The people of Helmingham village, when they saw the carriage containing Mr. Creswell and his bride spinning away to the station, after indulging in a fresh theme of talk expressive4 of their surprise at all that had happened, and their delight at the cleverness of the schoolmaster's daughter, who had, as they politely expressed it, "carried her pigs to such a good market," began to discuss the situation at Woolgreaves; and as it had been universally agreed that the day should be made a general holiday, the new-married folk, and their kith and kin5, their past and future, were served up as topics of conversation, not merely at the various village tea-tables, but in the commercial room of the Lion at Brocksopp, which, there being no commercial gentlemen staying in the house, had been yielded up to the tenantry on the estate, who were given to understand that Mr. Teesdale, Mr. Creswell's agent, would attend to the bill. It was long since the Lion had done such a roaring trade, for the commercial gents, by whom the house was chiefly frequented, though convivial7 souls, were apt to be convivial on small orders, "fours" of rum and "sixes" of brandy; and it was only on exceptional occasions that old Mr. Mulock, who "travelled in hardware," would suffer himself to be fined a crown bowl of punch for having committed the uncommercial atrocity8 of smoking in the commercial room before seven o'clock, or young Mr. Cunynghame, who represented his own firm in Scotch9 goods--a very pushing young gentleman, and a wonderful fellow to get on--would "stand champagne10 round" when he had received a specially11 remunerative12 order. But now Miss Parkhurst, in the bar, had not a second to herself, the demand for her strong mahogany-coloured brandy-and-water was so great; steaming jorums of "hot with" here, huge goblets13 of "cold without" there; the fascinating Hebe of the Lion had not dispensed14 so much drink at one time since the day when old Major Barth was returned in the Conservative interest for Brocksopp--and the major, it is allowed, was not merely a hard drinker himself, but the cause of hard drinking in others; while as for old Tilley, the jolly landlord, he was so overwhelmed with the exertion15 of punch-compounding, that he took off the short-tailed snuff-coloured coat which he usually wore, and went to work in his shirt-sleeves, slicing lemons, mixing, strengthening, sweetening--ay, and tasting too--until his pleasant face, always round and red, assumed a greater rotundity and an extra glow, and his little, short, fat body ached again with fatigue16.
But, as is very often the case in better society than that with which we are now engaged, the amount of conversation indulged in had not been in equal ratio with the amount of liquor consumed. They were very quiet drinkers in those parts, and on great occasions sat round the council fire as silently and gravely as a set of aboriginal17 Indians. They had touched lightly on the subject of the wedding, but only as men who knew that they had an interminable subject at hand, ready to fall back upon whenever they felt disposed, and from that they had jumped at a tangent to discussing the chances of the lambing season, where they were far more at home, and much more practical in what they had to say. The fertility of Farmer Gardner's ewes, or the carelessness of Tom Howson, Farmer Jeffrey's shepherd, were topics which went home to every man present; on which each had a distinct opinion, which he delivered with far greater force and emphasis than when called upon to pronounce upon an analysis of the guiding motives19 of the human heart in connection with the choice of a husband. Indeed, so much had to be said upon the subject of these "yows," that the conversation began to become rather tiresome20 to some members of the company, who were also tenants21 of the bridegroom's, but whose business connections were rather with commerce than agriculture or stock-purchase. These gentry22, who would have sat interested for that indefinite period known as "a blue moon," had the talk been of markets, and prices, and "quotations," at length thought it time to vary the intellectual repast, and one of them suggested that somebody should sing a song. In itself not a bad proposition, but one always hard to be properly carried out. A dead silence fell upon the company at once, broken by Farmer Whicher, who declared he had often heard neighbour Croke "wobble like a lavrock," and moved that neighbour Croke be at once called upon. Called upon Mr. Croke was unanimously, but being a man of uncertain temper he nearly spoiled the harmony of the evening by declaring flatly that he would be "darnged" if he would. A bookkeeper in one of the Brocksopp mills, a young man of literary tendencies, who had erected23 several in memoriam tombstones to his own genius in the Brocksopp Banner and County Chronicle,then proposed that Mr. M'Shaw, who, as the speaker remarked, "came from the land which produced the inspired exciseman," would favour them with a Scotch ballad24. But Mr. M'Shaw declined the compliment. A thrifty25 man, with a large family, Alick M'Shaw always kept himself in check in every way where expense was concerned, and now for the first time for years he found himself in the position of being able to consume a large quantity of whisky, without being called upon to pay for it. He knew that the time taken up in singing the ballad would be so much time wasted, during which he must perforce leave off drinking; and so, though he had a pretty tenor26 voice, and sang very fairly, he pleaded a cold and made his excuse. Finally, everybody having been tried, and everybody having in more or less cantankerous27 manner refused, it fell upon Farmer Whicher to sing that ditty for which he was well known for a score of miles round, which he had sung for nearly a third of a century at various harvest-homes, shearing-feasts, and other country merry-makings, and which never failed--it being a supposed joyous28 and bacchanalian29 chant--in crushing the spirits and subduing30 the souls of those who listened to it. It was a performance which never varied31 the smallest iota32 in its details. The intending singer first laid down his pipe, carefully knocking out the ashes, and placing it by his right hand to act on emergency as a conductor's bâton; then, assuming a most dismal33 expression of countenance34, he glared round into the faces of those surrounding him to sue for pity, or to see if there were any chance of a reprieve35, and finding neither, he would clear his throat, which was in itself an operation of some magnitude, and commence the song as a solemn recitation; but the chorus, which was duly sung by all present, each man using the most doleful tune36 with which he was best acquainted, ran thus:
"Then push, push, push the bowl about, And push the bowl to me-ee-- The longer we sits here, and drinks, The merr-i-er we shall be!"
It is doubtful to what extent this doleful dirge38 might have been protracted39, for the number of verses is beyond human reckoning, and the more frequently the choruses were repeated the more they are prolonged; but Mr. Teesdale, the agent, a shrewd man of business, saw his opportunity for making a cast, and accordingly, at the end of the ninth stanza40, he banged the table with such energy that his cue was taken by the more knowing ones, and the harmony was abandoned as Mr. Teesdale went on to say----
"Capital, bravo, excellent! Always look to you, Whicher, to sing us a good song! First time I heard you sing that was years ago, when our old friend Hardy41 gave us a supper on the occasion of opening his dancing-school! Poor Hardy, not well, eh? or he'd have been here among us. Push the bowl about, eh? Ah, we're likely to have plenty of that sort of fun soon, if I'm correctly informed!"
"What's that, Muster42 Teesdale?" asked Farmer Adams. "Somebody going to be married, eh?"
"No, no, one at a time, Adams, one at a time!"
"What's comin' off then, Muster Teesdale?"
"Well, it's expected that in about a couple of months' time there'll be a general election, Mr. Adams, and you know what that means! I wasn't far out when I said that the bowl would be pushed about at such a time as that, was I?"
"That 'ee warn't, Muster Teesdale, that 'ee warn't! Not that we hold much wi' 'lections about here!"
"That's 'cos there's no proper spirit of opp'sition," said Mr. Croke, who was accustomed to speak very loudly and freely on political matters, and who was delighted at seeing the conversation taking this turn; "that's 'cos there's no proper spirit of opp'sition," he repeated, looking round him, partly in triumph, partly to see if any antagonist43 were making ready net and spear. "They Tories is 'lowed to walk over the course and du just as pleases 'em!"
"What sort of opp'sition could you expect, Muster Croke?" said Farmer Spalding, puffing44 at his long churchwarden. "What good could Lib'rals do in a borough45 like this here Brocksopp, for instance, where its factories, and works, and mills, and suchlike, are held by rich folk as ought to be Lib'rals and is Tories?"
"Why ought they?" asked Mr. Croke; and while his interlocutor was gathering46 up his answer, old Croke added, "I'm all for argeyment! I'm a Tory mysel', as all my house have been, but I like to see a opp'sition in everything, and a proper fight, not one-sided 'lections, such as we have seen! Well, Muster Spalding, and why should our rich party folk be Lib'rals and not Tories?"
"Because," said Mr. Spalding, fanning away the smoke from before him, and speaking with great deliberation--"because they sprung from the people, and therefore their symp'ties should be wi' those of whom they were afore they became rich."
"Like enough, like enough, neighbour Spalding. That's what's called mo-rality, that is; but it's not common sense! Common sense is, that it's lucky they grew rich; they becam' Tories, which is the same thing as meaning they wanted their money taken care of."
"Ay, ay, that's it, Croke!" said Farmer Adams. "You've just hit the way to put un! Lib'rals when they've got nothing and want everything, Tories when they've got something and want to take care of it."
"Well, but what's Tories goin' to do this time?" asked Mr. Moule, a maltster in the town. "Our presen' member, Sir George Neal, won't stand again! Told me so his own self last time he was in town for quarter sessions--says he's too old. My 'pinion18 is his wife won't let un. He's a rum un, is Sir George, and when he gets up to London by himself, he goes it, they du say!"
"Nansense, Moule! I wunner at a man o' your sense talkin' such stuff," said Farmer Croke. "That's playin' the Lib'ral game, that is!--though I hey understood that Sir George won't come forrerd again."
"And the Lib'rals is going to mek a tre-menjous struggle this time, I've heerd," observed Moule.
"Who are they goin' to bring forrerd, hev you heerd?" asked Mr. Spalding with interest.
"Well, I did hear, but I've a'most forgot," said Mr. Moule, who was of a misty47 and a muddled48 nature. "No, now I reck'lect, it was young Bokenham!"
"What, son of old Tom Bokenham of Blott's Mills?" asked Mr. Spalding.
"That same! Old man's terrible rich, they du say; firm was Bokenham and Sculthorpe, but Sculthorpe broke his leg huntin' wi' Squire49 Peacock's harriers, and has been out of business for some time."
"He's just built two saw-mills in Galabin Street, hasn't he?" asked Mr. Croke.
"He has, and that plant in Harmer's Row is his too. Young Tom, he's lawyer up in London--lawyer they say, tho' I thowt he was a parson, as they told me he lives in a Temple, and he's wonderful clever in speakin' at club-meetin's and suchlike, and they du say that he's not only a Lib'ral, but"--and here Mr. Moule sank his voice to a whisper to give due horror to his revelation--"that he's an out-and-out Rad.!"
"You don't say that!" said Farmer Adams, pushing away his chair with a creak, and gazing with terror at the speaker.
"They du!" said Mr. Moule, delighted and astonished to find himself of so much importance.
"That's a bad job!" said Mr. Croke reflectively; "they carry a main lot o' weight in this borough do they Bokenhams--a main lot of weight!"
And Mr. Croke shook his head with great solemnity.
"Don't be down-hearted, Mr. Croke!" said Mr. Teesdale, who had been a silent and an amused spectator of this scene. "No doubt Tommy Bokenham, who they say is a clever chap, and who'll be well backed by his father's banking50 account, is a formidable opponent. But I much doubt if our side won't be able to bring forward some one with as good a head on his shoulders and as much brass51 in his pockets!"
"Where's he to be found, Muster Teesdale? Sir George won't stand, and it would welly nigh break any one else's back in the neighbr'ood, 'less it were young Rideout, and all his money goes in horse-racin'!"
"What should you say," said Mr. Teesdale, becoming very much swollen52 with importance--"what should you say to Mr. Creswell?"
"Muster Creswell! What, Squire Creswell, your master, Muster Teesdale?" exclaimed Croke, completely astounded53.
"My employer--Squire Creswell, my employer!" said Mr. Teesdale, making a mental note to refuse Farmer Croke the very next request he made, no matter what it might be.
"Are you in ayrnest, Muster Teesdale?" asked Spalding. "Is th' old squire comin' forward for Parlyment?"
"He is, indeed, Mr. Spalding," replied Teesdale; "and he'll make the Lion his head-quarters, won't he, Mr. Tilley?" he said to the old landlord, who had just entered bearing a steaming bowl of punch.
"I hope so, sir--I hope so!" said the old man in his cheery voice. "The Lion always was the Blue house. I've seen Sir George Neal, quite dead-beat wi' fatigue and hoarse54 wi' hollerin', held up at that window by Squire Armstrong on one side, and Charley Rea, him as left here and went away to Chiney or some furrin part, on the other, and screechin' for cheers and Kentish fires and Lord knows what to the mob outside! I ha' got the blue banner somewhere now, that Miss Good, as was barmaid here afore Miss Parkhurst came, 'broidered herself for Sir George at last election."
"Well, there'll be no banners or anything of that kind now, Tilley; that's against the law, that is, but there'll be plenty of fun for all that, and plenty of fighting, for the matter of that, for Mr. Creswell means to win!"
"He really du?" asked Farmer Croke, once more in high spirits.
"He really does! And, what's more, I may tell you, gentlemen, as it's no longer any secret, that Mr. Creswell's candidature is approved by her Majesty's Government, by Sir George Neal, and by the principal county gentlemen, so that there's no likelihood of any split in the Conservative camp! And as for young Mr. Bokenham, of whom our friend Moule here has told us so much, well--even if he is all that our friend Moule has made him out--we must try and beat him even then!"
Poor Mr. Moule! it was lucky he had enjoyed his temporary notoriety, for the sarcasm55 of the agent speedily relegated56 him to his old post of butt57 and dolt58.
The household at Woolgreaves seemed to get on very well during the absence of its legitimate59 heads. The young ladies rather gloried in their feeling of independence, in the freedom from the necessity of having to consult any one or to exercise the smallest system of restraint, and they took pleasure in sitting with Mrs. Ashurst and ministering to her small wants. They had always had a kindly61 feeling towards the old lady, and this had been increased by her helplessness, and by her evident unconsciousness of the manner in which the world was slipping away from her. There is something sad in witnessing the struggle for resignation with which persons, smitten62 with mortal disease, and conscious of their fate, strive to give up all worldly hopes and cares, and to wean their thoughts and aspirations63 from those things on which they have hitherto been bent64; but there is something infinitely65 more sad in watching the sick-bed of one who is all unconscious of the fiat66 that has gone forth67, who knows, indeed, that her strength is not what it was, but who has no idea that the hand is already uplifted and the dart68 already poised69. Mrs. Ashurst was in this last-named condition; she had gradually been growing weaker and weaker, but there were times when she plucked up wonderfully, and when she would talk of things present, ay, and of things future, as though she had years of life to run. The girls encouraged her to talk. Dr. Osborne had told them that she must be "roused" as much as possible, and they would sit with her and chatter70 for hours, the old lady taking no inconsiderable share in the conversation. It was astonishing with what unanimity71 they had hitherto kept off the subject of the marriage, the very topic which one might have imagined would have been the first they would have discussed; but whenever they came near it, whenever they grew "warm," as children say in the old-fashioned game, they seemed by tacit instinct bound to draw away and leave it untouched. At last one day, after the married couple had been a week absent, Mrs. Ashurst said quietly--
"Maude, my dear, weren't you very much astonished when you heard your uncle was going to marry my Marian?"
"No, dear Mrs. Ashurst. Though I'm not very old, I've lived too long to be astonished at anything, and certainly that did not surprise me!"
"It did me!" said Gertrude, for once venturing on an independent remark.
"And why did it surprise you, Gerty?" asked the old lady, already smiling at the quaint37 reply which she always expected from Gertrude.
"Because I didn't think uncle was so silly!" Gertrude blurted72 out. "At least, I don't mean that exactly; don't misunderstand me, dear Mrs. Ashurst, but I never thought that uncle would marry again at all.--Such an idea never entered our heads, did it, Maude?" But Maude declining to play chorus, Gertrude continued: "And if I had thought of such a thing, I should always have set uncle down as marrying some one more his own age, and--and that kind of thing!"
"There is certainly a great disparity of years between them," said Mrs. Ashurst, with a sigh. "I trust that won't work to the disadvantage of my poor dear girl!"
"I don't think you need fear that, dear old friend!" said Maude; and then thinking that her tone of voice might have been hard, she laid her hand on the old lady's shoulder, and added, "Miss Ash--I mean Mrs. Creswell, you know, is wise beyond her years! She has already had the management of a large household, which, as I understand, she conducted excellently; and even did she show a few shortcomings, uncle is the last man to notice them!"
"Yes, my dear, I know; but I didn't mean that! I was selfishly thinking whether Marian had done rightly in accepting a man so much older than herself. She did it for my sake, poor child--she did it for my sake!" And the old lady burst into tears.
"Don't cry, dear!" said Gertrude. "You are not to blame, I'm sure, whatever has happened."
"How can you make yourself so perfectly73 ridiculous, Gertrude?" said strong-minded Maude. "No one is to blame about anything! And, my dear Mrs. Ashurst, I don't think, if I were you, I should look upon your daughter's present proceeding74 as such an act of self-sacrifice. Depend upon it she is very well pleased at her new dignity and position." Maude knew that the Creswells were only "new people," but she could not sit by and hear them patronised by a schoolmaster's widow.
"Well, my dear, very likely," said the old lady meekly75; "though she might have been a baronet's lady if she had only chosen. I'm sure young Sir Joseph Attride would have proposed to her, with a little more encouragement; and though my poor husband always said he had pudding in his head instead of brains, that wouldn't have been any just cause or impediment. You never heard about Sir Joseph, Maude?"
"No; Miss Ashurst never spoke76 to us of any of her conquests," said Maude, with something of a sneer77.
"Well, ray dear, Marian was never one to say much, you know; but I'm sure she might have done as well as any girl in the county, for the matter of that. There was Sir Joseph, and young Mr. Peacock before he went up to live in London, and a young German who was over here to learn English--Burckhardt his name was, and I think his friends were counts, or something of that kind, in their own country--oh, quite grand, I assure you!"
"I wonder whether uncle knows of all these former rivals?" asked Gertrude.
"No, my dear, of course he doesn't, and of course Marian would not be such a goose as to tell him. I think I'll sleep for a bit now, dears; I'm tired."
They kissed her, and left the room; but before the old lady had dropped off, she said to herself, "I wasn't going to let them crow over me, or think that my Marian couldn't have had her pick and choice of a husband, if she'd been so minded."
Maude and Gertrude were going towards the garden, after leaving Mrs. Ashurst; they saw the postman quitting the door, and the servant came to them with a letter, which she handed to Maude. That young lady opened and read it, but she could scarcely have gone through a few lines, when a particularly stern expression came over her face, her brows were knit, and her lips set tightly together.
"What's the matter, Maude?" asked Gertrude, looking on in wonder. "Who's the letter from?"
"From our new mistress," said the girl; "at least, I expect she intends we should regard her as such--Mrs. Creswell. They are to be at home at the end of next week, and my lady thinks she shall require what is now our music-room for her boudoir. We can have the room at the end of the north passage. Can we, indeed! How very considerate! And it's no use appealing to uncle! He daren't help us, I know! What did I tell you, Gertrude? This woman won't rest until she has crushed us into a state of mere6 dependence60!"
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1
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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convivial
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| adj.狂欢的，欢乐的 | |
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atrocity
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| n.残暴，暴行 | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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remunerative
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| adj.有报酬的 | |
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goblets
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| n.高脚酒杯( goblet的名词复数 ) | |
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dispensed
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| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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aboriginal
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| adj.（指动植物）土生的，原产地的，土著的 | |
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pinion
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| v.束缚；n.小齿轮 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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thrifty
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| adj.节俭的；兴旺的；健壮的 | |
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tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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cantankerous
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| adj.爱争吵的，脾气不好的 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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bacchanalian
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| adj.闹酒狂饮的；n.发酒疯的人 | |
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subduing
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| 征服( subdue的现在分词 )； 克制； 制服； 色变暗 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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iota
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| n.些微，一点儿 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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reprieve
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| n.暂缓执行（死刑）；v.缓期执行；给…带来缓解 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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dirge
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| n.哀乐，挽歌，庄重悲哀的乐曲 | |
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protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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stanza
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| n.（诗）节，段 | |
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hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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antagonist
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| n.敌人，对抗者，对手 | |
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puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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borough
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| n.享有自治权的市镇；(英)自治市镇 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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muddled
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| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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banking
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| n.银行业，银行学，金融业 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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relegated
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| v.使降级( relegate的过去式和过去分词 )；使降职；转移；把…归类 | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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dolt
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| n.傻瓜 | |
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legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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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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smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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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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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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fiat
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| n.命令，法令，批准；vt.批准，颁布 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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unanimity
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| n.全体一致，一致同意 | |
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blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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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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sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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