And during all this time Lopez was still resident in Mr. Wharton's house. "Papa," she said to him one day, "this is the cruellest thing of all. Why don't you tell him that he must go?"
"Because he would take you with him."
"It would be better so. I could come to see you."
"I did tell him to go,—in my passion. I repented5 of it instantly, because I should have lost you. But what did my telling matter to him? He was very indignant, and yet he is still here."
"You told him to go?"
"Yes;—but I am glad that he did not obey me. There must be an end to this soon, I suppose."
"I do not know, papa."
"Do you think that he will not go?"
"I feel that I know nothing, papa. You must not let him stay here always, you know."
"And what will become of you when he goes?"
"I must go with him. Why should you be sacrificed also? I will tell him that he must leave the house. I am not afraid of him, papa."
"Not yet, my dear;—not yet. We will see."
At this time Lopez declared his purpose one day of dining at the Progress, and Mr. Wharton took advantage of the occasion to remain at home with his daughter. Everett was now expected, and there was a probability that he might come on this evening. Mr. Wharton therefore returned from his chambers6 early; but when he reached the house he was told that there was a woman in the dining-room with Mrs. Lopez. The servant did not know what woman. She had asked to see Mrs. Lopez, and Mrs. Lopez had gone down to her.
The woman in the dining-room was Mrs. Parker. She had called at the house at about half-past five, and Emily had at once come down when summoned by tidings that a "lady" wanted to see her. Servants have a way of announcing a woman as a lady, which clearly expresses their own opinion that the person in question is not a lady. So it had been on the present occasion, but Mrs. Lopez had at once gone to her visitor. "Oh, Mrs. Parker, I am so glad to see you. I hope you are well."
"Indeed, then, Mrs. Lopez, I am very far from well. No poor woman, who is the mother of five children, was ever farther from being well than I am."
"Is anything wrong?"
"Wrong, ma'am! Everything is wrong. When is Mr. Lopez going to pay my husband all the money he has took from him?"
"Has he taken money?"
"Taken! he has taken everything. He has shorn my husband as bare as a board. We're ruined, Mrs. Lopez, and it's your husband has done it. When we were at Dovercourt, I told you how it was going to be. His business has left him, and now there is nothing. What are we to do?" The woman was seated on a chair, leaning forward with her two hands on her knees. The day was wet, the streets were half mud and half snow, and the poor woman, who had made her way through the slush, was soiled and wet. "I look to you to tell me what me and my children is to do. He's your husband, Mrs. Lopez."
"Yes, Mrs. Parker; he is my husband."
"Why couldn't he let Sexty alone? Why should the like of him be taking the bread out of my children's mouths? What had we ever done to him? You're rich."
"Indeed I am not, Mrs. Parker."
"Yes, you are. You're living here in a grand house, and your father's made of money. You'll know nothing of want, let the worst come to the worst. What are we to do, Mrs. Lopez? I'm the wife of that poor creature, and you're the wife of the man that has ruined him. What are we to do, Mrs. Lopez?"
"I do not understand my husband's business, Mrs. Parker."
"You're one with him, ain't you? If anybody had ever come to me and said my husband had robbed him, I'd never have stopped till I knew the truth of it. If any woman had ever said to me that Parker had taken the bread out of her children's mouths, do you think that I'd sit as you are sitting? I tell you that Lopez has robbed us,—has robbed us, and taken everything."
"What can I say, Mrs. Parker;—what can I do?"
"Where is he?"
"He is not here. He is dining at his club."
"Where is that? I will go there and shame him before them all. Don't you feel no shame? Because you've got things comfortable here, I suppose it's all nothing to you. You don't care, though my children were starving in the gutter,—as they will do."
"If you knew me, Mrs. Parker, you wouldn't speak to me like that."
"Know you! Of course I know you. You're a lady, and your father's a rich man, and your husband thinks no end of himself. And we're poor people, so it don't matter whether we're robbed and ruined or not. That's about it."
"If I had anything, I'd give you all that I had."
"And he's taken to drinking that hard that he's never rightly sober from morning to night." As she told this story of her husband's disgrace, the poor woman burst into tears. "Who's to trust him with business now? He's that broken-hearted that he don't know which way to turn,—only to the bottle. And Lopez has done it all,—done it all! I haven't got a father, ma'am, who has got a house over his head for me and my babies. Only think if you was turned out into the street with your babby, as I am like to be."
"I have no baby," said the wretched woman through her tears and sobs7.
"Haven't you, Mrs. Lopez? Oh dear!" exclaimed the soft-hearted woman, reduced at once to pity. "How was it then?"
"He died, Mrs. Parker,—just a few days after he was born."
"Did he now? Well, well. We all have our troubles, I suppose."
"I have mine, I know," said Emily, "and very, very heavy they are. I cannot tell you what I have to suffer."
"Isn't he good to you?"
"I cannot talk about it, Mrs. Parker. What you tell me about yourself has added greatly to my sorrows. My husband is talking of going away,—to live out of England."
"Yes, at a place they call—I forget what they call it, but I heard it."
"Guatemala,—in America."
"I know. Sexty told me. He has no business to go anywhere, while he owes Sexty such a lot of money. He has taken everything, and now he's going to Kattymaly!" At this moment Mr. Wharton knocked at the door and entered the room. As he did so Mrs. Parker got up and curtseyed.
"This is my father, Mrs. Parker," said Emily. "Papa, this is Mrs. Parker. She is the wife of Mr. Parker, who was Ferdinand's partner. She has come here with bad news."
"Very bad news indeed, sir," said Mrs. Parker, curtseying again. Mr. Wharton frowned, not as being angry with the woman, but feeling that some further horror was to be told him of his son-in-law. "I can't help coming, sir," continued Mrs. Parker. "Where am I to go if I don't come? Mr. Lopez, sir, has ruined us root and branch,—root and branch."
"That at any rate is not my fault," said Mr. Wharton.
"But she is his wife, sir. Where am I to go if not to where he lives? Am I to put up with everything gone, and my poor husband in the right way to go to Bedlam8, and not to say a word about it to the grand relations of him who did it all?"
"He is a bad man," said Mr. Wharton. "I cannot make him otherwise."
"Will he do nothing for us?"
"I will tell you all I know about him." Then Mr. Wharton did tell her all that he knew, as to the appointment at Guatemala and the amount of salary which was to be attached to it. "Whether he will do anything for you, I cannot say;—I should think not, unless he be forced. I should advise you to go to the offices of the Company in Coleman Street and try to make some terms there. But I fear,—I fear it will be all useless."
"Then we may starve."
"It is not her fault," said Mr. Wharton, pointing to his daughter. "She has had no hand in it. She knows less of it all than you do."
"It is my fault," said Emily, bursting out into self-reproach,—"my fault that I married him."
"Whether married or single he would have preyed10 upon Mr. Parker to the same extent."
"Like enough," said the poor wife. "He'd prey9 upon anybody as he could get a-hold of. And so, Mr. Wharton, you think that you can do nothing for me."
"If your want be immediate11 I can relieve it," said the barrister. Mrs. Parker did not like the idea of accepting direct charity, but, nevertheless, on going away did take the five sovereigns which Mr. Wharton offered to her.
After such an interview as that the dinner between the father and the daughter was not very happy. She was eaten up by remorse12. Gradually she had learned how frightful13 was the thing she had done in giving herself to a man of whom she had known nothing. And it was not only that she had degraded herself by loving such a man, but that she had been persistent14 in clinging to him though her father and all his friends had told her of the danger which she was running. And now it seemed that she had destroyed her father as well as herself! All that she could do was to be persistent in her prayer that he would let her go. "I have done it," she said that night, "and I could bear it better, if you would let me bear it alone." But he only kissed her, and sobbed15 over her, and held her close to his heart with his clinging arms,—in a manner in which he had never held her in their old happy days.
He took himself to his own rooms before Lopez returned, but she of course had to bear her husband's presence. As she had declared to her father more than once, she was not afraid of him. Even though he should strike her,—though he should kill her,—she would not be afraid of him. He had already done worse to her than anything that could follow. "Mrs. Parker has been here to-day," she said to him that night.
"And what had Mrs. Parker to say?"
"That you had ruined her husband."
"Exactly. When a man speculates and doesn't win of course he throws the blame on some one else. And when he is too much of a cur to come himself, he sends his wife."
"She says you owe him money."
"What business have you to listen to what she says? If she comes again, do not see her. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, I understand. She saw papa also. If you owe him money, should it not be paid?"
"My dearest love, everybody who owes anything to anybody should always pay it. That is so self-evident that one would almost suppose that it might be understood without being enunciated16. But the virtue17 of paying your debts is incompatible18 with an absence of money. Now, if you please, we will not say anything more about Mrs. Parker. She is not at any rate a fit companion for you."
"It was you who introduced me to her."
"Hold your tongue about her,—and let that be an end of it. I little knew what a world of torment19 I was preparing for myself when I allowed you to come and live in your father's house."
点击收听单词发音
1 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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2 postponed | |
vt.& vi.延期,缓办,(使)延迟vt.把…放在次要地位;[语]把…放在后面(或句尾)vi.(疟疾等)延缓发作(或复发) | |
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3 insolent | |
adj.傲慢的,无理的 | |
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4 thereby | |
adv.因此,从而 | |
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5 repented | |
对(自己的所为)感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6 chambers | |
n.房间( chamber的名词复数 );(议会的)议院;卧室;会议厅 | |
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7 sobs | |
啜泣(声),呜咽(声)( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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8 bedlam | |
n.混乱,骚乱;疯人院 | |
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9 prey | |
n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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10 preyed | |
v.掠食( prey的过去式和过去分词 );掠食;折磨;(人)靠欺诈为生 | |
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11 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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12 remorse | |
n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
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13 frightful | |
adj.可怕的;讨厌的 | |
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14 persistent | |
adj.坚持不懈的,执意的;持续的 | |
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15 sobbed | |
哭泣,啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 ); 哭诉,呜咽地说 | |
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16 enunciated | |
v.(清晰地)发音( enunciate的过去式和过去分词 );确切地说明 | |
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17 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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18 incompatible | |
adj.不相容的,不协调的,不相配的 | |
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19 torment | |
n.折磨;令人痛苦的东西(人);vt.折磨;纠缠 | |
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