Mrs. Jennings at this time was what is called rather a fine woman; a woman of large scale and full development, whose slatternly habit left her coarse black hair to tumble in snakelocks about her face and shoulders half the day; who, clad in half-hooked clothes, bore herself notoriously and unabashed in her fullness; and of whom ill things were said regarding the lodger3. The gossips had their excuse. The lodger was an irregular young cabinet-maker, who lost quarters and halves and whole days; who had been seen abroad with his landlady5, what time Bob Jennings was putting the children to bed at home; who on his frequent holidays brought in much beer, which he and the woman shared, while Bob was at work.
To carry the tale to Bob would have been a thankless errand, for he would have none of anybody’s sympathy, even in regard to miseries6 plain to his eye. But the thing got about in the workshop, and there his days were made bitter.
At home things grew worse. To return home at half past five, and find the children still undressed, screaming, hungry and dirty, was a matter of habit; to get them food, to wash them, to tend the cuts and bumps sustained through the day of neglect, before lighting7 a fire and getting tea for himself, were matters of daily duty. “Ah,” he said to his sister, who came at intervals8 to say plain things about Mrs. Jennings, “you shouldn’t go for to set a man agin ‘is wife, jin. Melier do’n’ like work, I know, but that’s nach’ral to ‘er. She ought to married a swell9 ‘stead o’ me; she might ‘a’ done easy if she liked, bein’ sich a fine gal10; but she’s good-‘arted, is Melier; an’ she can’t ‘elp bein’ a bit thoughtless.” Whereat his sister called him a fool (it was her customary good-by at such times), and took herself off.
Bob Jennings’s intelligence was sufficient for his common needs, but it was never a vast intelligence. Now, under a daily burden of dull misery11, it clouded and stooped. The base wit of the workshop he comprehended less, and realized more slowly, than before; and the gaffer cursed him a sleepy dolt12.
Mrs. Jennings ceased from any pretense13 of housewifery, and would sometimes sit — perchance not quite sober — while Bob washed the children in the evening, opening her mouth only to express her contempt for him and his establishment, and to make him understand that she was sick of both. Once, exasperated14 by his quietness, she struck at him, and for a moment he was another man. “Don’t do that, Melier,” he said, “else I might forget myself.” His manner surprised his wife; and it was such that she never did do that again.
So was Bob Jennings, without a friend in the world, except his sister, who chid15 him, and the children, who squalled at him, when his wife vanished with the lodger, the clock, a shade of wax flowers, Bob’s best boots (which fitted the lodger), and his silver watch. Bob had returned, as usual, to the dirt and the children, and it was only when he struck a light that he found the clock was gone.
“Mummy tooked ve t’ock,” said Milly, the eldest16 child, who had followed him in from the door, and now gravely observed his movements. “She tooked ve t’ock an’ went ta-ta. An’ she tooked ve fyowers.”
Bob lighted the paraffine lamp with the green glass reservoir, and carried it and its evil smell about the house. Some things had been turned over and others had gone, plainly. All Melier’s clothes were gone. The lodger was not in, and under his bedroom window, where his box had stood, there was naught17 but an oblong patch of conspicuously18 clean wallpaper. In a muddle19 of doubt and perplexity, Bob found himself at the front door, staring up and down the street. Divers20 women neighbors stood at their doors, and eyed him curiously21; for Mrs. Webster, moralist, opposite, had not watched the day’s proceedings22 (nor those of many other days) for nothing, nor had she kept her story to herself.
He turned back into the house, a vague notion of what had befallen percolating23 feebly through his bewilderment. “I dunno — I dunno,” he faltered24, rubbing his ear. His mouth was dry, and he moved his lips uneasily, as he gazed with aimless looks about the walls and ceiling. Presently his eyes rested on the child, and “Milly,” he said, decisively, “come an ‘ave yer face washed.”
He put the children to bed early, and went out. In the morning, when his sister came, because she had heard the news in common with everybody else, he had not returned. Bob Jennings had never lost more than two quarters in his life, but he was not seen at the workshop all this day. His sister stayed in the house, and in the evening, at his regular homing-time, he appeared, haggard and dusty, and began his preparations for washing the children. When he was made to understand that they had been already attended to, he looked doubtful and troubled for a moment. Presently he said: “I ain’t found ‘er yet, Jin; I was in ‘opes she might ‘a’ bin4 back by this. I— I don’t expect she’ll be very long. She was alwis a bit larky25, was Melier, but very good’arted.”
His sister had prepared a strenuous26 lecture on the theme of “I told you so”; but the man was so broken, so meek27, and so plainly unhinged in his faculties28, that she suppressed it. Instead, she gave him a comfortable talk, and made him promise in the end to sleep that night, and take up his customary work in the morning.
He did these things, and could have worked placidly29 enough had he but been alone; but the tale had reached the workshop, and there was no lack of brutish chaff30 to disorder31 him. This the decenter men would have no part in, and even protested against. But the ill-conditioned kept their way, till, at the cry of “Bell ohl” when all were starting for dinner, one of the worst shouted the cruelest gibe32 of all. Bob Jennings turned on him and knocked him over a scrap-heap.
A shout went up from the hurrying workmen, with a chorus of “Serve ye right,” and the fallen joker found himself awkwardly confronted by the shop bruiser. But Bob had turned to a corner, and buried his eyes in the bend of his arm, while his shoulders heaved and shook.
He slunk away home, and stayed there, walking restlessly to and fro, and often peeping down the street from the window. When, at twilight33, his sister came again, he had become almost cheerful, and said with some briskness34: “I’m agoin’ to meet ‘er, Jin, at seven. I know where she’ll be waitin’.”
He went upstairs, and after a little while came down again in his best black coat, carefully smoothing a tall hat of obsolete35 shape with his pocket-handkerchief. “I ain’t wore it for years,” he said. “I ought to ‘a’ wore it — it might ‘a’ pleased ‘er. She used to say she wouldn’t walk with me in no other — when I used to meet ‘er in the evenin’, at seven o’clock.” He brushed assiduously, and put the hat on. “I’d better ‘ave a shave round the corner as I go along,” he added, fingering his stubbly chin.
He received as one not comprehending his sister’s persuasion36 to remain at home; but when he went she followed at a little distance. After his penny shave he made for the main road, where company-keeping couples walked up and down all evening. He stopped at a church, and began pacing slowly to and fro before it, eagerly looking out each way as he went.
His sister watched him for nearly half an hour, and then went home. In two hours more she came back with her husband. Bob was still there, walking to and fro.
“‘Ullo, Bob,” said his brother-in-law; “come along home an’ get to bed, there’s a good chap. You’ll be awright in the mornin’.”
“She ain’t turned up,” Bob complained, “or else I’ve missed ‘er. This is the reg’lar place — where I alwis used to meet ‘er. But she’ll come to-morrer. She used to leave me in the lurch37 sometimes, bein’ nach’rally larky. But very good-‘arted, mindjer; very good-‘arted.”
She did not come the next evening, nor the next, nor the evening after, nor the one after that. But Bob Jennings, howbeit depressed38 and anxious, was always confident. “Somethink’s prevented ‘er tonight,” he would say; “but she’ll come tomorrer . . . I’ll buy a blue tie to-morrer — she used to like me in a blue tie. I won’t miss ‘er to-morrer. I’ll come a little earlier.”
So it went. The black coat grew ragged39 in the service, and hobbledehoys, finding him safe sport, smashed the tall hat, over his eyes time after time. He wept over the hat, and straightened it as best he might. Was she coming? Night after night, and night and night. But to-morrow . . .
点击收听单词发音
1 fortitude | |
n.坚忍不拔;刚毅 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 inclination | |
n.倾斜;点头;弯腰;斜坡;倾度;倾向;爱好 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 lodger | |
n.寄宿人,房客 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 bin | |
n.箱柜;vt.放入箱内;[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 landlady | |
n.女房东,女地主 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 miseries | |
n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 );痛苦的事;穷困;常发牢骚的人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 lighting | |
n.照明,光线的明暗,舞台灯光 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 swell | |
vi.膨胀,肿胀;增长,增强 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 gal | |
n.姑娘,少女 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 dolt | |
n.傻瓜 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 pretense | |
n.矫饰,做作,借口 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 exasperated | |
adj.恼怒的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 chid | |
v.责骂,责备( chide的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 eldest | |
adj.最年长的,最年老的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 naught | |
n.无,零 [=nought] | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 conspicuously | |
ad.明显地,惹人注目地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 muddle | |
n.困惑,混浊状态;vt.使混乱,使糊涂,使惊呆;vi.胡乱应付,混乱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 divers | |
adj.不同的;种种的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 curiously | |
adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 proceedings | |
n.进程,过程,议程;诉讼(程序);公报 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 percolating | |
n.渗透v.滤( percolate的现在分词 );渗透;(思想等)渗透;渗入 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 faltered | |
(嗓音)颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 ); 支吾其词; 蹒跚; 摇晃 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 larky | |
adj.爱闹玩的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 strenuous | |
adj.奋发的,使劲的;紧张的;热烈的,狂热的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 meek | |
adj.温顺的,逆来顺受的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 faculties | |
n.能力( faculty的名词复数 );全体教职员;技巧;院 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 placidly | |
adv.平稳地,平静地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 chaff | |
v.取笑,嘲笑;n.谷壳 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 disorder | |
n.紊乱,混乱;骚动,骚乱;疾病,失调 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 gibe | |
n.讥笑;嘲弄 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 briskness | |
n.敏捷,活泼 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 obsolete | |
adj.已废弃的,过时的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 persuasion | |
n.劝说;说服;持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 lurch | |
n.突然向前或旁边倒;v.蹒跚而行 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 depressed | |
adj.沮丧的,抑郁的,不景气的,萧条的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |