“For some cry quick and some cry slow,
But while the hills remain,
Uphill, too slow, will need the whip,
Downhill, too quick, the chain.”
Tennyson.
Several years had passed away, and Mary’s Approach had never been made, though the lane had been improved and worn a good deal smoother, and the Duchess and other grandees1 had found their way along it.
There were other expenses and other interests. Dora was married. A fellow-soldier of Captain Carbonel’s had come on a visit, and had carried the bright young sister off to Malta. She was a terrible loss to all the parish, and it would have been worse if Sophia had not grown up to take her place, and to be the great helper in the school and parish, as well as the story-teller and playmate, the ever ready “Aunt Sophy” of the little children.
And these years had made the farm and garden look much prettier and neater altogether. The garden was full of flowers, and roses climbed up the verandah; and the home-field beyond looked quite park-like with iron railings between, so that the pretty gentle Alderney cows could be plainly seen.
The skim-milk afforded by those same cows went in great part to the delicate children in the village, though Mrs Carbonel had every year to fight a battle for it with Master Pucklechurch and his wife, who considered the whole of it as the right of the calves2 and little pigs, and would hardly allow that the little human Bartons or Morrises were more worth rearing.
There had been a visitation of measles3 through the village—very bad in the cottages, and at Greenhow the three little children had all been very ill; the second, Dora, died, and the elder one, little Mary, remained exceedingly delicate, screaming herself ill on any alarm or agitation4, and needing the most anxious care.
The cottagers had learnt to look to Greenhow and the “Gobblealls” as the safe resource in time of any distress5, whether of a child having eaten too many blackberries, or of a man being helpless from “rhumatiz;” a girl needing a recommendation to a service, or “Please, sir, I wants to know if it is allowed for a man to kill my father?” which was the startling preface to George Truman’s complaint of a public-house row in which his father had got a black eye.
Still, there was less fighting among the men and much less among the women, since Nanny Barton and Betsy Seddon had lodged6 counter-accusations after a great quarrel over the well, when Nanny had called Betsy, among other choice epithets7, “a sneaking8 hypercriting old cat of a goody,” and Betsy had returned the compliment by terming Nanny “a drunken, trapesing, good-for-nothing jade9, as had no call to good water.” On which Nanny had torn out a large bunch of Betsy’s hair, and Betsy had used her claws to make long scratches on Nanny’s cheeks, the scars of which were cherished for the magistrates10! It was expected in the village that Betsy would get off, being that she and her husband worked for Captain Gobbleall, and Nanny was known, when “a bit overtaken,” to have sauced Miss Sophy. Nevertheless they were equally fined, with the choice of three weeks’ imprisonment12, and, to every one’s surprise, the fines were produced.
Betsy thought it very hard that she should be fined when she worked in the captain’s fields; and she lamented13 still more when he insisted on the family removing to a vacant cottage of his own between two of his fields. It was in better condition, had more garden, and a lower rent, and her husband, who was a quiet man, never quarrelling unless she made him, much rejoiced. “She have too much tongue,” he said, and she had to keep the peace, for the captain declared that, after the next uproar14 in his fields, he should give her no more work there. And though she declared it was not her, but “they women who would not let her alone,” things certainly became much quieter.
For Captain Carbonel was an active magistrate11, busy in all the county improvements, and preserving as much order in the two parishes as was possible where there was no rural police, only the constable15, Cobbler Cox, who was said to be more “skeered of the rogues16 than the rogues was of he,” and, at Downhill, Appleton, the thatcher17, who was generally to be found enjoying himself at the Selby Arms. Still, fewer cases came up to the bench than in former times, and Uphill hardly furnished one conviction in a quarter. The doctors at the infirmary said that they knew an Uphill person by the tidier clothing. This was chiefly owing to the weekly club, of which the women were very glad. “It is just as if it was given,” they said, when the clothes came in half-yearly, and decent garments encouraged more attendance at church. There was no doubt that Uphill was more orderly, but who could tell what was the amount of real improvement in the people’s hearts and souls?
That first Confirmation19 had only produced two additional communicants, Sophia Carbonel, and Susan Pucklechurch, who was in training in the Greenhow nursery. Not one of the others came to the Holy Feast. Their parents, for the most part, said they were too young, and, as these parents never came themselves, the matter seemed hopeless unless some deeper religious feeling could be infused by diligent20 care.
In one case, where there was a terrible illness and a slow recovery of George Truman, he became strongly impressed, and so did his wife, a very nice, meek21 woman, who had been in a good service. They both came to the Holy Communion the month after the man was out again, but he did not keep it up. “Sir, if you knew what the talk was like out in the fields, you would not wish it,” he said. Which gave Mr Harford much to think about.
The next Confirmation, three years later, collected nearly the same number of boys and girls, and Mr Harford walked with the boys himself, and sent Mrs Thorpe with the girls, so that there was no such scandal as before. The only lad who presented himself from among those rejected of the former year, was Johnnie Hewlett. He was by this time older than any of the other candidates, and he had learnt in a measure to stand alone, though it was chiefly his promise to his aunt that brought him now. He still worked with his cousin George Hewlett, and was a good deal trusted, and made useful. His father had, however, drifted farther and farther away, since George had absolutely refused to employ him again in his business.
“You never know where you are with such as he,” said George, and with good reason; but Dan laid it all to “they Gobblealls and their spite.” It was so far true that it was the depredations22 at Greenhow Farm that first convinced George that Dan was an absolute pilferer23, though he had before suspected it, and tried to shut his eyes to the doubt. Dan, being a really clever workman, far brighter-witted than George, had lived upon chance jobs at Downhill or Poppleby, together with a good deal of underhand poaching, which he kept as much as possible from the knowledge of his family, never being sure what Molly might not tell her sister, nor what Judith might disclose to the ladies. Polly had made a miserable24 marriage, and Jenny was in service at a public-house, Jem, a big idle lad, whom no one employed if it could be helped, Judy was still at home, and a comfort to her aunt.
It was his aunt that chiefly induced John to live at home, though he could easily have lodged away and have been nearer to the workshop. His father had let him alone, and not interfered25 with his Sunday School going, as long as he was a mere26 boy, till this second time, when, at eighteen, and grown to man’s stature27, he was going up as a candidate with the younger ones. Then the father swore “he was not going to have his son make a tomfool of hisself to please that there parson.”
“I have promised,” said John.
“Promised? What—parson or ladies, or any sneaks28 that come meddling29 where no one wants ’em?”
“’Twere not parson,” said John.
“Then ’twas one of they Gobblealls”—with an oath. “That ain’t of no account.”
“’Tweren’t,” again said John.
No more was to be got out of him than “’Tweren’t,” and “I shall keep my word.” He was too big to be beaten; a tall, strong, well-made youth, and Dan was obliged to let him alone, and only swear at him for turning his back on his old father, and being no better than a Methody.
In point of fact, Molly and the two younger children were chiefly supported by John’s earnings30 and Judith’s pension, for whatever Dan earned at Downhill or picked up in his various fashions was pretty sure to be swallowed either by the “Blue Lion” or by the “Fox and Hounds.” Judith was entirely31 in bed upstairs, and the kitchen had lost all the little semblance32 of smartness it once had. While Molly might have been taken for sixty years old instead of forty-five, though that was not unusual among the hard-working women, who got aged18 and dried up with weather in the fields and with toil33 and care at home—even when they had kindly34, sober husbands.
Judith’s room was a place of peace and order, so kept by the help of little Judy and of John, both of whom loved her heartily35, and felt as if she were a mother to them. She had brought home to them all the good that they knew. She had always made them say their prayers by her as children, and John continued to do so still, “for old sake’s sake if for no other reason.” They had always repeated to her what they had heard at school, and by-and-by the text and substance of the sermons as far as they could; and she told them her own thoughts, freely and earnestly, thoughts that came partly from the readings of Mrs Carbonel and Mr Harford with her, but far more than she knew from her own study of the Bible, backed by her earnest spiritual mind, which grew deeper and deeper as her earthly sufferings increased. Of course she had tried to do the same with her sister and the other children, but none of them would endure it. Molly always had something to do elsewhere, and said what was all very well for a sick woman like Judith could not be expected in one who had such a lot of trouble that she did not know which way to look.
Poor thing! Neither Judith nor Mr Harford could persuade her that there was a way to look which would have lightened all these troubles! But John had learnt how to stand alone, and he did so, not only by presenting himself for confirmation, but by becoming a Communicant. Not another lad did so, but his cousin George and his wife had begun at last, under the influence of Mr Harford’s sermons, and so had a few more in the parish. John, in his cousin’s workshop, was shielded from a good deal of the evil talk and jesting that went on among his fellows in the fields. He “took after” George in being grave and quiet, and he loved no company better than his invalid36 aunt’s; but to be a steady and religious youth was a more difficult matter in those days than at present, for harmless outlets37 for youthful spirits had not been devised, and to avoid mischief38 it was almost needful to abstain39 from almost all the company and pleasures of a country lad.
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1
grandees
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| n.贵族，大公，显贵者( grandee的名词复数 ) | |
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2
calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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3
measles
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| n.麻疹，风疹，包虫病，痧子 | |
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4
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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5
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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6
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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7
epithets
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| n.（表示性质、特征等的）词语( epithet的名词复数 ) | |
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8
sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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9
jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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10
magistrates
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| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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11
magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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12
imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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13
lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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15
constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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16
rogues
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| n.流氓( rogue的名词复数 )；无赖；调皮捣蛋的人；离群的野兽 | |
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17
thatcher
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| n.茅屋匠 | |
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18
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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19
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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20
diligent
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| adj.勤勉的，勤奋的 | |
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21
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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22
depredations
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| n.劫掠，毁坏( depredation的名词复数 ) | |
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23
pilferer
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| n.小偷 | |
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24
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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25
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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26
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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27
stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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28
sneaks
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| abbr.sneakers (tennis shoes) 胶底运动鞋（网球鞋）v.潜行( sneak的第三人称单数 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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29
meddling
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的现在分词 ) | |
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30
earnings
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| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
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31
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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32
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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33
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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34
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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35
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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36
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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37
outlets
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| n.出口( outlet的名词复数 )；经销店；插座；廉价经销店 | |
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38
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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39
abstain
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| v.自制，戒绝，弃权，避免 | |
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