Mr. Galloway kept his thoughts to himself, or had put them into his cash-box with the note, for he said nothing.
Roland Yorke did not imitate his example; he was almost as explosive over the present matter as he had been over the loss. It would have pleased him that Arthur should be declared innocent by public proclamation. Roland was in a most explosive frame of mind on another score, and that was the confinement3 to the office. In reality, he was not overworked; for Arthur managed to get through a great amount of it at home, which he took in regularly, morning after morning, to Mr. Galloway. Roland, however, thought he was, and his dissatisfaction was becoming unbearable4. I do not think that Roland could have done a hard day’s work. To sit steadily5 to it for only a couple of hours appeared to be an absolute impossibility to his restless temperament6. He must look off; he must talk; he must yawn; he must tilt7 his stool; he must take a slight interlude at balancing the ruler on his nose, or at other similar recreative and intellectual amusements; but, apply himself in earnest, he could not. Therefore there was little fear of Mr. Roland’s being overcome with the amount of work on hand.
But what told upon Roland was the confinement—I don’t mean upon his health, you know, but his temper. It had happened many a day since Jenkins’s absence, that Roland had never stirred from the office, except for his dinner. He must be there in good time in the morning—at the frightfully early hour of nine—and he often was not released until six. When he went to dinner at one, Mr. Galloway would say, “You must be back in half an hour, Yorke; I may have to go out.” Once or twice he had not gone to dinner until two or three o’clock, and then he was half dead with hunger. All this chafed8 poor Roland nearly beyond endurance.
Another cause was rendering9 Roland’s life not the most peaceful one. He was beginning to be seriously dunned for money. Careless in that, as he was in other things, improvident10 as was ever Lady Augusta, Roland rarely paid until he was compelled to do so. A very good hand was he at contracting debts, but a bad one at liquidating11 them. Roland did not intend to be dishonest. Were all his creditors12 standing14 around him, and a roll of bank-notes before him he would freely have paid them all; very probably, in his openheartedness, have made each creditor13 a present, over and above, for “his trouble.” But, failing the roll of notes, he only staved off the difficulties in the best way he could, and grew cross and ill-tempered on being applied15 to. His chief failing was his impulsive16 thoughtlessness. Often, when he had teased or worried Lady Augusta out of money, to satisfy a debt for which he was being pressed, that very money would be spent in some passing folly17, arising with the impulse of the moment, before it had had time to reach the creditor. There are too many in the world like Roland Yorke.
Roland was late in the office one Monday evening, he and a lamp sharing it between them. He was in a terrible temper, and sat kicking his feet on the floor, as if the noise, for it might be heard in the street, would while away the time. He had nothing to do; the writing he had been about was positively18 finished; but he had to remain in, waiting for Mr. Galloway, who was absent, but had not left the office for the evening. He would have given the whole world to take his pipe out of his pocket and begin to smoke; but that pastime was so firmly forbidden in the office, that even Roland dared not disobey.
“There goes six of ‘em!” he uttered, as the cathedral clock rang out the hour, and his boots threatened to stave in the floor. “If I stand this life much longer, I’ll be shot! It’s enough to take the spirit out of a fellow; to wear the flesh off his bones; to afflict19 him with nervous fever. What an idiot I was to let my lady mother put me here! Better have stuck to those musty old lessons at school, and gone in for a parson! Why can’t Jenkins get well, and come back? He’s shirking it, that’s my belief. And why can’t Galloway have Arthur back? He might, if he pressed it! Talk of solitary20 confinement driving prisoners mad, at their precious model prisons, what else is this? I wish I could go mad for a week, if old Galloway might be punished for it! It’s worse than any prison, this office! At four o’clock he went out, and now it’s six, and I have not had a blessed soul put his nose inside the door to say, ‘How are you getting on?’ I’m a regular prisoner, and nothing else. Why doesn’t he—”
The complaint was cut short by the entrance of Mr. Galloway. Unconscious of the rebellious21 feelings of his clerk, he passed through the office to his own room, Roland’s rat-tat-to having ceased at his appearance. To find Roland drumming the floor with his feet was nothing unusual—rather moderate for him; Mr. Galloway had found him doing it with his head. Two or three minutes elapsed, and Mr. Galloway came out again.
“You can shut up, Roland. And then, take these letters to the post. Put the desks straight first; what a mess you get them into. Is that will engrossed22?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well! Be here in time in the morning. Good night.”
“Good night, sir,” responded Roland. “Yes! it’s all very fine,” he went on, as he opened the desks, and shoved everything in with his hands, indiscriminately, en masse, which was his way of putting things straight. “‘Be here in time!’ Of course! No matter what time I am let off the previous evening. If I stand this long—”
Roland finished his sentence by an emphatic23 turn of the key of the office-door, which expressed quite as much as words could have done; for he was already out of the room, his hat on his head, and the letters in his hand. Calling out lustily for the housekeeper24, he flung the key to her, and bounded off in the direction of the post-office.
His way lay past Mrs. Jenkins’s shop, which the maid had, for the hour, been left to attend to. She was doing it from a leaf taken out of Roland’s own book—standing outside the door, and gazing all ways. It suddenly struck Roland that he could not do better than pay Jenkins a visit, just to ascertain25 how long he meant to absent himself. In he darted26, with his usual absence of hesitation27, and went on to the parlour. There was no hurry for the letters; the post did not close until nine.
The little parlour, dark by day, looked very comfortable now. A bright fire, a bright lamp, and a well-spread tea-table, at which Mrs. Jenkins sat. More comfortable than Jenkins himself did, who lay back in his easy-chair, white and wan28, meekly29 enjoying a lecture from his wife. He started from it at the appearance of Roland, bowing in his usual humble30 fashion, and smiling a glad welcome.
“I say, Jenkins, I have come to know how long you mean to leave us to ourselves?” was Roland’s greeting. “It’s too bad, you know. How d’ye do, Mrs. Jenkins? Don’t you look snug31 here? It’s a nasty cutting night, and I have to tramp all the way to the post-office.”
Free and easy Roland drew a chair forward on the opposite side of the hearth32 to Jenkins, Mrs. Jenkins and her good things being in the middle, and warmed his hands over the blaze. “Ugh!” he shivered, “I can’t bear these keen, easterly winds. It’s fine to be you, Jenkins! basking33 by a blazing fire, and junketing upon plates of buttered muffins!”
“Would you please to condescend34 to take a cup of tea with us, sir?” was Jenkins’s answer. “It is just ready.”
“I don’t care if I do,” said Roland. “There’s nothing I like better than buttered muffins. We get them sometimes at home; but there’s so many to eat at our house, that before a plate is well in, a dozen hands are snatching at it, and it’s emptied. Lady Augusta knows no more about comfort than a cow does, and she will have the whole tribe of young ones in to meals.”
“You’ll find these muffins different from what you get at home,” said Mrs. Jenkins, in her curt35, snappish, but really not inhospitable way, as she handed the muffins to Roland. “I know what it is when things are left to servants, as they are at your place; they turn out uneatable—soddened things, with rancid butter, nine times out of ten, instead of good, wholesome36 fresh. Servants’ cooking won’t do for Jenkins now, and it never did for me.”
“These are good, though!” exclaimed Roland, eating away with intense satisfaction. “Have you got any more downstairs? Mrs. Jenkins, don’t I wish you could always toast muffins for me! Is that some ham?”
His eyes had caught a small dish of ham, in delicate slices, put there to tempt37 poor Jenkins. But he was growing beyond such tempting38 now, for his appetite wholly failed him. It was upon this point he had been undergoing Mrs. Jenkins’s displeasure when Roland interrupted them. The question led to an excellent opportunity for renewing the grievance39, and she was too persistent40 a diplomatist to let it slip. Catching41 up the dish, and leaving her chair, she held it out before Roland’s eyes.
“Young Mr. Yorke, do you see anything the matter with that ham? Please to tell me.”
“I see that it looks uncommonly42 good,” replied Roland.
“Do you hear?” sharply ejaculated Mrs. Jenkins, turning short round upon her husband.
“My dear, I never said a word but what it was good; I never had any other thought,” returned he, with deprecation. “I only said that I could not eat it. I can’t—indeed, I can’t! My appetite is gone.”
Mrs. Jenkins put the dish down upon the table with a jerk. “That’s how he goes on,” said she to Roland. “It’s enough to wear a woman’s patience out! I get him muffins, I get him ham, I get him fowls43, I get him fish, I get him puddings, I get him every conceivable nicety that I can think of, and not a thing will he touch. All the satisfaction I can get from him is, that ‘his stomach turns against food!’”
“I wish I could eat,” interposed Jenkins, mildly. “I have tried to do it till I can try no longer. I wish I could.”
“Will you take some of this ham, young Mr. Yorke?” she asked. “He won’t. He wants to know what scarcity44 of food is!”
“I’ll take it all, if you like,” said Roland. “If it’s going begging.”
Mrs. Jenkins accommodated him with a plate and knife and fork, and with some more muffins. Roland did ample justice to the whole, despatching it down with about six cups of good tea, well sugared and creamed. Jenkins looked on with satisfaction, and Mrs. Jenkins appeared to regard it in the light of a personal compliment, as chief of the commissariat department.
“And now,” said Roland, turning back to the fire, “when are you coming out again, Jenkins?”
Jenkins coughed—more in hesitation for an answer, than of necessity. “I am beginning to think, sir, that I shall not get out again at all,” he presently said.
“Holloa! I say, Jenkins, don’t go and talk that rubbish!” was Roland’s reply. “You know what I told you once, about that dropsy. I heard of a man that took it into his head to fancy himself dead. And he ordered a coffin45, and lay down in it, and stopped in it for six days, only getting up at night to steal the bread and cheese! His folks couldn’t think, at first, where the loaves went to. You’ll be fancying the same, if you don’t mind!”
“If I could only get a little stronger, sir, instead of weaker, I should soon be at my duty again. I am anxious enough sir, as you may imagine, for there’s my salary, sir, coming to me as usual, and I doing nothing for it.”
“It’s just this, Jenkins, that if you don’t come back speedily, I shall take French leave, and be off some fine morning. I can’t stand it much longer. I can’t tell you how many blessed hours at a stretch am I in that office with no one to speak to. I wish I was at Port Natal46!”
“Sir,” said Jenkins, thinking he would say a word of warning, in his kindly47 spirit: “I have heard that there’s nothing more deceptive48 than those foreign parts that people flock to when the rage arises for them. Many a man only goes out to starve and die.”
“Many a muff, you mean!” returned self-complaisant Roland. “I say, Jenkins, isn’t it a shame about Arthur Channing? Galloway has his money back from the very thief himself, as the letter said, and yet the old grumbler49 won’t speak out like a man, and say, ‘Shake hands, old fellow,’ and ‘I know you are innocent, and come back to the office again.’ Arthur would return, if he said that. See if I don’t start for Port Natal!”
“I wish Mr. Arthur was back again, sir. It would make me easier.”
“He sits, and stews50, and frets52, and worries his brains about that office, and how it gets on without him!” tartly53 interposed Mrs. Jenkins. “A sick man can’t expect to grow better, if he is to fret51 himself into fiddlestrings!”
“I wish,” repeated poor Jenkins in a dreamy sort of mood, his eyes fixed54 on the fire, and his thin hands clasped upon his knees: “I do wish Mr. Arthur was back. In a little while he’d quite replace me, and I should not be missed.”
“Hear him!” uttered Mrs. Jenkins. “That’s how he goes on!”
“Well,” concluded Roland, rising, and gathering55 up his letters, which he had deposited upon a side table, “if this is not a nice part of the world to live in, I don’t know what is! Arthur Channing kept down under Galloway’s shameful56 injustice57; Jenkins making out that things are all over with him; and I driven off my head doing everybody’s work! Good night, Jenkins. Good night, Mrs. J. That was a stunning58 tea! I’ll come in again some night, when you have toasted muffins!”
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收听单词发音
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1
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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3
confinement
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| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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7
tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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8
chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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9
rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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improvident
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| adj.不顾将来的，不节俭的，无远见的 | |
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liquidating
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| v.清算( liquidate的现在分词 )；清除（某人）；清偿；变卖 | |
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12
creditors
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| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
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creditor
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| n.债仅人，债主，贷方 | |
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14
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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15
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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18
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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afflict
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| vt.使身体或精神受痛苦，折磨 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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basking
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的现在分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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34
condescend
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| v.俯就，屈尊；堕落，丢丑 | |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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40
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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41
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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42
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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43
fowls
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| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
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44
scarcity
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| n.缺乏，不足，萧条 | |
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45
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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46
natal
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| adj.出生的，先天的 | |
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47
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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deceptive
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| adj.骗人的，造成假象的，靠不住的 | |
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49
grumbler
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| 爱抱怨的人，发牢骚的人 | |
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50
stews
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| n.炖煮的菜肴( stew的名词复数 )；烦恼，焦虑v.炖( stew的第三人称单数 )；煨；思考；担忧 | |
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51
fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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52
frets
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| 基质间片； 品丝（吉他等指板上定音的）( fret的名词复数 ) | |
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53
tartly
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| adv.辛辣地，刻薄地 | |
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54
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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55
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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56
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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57
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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58
stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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