The room she inhabited was already, through Valentine’s self-denying industry, better furnished than any other room in the house; but was far from presenting the same appearance of luxury and completeness to which it attained12 in the course of after-years.
The charming maple-wood and ivory bookcase, with the prettily-bound volumes ranged in such bright regularity13 along its shelves, was there certainly, as early as the autumn of 1838. It would not, however, at that time have formed part of the furniture of Mrs. Blyth’s room, if her husband had not provided himself with the means of paying for it, by accepting a certain professional invitation to the country, which he knew before, and would enable him to face the terrors of the upholsterer’s bill.
The invitation in question had been sent to him by a clerical friend, the Reverend Doctor Joyce, Rector of St. Judy’s, in the large agricultural town of Rubbleford. Valentine had produced a water-color drawing of one of the Doctor’s babies, when the family at the Rectory were in London for a season, and this drawing had been shown to all the neighbors by the worthy15 clergyman on his return. Now, although Mr. Blyth was not over-successful in the adult department of portrait-art, he was invariably victorious16 in the infant department. He painted all babies on one ingenious plan; giving them the roundest eyes, the chubbiest17 red cheeks, the most serenely18 good-humored smiles, and the neatest and whitest caps ever seen on paper. If fathers and their male friends rarely appreciated the fidelity19 of his likenesses, mothers and nurses invariably made amends20 for their want of taste. It followed, therefore, almost as a matter of course, that the local exhibition of the Doctor’s drawing must bring offers of long-clothes-portrait employment to Valentine. Three resident families decided21 immediately to have portraits of their babies, if the painter would only travel to their houses to take the likenesses. A bachelor sporting squire22 in the neighborhood also volunteered a commission of another sort. This gentleman arrived (by a logical process which it is hopeless to think of tracing) at the conclusion, that a man who was great at babies, must necessarily be marvelous at horses; and determined24, in consequence, that Valentine should paint his celebrated25 cover-hack26. In writing to inform his friend of these offers, Doctor Joyce added another professional order on his own account, by way of appropriate conclusion to his letter. Here, then, were five commissions, which would produce enough—cheaply as Valentine worked—to pay, not only for the new bookcase, but for the books to put in it when it came home.
Having left his wife in charge of two of her sisters, who were forbidden to leave the house till his return, Mr. Blyth started for the rectory; and once there, set to work on the babies with a zeal27 and good-humor which straightway won the hearts of mothers and nurses, and made him a great Rubbleford reputation in the course of a few days. Having done the babies to admiration28, he next undertook the bachelor squire’s hack. Here he had some trouble. The sporting gentleman would look over him while he painted; would bewilder him with the pedigree of the horse; would have the animal done in the most unpicturesque view; and sternly forbade all introduction of “tone,” “light and shade,” or purely29 artistic30 embellishment of any kind, in any part of the canvas. In short, the squire wanted a sign-board instead of a picture, and he at last got what he wanted to his heart’s content.
One evening, while Valentine—still deeply immersed in the difficulties of depicting31 the cover-hack—was returning to the Rectory, after a day’s work at the Squire’s house, his attention was suddenly attracted in the high street of Rubbleford, by a flaming placard pasted up on a dead wall opposite the market-house.
He immediately joined the crowd of rustics32 congregated33 round the many-colored and magnificent sheet of paper, and read at the top of it, in huge blue letters:—“JUBBER’S CIRCUS. THE EIGHTH WONDER OF THE WORLD.” After this came some small print, which nobody lost any time in noticing. But below the small print appeared a perfect galaxy34 of fancifully shaped scarlet35 letters, which fascinated all eyes, and informed the public that the equestrian36 company included “MISS FLORINDA BEVERLEY, known,” (here the letters turned suddenly green) “wherever the English language was known, as The Amazonian Empress of Equitation.” This announcement was followed by the names of inferior members of the Company; by a program of the evening’s entertainments; by testimonials extracted from the provincial37 press; by illustrations of gentlemen with lusty calves38 and spangled drawers, and of ladies with smiling faces, shameless petticoats, and pirouetting legs. These illustrations, and the particulars which preceded them were carefully digested by all Mr. Blyth’s neighbors; but Mr. Blyth himself passed them over unnoticed. His eye had been caught by something at the bottom of the placard, which instantly absorbed his whole attention.
In this place the red letters appeared again, and formed the following words and marks of admiration:—
THE MYSTERIOUS FOUNDLING!
AGED11 TEN YEARS!!
TOTALLY DEAF AND DUMB!!!
Underneath39 came an explanation of what the red letters referred to, occupying no less than three paragraphs of stumpy small print, every word of which Valentine eagerly devoured40. This is what he read:—
“Mr. Jubber, as proprietor41 of the renowned42 Circus, has the honor of informing the nobility, gentry43, and public, that the above wonderful Deaf and Dumb Female Child will appear between the first and second parts of the evening’s performances. Mr. J. has taken the liberty of entitling this Marvel23 of Nature, The Mysterious Foundling; no one knowing who her father is, and her mother having died soon after her birth, leaving her in charge of the Equestrian Company, who have been fond parents and careful guardians44 to her ever since.
“She was originally celebrated in the annals of Jubber’s Circus, or Eighth Wonder of the World, as The Hurricane Child of the Desert; having appeared in that character, whirled aloft at the age of seven years in the hand of Muley Ben Hassan, the renowned Scourer45 of Sahara, in his daring act of Equitation, as exhibited to the terror of all England, in Jubber’s Circus. At that time she had her hearing and speech quite perfect. But Mr. J. deeply regrets to state that a terrific accident happened to her soon afterwards. Through no fault on the part of The Scourer (who, overcome by his feelings at the result of the above-mentioned frightful46 accident, has gone back to his native wilds a moody47 and broken-hearted man), she slipped from his hand while the three horses bestrode by the fiery48 but humane49 Arab were going at a gallop50, and fell, shocking to relate, outside the Ring, on the boarded floor of the Circus. She was supposed to be dead. Mr. Jubber instantly secured the inestimable assistance of the Faculty51, who found that she was still alive, and set her arm, which had been broken. It was only afterwards discovered that she had utterly52 lost her sense of hearing. To use the emphatic53 language of the medical gentlemen (who all spoke54 with tears in their eyes), she had been struck stone deaf by the shock. Under these melancholy55 circumstances, it was found that the faculty of speech soon failed her altogether; and she is now therefore Totally Deaf AND Dumb—but Mr. J. rejoices to say, quite cheerful and in good health notwithstanding.
“Mr. Jubber being himself the father of a family, ventures to think that these little particulars may prove of some interest to an Intelligent, a Sympathetic, and a Benevolent57 Public. He will simply allude58, in conclusion, to the performances of the Mysterious Foundling, as exhibiting perfection hitherto unparalleled in the Art of Legerdemain59, with wonders of untraceable intricacy on the cards, originally the result of abstruse60 calculations made by that renowned Algebraist61, Mohammed Engedi, extending over a period of ten years, dating from the year 1215 of the Arab Chronology. More than this Mr. Jubber will not venture to mention, for ‘Seeing is Believing,’ and the Mysterious Foundling must be seen to be believed. For prices of admission consult bottom of bill.”
Mr. Blyth read this grotesquely62 shocking narrative63 with sentiments which were anything rather than complimentary64 to the taste, the delicacy65, and the humanity of the fluent Mr. Jubber. He consulted the bottom of the bill, however, as requested; and ascertained66 what were the prices of admission—then glanced at the top, and observed that the first performance was fixed67 for that very evening—looked about him absently for a minute or two—and resolved to be present at it.
Most assuredly, Valentine’s resolution did not proceed from that dastard68 insensibility to all decent respect for human suffering which could feast itself on the spectacle of calamity paraded for hire, in the person of a deaf and dumb child of ten years old. His motives69 for going to the circus were stained by no trace of such degradation70 as this. But what were they then? That question he himself could not have answered: it was a common predicament with him not to know his own motives, generally from not inquiring into them. There are men who run breathlessly—men who walk cautiously—and men who saunter easily through the journey of life. Valentine belonged to the latter class; and, like the rest of his order, often strayed down a new turning, without being able to realize at the time what purpose it was which first took him that way. Our destinies shape the future for us out of strange materials: a traveling circus sufficed them, in the first instance, to shape a new future for Mr. Blyth.
He first went on to the Rectory to tell them where he was going, and to get a cup of tea, and then hurried off to the circus, in a field outside the town.
The performance had begun some time when he got in. The Amazonian Empress (known otherwise as Miss Florinda Beverley) was dancing voluptuously71 on the back of a cantering piebald horse with a Roman nose. Round and round careered the Empress, beating time on the saddle with her imperial legs to the tune7 of “Let the Toast be Dear Woman,” played with intense feeling by the band. Suddenly the melody changed to “See the Conquering Hero Comes;” the piebald horse increased his speed; the Empress raised a flag in one hand, and a javelin72 in the other, and began slaying73 invisible enemies in the empty air, at full (circus) gallop. The result on the audience was prodigious74; Mr. Blyth alone sat unmoved. Miss Florinda Beverley was not even a good model to draw legs from, in the estimation of this anti-Amazonian painter!
When the Empress was succeeded by a Spanish Guerilla, who robbed, murdered, danced, caroused75, and made love on the back of a cream-colored horse—and when the Guerilla was followed by a clown who performed superhuman contortions76, and made jokes by the yard, without the slightest appearance of intellectual effort—still Mr. Blyth exhibited no demonstration77 of astonishment78 or pleasure. It was only when a bell rang between the first and second parts of the performance, and the band struck up “Gentle Zitella,” that he showed any symptoms of animation79. Then he suddenly rose; and, moving down to a bench close against the low partition which separated the ring from the audience, fixed his eyes intently on a doorway80 opposite to him, overhung by a frowzy81 red curtain with a tinsel border.
From this doorway there now appeared Mr. Jubber himself, clothed in white trousers with a gold stripe, and a green jacket with military epaulettes. He had big, bold eyes, a dyed mustache, great fat, flabby cheeks, long hair parted in the middle, a turn-down collar with a rose-colored handkerchief; and was, in every respect, the most atrocious looking stage vagabond that ever painted a blackguard face. He led with him, holding her hand, the little deaf and dumb girl, whose misfortune he had advertised to the whole population of Rubbleford.
The face and manner of the child, as she walked into the center of the circus, and made her innocent curtsey and kissed her hand, went to the hearts of the whole audience in an instant. They greeted her with such a burst of applause as might have frightened a grown actress. But not a note from those cheering voices, not a breath of sound from those loudly clapping hands could reach her; she could see that they were welcoming her kindly82, and that was all!
When the applause had subsided83, Mr. Jubber asked for the loan of a handkerchief from one of the ladies present, and ostentatiously bandaged the child’s eyes. He then lifted her upon the broad low wall which encircled the ring, and walked her round a little way (beginning from the door through which he had entered), inviting84 the spectators to test her total deafness by clapping their hands, shouting, or making any loud noise they pleased close at her ear. “You might fire off a cannon85, ladies and gentlemen,” said Mr. Jubber, “and it wouldn’t make her start till after she’d smelt86 the smoke!”
To the credit of the Rubbleford audience, the majority of them declined making any practical experiments to test the poor child’s utter deafness. The women set the example of forbearance, by entreating87 that the handkerchief might be taken off so that they might see her pretty eyes again. This was done at once, and she began to perform her conjuring88 tricks with Mr. Jubber and one of the ring-keepers on either side of her, officiating as assistants. These tricks, in themselves, were of the simplest and commonest kind; and derived89 all their attraction from the child’s innocently earnest manner of exhibiting them, and from the novelty to the audience of communicating with her only by writing on a slate90. They never tired of scrawling91 questions, of saying “poor little thing!” and of kissing her whenever they could get the opportunity, while she slowly went round the circus. “Deaf and dumb! ah, dear, dear, deaf and dumb!” was the general murmur92 of sympathy which greeted her from each new group, as she advanced; Mr. Jubber invariably adding with a smile: “And as you see, ladies and gentlemen, in excellent health and spirits, notwithstanding: as hearty93 and happy, I pledge you my sacred word of honor, as the very best of us!”
While she was thus delighting the spectators on one side of the circus, how were the spectators on the other side, whose places she had not yet reached, contriving94 to amuse themselves?
From the moment of the little girl’s first appearance, ample recreation had been unconsciously provided for them by a tall, stout95, and florid stranger, who appeared suddenly to lose his senses the moment he set eyes on the deaf and dumb child. This gentleman jumped up and sat down again excitably a dozen times in a minute; constantly apologizing on being called to order, and constantly repeating the offense96 the moment afterwards. Mad and mysterious words, never heard before in Rubbleford, poured from his lips. “Devotional beauty,” “Fra Angelico’s angels,” “Giotto and the cherubs,” “Enough to bring the divine Raphael down from heaven to paint her.” Such were a few fragments of the mad gentleman’s incoherent mutterings, as they reached his neighbors’ ears. The amusement they yielded was soon wrought97 to its climax98 by a joke from an attorney’s clerk, who suggested that this queer man, with the rosy99 face, must certainly be the long-lost father of the “Mysterious Foundling!” Great gratification was consequently anticipated from what might take place when the child arrived opposite the bench occupied by the excitable stranger.
Slowly, slowly, the little light figure went round upon the broad partition wall of the ring, until it came near, very near, to the place where Valentine was sitting.
Ah, woeful sight! so lovely, yet so piteous to look on! Shall she never hear kindly human voices, the song of birds, the pleasant murmur of the trees again? Are all the sweet sounds that sing of happiness to childhood, silent for ever to her? From those fresh, rosy lips shall no glad words pour forth100, when she runs and plays in the sunshine? Shall the clear, laughing tones be hushed always? the young, tender life be for ever a speechless thing, shut up in dumbness from the free world of voices? Oh! Angel of judgment102! hast thou snatched her hearing and her speech from this little child, to abandon her in helpless affliction to such profanation103 as she now undergoes? Oh, Spirit of mercy! how long thy white-winged feet have tarried on their way to this innocent sufferer, to this lost lamb that cannot cry to the fold for help! Lead, ah, lead her tenderly to such shelter as she has never yet found for herself! Guide her, pure as she is now, from this tainted104 place to pleasant pastures, where the sunshine of human kindness shall be clouded no more, and Love and Pity shall temper every wind that blows over her with the gentleness of perpetual spring!
Slowly, slowly, the light figure went round the great circle of gazers, ministering obediently to their pleasure, waiting patiently till their curiosity was satisfied. And now, her weary pilgrimage was well nigh over for the night. She had arrived at the last group of spectators who had yet to see what she looked like close, and what tricks she could exhibit with her cards.
She stopped exactly opposite to Valentine; and when she looked up, she looked on him alone.
Was there something in the eager sympathy of his eyes as they met hers, which spoke to the little lonely heart in the sole language that could ever reach it? Did the child, with the quick instinct of the deaf and dumb, read his compassionate105 disposition106, his pity and longing107 to help her, in his expression at that moment? It might have been so. Her pretty lips smiled on him as they had smiled on no one else that night; and when she held out some cards to be chosen from, she left unnoticed the eager hands extended on either side of her, and presented them to Valentine only.
He saw the small fingers trembling as they held the cards; he saw the delicate little shoulders and the poor frail108 neck and chest bedizened with tawdry mock jewelry109 and spangles; he saw the innocent young face, whose pure beauty no soil of stage paint could disfigure, with the smile still on the parted lips, but with a patient forlornness in the sad blue eyes, as if the seeing-sense that was left, mourned always for the hearing and speaking senses that were gone—he marked all these things in an instant, and felt that his heart was sinking as he looked. A dimness stole over his sight; a suffocating110 sensation oppressed his breathing; the lights in the circus danced and mingled111 together; he bent3 down over the child’s hand, and took it in his own; twice kissed it fervently112; then, to the utter amazement113 of the laughing crowd about him, rose up suddenly, and forced his way out as if he had been flying for his life.
There was a momentary114 confusion among the audience. But Mr. Jubber was too old an adept115 in stage-business of all kinds not to know how to stop the growing tumult116 directly, and turn it into universal applause.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he cried, with a deep theatrical117 quiver in his voice—“I implore118 you to be seated, and to excuse the conduct of the party who has just absented himself. The talent of the Mysterious Foundling has overcome people in that way in every town of England. Do I err14 in believing that a Rubbleford audience can make kind allowances for their weaker fellow-creatures? Thanks, a thousand thanks in the name of this darling and talented child, for your cordial, your generous, your affectionate, your inestimable reception of her exertions119 to-night!” With this peroration120 Mr. Jubber took his pupil out of the ring, amid the most vehement121 cheering and waving of hats and handkerchiefs. He was too much excited by his triumph to notice that the child, as she walked after him, looked wistfully to the last in the direction by which Valentine had gone out.
“The public like excitement,” soliloquized Mr. Jubber, as he disappeared behind the red curtain. “I must have all this in the bills to-morrow. It’s safe to draw at least thirty shillings extra into the house at night.”
In the meantime, Valentine, after some blundering at wrong doors, at last found his way out of the circus, and stood alone on the cool grass, in the cloudless autumn moonlight. He struck his stick violently on the ground, which at that moment represented to him the head of Mr. Jubber; and was about to return straight to the rectory, when he heard a breathless voice behind him, calling:—“Stop, sir! oh, do please stop for one minute!”
He turned round. A buxom122 woman in a tawdry and tattered123 gown was running towards him as fast as her natural impediments to quick progression would permit.
“Please, sir,” she cried—“Please, sir, wasn’t you the gentleman that was taken queer at seeing our little Foundling? I was peeping through the red curtain, sir, just at the time.”
Instead of answering the question, Valentine instantly began to rhapsodize about the child’s face.
“Oh, sir! if you know anything about her,” interposed the woman, “for God’s sake don’t scruple124 to tell it to me! I’m only Mrs. Peckover, sir, the wife of Jemmy Peckover, the clown, that you saw in the circus to-night. But I took and nursed the little thing by her poor mother’s own wish; and ever since that time—”
“My dear, good soul,” said Mr. Blyth, “I know nothing of the poor little creature. I only wish from the bottom of my heart that I could do something to help her and make her happy. If Lavvie and I had had such an angel of a child as that,” continued Valentine, clasping his hands together fervently, “deaf and dumb as she is, we should have thanked God for her every day of our lives!”
Mrs. Peckover was apparently125 not much used to hear such sentiments as these from strangers. She stared up at Mr. Blyth with two big tears rolling over her plump cheeks.
“Mrs. Peckover! Hullo there, Peck! where are you?” roared a stern voice from the stable department of the circus, just as the clown’s wife seemed about to speak again.
Mrs. Peckover started, curtsied, and, without uttering another word, went back even faster than she had come out. Valentine looked after her intently, but made no attempt to follow: he was thinking too much of the child to think of that. When he moved again, it was to return to the rectory.
He penetrated126 at once into the library, where Doctor Joyce was spelling over the “Rubbleford Mercury,” while Mrs. Joyce sat opposite to him, knitting a fancy jacket for her youngest but one. He was hardly inside the door before he began to expatiate127 in the wildest manner on the subject of the beautiful deaf and dumb girl. If ever man was in love with a child at first sight, he was that man. As an artist, as a gentleman of refined tastes, and as the softest-hearted of male human beings, in all three capacities, he was enslaved by that little innocent, sad face. He made the Doctor’s head whirl again; he fairly stopped Mrs. Joyce’s progress with the fancy jacket, as he sang the child’s praises, and compared her face to every angel’s face that had ever been painted, from the days of Giotto to the present time. At last, when he had fairly exhausted128 his hearers and himself, he dashed abruptly129 out of the room, to cool down his excitement by a moonlight walk in the rectory garden.
“What a very odd man he is!” said Mrs. Joyce, taking up a dropped stitch in the fancy jacket.
“Valentine, my love, is the best creature in the world,” rejoined the doctor, folding up the Rubbleford Mercury, and directing it for the post; “but, as I often used to tell his poor father (who never would believe me), a little cracked. I’ve known him go on in this way about children before—though I must own, not quite so wildly, perhaps, as he talked just now.”
“Do you think he’ll do anything imprudent about the child? Poor thing! I’m sure I pity her as heartily130 as anybody can.”
“I don’t presume to think,” answered the doctor, calmly pressing the blotting-paper over the address he had just written. “Valentine is one of those people who defy all conjecture131. No one can say what he will do, or what he won’t. A man who cannot resist an application for shelter and supper from any stray cur who wags his tail at him in the street; a man who blindly believes in the troubles of begging-letter impostors; a man whom I myself caught, last time he was down here, playing at marbles with three of my charity-boys in the street, and promising132 to treat them to hardbake and gingerbeer afterwards, is—in short, is not a man whose actions it is possible to speculate on.”
Here the door opened, and Mr. Blyth’s head was popped in, surmounted133 by a ragged134 straw hat with a sky-blue ribbon round it. “Doctor,” said Valentine, “may I ask an excellent woman, with whom I have made acquaintance, to bring the child here to-morrow morning for you and Mrs. Joyce to see?”
“Certainly,” said the good-humored rector, laughing. “The child by all means, and the excellent woman too.”
“Not if it’s Miss Florinda Beverley!” interposed Mrs. Joyce (who had read the Circus placard). “Florinda, indeed! Jezebel would be a better name for her!”
“My dear Madam, it isn’t Florinda,” cried Valentine, eagerly. “I quite agree with you; her name ought to be Jezebel. And, what’s worse, her legs are out of drawing.”
“Mr. Blyth!!!” exclaimed Mrs. Joyce, indignant at this professional criticism on Jezebel’s legs.
“Why don’t you tell us at once who the excellent woman is?” cried the doctor, secretly tickled135 by the allusion136 which had shocked his wife.
“Her name’s Peckover,” said Valentine; “she’s a respectable married woman; she doesn’t ride in the circus at all; and she nursed the poor child by her mother’s own wish.”
“We shall be delighted to see her to-morrow,” said the warm-hearted rector—“or, no—stop! Not to-morrow; I shall be out. The day after. Cake and cowslip wine for the deaf and dumb child at twelve o’clock—eh, my dear?”
“That’s right! God bless you! you’re always kindness itself,” cried Valentine; “I’ll find out Mrs. Peckover, and let her know. Not a wink137 of sleep for me to-night—never mind!” Here Valentine suddenly shut the door, then as suddenly opened it again, and added, “I mean to finish that infernal horse-picture to-morrow, and go to the circus again in the evening.” With these words he vanished; and they heard him soon afterwards whistling his favorite “Drops of Brandy,” in the rectory garden.
“Cracked! cracked!” cried the doctor. “Dear old Valentine!”
“I’m afraid his principles are very loose,” said Mrs. Joyce, whose thoughts still ran on the unlucky professional allusion to Jezebel’s legs.
The next morning, when Mr. Blyth presented himself at the stables, and went on with the portrait of the cover-hack, the squire had no longer the slightest reason to complain of the painter’s desire to combine in his work picturesqueness138 of effect with accuracy of resemblance. Valentine argued no longer about introducing “light and shade,” or “keeping the background subdued139 in tone.” His thoughts were all with the deaf and dumb child and Mrs. Peckover; and he smudged away recklessly, just as he was told, without once uttering so much as a word of protest. By the evening he had concluded his labor140. The squire said it was one of the best portraits of a horse that had ever been taken: to which piece of criticism the writer of the present narrative is bound in common candor141 to add, that it was also the very worst picture that Mr. Blyth had ever painted.
On returning to Rubbleford, Valentine proceeded at once to the circus; placing himself, as nearly as he could, in the same position which he had occupied the night before.
The child was again applauded by the whole audience, and again went through her performance intelligently and gracefully142, until she approached the place where Valentine was standing56. She started as she recognized his face, and made a step forward to get nearer to him; but was stopped by Mr. Jubber, who saw that the people immediately in front of her were holding out their hands to write on her slate, and have her cards dealt round to them in their turn. The child’s attention appeared to be distracted by seeing the stranger again who had kissed her hand so fervently—she began to look confused—and ended by committing an open and most palpable blunder in the very first trick that she performed.
The spectators good-naturedly laughed, and some of them wrote on her slate, “Try again, little girl.” Mr. Jubber made an apology, saying that the extreme enthusiasm of the reception accorded to his pupil had shaken her nerves; and then signed to her, with a benevolent smile, but with a very sinister143 expression in his eyes, to try another trick. She succeeded in this; but still showed so much hesitation144, that Mr. Jubber, fearing another failure, took her away with him while there was a chance of making a creditable exit.
As she was led across the ring, the child looked intently at Valentine.
There was terror in her eyes—terror palpable enough to be remarked by some of the careless people near Mr. Blyth. “Poor little thing! she seems frightened at the man in the fine green jacket,” said one. “And not without cause, I dare say,” added another. “You don’t mean that he could ever be brute145 enough to ill use a child like that?—it’s impossible!” cried a third.
At this moment the clown entered the ring. The instant before he shouted the well-known “Here we are!” Valentine thought he heard a strange cry behind the red curtain. He was not certain about it, but the mere146 doubt made his blood run chill. He listened for a minute anxiously. There was no chance now, however, for testing the correctness of his suspicion. The band had struck up a noisy jig147 tune, and the clown was capering148 and tumbling wonderfully, amid roars of laughter.
“This may be my fault,” thought Valentine. “This! What?” He was afraid to pursue that inquiry149. His ruddy face suddenly turned pale; and he left the circus, determined to find out what was really going on behind the red curtain.
He walked round the outside of the building, wasting some time before he found a door to apply at for admission. At last he came to a sort of a passage, with some tattered horse-cloths hanging over its outer entrance.
“You can’t come in here,” said a shabby lad, suddenly appearing from the inside in his shirt sleeves.
Mr. Blyth took out half-a-crown. “I want to see the deaf and dumb child directly!”
“Oh, all right! go in,” muttered the lad, pocketing the money greedily.
Valentine hastily entered the passage. As soon as he was inside, a sound reached his ears at which his heart sickened and turned faint. No words can describe it in all the horror of its helplessness—it was the moan of pain from a dumb human creature.
He thrust aside a curtain, and stood in a filthy150 place, partitioned off from the stables on one side, and the circus on the other, with canvas and old boards. There, on a wooden stool, sat the woman who had accosted151 him the night before, crying, and soothing152 the child, who lay shuddering153 on her bosom154. The sobs155 of the clown’s wife mingled with the inarticulate wailing156, so low, yet so awful to hear; and both sounds were audible with a fearful, unnatural157 distinctness, through the merry melody of the jig, and the peals158 of hearty laughter from the audience in the circus.
“Oh, my God!” cried Valentine, horror-struck at what he heard, “stop her! don’t let her moan in that way!”
The woman started from her seat, and put the child down, then recognized Mr. Blyth and rushed up to him.
“Hush101!” she whispered eagerly, “don’t call out like that! The villain159, the brutal160, heartless villain is somewhere about the stables. If he hears you, he’ll come in and beat her again.—Oh, hush! hush, for God’s sake! It’s true he beat her—the cowardly, hellish brute!—only for making that one little mistake with the cards. No! no! no! don’t speak out so loud, or you’ll ruin us. How did you ever get in here?—Oh! you must be quiet! There, sit down—Hark! I’m sure he’s coming! Oh! go away—go away!”
She tried to pull Valentine out of the chair into which she had thrust him but the instant before. He seized tight hold of her hand and refused to move. If Mr. Jubber had come in at that moment, he would have been thrashed within an inch of his life.
The child had ceased moaning when she saw Valentine. She anxiously looked at him through her tears—then turned away quickly—took out her little handkerchief—and began to dry her eyes.
“I can’t go yet—I’ll promise only to whisper—you must listen to me,” said Mr. Blyth, pale and panting for breath; “I mean to prevent this from happening again—don’t speak!—I’ll take that injured, beautiful, patient little angel away from this villainous place: I will, if I go before a magistrate161!”
The woman stopped him by pointing suddenly to the child.
She had put back the handkerchief, and was approaching him. She came close and laid one hand on his knee, and timidly raised the other as high as she could towards his neck. Standing so, she looked up quietly into his face. The pretty lips tried hard to smile once more; but they only trembled for an instant, and then closed again. The clear, soft eyes, still dim with tears, sought his with an innocent gaze of inquiry and wonder. At that moment, the expression of the sad and lovely little face seemed to say—“You look as if you wanted to be kind to me; I wish you could find out some way of telling me of it.”
Valentine’s heart told him what was the only way. He caught her up in his arms, and half smothered162 her with kisses. The frail, childish hands rose trembling, and clasped themselves gently round his neck; and the fair head drooped163 lower and lower, wearily, until it lay on his shoulder.
The clown’s wife turned away her face, desperately164 stifling165 with both hands the sobs that were beginning to burst from her afresh. She whispered, “Oh, go, sir,—pray go! Some of the riders will be in here directly; you’ll get us into dreadful trouble!”
Valentine rose, still holding the child in his arms. “I’ll go if you promise me—”
“I’ll promise you anything, sir!”
“You know the rectory! Doctor Joyce’s—the clergyman—my kind friend—”
“Yes, sir; I know it. Do please, for little Mary’s sake be quick as you can!”
“Mary! Her name’s Mary!” Valentine drew back into a corner, and began kissing the child again.
“You must be out of your senses to keep on in that way after what I’ve told you!” cried the clown’s wife, wringing166 her hands in despair, and trying to drag him out of the corner. “Jubber will be in here in another minute. She’ll be beaten again, if you’re caught with her; oh Lord! oh Lord! will nothing make you understand that?”
He understood it only too well, and put the child down instantly, his face turning pale again; his agitation167 becoming so violent that he never noticed the hand which she held out towards him, or the appealing look that said so plainly and pathetically: “I want to bid you good-bye; but I can’t say it as other children can.” He never observed this; for he had taken Mrs. Peckover by the arm, and had drawn168 her away hurriedly after him into the passage.
The child made no attempt to follow them: she turned aside, and, sitting down in the darkest corner of the miserable169 place, rested her head against the rough partition which was all that divided her from the laughing audience. Her lips began to tremble again: she took out the handkerchief once more, and hid her face in it.
“Now, recollect170 your promise,” whispered Valentine to the clown’s wife, who was slowly pushing him out all the time he was speaking to her. “You must bring little Mary to the Rectory to-morrow morning at twelve o’clock exactly—you must! or I’ll come and fetch her myself—”
“I’ll bring her, sir, if you’ll only go now. I’ll bring her—I will, as true as I stand here!”
“If you don’t!” cried Valentine, still distrustful, and trembling all over with agitation—“If you don’t!”—He stopped; for he suddenly felt the open air blowing on his face. The clown’s wife was gone, and nothing remained for him to threaten, but the tattered horse-cloths that hung over the empty doorway.
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1
malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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confinement
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| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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mortifying
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| adj.抑制的，苦修的v.使受辱( mortify的现在分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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7
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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err
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| vi.犯错误，出差错 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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17
chubbiest
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| adj.胖乎乎的，圆胖的，丰满的( chubby的最高级 ) | |
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serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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19
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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amends
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| n. 赔偿 | |
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21
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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22
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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23
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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26
hack
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| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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28
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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depicting
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| 描绘，描画( depict的现在分词 )； 描述 | |
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32
rustics
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| n.有农村或村民特色的( rustic的名词复数 )；粗野的；不雅的；用粗糙的木材或树枝制作的 | |
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33
congregated
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| （使）集合，聚集( congregate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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galaxy
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| n.星系；银河系；一群(杰出或著名的人物) | |
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35
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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36
equestrian
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| adj.骑马的；n.马术 | |
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37
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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38
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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39
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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40
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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41
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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42
renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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43
gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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44
guardians
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| 监护人( guardian的名词复数 )； 保护者，维护者 | |
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45
scourer
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| 洗擦者，洗刷物品 | |
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46
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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47
moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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48
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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50
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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51
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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52
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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53
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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54
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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55
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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56
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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57
benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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58
allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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59
legerdemain
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| n.戏法，诈术 | |
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60
abstruse
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| adj.深奥的，难解的 | |
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61
algebraist
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| n.代数学家 | |
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62
grotesquely
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| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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63
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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64
complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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65
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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66
ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
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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68
dastard
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| n.卑怯之人，懦夫；adj.怯懦的，畏缩的 | |
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69
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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70
degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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71
voluptuously
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| adv.风骚地，体态丰满地 | |
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72
javelin
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| n.标枪，投枪 | |
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73
slaying
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| 杀戮。 | |
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74
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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75
caroused
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| v.痛饮，闹饮欢宴( carouse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76
contortions
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| n.扭歪，弯曲；扭曲，弄歪，歪曲( contortion的名词复数 ) | |
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77
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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78
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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79
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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80
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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81
frowzy
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| adj.不整洁的；污秽的 | |
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82
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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83
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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84
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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85
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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86
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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87
entreating
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的现在分词 ) | |
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88
conjuring
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| n.魔术 | |
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89
derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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90
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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91
scrawling
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的现在分词 ) | |
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92
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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93
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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94
contriving
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| （不顾困难地）促成某事( contrive的现在分词 )； 巧妙地策划，精巧地制造（如机器）； 设法做到 | |
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96
offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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97
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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98
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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99
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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100
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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101
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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102
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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103
profanation
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| n.亵渎 | |
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104
tainted
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| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
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105
compassionate
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| adj.有同情心的，表示同情的 | |
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106
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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107
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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108
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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109
jewelry
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| n.（jewllery）（总称）珠宝 | |
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110
suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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111
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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112
fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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113
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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114
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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115
adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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116
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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117
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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118
implore
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| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
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119
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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120
peroration
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| n.（演说等之）结论 | |
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121
vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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122
buxom
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| adj.（妇女）丰满的，有健康美的 | |
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123
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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124
scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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125
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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126
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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127
expatiate
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| v.细说，详述 | |
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128
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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129
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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130
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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131
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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132
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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133
surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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134
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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135
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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136
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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137
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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138
picturesqueness
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139
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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140
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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141
candor
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| n.坦白，率真 | |
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142
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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143
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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144
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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145
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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146
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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147
jig
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| n.快步舞（曲）；v.上下晃动；用夹具辅助加工；蹦蹦跳跳 | |
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148
capering
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| v.跳跃，雀跃( caper的现在分词 )；蹦蹦跳跳 | |
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149
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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150
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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151
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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152
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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153
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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154
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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155
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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156
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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157
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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158
peals
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| n.（声音大而持续或重复的）洪亮的响声( peal的名词复数 )；隆隆声；洪亮的钟声；钟乐v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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159
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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160
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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161
magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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162
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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163
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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164
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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165
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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166
wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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167
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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168
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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169
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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170
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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