the family into which he was so soon about, after some solicitation, to be admitted, she believed Mr.Tackleton knew that, although reduced in purse, it had some pretensions to gentility;and that if certain circumstances, not wholly unconnected, she would go so far as to say, with the Indigo Trade, but to which she would not more particularly refer, had happened differently, it might perhaps have been in possession of wealth.She then remarked that she would not allude to the past, and would not mention that her daughter had for some time rejected the suit of Mr.Tackleton;and that she would not say a great many other things which she did say at great length.Finally, she delivered it as the general result of her observation and experience, that those marriages in which there was least of what was romantically and sillily called love, were always the happiest;and that she anticipated the greatest possible amount of bliss—not rapturous bliss;but the solid, steady-going article—from the approaching nuptials.She concluded by informing the company that tomorrow was the day she had lived for expressly;and that, when it was over, she would desire nothing better than to be packed up and disposed of in any genteel place of burial.

As these remarks were quite unanswerable—which is the happy property of all remarks that are sufficiently wide of the purpose—they changed the current of the conversation, and diverted the general attention to the Veal and Ham Pie, the cold mutton, the potatoes, and the tart. In order that the bottled beer might not be slighted, John Peerybingle proposed Tomorrow:the Wedding-day;and called upon them to drink a bumper to it, before he proceeded on his journey.

For you ought to know that he only rested there, and gave the old horse a bait. He had to go some four or fve miles farther on;and, when he returned in the evening, he called for Dot, and took another rest on his way home.This was the order of the day on all the Picnic occasions, and had been ever since their institution.

There were two persons present, besides the bride and bridegroom elect, who did but indifferent honour to the toast. One of these was Dot, too flushed and discomposed to adapt herself to any small occurrence of the moment;the other, Bertha, who rose up hurriedly before the rest, and left the table.

“Good-bye!”said stout John Peerybingle, pulling on his dreadnought coat.“I shall be back at the old time. Good-bye all!”

“Good-bye, John,”returned Caleb.

He seemed to say it by rote, and to wave his hand in the sameunconscious manner;for he stood observing Bertha with an anxious wondering face, that never altered its expression.

“Good-bye, young shaver!”said the jolly Carrier, bending down to kiss the child;which Tilly Slowboy, now intent upon her knife and fork, had deposited asleep(and, strange to say, without damage)in a little cot of Bertha's furnishing;“good-bye!Time will come, I suppose, when you'll turn out into the cold, my little friend, and leave your old father to enjoy his pipe and his rheumatics in the chimney-corner;eh?Where's Dot?”

“I'm here, John!”she said, starting.

“Come, come!”returned the Carrier, clapping his sounding hands.“Where's the pipe?”

“I quite forgot the pipe, John.”

Forgot the pipe!Was such a wonder ever heard of?She!Forgot the pipe!

“I'll—I'll fll it directly. It's soon done.”

But it was not so soon done, either. It lay in the usual place—the Carrier's dreadnought pocket—with the little pouch, her own work, from which she was used to fill it;but her hand shook so, that she entangled it(and yet her hand was small enough to have come out easily, I am sure),and bungled terribly.The flling of the pipe and lighting it, those little offces in which I have commended her discretion, were vilely done from frst to last.During the whole process, Tackleton stood looking on maliciously with the half-closed eye;which, whenever it met hers—or caught it, for it can hardly ;be said to have ever met another eye:rather being a kind of trap to snatch it up—augmented her confusion in a most remarkable degree.

“Why, what a clumsy Dot you are this afternoon!”said John.“I could have done it better myself, I verily believe!”

With these good-natured words, he strode away, and presently was heard, in company with Boxer, and the old horse, and the cart, making lively music down the road. What time the dreamy Caleb still stood, watching his blind daughter, with the same expression on his face.

“Bertha!”said Caleb, softly.“What has happened?How changed you are, my darling, in a few hours—since this morning!You silent and dull all day!What is it?Tell me!”

“Oh, father, father!”cried the Blind Girl, bursting into tears.“Oh, my hard, hard fate!”

Caleb drew his hand across his eyes before he answered her.

“But think how cheerful and how happy you have been, Bertha!How good, and how much loved, by many people.”

“That strikes me to the heart, dear father!Always so mindful of me!Always so kind to me!”

Caleb was very much perplexed to understand her.

“To be—to be blind, Bertha, my poor dear,”he faltered,“is a great affiction;but—”

“I have never felt it!”cried the Blind Girl.“I have never felt it in its fulness. Never!I have sometimes wished that I could see you, or could see him—only once, dear father, only for one little minute—that I might know what it is I treasure up,”she laid her hands upon her breast,“and hold here!That I might be sure I have it right!And sometimes(but then I was a child)I have wept in my prayers at night, to think that, when your images ascended from my heart to Heaven, they might not be the true resemblance of yourselves.But I have never had these feelings long.They have passed away, and left me tranquil and contented.”

“And they will again,”said Caleb.

“But, father!Oh, my good gentle father, bear with me, if I am wicked!”said the Blind Girl.“This is not the sorrow that so weighs me down!”

Her father could not choose but let his moist eyes overfow;she was so earnest and pathetic. But he did not understand her yet.

“Bring her to me,”said Bertha.“I cannot hold it closed and shut within myself. Bring her to me, father!”

She knew he hesitated, and said,“May. Bring May!”

May heard the mention of her name, and, coming quietly towards her, touched her on the arm. The Blind Girl turned immediately, and held her by both hands.

“Look into my face, Dear heart, Sweet heart!”said Bertha.“Read it with your beautiful eyes, and tell me if the truth is written on it.”

“Dear Bertha, yes!”

The Blind Girl, still upturning the blank sightless face, down which the tears were coursing fast, addressed her in these words:

“There is not, in my soul, a wish or thought that is not for your ;good, bright May!There is not, in my soul, a grateful recollection stronger than the deep remembrance which is stored there of the many many times when, in the full pride of sight and beauty, you have had consideration for Blind Bertha, even when we two were children, or when Bertha was as much a child as ever blindness can be!Every blessing on your head!Light upon your happy course!Not the less, my dear May,”—and she drew towards her in a closer grasp,—“not the less, my bird, because, today, the knowledge that you are to be His wife has wrung my heart almost to breaking!Father, May, Mary!Oh, forgive me that it is so, for the sake of all he has done to relieve the weariness of my dark life:and for the sake of the belief you have in me, when I call Heaven to witness that I could not wish him married to a wife more worthy of his goodness!”

While speaking, she had released May Fielding's hands, and clasped her garments in an attitude of mingled supplication and love. Sinking lower and lower down, as she proceeded in her strange confession, she dropped at last at the feet of her friend, and hid her blind face in the folds of her dress.

“Great Power!”exclaimed her father, smitten at one blow with the truth,“have I deceived her from her cradle, but to break her heart at last?”

It was well for all of them that Dot, that beaming, useful, busy little Dot—for such she was, whatever faults she had, and however you may learn to hate her, in good time—it was well for all of them, I say, that she was there, or where this would have ended, it were hardto tell. But Dot, recovering her self-possession, interposed, before May could reply, or Caleb say another word.

“Come, come, dear Bertha!come away with me!Give her your arm, May!So. How composed she is, you see, already;and how good it is of her to mind us,”said the cheery little woman, kissing her upon the forehead.“Come away, dear Bertha!Come!and here's her good father will come with her, won't you, Caleb?To—be—sure!”

Well, well!she was a noble little Dot in such things, and it must have been an obdurate nature that could have withstood her influence. When she had got poor Caleb and his Bertha away, that they might comfort and console each other, as she knew they only could, she presently came bouncing back,—the saying is, as fresh as any daisy;I say fresher—to mount guard over that bridling little piece of consequence in the cap and gloves, and prevent the dear old creature from making discoveries.

“So bring me the precious Baby, Tilly,”said she, drawing a chair to the fre;“and while I have it in my lap, here's Mrs. Fielding, Tilly, will tell me all about the management of Babies, and put me right in twenty points where I'm as wrong as can be.Won't you, Mrs.Fielding?”

Not even the Welsh Giant, who, according to the popular expression, was so“slow”as to perform a fatal surgical operation upon himself, in emulation of a juggling trick achieved by his arch enemy at breakfast-time;not even he fell half so readily into the snare prepared for him as the old lady into this artful pitfall. The fact ;of Tackleton having walked out;and furthermore, of two or three people having been talking together at a distance, for two minutes, leaving her to her own resources;was quite enough to have put her on her dignity, and the bewailment of that mysterious convulsion in the Indigo Trade, for four-and-twenty hours.But this becoming deference to her experience, on the part of the young mother, was so irresistible, that after a short affectation of humility, she began to enlighten her with the best grace in the world;and, sitting bolt upright before the wicked Dot, she did, in half an hour, deliver more infallible domestic recipes and precepts than would(if acted on)have utterly destroyed and done up that Young Peerybingle, though he had been an Infant Samson.

To change the theme, Dot did a little needlework—she carried the contents of a whole workbox in her pocket;however she contrived it, I don't know—then did a little nursing;then a little more needlework;then had a little whispering chat with May, while the old lady dozed;and so in little bits of bustle, which was quite her manner always, found it a very short afternoon. Then, as it grew dark, and as it was a solemn part of this Institution of the Picnic that she should perform all Bertha's household tasks, she trimmed the fire, and swept the hearth, and set the tea-board out, and drew the curtain, and lighted a candle.Then she played an air or two on a rude kind of harp, which Caleb had contrived for Bertha, and played them very well;for Nature had made her delicate little ear as choice a one for music as it would have been for jewels, if she had had any to wear.By this time it was the established hour for having tea;and Tackleton came back again to share the meal, and spend the evening.

Caleb and Bertha had returned some time before, and Caleb had sat down to his afternoon's work. But he couldn't settle to it, poor fellow, being anxious and remorseful for his daughter.It was touching to see him sitting idle on his working stool, regarding her so wistfully, and always saying in his face,“Have I deceived her from her cradle, but to break her heart?”

When it was night, and tea was done, and Dot had nothing more to do in washing up the cups and saucers;in a word—for I must come to it, and there is no use in putting it off—when the time drew nigh for expecting the Carrier's return in every sound of distant wheels, her manner changed again, her colour came and went, and she was very restless. Not as good wives are when listening for their husbands.No, no, no.It was another sort of restlessness from that.

Wheels heard. A horse's feet.The barking of a dog.The gradual approach of all the sounds.The scratching paw of Boxer at the door!

“Whose step is that?”cried Bertha, starting up.

“Whose step?”returned the Carrier, standing in the portal, with his brown face ruddy as a winter berry from the keen night air.“Why, mine.”

“The other step,”said Bertha.“The man's tread behind you!”

“She is not to be deceived,”observed the Carrier, laughing.“Come along, sir. You'll be welcome, never fear!”

He spoke in a loud tone;and, as he spoke, the deaf old ;gentleman entered.

“He's not so much a stranger that you haven't seen him once, Caleb,”said the Carrier.“You'll give him house room till we go?”

“Oh, surely, John, and take it as an honour!”

“He's the best company on earth to talk secrets in,”said John.“I have reasonable good lungs, but he tries'em I can tell you. Sit down, sir.All friends here, and glad to see you!”

When he had imparted this assurance, in a voice that amply corroborated what he had said about his lungs, he added in his natural tone,“A chair in the chimney-corner, and leave to sit quite silent and look pleasantly about him, is all he cares for. He's easily pleased.”

Bertha had been listening intently. She called Caleb to her side, when he had set the chair, and asked him, in a low voice, to describe their visitor.When he had done so(truly now, with scrupulous fidelity),she moved, for the first time since he had come in, and sighed, and seemed to have no further interest concerning him.

The Carrier was in high spirits, good fellow that he was, and fonder of his little wife than ever.

“A clumsy Dot she was, this afternoon!”he said, encircling her with his rough arm, as she stood, removed from the rest;“and yet I like her somehow. See yonder, Dot!”

He pointed to the old man. She looked down.I think she trembled.

“He's—ha, ha, ha!—he's full of admiration for you!”said the Carrier.“Talked of nothing else the whole way here. Why, he's abrave old boy!I like him for it!”

“I wish he had a better subject, John,”she said with an uneasy glance about the room. At Tackleton especially.

“A better subject!”cried the jovial John.“There's no such thing. Come!off with the great-coat, off with the thick shawl, off with the heavy wrappers!and a cosy half-hour by the fre.My humble service, mistress.A game at cribbage, you and I?That's hearty.The cards and board, Dot.And a glass of beer here, if there's any left, small wife!”

His challenge was addressed to the old lady, who, accepting it with gracious readiness, they were soon engaged upon the game. At first, the Carrier looked about him sometimes with a smile, or now and then called Dot to peep over his shoulder at his hand, and advise him on some knotty point.But his adversary being a rigid disciplinarian, and subject to an occasional weakness in respect of pegging more than she was entitled to, required such vigilance on his part, as left him neither eyes nor ears to spare.Thus, his whole attention gradually became absorbed upon the cards;and he thought of nothing else, until a hand upon his shoulder restored him to a consciousness of Tackleton.

“I am sorry to disturb you—but a word directly.”

“I'm going to deal,”returned the Carrier.“It's a crisis.”

“It is,”said Tackleton.“Come here, man!”

There was that in his pale face which made the other rise immediately, and ask him, in a hurry, what the matter was.

“Hush!John Peerybingle,”said Tackleton,“I am sorry for this. I ;am indeed.I have been afraid of it.I have suspected it from the frst.”

“What is it?”asked the Carrier with a frightened aspect.

“Hush!I'll show you, if you'll come with me.”

The Carrier accompanied him without another word. They went across a yard, where the stars were shining, and by a little side-door, into Tackleton's own counting-house, where there was a glass window, commanding the ware-room, which was closed for the night.There was no light in the counting-house itself, but there were lamps in the long narrow ware-room;and consequently the window was bright.

“A moment!”said Tackleton.“Can you bear to look through that window, do you think?”

“Why not?”returned the Carrier.

“A moment more,”said Tackleton.“Don't commit any violence. It's of no use.It's dangerous too.You're a strong-made man;and you might do murder before you know it.”

The Carrier looked him in the face, and recoiled a step as if he had been struck. In one stride he was at the window, and he saw——

Oh, Shadow on the Hearth!Oh, truthful Cricket!Oh, perfdious wife!

He saw her with the old man—old no longer, but erect and gallant—bearing in his hand the false white hair that had won his way into their desolate and miserable home. He saw her listening to him, as he bent his head to whisper in her ear;and suffering him to clasp her round the waist, as they moved slowly down the dim woodengallery towards the door by which they had entered it.He saw them stop, and saw her turn—to have the face, the face he loved so, so presented to his view!—and saw her, with her own hands, adjust the lie upon his head, laughing, as she did it, at his unsuspicious nature!

He clenched his strong right hand at first, as if it would have beaten down a lion. But, opening it immediately again, he spread it out before the eyes of Tackleton(for he was tender of her even then),and so, as they passed out, fell down upon a desk, and was as weak as any infant.

He was wrapped up to the chin, and busy with his horse and parcels, when she came into the room, prepared for going home.

“Now, John dear!Good night, May!Good night, Bertha!”

Could she kiss them?Could she be blithe and cheerful in her parting?Could she venture to reveal her face to them without a blush?Yes. Tackleton observed her closely, and she did all this.

Tilly was hushing the baby, and she crossed and recrossed Tackleton a dozen times, repeating drowsily:

“Did the knowledge that it was to be its wives, then, wring its hearts almost to breaking;and did its fathers deceive it from its cradles but to break its hearts at last!”

“Now, Tilly, give me the Baby!Good night, Mr. Tackleton.Where's John, for goodness'sake?”

“He's going to walk beside the horse's head,”said Tackleton;who helped her to her seat.

“My dear John!Walk?Tonight?”

The muffled figure of her husband made a hasty sign in the affrmative;and, the false stranger and the little nurse being in their places, the old horse moved off. Boxer, the unconscious Boxer, running on before, running back, running round and round the cart, and barking as triumphantly and merrily as ever.

When Tackleton had gone off likewise, escorting May and her mother home, poor Caleb sat down by the fre beside his daughter;anxious and remorseful at the core;and still saying, in his wistful contemplation of her,“Have I deceived her from her cradle, but to break her heart at last?”

The toys that had been set in motion for the Baby had all stopped and run down long ago. In the faint light and silence, the imperturbably calm dolls, the agitated rocking-horses with distended eyes and nostrils, the old gentlemen at the street-doors, standing half doubled up upon their failing knees and ankles, the wry-faced nut-crackers, the very Beasts upon their way into the Ark, in twos, like a Boarding-School out walking, might have been imagined to be stricken motionless with fantastic wonder at Dot being false, or Tackleton beloved, under any combination of circumstances.

凯莱布·普卢默和他的盲女像故事书上说的那样,两个人孤孤单单地生活着——我希望你支持我祝福这些故事,因为在这个凡俗的世界上竟然有此一说!——凯莱布·普卢默和他的盲女两个人孤孤单单地生活在一所破破烂烂的、小得可怜的木屋里,如果把格拉夫和泰克尔顿的红砖房比作一只鼻子的话,这座屋子,说真的,还不如鼻子上的一颗粉刺。格拉夫和泰克尔顿的宅邸是那条街上的伟大事物;而凯莱布·普卢默的房屋,你一两下就能把它捶倒,一车子就能把碎木片拉走。

要是凯莱布·普卢默的房屋遭到这种侵害之后,谁竟然发现它失踪了,他无疑会将它的毁坏称赞为一次巨大的改革。这座屋子跟格拉夫和泰克尔顿的宅邸连在一起,就像藤壶粘在船的龙骨上,或者蜗牛爬在门板上,或者一小簇毒菌长在树枝上一样。不过,格拉夫和泰克尔顿这株粗壮的大树树干正是从它这株幼芽成长起来的;而且,就在这歪歪斜斜的屋顶下面,格拉夫的祖先曾经为过去一代的男女孩童小规模地生产玩具,那些孩童玩着这些玩具,发现它们过时,把它们拆坏,然后这些玩具就与世长辞了。

我说过凯莱布和他可怜的盲女生活在这里。我应该说凯莱布生活在这里,他的可怜的盲女则生活在别的什么地方——生活在凯莱布所布置的一个奇幻的家里,那儿没有贫困和破烂,烦恼也从未侵入过。凯莱布不是一个魔法师,然而那仍然遗留在我们心中的唯一魔法,那深挚的、不死的爱的魔法,在这方面,大自然做了他学习的师傅;在她的传授下,一切奇迹都出现了。

盲女孩儿从来不知道天花板已经变了色,墙壁上到处斑斑点点,灰泥剥落,深深的裂缝每天在延长和加宽,梁木腐朽,摇摇欲坠。盲女孩儿从来不知道铁质生锈,木头烂掉,纸张剥离;房屋的大小、形状和实际的面积在萎缩下去。盲女孩儿从来不知道桌子上放的是样子难看的荷兰陶器和瓦罐;不知道忧愁和沮丧笼罩着屋子;不知道在她视而不见的眼睛前面,凯莱布稀少的头发变得越来越白。盲女孩儿从来不知道他们有一个冷酷、苛刻和索然无味的主人——从来不知道泰克尔顿总归是泰克尔顿;却一直认为他是一个奇怪的幽默家,爱跟他们开玩笑,是他们生活的保护神,却不屑于听到一句感恩戴德的话。

这一切全是凯莱布的法术,全是她的单纯的父亲的法术!不过他的炉边也有一只蟋蟀;失去母亲的盲孩子还很小的时候,父亲悲伤地聆听着它的鸣唱,这个精灵使他感悟到,即使重大的缺失,也几乎可以转变为幸福,于是女孩子就凭借这个方法得到快乐。蟋蟀世家全体都是有魔力的精灵,虽然同它们接触的人并不知道这一点(这是常有的情况);在那看不见的世界里,没有哪种声音能够比炉灶边的精灵对人类倾诉衷肠的声音更温柔,更真实,使人可以绝对信赖,并且可以十分肯定它除了给人以最亲切的劝告之外,没有别的。

凯莱布和女儿在他们平日做工的屋子里一同工作;这间屋子他们平常也作为起居室。这是一个奇怪的地方,里面有许多完工的和未完工的房屋,给各种身份的娃娃居住,比如中层阶级的娃娃的郊区住屋,下层阶级的娃娃的厨房和单身公寓,上层阶级的娃娃的豪华的城市公馆。这些房屋当中,有的里面已经有了陈设,这是按照估计并且考虑收入有限的娃娃的方便而置备的;还有的,可以拿木架上摆满的桌椅、沙发、床架和窗帘台布等,立刻装配起来,适合最奢侈的阶级使用。贵族、绅士和平民大众横七竖八地躺在篮子里,眼睛直愣愣地瞧着天花板,那些房屋正是为了安顿它们而设计的;在表示它们所属的社会阶级,确定它们各自的身份地位这方面(经验说明,这一点在实际生活中非常难以确定),这些娃娃的制造者大大胜过了常常是刚愎自用和顽固不化的“造物主”;因为他们并不一味依仗缎子、印花布,以及碎片条这类武断的标记,而是添加了更不容误置的显著的个人特点。因此,贵妇人娃娃配着十分匀称的蜡制四肢;不过,只有它和跟它地位同等的娃娃才这样。社会地位比它低一等的娃娃,则用皮制;再低一等的,则用粗布料制。至于平民大众,它们的手臂和腿就用很多从火绒箱里抽出来的火柴制成,它们就是这样——一旦确定了身份,就没有逾矩的可能。

凯莱布·普卢默的屋子里除了娃娃之外,还有他的其他种种手工艺品,比如,“挪亚方舟”,我向你保证,那飞禽走兽挤在里面是异乎寻常地局促;然而不管怎样还是可以把它们从船顶上塞进去,咯嗒咯嗒地摇成最紧的一团。出于一种大胆的诗意的遐想,大部分“挪亚方舟”的舱门上都装有门环;这或许是不合理的附属物,因为它使人想起早上的访客和邮递员来,然而却是建筑物外部一个可喜的装置。这儿还有许许多多满怀忧伤的小货车,车轮滚起来,就会奏出最最悲哀的音乐。还有许多小巧的提琴、鼓,以及其他折磨人的乐器;无数大炮、盾牌、刀剑、长矛和枪支。还有穿红裤子的翻跟头小人儿,不停地爬上高处一根红带子的障碍物,然后头下脚上打另一边翻过去;还有不计其数虽非德高望重,却是道貌岸然的老绅士,疯狂地跳过特为它们嵌在沿街大门口的一根根平置的木钉。还有各式各样的野兽,尤其是所有品种的马,从斑斑点点的圆身子装上四根木条、绕上一条小围巾做鬃毛的马,到威风凛凛的纯种摇动木马,应有尽有。成千上万个稀奇古怪的东西,只要将钥匙一转,便会做出种种荒谬可笑的事情来。这些怪物多得难以计数,因此,要举出人类哪一桩蠢事、恶行,或者缺陷,在凯莱布·普卢默的屋子里,没有其直接或者间接的表征,这也是不易办到的事。这并不是言过其实,因为小小的手柄就能使得男男女女做出种种奇形怪状的动作,正像任何被设计如何动作的玩偶一样。

凯莱布和女儿就坐在这些物品中间工作着。盲女孩儿忙着做娃娃的成衣,凯莱布在给一幢漂亮的四开间住宅的门面上油漆,镶玻璃。

凯莱布脸上的皱纹里隐藏着忧愁,带着十分适合于炼金术士或者深奥的学者的失魂落魄的、懵懵懂懂的神情,一眼看去,这副样子同他的职业,以及周围微不足道的东西,形成奇怪的对照。然而,如果发明创造是为了果腹,再微不足道的东西也变成了非常严肃的事物。撇开这个情况不谈,我自己还是完全不准备说,如果凯莱布是一位宫内大臣、国会议员、律师,或者即使是大投机商的话,他做玩具的时候,就会减少一点奇思怪想,不过我极其怀疑他们这些人是否会像他一样没有坏心眼儿。

“爸爸,昨天晚上,你是穿着那件漂亮的新大衣冒雨出去的吗?”凯莱布的女儿说。

“是穿着那件漂亮的新大衣。”凯莱布回答,眼睛望望屋子里的一根晾衣绳,上文描写过的那件麻袋布做的大衣,正小心地挂在上面晾干。

“爸爸,你买了那件衣服,我多么高兴!”

“而且还是那样的裁缝呢,”凯莱布说,“相当时髦的裁缝。我简直不配。”

盲女儿停下了手中的工作,开心地笑起来:“不配,爸爸!你有什么东西会不配?”

“可是我穿起来有些难为情,”凯莱布说,打量这句话在她欣喜的脸上引起的反应,“的确是这样!我听见孩子和大人在我后面说:‘啊呀,多摩登哪!’这时候我简直抬不起头来。昨天晚上,叫花子死缠着不放的时候,我说我是个非常普通的人,他说:‘不,老爷!上天保佑您老爷不要说这种话!’我真难为情死了。我实在觉得自己没有权利穿这件衣服。”

幸福的盲女孩儿!她乐得心花怒放,高兴得不得了!

“爸爸,我看见你了,”她拍手说,“就像我有了眼睛一样,清清楚楚的。你在我身边的时候我可从不需要这双眼睛。我看见一件蓝色大衣——”

“天蓝色的。”凯莱布说。

“对啦,对啦!天蓝色的!”女孩儿仰起容光焕发的脸喊道,“这种颜色我正可以从神圣的天空想起来!你从前跟我说天空是蓝色的!一件天蓝色的大衣——”

“做得大大的。”凯莱布补充说。

“做得大大的!”盲女孩儿纵声大笑着喊道,“亲爱的爸爸,你穿了那件衣服,眼睛笑眯眯的,脸上乐滋滋的,步子轻快,头发乌黑——看起来多么年轻、漂亮啊!”

“啊呀!啊呀!”凯莱布叫道,“那我一定会得意扬扬了!”

“我想你已经这样了,”盲女孩儿兴高采烈地指着他嚷道,“我知道你,爸爸!哈,哈,哈!你瞧,我已经猜出来啦!”

她心中的景象跟坐在那儿瞧着她的凯莱布是多么不同啊!她说他步子轻快,倒没有说错。许多年以来,他从来没有用自己缓慢的步履跨进门槛,而是用欺瞒她耳朵的脚步声;即使在心情最沉重的时候,他也从来没有忘记要用会让她的心充满愉快和勇气的轻快的脚步声!

天知道!不过我认为凯莱布迷迷糊糊的神情,可能一半是由于目盲的女儿的缘故,才使他自己和周围的一切把他自己搞昏了头。这个瘦小的人,许多年来的辛劳就是为了要消除他自己的个性,以及所有跟他的个性有关联的东西的个性,他不变得迷迷糊糊的,又会怎样呢?

“咳,瞧吧,”凯莱布说着往后退了一两步,以便更好地鉴赏自己的作品,“简直跟真的一样,就像值六个便士的半便士跟一枚六便士一样。多么可惜,房子的正面一下子整个儿开开了!哎,要是里边有楼梯,走到每个房间都有门,那可多么好!不过这是我的职业的最坏的缺点,我老是糊弄自己,蒙骗自己。”

“你的话音很微弱。爸爸,你累了吧?”

“累了!”凯莱布忽然生气勃勃地应声说,“蓓莎,什么东西会使我累?我从来不累。累是什么意思?”

壁炉架上有两个伸懒腰、打呵欠的半身像,腰部以上永远表现处于疲倦的一种状态;凯莱布不由自主地模仿起来,然而为了使自己的话增加分量,又忍住了,却哼起一段歌曲来。这是酒神的信徒之歌,唱的是关于一只闪闪发光的酒杯的事。他用一种漫不经心的嗓音唱,反而使他的脸瘦了一千倍,而且比平常更为愁眉不展。

“怎么!你唱起歌来了?”泰克尔顿在门外伸进头来说,“唱呀,我可不会唱。”

谁也没有认为他会唱。他丝毫没有通常所谓的唱歌的人该有的脸蛋儿。

“我没有闲工夫唱歌,”泰克尔顿说,“我高兴你倒有。我希望你也有工夫做工才好。不大有时间两者兼顾吧,我想?”

“蓓莎,要是你能看见他怎么对我眨眼睛,那多好!”凯莱布轻声说,“要是你不知道他,你会想,这样的人会开玩笑吗?他是说真的呢——你此刻不是这样想吗?”

盲女孩儿点头微笑。

“人家说,会唱而不唱的鸟必须使它唱,”泰克尔顿粗声粗气地说,“那么不会唱,不该唱,而一定要唱的猫头鹰该怎么办呢?难道有什么理由必须使它唱吗?”

“他这时候眼睛的神气呀!”凯莱布对女儿轻声说,“哦,我的天!”

“对我们总是这样轻松愉快!”微笑的蓓莎大声说。

“哦,你在这儿,是吗?”泰克尔顿应声说,“可怜的白痴!”

他真的认为她是个白痴,而且我不知道他是不是有意识的,这种想法就是以她喜欢他作为根据。

“嗯,既然在这儿——你好吗?”泰克尔顿不乐意地说。

“哦!好,很好。而且很快乐,正像你希望我的那样;正像你能办到的话,一定会给予全世界的那样的快乐。”

“可怜的白痴!”泰克尔顿咕哝着说,“一点不通人情,一点也不!”

盲女孩儿拿起他的手亲亲;又双手握了它一会儿,把她的面颊温柔地贴一会儿,才放开。这个举动里包含着那样不可言喻的感情和那样热烈的感激,连泰克尔顿也不免受到感动,用比平常柔和些的咆哮声说:

“这是怎么回事?”

“我昨天晚上睡觉的时候,把它紧紧挨在枕头边上放着,梦里都想起它来。天亮的时候,灿烂的红太阳——是红太阳吧,爸爸?”

“早晨和傍晚是红的,蓓莎。”可怜的凯莱布用焦虑的目光瞟着他的雇主说。

“红太阳升起来,那明亮的光线让我几乎怕自己在走动的时候让它碰着我;它照进来了,我就把那株小树转过来对着它,同时赞美上帝创造了这样美好的东西,并感谢你送了来使我快乐!”

“疯人院给打开啦!”泰克尔顿悄没声儿地说,“咱们马上就要用拘束衣和消声器了。咱们快了!”

女儿讲话的时候,凯莱布两只手无力地勾在一起,茫然直视,好像真的拿不准(我相信他是真的)泰克尔顿究竟做过什么值得她感谢的事没有。在这当口,如果他有任意行动的自由,要他冒死踢那个玩具商,或者依据他的功绩对他下跪,两者择其一,我相信可能性是完全相等的。不过,凯莱布心里明白,是他自己的双手那样小心翼翼地把那一小株玫瑰捧回家来送给她的,也是他自己的嘴编造了无辜的谎话,为的是可以使女儿不至于怀疑他每天都做了许多、许许多多的牺牲,目的是要女儿更快乐些。

“蓓莎!”泰克尔顿暂时伪装出一点亲热的声调说,“到这儿来。”

“哦!我能一直走到你那儿!你不必引导我!”她答应说。

“蓓莎,我告诉你一个秘密好吗?”

“只要你愿意!”她急切地回答。

那黯然的脸变得多有神采!那侧耳倾听的头映照着多么明亮的光辉!

“那个叫小什么的惯坏了的孩子,那个皮瑞宾格尔的太太,定期来拜访你们——在这里进行她的奇妙的聚餐,今天就是这样的日子,对不对?”泰克尔顿说,语气中表示对这整个事情极为鄙视。

“对啦,”蓓莎回答,“今天就是这样的日子。”

“我说是的嘛,”泰克尔顿说,“我愿意加入这个聚会。”

“爸爸,你听见了吗!”盲女孩儿叫着,兴奋得不得了。

“是的,是的,我听见了,”凯莱布喃喃地说,眼睛直愣愣的,像个梦游人,“不过我不信。我毫不怀疑这又是我的一个谎。”

“你知道,我——我打算使皮瑞宾格尔夫妇跟梅·费尔丁更亲密些,”泰克尔顿说,“我要和梅结婚了。”

“结婚!”盲女孩儿从他面前倒退一步,喊着说。

“她真是一个十足的白痴,”泰克尔顿咕哝着说,“我怕她永远听不懂我的话。喂,蓓莎!结婚!教堂、牧师、教会书记、教区小吏、玻璃马车、大钟、早餐、喜庆蛋糕、礼品、猪肘子以及其他种种傻玩意儿。结婚,你知道;结婚。你可知道什么叫作结婚吗?”

“我知道,”盲女孩儿语气温和地回答,“我懂!”

“你懂吗?”泰克尔顿喃喃地说,“这可出乎我意料。好吧!我就是为了这个要来参加聚会,还要带梅和她的妈妈来。今天上午我要送一点什么来。一块冷羊腿,或者这一类可口的东西。你要我来吗?”

“要。”她回答。

她低着头,转过身子,交叉着双手,站在那里思索。

“我想你不会要,”泰克尔顿瞅着她咕哝着说,“因为看样子你已经把什么都忘记了。凯莱布!”

“我想,我敢说,我在这儿,”凯莱布想着,嘴里说,“先生!”

“你留意别叫她忘记我刚才跟她说的话。”

“她从来不会忘记,”凯莱布回答,“这是她不够聪明的很少几件事情中的一件。”

“谁都把自己的笨鹅看作天鹅,”玩具商耸耸肩膀说,“可怜虫啊!”

老格拉夫和泰克尔顿极其轻蔑地说了这句话后,走了出去。

蓓莎仍然待在原来的地方,想得出神。她垂头丧气,脸上失去了笑容,变得十分忧郁。她摇头,摇了三四次,好像在为什么记忆或者损失而悲愁;可是,她悲伤的心情又无以言表。

凯莱布把几匹马架到一辆货车上,办法很简单,就是把挽具钉在马的要害上。他这样工作了一些时候,蓓莎才走近他的工作台,在边上坐下来说:

“爸爸,我在黑暗里好生孤单。我要我的眼睛,我的那双宽容我、心甘情愿侍奉我的眼睛。”

“这就是你的眼睛,”凯莱布说,“一直在这儿哪。与其说是我的眼睛,不如说是你的,蓓莎,二十四小时之中的任何一个钟点都是你的。你要眼睛做什么呢,亲爱的?”

“把这屋子瞧个遍,爸爸。”

“好的,”凯莱布说,“我立刻照做了,蓓莎。”

“你说说这屋子。”

“跟平常一模一样嘛,”凯莱布说,“朴素,然而舒适得很。墙上花花绿绿的;盘子、碟子里都是漂亮的花儿;光闪闪的木头,都是梁木、镶板;这幢房屋整个儿都精致,讨人喜欢。这一切弄得这屋子可美了。”

蓓莎的双手摸得到的地方都是又精致又讨人喜欢的。但是凯莱布用幻想把它如此改造过的这间破烂老旧的小屋子里,却没有其他地方能说得上精致而又讨人喜欢。

“你穿着工作服不像你穿上那件漂亮的外套那样神气吧?”蓓莎摸着他说。

“不那么神气,”凯莱布回答,“可是相当轻便。”

“爸爸,”这盲姑娘挨近他,轻轻地搂着他的脖子说,“跟我说说梅的事情。她很好看吗?”

“她的确不错。”凯莱布说。她的确不错。凯莱布这次不必依靠虚构,这是不大有的事。

“她一头黑发,”蓓莎沉思着说,“比我的还黑。她的声音又甜又好听,我知道。我过去常常喜欢听。她的体形——”

“整个屋子里没有一个娃娃比得上她,”凯莱布说,“还有那一双眼睛!——”

他说不下去了;因为蓓莎搂得更紧,手臂在他脖子上一压,他太熟悉这种警告了。

他咳了一阵,敲打了一阵,然后唱起那首关于“闪光的大酒杯”的歌曲,那是他在这种困境中所能依靠的万无一失的应对办法。

“爸爸,我们的朋友,我们的恩人呢?你知道,我从来都不厌倦听听他的事情——我厌倦过没有呢?”她着急地说。

“当然没有,”凯莱布回答,“而且有充分理由。”

“啊!有多么充分的理由啊!”这个盲姑娘高声说,那样热情洋溢,凯莱布虽然动机纯洁无瑕,也都难以容忍自己去看她的脸,便朝地下看着,好像怕她从他眼睛里瞧出他的善意的欺骗。

“那么再跟我说说他吧,亲爱的爸爸,”蓓莎说,“再说许多次!他的脸是仁爱、宽厚、亲切的。诚恳而又忠实,肯定如此。一颗大丈夫的心想用一种粗暴和不心甘情愿的外表,去掩盖住一切厚意,反而在一顾一盼之间流露出来。”

“而且使它崇高。”凯莱布简直不顾一切地加了一句。

“而且使它崇高!”盲姑娘喊道,“他比梅年纪大,爸爸。”

“不错,”凯莱布勉强地说,“他比梅大一点。不过那没有多大关系。”

“哦,爸爸,不错!在他年老体弱的时候做他有耐心的伴侣;在他生病的时候做他温柔的护士;在他忧愁苦恼的时候做他忠实的朋友;不知疲倦地为他工作;照料他,伺候他;在他醒来的时候坐在他床边和他谈谈;他睡了,为他祈祷;这些事是多么光荣!这是证实她对他完全衷心爱戴的多好的机会!她会这样办吗,亲爱的爸爸?”

“毫无疑问。”凯莱布说。

“我爱她,爸爸,我能打心底里爱她!”盲姑娘嚷着说。一面说,一面把可怜的长着瞎眼的脸贴在凯莱布的肩膀上,哭成泪人儿似的,使得他差不多后悔把使人泪淋淋的幸福故事带给她了。

这时候,在约翰·皮瑞宾格尔的屋子里发生了相当大的骚动,因为小皮瑞宾格尔太太自然不能设想到什么地方去而不带着婴孩。带着婴孩来去,沉沉的,颇费周章。这并不是说婴孩有多大,而是说他作为一件东西,既有重量又有体积,那么就有一大堆事情要做,为他做,而且必须不慌不忙地做好。比如说,当你想尽办法把婴孩打扮到一定程度,你或许已经有充分的理由想到,再碰他那么一两下,就会把他整理好了,把他变成能向全世界挑战的顶呱呱的婴孩,却意想不到他戴着法兰绒帽子睡着了,得匆忙地将他抱到床上;在大半个钟头里,他在床上两条毛毯之间呼呼地睡着了(譬如这么说)。这一蛰伏不动的阶段过去之后,他光芒四射,吼声震天,就又被人召回去吃点——什么呢?如果你允许我笼统地说说,那我还是这样说的好——吃点小点心。吃过点心后,他又去睡觉了。皮瑞宾格尔太太利用这一间歇把自己稍稍打扮一下,就像你在一生中所看到的任何人那样,打扮得漂漂亮亮。同样在这个短暂的和平时期,施罗博埃小姐悄悄地穿上一件羊毛短上衣,其式样之新奇美妙,跟她,或者天下任何事物,都联系不起来;这上衣是皱拢的、边上卷起的,有种独立不倚的架势,它追寻着自己孤单的旅程,丝毫也不在意任何别人。这时候,婴孩竟然又活蹦乱跳起来了,皮瑞宾格尔太太和施罗博埃小姐共同努力把他穿戴停当,用一件奶油色的披风包着他的身体,用一顶本色布制的发酵的馅饼式帽子盖在他头上。于是过了一段时间,他们三人才下楼来到门口。那匹老马,由于用它急躁的“亲笔签名”把马路踏得一塌糊涂,已经从通行税托拉斯拿回比它一天的通行税的全部款项还要多的钱了。在那边,可以模模糊糊地看见拳击手正在远处站着回望,引诱老马不要等待命令就跟上来。

说到那把椅子,或者任何这类帮助皮瑞宾格尔太太进入车厢中去的东西,要是你认为那东西是必需的话,那么你对约翰就很不了解了。你还没有看见约翰把她从地上举起来,她已经在她的位置上了,精神抖擞,面色红润,说道:“约翰!你真行!当心蒂蕾吧!”

要是允许我提到一位年轻女士的双腿,无论如何,我要观察施罗博埃的,有一桩不幸的事,使得那双腿特别容易被擦伤。不管是上去或下来一点点,她都从来没有不在腿上把情况用伤痕记录下来的,就像鲁滨孙·克鲁苏在他的木头日历上把日子记下来一样。不过提起这件事可能会被人认为没有礼貌,我当考虑及此。

“约翰,你可带了那一篮小牛肉和火腿馅饼了?还有别的东西,还有几瓶啤酒。”小不点儿说,“要是你没有带,你必须再回去一趟,立刻就去。”

“你是一位有趣的小人儿,”运货夫说,“已经叫我耽搁了整整一刻钟,还说什么再回去一趟。”

“对此我很抱歉,约翰,”小不点儿说,忙乱了好一阵子,“可是我不能想象——我无论如何也办不到,约翰——到蓓莎家里去而不带上小牛肉和火腿馅饼,以及别的东西,还有几瓶啤酒。跑!”

这个单音节的字是对着马儿喊的,可是它理也不理。

“哦,约翰,跑啊!”皮瑞宾格尔太太说,“请你叫它跑!”

“有的是时间起跑,”约翰回答,“我这会儿正着手安排一些行前的事情。篮子在这儿,够安全的。”

“你必定是个狠心肠的怪物,约翰,不肯马上说出来,省得我这样着急!我刚才声明我不能到蓓莎家里去而不带小牛肉和火腿馅饼,还有其他的东西,还有几瓶啤酒,不论你给我多少钱都不行。约翰,自从我们结婚以来,我们总是每两个星期到那儿去进行小小的聚餐。要是有什么搞得不对头,我几乎要认为我们再也不会走运了。”

“一开始那就是一个好主意,”运货夫说,“我为此而尊敬你,小妇人。”

“我亲爱的约翰,”小不点儿回答,脸涨得通红,“不要说什么尊敬我。我的天!”

“顺便说说——”运货夫说,“那位老绅士——”

又是那么明显的、立见颜色的困惑不安!

“他是一个奇怪的家伙,”运货夫说,直愣愣地望着他面前的那条马路,“我摸不透他。我不相信他会有什么不好吧。”

“完全没有。我——我敢担保完全没有。”

“是吗?”运货夫说,眼睛盯着她的脸瞧,被她那十分真挚的神态所吸引,“我很高兴你那么肯定,因为这对于我来说是进一步得到了证实。真稀奇,他竟然有那种想法,竟然要求允许他继续和我们住在一起。不是吗?事情发生得好奇怪啊。”

“太奇怪了。”她接口说,声音低低的,简直听都听不见。

“不管怎样,他是一位和蔼可亲的老绅士,”约翰说,“而且像绅士一样付账,我想他的话也像绅士一样靠得住。今天早晨我跟他谈了很久。他说,他对我的声音比较习惯了,已经能较好地听懂我的话。他把自己的事情跟我谈了很多,我也把自己的事跟他谈了很多,他还问了我一大堆问题。我告诉他我的行业路线有两条巡回线,你知道。一天从我们的房屋向右边去,再转回来。另外一天从我们的房屋向左边去,再转回来(因为他是一个陌生人,不知道这一带的地名)。他听了似乎很有兴味。‘啊,那么今儿晚上我要按照你那条路回家了,’他说,‘我刚才还以为你要从正好相反的方向过来呢。这多妙啊!或许我还要麻烦你让我乘你的车子,不过我要设法不再呼呼大睡。’可是他却呼呼大睡了,错不了!——小不点儿!你在想什么呀?”

“在想什么吗,约翰?我——我在听你说哪。”

“哦!很好!”诚实的运货夫说,“从你脸上的神情看起来,我怕我谈得太多,弄得你想其他的事情去了。我十分接近这一情况,我敢肯定。”

小不点儿不回答,短时间内,他们在沉默中驱马前进。可是,要在约翰·皮瑞宾格尔的车子里长时间保持沉默是不容易的,因为路上每个人都有话要跟他说。虽然也许只不过是“你好!”的确也常常不是其他什么话,然而,要一再用恰当的热诚的态度做出回答,需要的不仅仅是点点头,笑一笑,还需要有益于肺部健康的动作,就像长篇大论的议会演说那样。有时候,步行的或者骑马的过路人在马车旁跋涉,同走一小段路,就因为明显的想跟人聊聊天的目的。这样一来,双方就有许许多多的话要说了。

于是,拳击手带来的人们认识和理解运货夫的机会,比半打基督徒所能给的还要多!在这条路上,大家都认识它——特别是家禽和猪,一看见它走过来,斜侧着身子,过分好奇地竖起耳朵,那一根尾巴在空中乱摆,它们立刻撤退到远处后面的居留地去,而不为更接近的交往的荣誉而待在原地。它到处都有事干。跑到所有的转角去转转,跑到所有的井口去照照,在所有的茅屋里窜来窜去,冲到所有初等小学里,把所有的鸽子都吓得飞起来,使所有的猫尾巴都变得粗起来,并且像一位常客那样小跑着走进一家家酒店。不论它走到哪里都能听见张三或李四喊道:“哈!拳击手来啦!”话音刚落,就有人在至少两三位其他什么人的伴同下,立刻向约翰·皮瑞宾格尔和他的美丽的妻子请安问好。

这辆送货马车上大件小件的包裹堆积如山;沿途有不少耽搁,要把包裹放上去,取下来,这件事可一点也不是旅途的最坏部分。有些人对他们的邮包满怀着期望,有些人对他们的邮包满怀着好奇,还有些人对他们的邮包不停地关照,约翰对所有的邮包都怀有强烈的兴趣,整个场景就像一幕生动的情景剧。马车上还装有物件要运送,运送它们也需要思考和讨论,关于这些东西的调整和安排,运货夫和发送者还得进行多次会议讨论。这类会议,拳击手通常都参加,它短时间一阵隔一阵地极其聚精会神,可是又长时间一阵隔一阵地绕着聚集在一起的贤达之士飞奔,一圈又一圈,还汪汪直叫,把嗓子都叫哑了。对于这些小插曲,坐在马车里的小不点儿是个旁观者,她饶有兴味地全都看在眼里。她坐在那儿,观看着——马车的遮阳伞把她框成令人赞美的一幅妩媚的小肖像画——在年轻小伙子们中间少不得要用胳膊肘儿推推,眼睛瞟瞟,窃窃私语,艳羡不已。这一点,使得运货夫约翰高兴得无法形容;因为他为自己的小妻子被人羡慕而感到骄傲,同时知道她对此并不在意——还知道,要是有什么的话,她倒也很喜欢这样子呢。

正月的天气,旅途上固然有一点雾蒙蒙的,而且阴湿寒冷;可是有谁会在乎如此无关紧要的事情呢?小不点儿肯定不会。蒂蕾·施罗博埃也不会,因为她认为,不管怎样,坐在马车里是人类的幸福的极点,这马车是世上所希望的再好也没有的安乐窝。婴孩也不会,这点我可以发誓;因为一路上他都被裹得暖暖的,睡得香香的,婴孩在这两方面都有很大的需求量,没有哪个婴孩能比小皮瑞宾格尔更有福气。

当然,在迷雾里你不可能看得很远,然而你却能够看到很多呢!你只要不嫌麻烦去观察,就会感到惊讶,你竟然能够在比这更浓的迷雾里看见这么多东西啊!嗨,即使坐在田野里,瞧着一个个仙人圈,以及残留在树篱笆边和林木下的阴影里的一块一块的白霜,也是一桩令人兴味盎然的事情哩。且不说那些意想不到的树影的样子了:杈丫从迷雾里弹出来,然后重又滑到迷雾之中去。树篱笆纠缠在一起,光秃秃的,在寒风里摇摆,好像无数枯萎的花环,不过看来并不令人意气消沉。沉思冥想是愉快的事情,因为它使得眼前的壁炉变得比原来暖和,又使得未来的夏天变得更为翠绿。河流看来阴冷得很,然而还在流着,而且流得很快,这是一个重大的要点。运河水流得相当迟滞缓慢,这一点必须承认。可是不必介意。等到霜雪恰到好处地开始降临的时候,运河立刻就会冰封起来,于是就会有人溜冰、滑雪什么的;一艘艘沉重的旧驳船就会被冻结在靠近码头的什么地方,生锈的铁烟囱烟斗整天吸着烟,吞云吐雾,懒散地消磨时光。

在某处,有一座巨大的野草或者麦茬遍布的山丘在燃烧着;他们瞧着在白天里烧得那么白热的火光,透过迷雾闪烁着,只有东一处西一处射出一道红光来。到后来,由于施罗博埃小姐看到熏烟“扑到她鼻子上来了”,她呛咳起来——只消有一点点刺激,她就会做出任何这一类的事情——而且把婴孩吵醒,不肯再睡觉了,他们这才不再看。然而拳击手跑到前面约有四分之一英里的地方,早已跑过了城市的前哨点,到达了凯莱布和他的女儿住的那条街的转角处;在他们来到门口以前,拳击手和那位盲女已经在人行道上等着迎接他们,等了好久。

顺便说说,拳击手在跟蓓莎打交道的时候,带着它自己特有的细心周到的样子,这使我完全相信它明白蓓莎是瞎眼的人。它从来不像常常对别人做的那样瞧着她来吸引她的注意,而是寸步不离地碰着她。我闹不清,它可能有过和盲人和盲狗相处的什么经验。但它从来没有跟瞎眼的主人待过;老拳击手先生、老拳击手太太以及他们父亲一边或者母亲一边的可尊敬的家系中的任何一位,也都没有患盲症的,这一点我是知道的。或许它是自己学会这一套的,不过它不知怎么的就已经能掌握得很好了;因此它紧挨着蓓莎的裙子,而且一直这样,直等到皮瑞宾格尔太太、婴孩、施罗博埃小姐,以及篮子,都安全地进了门为止。

梅·费尔丁已经先来了,她的妈妈也来了——她是一位动不动就发脾气的小老太太,一脸不高兴的样子。因为她继承而保有了像一根床柱那样细的腰,她的身段被认为是最出类拔萃的了。她还一度因为境遇比较好,或者因为她煞费苦心地给人一种印象,如果说有什么事情发生过而实际上并没有发生,而且似乎从来没有特别可能会发生——然而这是一回事——她可能一度境遇比较好,所以,她的确是非常有大家风度,气派十足。格拉夫和泰克尔顿也在那儿欣然迎候,带着明显的自在的样子,就像一条新鲜的小鲑鱼登上了大金字塔的顶上那样,毫无疑问是在他本行的范围之内。

“梅!我亲爱的老朋友!”小不点儿喊着,奔上前去迎接她,“看到你来多高兴啊!”

她的老朋友完全像她一样兴奋和欢喜;要是你相信我的话,看见她们拥抱在一起,真是叫人快活。毫无疑问,泰克尔顿是一个懂得风雅的人。梅则是非常漂亮。

你知道,你看惯了一张漂亮的脸蛋儿的时候,这张脸又和另外一张漂亮的脸碰在一起并且相比较的时候,有时候,原来那张漂亮的脸一下子似乎变得平常了,姿容减色了,难以符合你曾经对它的高度评价了。不过,现在的情况不论对于小不点儿或者对于梅来说,都完全不同;因为梅的脸陪衬着小不点儿的脸,小不点儿的脸又陪衬着梅的脸,如此自然,而且相得益彰。约翰·皮瑞宾格尔走进屋子里来的时候,几乎脱口而出,说她们应该生来是一对姐妹——这是你能够提出来的唯一的改进建议。

泰克尔顿带来了一只羊腿,此外,说来也真妙,还有一只果馅饼呢——不过事关我们的新娘子的时候,我们不会在意一点小小的花费;我们可不是每天都结婚的——除了这两样美味以外,还有小牛肉和火腿馅饼,以及皮瑞宾格尔太太所谓的“东西”:这主要是指硬壳果、橙子、薄饼,以及这一类的并不稀奇的东西。等到这些膳食陈列在案桌上,由凯莱布从侧面供应一只巨大的木碗,里边盛着热气腾腾的土豆(有一个庄严的合约禁止他送上任何其他的食品),这时候,泰克尔顿领着他的未来的丈母娘坐上荣誉的席位。为了在这高级的节日里,在这个地方,表现得更优美一些,这位威严庄重的老人家,在她自己的头上装饰了一顶帽子,打算这样来使得轻率的人产生一种敬畏的感情。她还戴着手套呢。不过让我们大家都彬彬有礼吧,否则还是死了的好!

凯莱布坐在他女儿旁边。小不点儿和她的老同学紧挨在一起。那位好运货夫则照顾着餐桌的末端。施罗博埃小姐一时之间孤立于一切家具之外,除了她坐的那把椅子,这样,她就可以不让其他的东西来碰婴孩的头了。

蒂蕾睁大眼睛对着那些娃娃和玩具东看西看的时候,它们则睁大眼睛看着她和来客。站在沿街的门口的可尊敬的玩偶老绅士们(他们全都精神抖擞)对于这次聚会感到很有兴趣。不时地跳跳又停停,好像正在听里边的谈话。然后,粗野地一次又一次闯进去,闯了许多次,而不停下来喘一口气——好像对这整个事情喜欢到发狂的程度。

如果这些玩偶绅士想要在泰克尔顿的窘境中得到一种恶意的快乐,那么他们当然有足够的理由得到满足。泰克尔顿跟他们完全合不来,他的未来的新娘子越是成为小不点儿的圈子里的人,感到兴高采烈,他越是不喜欢这种情况,虽然他是为了使她们愉快才把她们拉在一起的。因为他,泰克尔顿,是一个名副其实的“牛槽里的狗”,她们大笑的时候,他却不能,于是他立刻想到,她们一定是在笑他。

“啊,梅!”小不点儿说,“亲爱的人儿,变化多大啊!聊聊那些快乐的学生时代的日子,使人又变得年轻起来了。”

“哦,你并不怎么老,一直是这样,是不是?”泰克尔顿说。

“瞧瞧我那位拖着稳重的步子的丈夫吧,”小不点儿说,“他至少使我增加二十岁,是不是,约翰?”

“增加四十岁。”约翰回答。

“你将会使梅增加多少,我肯定我不知道,”小不点儿笑着说,“不过她明年生日的时候,不可能离一百岁差得太远。”

“哈,哈!”泰克尔顿大声笑着。可是他的笑声像鼓声一样轰隆隆的。他看起来好像可以舒舒服服地把小不点儿的脖子拧过来。

“亲爱的、亲爱的人儿!”小不点儿说,“回想一下吧,我们在学生时代,常常谈到将来要选择什么样的丈夫。我不知道我的丈夫是多么不年轻,不漂亮,不动人,不活泼啊!至于梅的丈夫呢!——啊,天哪!我一想到我们曾经是多么傻的女孩子,我真不知道该笑还是该哭。”

梅却似乎知道该做什么,因为红晕泛到她的脸上来了,眼泪在她眼睛里转。

“即使那些人——真正生气勃勃的男青年本身——有时候被我们看中,”小不点儿说,“我们一点也没想过事情会怎样发展下去。我能肯定的是自己从来没有看中过约翰,我连想也没有想到过他。要是当时我跟你说,你以后要和泰克尔顿先生结婚,嗨,你会打我嘴巴子的。梅,是不是啊?”

虽然梅没有说是,但是她当然也没有说不是,或者用任何方式表示过不是。

泰克尔顿大笑着——他笑得那么响,简直是喊叫哪。约翰·皮瑞宾格尔也大笑,带着和蔼可亲、心满意足的态度,像他平常那样;不过,比起泰克尔顿的大笑来,他不过是一种耳语式的笑罢了。

“尽管如此,你们可由不得自己做主。你瞧,你们没法拒绝我们,”泰克尔顿说,“我们在这儿!我们在这儿!可是你们动人的年轻新郎现在在哪儿啦?”

“他们当中,有些人已经死了。”小不点儿说,“有些人已经被人遗忘了。有些人,要是能在此刻站在我们中间,会不相信我们和过去还是同一个人,会不相信他们所见和所闻是真的,而我们竟然把他们忘得一干二净。不!他们一点也不会相信!”

“嗨,小不点儿!”运货夫嚷起来,“你这小妇人!”

她的一番话说得那样诚挚,那样热情,毫无疑问,她有必要稍稍恢复一下精神。她的丈夫的阻拦是非常客气的,因为照他的打算,他干扰一下只不过是为了保护老泰克尔顿。然而此举证明有效,因为她住了口,不再说话了。即使在她的静默之中,也有一种不平常的激动。那个心细如发的泰克尔顿把他半闭着的眼睛瞄准着她,一一看在眼里,而且像你将会看到的那样,还相当成功地记在心里。

梅不吭声,好歹不说一个字,只是十分安静地坐着,眼睛朝下望,对于刚才种种事情表示不感兴趣。她的母亲,那位好夫人这会儿插了进来,开宗明义,说女孩子总是女孩子,过去的事总是过去的事,还说,只要是年轻而又轻率的年轻人,他们就有可能像年轻而又轻率的人那样行事。此外还发表了两三条同样带有正确无误和不可辩驳的特点的意见。然后,她带着一种虔敬的精神说,她感谢上帝,因为一直在她女儿梅的身上发现一颗恭敬和孝顺的孩子的心;虽然她有一切理由相信这完全是由于她的缘故,她却没有把这一点归功于自己。关于泰克尔顿先生,她说从道德的观点看来,是一位无可訾议的人;从合适的观点看来,没有一个神志清醒的人能怀疑他是一个合人心意的女婿。(她说到这里的时候特别加重语气。)关于这个在他三番五次恳求之后才接纳他的家庭,她相信泰克尔顿先生知道,这个家庭虽然钱包里空些,可是却具有一种貌似名门世家的气派。在某种不是完全没有关系的情况之下,她甚至会说靛青生意(但是她不打算再特别提到它)要是曾经顺手的话,那么这家庭也许已经占有了财富。然后她说不愿意提到过去,也不愿意说起她的女儿曾经拒绝过泰克尔顿先生的求婚,更不愿意啰啰唆唆地谈她谈过的许许多多其他的事情。最后,作为自己的观察和经验的总结,她宣布凡是不具备被浪漫地、愚蠢地称作爱情的婚姻,才往往是最幸福的婚姻;并且她从即将来临的那件婚事中,预见其得到最大量的幸福——不是那种欢天喜地的幸福,而是那种实实在在的、源源不绝的幸福。在结束她的话的时候,她对大伙儿说,她活到现在,是因为明天这个她特意盼望的日子;并且说,等过了明天,她就没有更大的希望了,只希望让人包裹起来,安排在任何体面的殡葬之地就行了。

这些话是很难回答的,一切远远达不到目的的话都有这种可喜的特性。正因如此,他们改变了话题,大家的注意力都转移到小牛肉和火腿馅饼、冷羊肉、土豆和果馅饼上来。约翰·皮瑞宾格尔为了使瓶装啤酒不至于被人忽视,他提议为明天大喜的日子干杯。他号召他们满满地喝一杯,然后他便继续登程赶路去了。

你应该知道他刚才不过是在那儿歇一歇脚,给那匹老马喂一些草料。他还得赶四五英里的路;等到傍晚的时候回到这里来接小不点儿,再歇一歇脚,然后回家。这是他们每一次聚餐会的一天的日程,自从他们立下这个规定以来,一直是这样。

对于刚才的祝福,除了新娘和被选中的新郎以外,还有两个在场的人只是冷淡地表示了敬意。其中一个是小不点儿,她太腼腆,局促不安,不能使自己适应此刻发生的任何小事情。另外一个是蓓莎,她在其余的人离开之前,匆忙地站起来,离开了餐桌。

“再见!”身强力壮的约翰·皮瑞宾格尔穿上厚呢大衣,说道,“我在老时间回来。跟大家再见!”

“再见,约翰。”凯莱布回答说。

他似乎是机械地说这句话,而且带着同样无意识的神情挥挥手。这是因为他站在那儿盯着蓓莎瞧,脸上那种心烦意乱、迷惑不解的表情,始终不变。

“再见,小家伙!”兴高采烈的运货夫说着弯身去吻吻孩子。这会儿正专心致志于她的刀叉的蒂蕾·施罗博埃,已经把这个孩子安置在(说来也怪,竟然毫无损伤)蓓莎置备的一个小摇篮里,让他睡着了。“再见!我的小朋友,我想不久以后,你就要跑到外面的寒风中去,留下你的老爸爸待在壁炉边上吸他的烟斗,生他的风湿病。嗯?小不点儿哪里去啦?”

“我在这儿呢,约翰!”她跳起来说。

“来吧,来吧!”运货夫响亮地拍着手说,“烟斗在哪儿?”

“我差不多把烟斗给忘了,约翰。”

把烟斗给忘了!从来也没有听到过这种奇怪的话!她呀!把烟斗给忘啦!

“我——我马上装板烟。立刻就装好。”

然而并不是立刻就装好的。烟斗躺在它经常待的地方——运货夫的厚呢大衣的口袋里,还有一个小烟草袋,那是她自己做的,她经常就是用这袋里的烟装烟斗。可是她的手抖得那么厉害,被那个袋子缠住了(不过,她的手很小,我肯定她可以容易地抽出来),搞得一塌糊涂。你应该记得,我曾经称赞过她在做装烟斗和点烟的这些小事务方面非常心灵手巧,可是这回从头到尾她都做得极其糟糕。在这整个过程中,泰克尔顿都站在那儿,半闭着眼睛,不怀好意地瞧着。每一次,他的眼光遇上她的眼光——或者说逮住她的眼光,因为很难说是遇上别人的眼光,他那样子就像一种逮住别人眼光的陷阱——极大地增加了她的窘迫。

“喂,今天下午你是一个多么笨手笨脚的小不点儿啊!”约翰说,“我的确相信,我自己来做,准会比你做得好!”

他说完这些善意的话以后,大步走开了。不久就听见他和拳击手、老马和车子一起一路上弄出的生气勃勃的音乐。这时候,在梦幻中的凯莱布仍然站在那儿,眼睛定定地瞅着他的盲女儿,他的脸上还是之前那样的表情。

“蓓莎!”凯莱布温和地喊她,“发生了什么事情啦?打从今天早上起——几个钟头里,你变得多么厉害啊,我的亲爱的人。你整天不言不语,闷闷不乐!这到底是怎么啦?告诉我吧!”

“哦,爸爸,爸爸!”盲女孩儿叫着,眼泪夺眶而出,“哦,我的好苦、好苦的命啊!”

凯莱布用手擦擦自己的眼睛,然后回答她的话。

“不过你想想你过去是多么幸福愉快啊,蓓莎!多么好,许多人又多么爱你啊。”

“就是那样我才受不了啊,亲爱的爸爸!总是那么关心我!总是待我那么好!”

凯莱布觉得非常困惑,不明白她的意思。

“变成——变成了瞎子,蓓莎,我的可怜的乖乖,”他结结巴巴地说,“是极大的不幸;不过——”

“我从来没有感到这一点!”盲女孩儿大声说。“我从来没有感到它是痛苦的全部。从来没有!我有时候希望自己能够看见你,或者能够看见他——只要看见一次,亲爱的爸爸,只要看见短短的一分钟——这样,我就可以知道我所热爱的,”她把双手放在胸前,“并且铭记在心里的人是什么样子!这样,我就可以肯定自己的想法完全正确!有时候(不过那时候我还是个孩子),我在晚上祈祷时哭泣,想到你们的形象有一天要从我的心中升到天堂里去,那时候,你们的形象可能不是你们自己真正的样子。不过,这些想法我从来没有想很久。都已经过去了,而我又心境平和,高高兴兴的了。”

“然而这些想法还会出现的。”凯莱布说。

“不过,爸爸!哦,我的和蔼的好爸爸,要是我不好,请你宽恕我吧!”盲女孩儿说,“使我心情这样沉重,愁闷不解的,并不是这件事情!”

她的爸爸湿漉漉的眼睛忍不住溢出泪水来。她是那么诚挚和可怜。但是他还是不了解她。

“把她带到我这儿来,”蓓莎说,“我不能把这件事情严严地藏在心里了。把她带到我这儿来吧,爸爸!”

她知道他踌躇不前,便说:“是梅。把梅带来!”

梅听见提到自己的名字,就静悄悄地向她走来,碰碰她的手臂。盲女孩儿立刻转过身子,用双手抱住她。

“瞧着我的脸吧,亲爱的宝贝,甜蜜的宝贝!”蓓莎说,“用你美丽的眼睛瞧着我,并且告诉我,诚实是不是写在我的脸上。”

“亲爱的蓓莎,是的!”

盲女孩儿仰着茫茫然的脸,眼泪扑簌簌地直往下掉。她仍然对着她说了下面这些话:

“在我的心灵里,没有一个祝愿或者思想不是为了你好,开朗的梅!在我的心灵里,没有一个令人感激的回想比那种深刻的记忆更强烈的了。那种记忆存留在我心里有许多许多时候了,那时候,你的目光和美丽都十分值得你为此自豪,但你却那么体恤瞎了眼睛的蓓莎,即使在我们两人都还是个孩子的时候就是这样了。或者说,即使在蓓莎是瞎得不能再瞎的孩子的时候,就是这样了!一切幸福降临到你的头上!光明照在你快乐的道路上!现在我对你的祝福丝毫未减,我亲爱的梅,”她更紧地抱住她,向她靠近,“我的小鸟,因为今天,知道你就要成为他的妻子,这件事绞得我的心几乎都要碎了!父亲啊,梅啊,玛丽啊!哦,原谅我这副样子,看在他为了减轻我黑暗生活的苦恼所做的一切的分上;也看在你们相信我的分上,你们相信我能呼唤上天来证实,对于善良的他,我不能希望他找到更相配的妻子了!”

她一边说,一边放开了梅·费尔丁的双手,带着一种恳求和爱慕交加的样子抓住她的衣服。她在做着奇怪的自白的时候,渐渐往下沉,最后跌坐在她的朋友的脚旁,把目盲的脸藏在她的衣服的褶皱之中。

“我的天哪!”她的父亲喊道,他被她吐露的真情当头打了一棒,“难道我不是从她睡在摇篮里的时候起,就欺骗了她,终于使她的心破碎了吗?”

那位小不点儿,那位喜洋洋的、能干而忙碌的小不点儿——她正是这样,不论她有什么缺点,也不管你可能适时地学会讨厌她——对于大家都好,我是说,她在那儿,这对于他们大家都是好事,否则就很难说这情形怎么结束了。在梅还不能回答、凯莱布还不能开口之前,小不点儿却已经恢复了往日的沉着冷静,插进来说话。

“来吧,来吧,亲爱的蓓莎!跟我来吧!梅,你去搀扶她一把。行啦!你瞧她已经多么平静了。她这样听从我们又是多么好,”这位活泼愉快的小女人说着,吻了蓓莎的前额,“来吧,亲爱的蓓莎!来吧,她的好爸爸在这儿,他会和她一起来的;是吗,凯莱布?当——然——啦!”

得,得!在这类事情上,她是一位高尚的小不点儿,必须是一个顽固不化的人才能抵抗她的影响力。她把可怜的凯莱布和他的蓓莎送走了,好让他们彼此安慰和劝解对方,她知道只有他们自己才能做到。于是,她立刻蹦了回来——俗话说,像一朵雏菊那么鲜艳;我却要说她更鲜艳——她蹦回来护卫那位戴着帽子和手套的昂首傲视的重要而矮小的人物,不让这位亲爱的老人家发现什么异常之事。

“那么把宝贝婴孩抱给我吧,蒂蕾,”她说,同时将一把椅子拖到壁炉边,“等我把孩子放在膝盖上的时候,蒂蕾,这位费尔丁太太将会把所有的育儿知识告诉我,并且改正我所触犯的二十个错尽错绝的地方。是不是呢,费尔丁太太?”

按照一般的说法,威尔士巨怪模仿他的宿敌在吃早餐时耍的把戏,为他自己做了致命的外科手术,即使是这时候也不那么“迟钝”;即使是他,跌进为他准备的“陷阱”里的时候,也没有像这位老太太那样欣然就范地跌进这个巧妙的“陷坑”里边,一半也没有。泰克尔顿走了出去这件事,以及另外两三个人在一段距离之外交谈了两分钟,而把她抛在一边这件事,足够使她在二十四小时之内大摆架子,并且感叹那笔靛青生意所遭到的神秘的灾难。然而,在那位年轻的妈妈这方面,刚才对于她的经验所表示的恰如其分的敬意是如此不可抗拒,因此,在稍稍假装谦虚一阵以后,她就开始用世界上最宽厚的神态来教导她。老太太腰板笔直地坐在调皮的小不点儿跟前,谈了半个钟点的家庭食谱和格言,其准确无误的地方多于(如果照着做的话)会完全毁灭并且葬送那位小皮瑞宾格尔的地方,虽然他曾经是一位婴儿参孙。

为了改变一下话题,小不点儿做了一点针线活儿——她把针线盒里的整套用品都放在她的口袋里。至于她是如何做到这一点的,我可不知道——然后她喂了一会儿奶;然后又做了一点针线活儿;然后,那位老太太在打瞌睡,小不点儿跟梅交头接耳谈了一会儿话。于是,像她一贯的作风那样,她匆匆忙忙地做了些琐琐碎碎的事情以后,发现下午过得真快。然后,因为天黑了,还因为按照这个聚餐会惯例中郑重其事的部分的规定,她必须做完蓓莎的所有家务,于是她把炉火调整好,把炉边扫干净,把茶盘摆出来,把窗帘拉上,把蜡烛点亮。然后,她在一架凯莱布替蓓莎制作的粗劣的竖琴上弹一两支曲子,弹得实在是好;因为造物主赐给了她精致的小耳朵,这耳朵能轻易鉴别出好的音乐,就像能甄别出上等珠宝一样,如果她有什么珠宝可戴的话。这时候,正是例行的吃茶点的时间;泰克尔顿又回来了,来共进晚餐,消磨黄昏。

凯莱布和蓓莎已经在前不久回来了,凯莱布已经坐下来做他下午的工作。可是他无法安下心来做,可怜的人啊,为了他的女儿正忧心忡忡,悔恨交加。他的样子看起来让人感动,那样意兴阑珊地坐在工作凳上,深情地瞧着女儿,脸上的表情似乎一直在说:“难道我不是从她在摇篮里的时候起,就欺骗了她,而使她的心破碎了吗?”

黑夜降临了,茶点用完了,小不点儿在洗茶杯和茶碟的工作方面已经没有更多的事情要做了;总之一句话——因为我必须说到这一点,要拖延也拖延不了——在时间接近于期待从远处响起那位运货夫回来的车轮的滚动的每一个声响的时候,她的神态又改变了;脸色一阵红,一阵白,显得颇为坐立不安。那可不像一些好妻子倾听着她们的丈夫回来的时候那样。不,不,不像。那是与此不同的另一种坐立不安。

听见了车轮声。还有一阵马蹄声,狗的吠叫声。所有的声音都渐渐逼近了。拳击手的脚爪在门上抓了!

“那是谁的脚步声!”蓓莎惊跳起来,喊着。

“谁的脚步声?”运货夫站在门口回答,他的褐色的脸,被夜里刺骨的寒风吹得像冬天的浆果那样红,“怎么啦,是我的啊。”

“我说的是另外的脚步声,”蓓莎说,“在你后面那个人的脚步声!”

“她可不会受骗,”运货夫笑着说,“来吧,先生。你是受欢迎的,不要害怕!”

他提高嗓门说话,他说着的时候,那位耳聋的老绅士进来了。

“凯莱布,他可不是你一次也没有看见过的生客,”运货夫说,“你会接待他,直到我们离开的时候吧?”

“哦,当然啦,约翰。这样做,我感到十分荣幸。”

“要是有秘密需要倾诉的话,他可是世界上最好的人选了,”约翰说,“我跟你说吧,我的肺部相当好,可是他考验着我的肺。请坐下,先生。朋友们都在这儿,大家高兴见到你!”

他做出了这一保证,他的嗓音充分证明他所说的自己的肺部的情况,说完之后,他又用本来的声调继续说:“他所需要的,不过是在壁炉边上放一把椅子,让他安安静静地坐着,自得其乐地东张西望。他是很容易满足的。”

蓓莎注意地倾听着。凯莱布放好了椅子以后,她便把他叫到身边,压低着声音要求他讲一讲客人的样子。他对她说了(这一回是真的了,说得丝毫不差),自从他进来以后,她头一次挪动身子,叹了口气,似乎对他没有更多的兴趣了。

运货夫兴致勃勃,他是一个好人,他比以前更喜欢他的小妻子了。

“今天下午,她真是个笨手笨脚的小不点儿!”他说着用一只粗糙的手臂去搂抱她,她离开其余的人站在那儿,“可是我不知怎么却喜欢她。小不点儿,瞧那边!”

他指着那位老人。她眼睛朝下看,我想她是发抖了。

“他是——哈,哈,哈!——他对你是十分钦佩的!”运货夫说,“到这儿来的一路上,什么旁的话都没有谈。嗨,他可真是一位勇敢的老孩子。我就喜欢他这一点!”

“约翰,我倒希望他有更好的话题。”她说,神色不安地打量着这间屋子,特别是打量着泰克尔顿。

“更好的话题!”喜滋滋的约翰大声说,“可没有这种东西。来吧!脱下大衣,脱下厚围巾,脱下一重重沉重的外皮吧!在炉火边舒舒服服地待半个钟头!太太,甘愿为你效劳。你和我来一场王牌游戏怎么样?这可叫人乐着呢。小不点儿,把扑克牌和记分板拿来。要是啤酒还有剩余的话,再带一杯来,小妻子!”

他是对那位老太太下的战书,老太太立刻欣然接受了,他们很快打起扑克牌来。起初,运货夫有时候还带着微笑东张西望,或者不时地叫小不点儿从他的肩膀上望他手上的牌替他在某个难题上出出主意。然而,他的对手是一位严格遵守纪律的人,不过偶尔也会犯一种毛病,即用木钉记上比她有权利得到的更多的分数,这就需要他高度警惕,不能让眼睛或者耳朵闲下来。也因此,他的全部注意力逐渐集中在了扑克牌上面,别的什么也不想,直到一只手放在他的肩膀上,才使他清醒,认出了泰克尔顿。

“我很抱歉打扰了你——只消一句话,马上好。”

“我就要发牌了,”运货夫说,“正在紧要关头。”

“说得不错,”泰克尔顿说,“到这儿来吧,先生!”

他苍白的脸上的那种表情使得对方立刻站起来,匆匆忙忙地追问那是怎么回事。

“别出声!约翰·皮瑞宾格尔,”泰克尔顿说,“这件事情我很抱歉,的确抱歉。我曾经担心这件事,从一开始我就怀疑过。”

“什么事呢?”运货夫说,神色紧张。

“别出声!你只要跟我来,我指给你看。”

运货夫一声不吭地跟着他。他们穿过一个星光照耀着的院子,走过一扇小边门,进了泰克尔顿自己的账房里,那儿有一扇玻璃窗,看得见在夜里关闭着的那间商品储藏室。账房里没有灯光,但是狭长的商品储藏室里却亮着灯,因此玻璃窗是亮的。

“等一会儿!”泰克尔顿说,“你觉得自己能够受得了从窗口望进去吗?”

“为什么不行?”运货夫回答。

“再等一会儿,”泰克尔顿说,“决不能用暴力。那是没有用的,而且还有危险。你是一个烈性子的人,可能连你自己都来不及知道就已经动手杀了人。”

运货夫盯着他的脸看,然后好像被人打了一下似的倒退一步。他又一个箭步跨到窗前,只见……

哦,炉边的阴影啊!哦,忠实的蟋蟀啊!哦,不贞的妻子啊!

他看见了她跟那个老头儿在一起。他不再是老人了,而是腰背挺直,仪表堂堂,手上拿着那副假白发,他就是靠这个混进了他们的寂寞凄凉的家。他看见他低着头对她悄悄耳语,她则注意倾听着。她让他搂着她的腰,两人慢慢地沿着昏暗的木走廊朝着他们刚才进来的那扇门走去。他看见他们站住了,她转过身来——把那张脸,他深爱的那张脸,如此呈现在他眼前!——看见她亲手替他端正好他头上的欺骗人的东西,她一面做,一面取笑着他的并不叫人怀疑的本来面目!

起初,他强壮的右手紧紧攥着,仿佛要打倒一头狮子。然而立刻又松开了,伸展在泰克尔顿的眼前(因为即使在那时候,他对她还是很温柔),一直到他们走了出去的时候,他才像一个婴孩一样软弱地瘫倒在一张写字桌上。

等到她走进这间屋子的时候,他已经穿戴得严严实实的,连自己的下巴颏儿都裹上了,忙着备马、收拾包裹,准备回家了。

“好了,约翰,亲爱的!晚安,梅!再见,蓓莎!”

她还能吻别他们吗?在她离开的时候,她还能轻松愉快吗?她还胆敢在他们面前露脸而不害臊吗?是的。泰克尔顿仔细地观察她。她全都办到了。

蒂蕾正在哄婴孩睡觉。她在泰克尔顿跟前走过来走过去,走了十几次,迷迷糊糊地重复着说:

“那么,是它知道它要做它的一些妻子了,使它的心痛得差不多要碎了;是打它在一些摇篮里的时候起,它的一些爸爸就欺骗了它,到头来使它的一些心碎了!”

“蒂蕾,这会儿把宝宝给我吧。晚安,泰克尔顿先生。我的老天爷,约翰到哪儿去了?”

“他打算牵着马在一边步行。”泰克尔顿说,他帮她坐进了马车。

“我亲爱的约翰。步行吗?今天晚上?”

她那包裹得严严实实的丈夫匆匆地向她做了个肯定的表示。那位伪装的陌生人和那位小保姆都各就各位以后,那匹老马出发了。拳击手,这个不自觉的拳击手,一会儿跑在前面,一会儿跑到后面,一会儿绕着马车一圈圈地跑,并且像它一贯的那样耀武扬威、欢天喜地地吠叫着。

在泰克尔顿也护送梅和她的妈妈回家去的时候,可怜的凯莱布傍着女儿在炉火边坐下来,心中感到忧虑和悔恨,仍然用他深情的目光凝视着她,嘴里说着:“打她在摇篮里的时候起,我就欺骗了她,到头来却使她心碎了!”

为了逗那个婴孩玩儿,开动了的一些玩具,现在都早已停止不动了。在这微弱的灯光和一片寂静里,那些无动于衷的安静的洋娃娃、长着老大的眼睛和张着鼻孔的急躁的摇木马、用无力的膝盖和脚踝半弯着身子站在沿街的门边的老头儿、面目狰狞的胡桃夹子,以及好像寄宿学校学生外出散步时那样成双成对地朝方舟走去的野兽,都会令人猜想它们是一下子惊呆了,一动也不动,而这是由于它们不管在哪一种错综复杂的场合下,看到了小不点儿虚伪或者泰克尔顿竟然也有人爱,都会因此而觉得奇怪得不可思议的。

用户搜索

疯狂英语 英语语法 新概念英语 走遍美国 四级听力 英语音标 英语入门 发音 美语 四级 新东方 七年级 赖世雄 zero是什么意思上饶市公园道1号南区(上饶大道)英语学习交流群

  • 频道推荐
  • |
  • 全站推荐
  • 推荐下载
  • 网站推荐