'He've been brought up hard, granny,' said John; 'that's how he's so contented3.'
'I don't believe it, John; he's the rale gentleman, only he've got the sense to come down to his means.'
At this juncture4 their lodger5 appeared, and cut short the conference. He has been partially6 described. To finish the portrait, the reader must add to his penetrating7 grey eyes a mouth indicating great decision of character, a head finely formed, with hair changing to grey. In the vigour9 of his expression, carriage, and manner, you would read his age to be thirty; but the worn look of his cheek, his furrowed10 brow, and his changing hair put many years on him: he might be forty or forty-five. Leaning over the garden gate with a paper in his hand, he nodded pleasantly to John, who was gardening, while his grandmother kept watch lest he should slip from his work.
'This Parker's Due that you told me of,' he said, 'how shall I find it by walking?'
John and his granny, having almost quarrelled about the nearest way, gave him a direction at last, as plain as a Chinese puzzle.
'Bring me a jug11 of milk, Mrs. Sparks, and some of your good brown bread; I see I have a long walk before me, and must be fortified12.' Wouldn't he have some bacon, or wait for her to make a pan pudding with two or three eggs? No, he would not; he drank the milk, and putting the bread in his knapsack, took his iron-ended staff, or spud, and was opening the gate when two young ladies rode up, and, dismounting, the younger, who was exceedingly handsome, threw the bridle13 with an air of condescension14 into his hands. The elder, less beautiful, but pleasant-looking, hesitated to follow her example, and regarded him inquiringly.
Biddy Sparks came out, calling, 'John, John;' but John, reckoning on her having a longer talk with her lodger, and being tired of digging, had escaped to the Brimble Arms.
'Oh, ladies, I'm never so sorry—please, sir—I beg a hundred pardons, miss—couldn't I hold the horses, sir?—where can John be gone? You seen him here this minute, sir?'
Biddy knew well where he was gone, but did not hint at it, for fear of injuring his character before the ladies. The stranger, meantime, quietly tethered the horses securely to the strong fence, and, raising his cap to the young ladies, said to Biddy, 'I will find your grandson, and send him; they will stand quite safely,' looking at the horses, and then turned towards the inn, where he expected to see him.
Miss Brimble watched him out of sight; but her sister Flora15 scarcely allowed him to be beyond hearing before she asked who he was, adding, 'I thought it was one of the farm people.'
'He's my lodger, miss, and quite a gentleman, for all he's put up here,' said Biddy. 'Please walk in, ladies. The chickens are all alive, Miss Flora—I'm proud to say I haven't lost one; you'll please to come and look at them; and belike Miss Brimble will look at the beautiful pictures as Mr. Jobson have put up in the parlour.'
'Beautiful indeed!' said Miss Brimble, standing16 before a rough water-colour drawing of an extensive country scene. 'Oh, Flora, look! how exceedingly clever!' she exclaimed, and pointed17 out the merits of distance, colour, etc. Flora had no doubt it was all true, but did not examine it with much interest. While Miss Brimble stood before it in silent admiration18, she went with Biddy to visit her chickens, plying19 her with innumerable questions about her lodger.
'Jobson—what a name! poor old man! I daresay he's some map-maker, or surveyor, or that kind of thing. And so he plays the flute20? Why, how entertaining he must be! And you don't know where he came from, nor where he is going, nor what he wants here, nor how long he is going to stay? Well, if he had but a better name, he would be delightfully21 mysterious; but Jobson—and Matthew Jobson, too—there's no harmonizing that with mystery.'
Miss Brimble had well surveyed, not only the drawing described but several others,—some unintelligible22 to a common eye, from their roughness,—and seemed disinclined to leave them, when Flora returned from her visit to her pet chickens. As they rode through the long narrow lane that formed with its overhanging boughs23 an avenue almost private to the Hall, Flora upbraided24 her sister with not having visited her pets—' the sweetest little creatures in the world,' she said.
'Who can this person be?' said Miss Brimble, musingly25, and not noticing her sister's reproaches.
'Oh, some poor old broken-down artist—or—or—but what does it signify? I do believe, Charity, you are more interested in him than in my little darlings.'
'I wish,' said Miss Brimble, 'I had asked more questions of Biddy about him.'
'Don't be unhappy,' said Flora; 'I asked every conceivable question while you were looking at those things on the wall. His name is Matthew Jobson; he gets up at some unearthly hour—four or five—after sleeping on a mat on the floor, miserable26 man, with his window open; when the milk comes in, he drinks one long draught27, and eats brown bread, and that's his breakfast; then he shuts himself up in the parlour, and makes those smudges and scratches—I should call them—but of course you know best; then he starts off with hard-boiled eggs and brown bread, and walks no one knows where, and doesn't return till evening, and finishes the day with a solo on the flute, and some more bread and milk. Well, stop—I haven't done; he is undoubtedly28 very poor, but very honest, for he pays his reckoning every evening, which makes Biddy afraid he won't stay very long. He gives John the best advice—he knows everything, and has been everywhere—there!'
'I wonder if he would give drawing-lessons,' said Charity.
'Not to me,' said Flora; 'not even to be able to do those wonderful things that you admire so would I take lessons of such a sharp-looking old man.'
'Old!' said Miss Brimble; 'he's not old; I was quite struck with his appearance and manner; I believe he's a gentleman in reduced circumstances.'
'Gentleman Jobson,' said Flora.
'As for that, I think Jobson quite as good a name as Brimble.'
'I admit it—how could it be worse? but please to remember we are not bona fide Brimbles, as papa says; woe29 worth the day that turned us out of honourable30 "De la Marks" into people so ignoble31!'
The ride ended, and the story of the stranger was soon told to the family. Squire32 Brimble, who was the essence of indulgent fathers, promised to see him, and ascertain33 if Charity's wish could be accomplished34.
Accordingly, the next morning he set off to Stoney Gates to fulfil his promise. He found Mrs. Sparks at her wheel before the door, and the stranger leaning against the large walnut35 tree, sketching36 her. Mr. Brimble advanced with an air of easy kindness. 'Mr. Jobson, I believe.' The stranger, with a half-suppressed smile, returned his bow. 'My name is Brimble. I live at yon old red house. My daughters were here yesterday, and had the pleasure of seeing a drawing of yours which they admired exceedingly.' Again the stranger bowed. 'May I have the pleasure of seeing it?'
'By all means, if you will find it a pleasure;' and they entered the house together. Mr. Brimble walked to the largest drawing. He had no doubt Charity was right, and admired it in nearly the same terms in which she had praised it to him; but he wondered whether Flora might not be right—smudge and scratch.
'There's something very extraordinary in genius,' he said. 'It seems to make people forget the ordinary things of life. You, for instance, are so interested in your art, that I daresay you are insensible to half that you are exposed to in this queer place.'
'Queer place!' said the stranger; 'I wish genius may never fare worse. What can a man enjoy more than ease and sumptuous37 abundance?' and he seated himself carelessly on his portmanteau, while he pushed the only chair towards Mr. Brimble.
The squire answered with a chuckle38. Biddy Sparks' lodger revelling39 in ease and sumptuous abundance! The stranger smiled at his merriment, and said, 'If you had passed through what some travellers have,—I speak not of myself,—you would call this accommodation fit for a prince.'
The tone and manner which accompanied these words convinced Mr. Brimble that the person before him was no starved-out son of genius, that fed ill from an empty pocket; and as the conversation continued he became more and more impressed with the feeling that he was a gentleman who wanted no help, and, moreover, a man of highly gifted and cultivated mind. A thorough lover of ease in mind and body, Mr. Brimble enjoyed nothing more than amusement without the cost of exertion40; he was quite elated at the idea of having found a pleasant companion in so near a neighbour, whose company could be enjoyed without the bondage41 of ceremony. On the other hand, the stranger, keen in the perception of character, had at a glance read that of his visitor; kindness and candour were its leading features: the effect was mutual42 satisfaction.
At last, being satisfied that the stranger was travelling merely from amusement, and lived as he did from preference, the squire said, with a frank smile, as he proffered43 his snuff-box, 'Well, now for the truth. I came here fancying that you were a poor genius, at your wits' end for money, and I intended asking you to give lessons to my daughter; but, as I happen to be wrong in everything but the genius, instead of that come and dine with us to-day. We shall be alone, I believe; but even then we may hope to be as entertaining as Sparks and his granny.'
The stranger smiled, but shook his head. He glanced at his dress. 'I have no means of making a toilet here,' he said, 'and couldn't appear thus before ladies.'
'Nonsense!' said Mr. Brimble; 'you are fit for court. Mrs. Brimble and my children are quite indifferent to such matters; you are an idle man, and you've no excuse. Walk down with me now, and make a long day of it.' The stranger, still declaring that he could not then accept his hospitality, added that he would gladly walk with him, and they left the house together.
'This avenue, you see,' said the squire, 'amounts to a private road. None but our own people intrude44 on it; so that my daughters can ride or walk to their favourite haunts in the village and around it, without any fear of molestation45, without the tediousness of an attendant. We are all for liberty; it is as much our delight as if we had been born birds of the air. Anything like etiquette—when it is constraint—is our torment46. Now you see that little pathway that opens into a very pretty little wood, where there are all sorts of rustic47 gimcracks put together to please the ladies, who by the way seldom go there,—dove-house, hermitages, labyrinths48, and so on. Over yonder hill lies the Dew, a fine old place going to ruin; the estate at one point joins mine, or would, but for a trout49 stream. Are you an angler? Capital! then we shall have some sport together. I preserve, or pretend to do, but I'm poached on most unmercifully, and can't help myself. There's the house—"Hall," we call it—a good place enough. But before we go in, I must take you round my stables; I have just bought a hunter, high price—you shall judge him,' etc.
Thus Mr. Brimble talked; while the stranger, when his turn came, amused and interested the squire with his anecdotes50 of persons, places, and things. 'Why, you've been everywhere,' he cried, 'and know all the world! Here's my purchase,' as they entered the stable; and he was soon listening with the deepest admiration to his companion's strictures on the hunter, and the peculiarities51 of the Arab and other horses; but when a suggestion was made as to an improvement in ventilating the stables, the squire was rather nettled52. He was sure nothing could be better than his own plan; he'd no doubt Mr. Jobson might be right as to stables of other climates; but, etc. And in much vehemence53 did he continue the argument, till he found himself walking under the windows of the room in which the ladies were accustomed to sit during the morning.
Suddenly stopping, and forgetting stables and all connected with them, he pointed to Charity, who was sitting at one of them, and said, 'There's your pupil that was to have been. Let us go in. Mr. Jobson—Mrs. Brimble and my daughters. Ah, Miss Cruden! I didn't see your carriage. How's the doctor? My dear, Mr. Jobson is a friend of our old friend General Topham.'
'Scarcely a friend,' said the stranger, returning the salutation of the ladies with grave but frank courtesy.
'Well, well, you served with him somewhere, didn't you? or saw him, or something; I don't remember exactly what it was. We've been over so much ground that I've forgotten half the things you told me.'
The stranger gave a brief but interesting account of his last interview with the general, whom he incidentally described so graphically54 as to leave no doubt of his acquaintance with him. When this had come to an end, the squire seemed rather nervous lest the conversation should flag, and trotted55 out his new friend with the most scientific jockeyism, plying him with questions as to the Levant, America, and every place on which they had touched during their morning conversation.
The stranger seemed to suffer this tax upon his conversational56 powers rather than to enjoy it; he saw Mr. Brimble's motive57, which was to gain for him the favour of his family, and, appreciating his kindness, fell in with his wish. Charity and Flora exchanged glances; the former looked triumphant58—she had been right in her conjecture59. Flora listened to him for a little time, but very soon joined her mother and Miss Cruden in the discussion of some new crochet60 patterns, giving only an occasional exclamation61 when any circumstance of particular interest was narrated62. Mr. Jobson seemed equally ignorant of the indifference63 of the trio, and of the deep interest with which Charity listened to him. The squire was the centre of his notice, and he was evidently pleased with the gratification he was affording him. Dame64 Sparks' criticism, that he knew everything, seemed nearer the truth than such criticisms generally are.
At the luncheon65, of which he could not with courtesy refuse to partake, he delighted the squire by giving him the history of almost every known wine, and charmed the ladies, one and all, with descriptions of foreign fruits and flowers. Every object suggested some fresh ground on which to display his boundless66 information, and the ease with which the remarks passed from topic to topic, and the perfect simplicity67 of his manner, so free from conceit68, gave a tenfold charm to all. When he had left,—for he declined positively69 to remain the day, sorely to Mr. Brimble's disappointment,—a discussion concerning him naturally arose among the ladies, while the squire accompanied him, as he said, off the grounds.
'Oh, mamma, what a man!' said Flora; 'isn't he worse than a dictionary? I should get a brain fever if I heard him talk every day.'
'Where does he come from?' asked Miss Cruden—a rather elderly lady, with grey hair and gold spectacles and thin, sharp features.
'That remains70 to be proved,' said Mrs. Brimble.
'Come from!' cried Flora; 'why, he's like the man in the fairy tale, that came in at a hundred doors at once.'
'Mr. Brimble,' said his wife impressively, and turning with a confidential71 air to Miss Cruden, 'is so exceedingly imprudent, so easily deceived, that any one might take him in—any one that can talk.'
'There's no question about this person being able to talk,' said Miss Cruden; 'but why do you suppose he has been taken in now?'
'Tell me what a gentleman fit to be introduced here, and a friend of General Topham's, should do at Biddy Sparks'.'
'Biddy Sparks'!' said Miss Cruden, raising her eyebrows72 under her spectacles; 'that is indeed a singular lodging73 for a gentleman.'
'Oh, but he's a genius, mamma,' said Flora, 'and lives on bread and milk, and never goes to bed. I only hope, if papa brings him here again, he'll make him bring his flute; I should think we had come to an end of his geography.'
'I hope,' said Mrs. Brimble, 'if your papa does bring him here again, it will be with a letter of introduction, without which no one ought to be received here.'
'But, mamma, the man has had an introduction without a letter,' said Flora; 'and if it pleases papa, what does it signify? He won't run away with any of us—certainly not with me. I don't know about Charity,' she said, suddenly turning round and looking at her sister, who had not yet spoken. 'She was rather moonstruck about him this morning; but whether he's a gentleman or not, Char8, I'm positive he's old, and he's got the most frizzly little whiskers I ever saw; in fact, to me he is very much like his pictures.'
'And to me too,' said Charity.
'His pictures!' said Miss Cruden; 'pray, what are they like?'
'Oh, stop, Char!' said Flora; 'do let me tell first. You know, Miss Cruden, there's a long blue uneven74 smudge—that's a "distance;" then there are'—
'Flora,' cried her sister, 'how can you be so foolish? Miss Cruden is fond of drawing; the best way would be to ask for her to see them, and judge for herself; they are full of spirit and feeling.'
'What is his name?' said Miss Cruden; 'I did not hear.'
'Ah! that's the melancholy75 part of it,' said Flora. 'Char can't make that better—Jobson, undeniable Jobson. Here's papa; now, mamma, find out about the letter of introduction. I should rather enjoy his turning out an impostor, because Char looks so triumphant.'
Mr. Brimble had indeed appeared, but he remained in a hesitating manner on the walk, as if undecided about rejoining the ladies. The truth was that, upon reflection, he felt he had committed what his wife would call a most imprudent action. He hardly shaped her censure76 into a definite form; but any form would be unpleasant enough. He knew her first question would be, 'credentials,' and none had he to give; in fact, he had nothing but the stranger's word as a guarantee for his respectability. Poor Mr. Brimble! he abhorred77 a lecture; yet he was always carelessly exposing himself to one. With the consoling remembrance that Miss Cruden's presence would break the force of the attack, he ventured on the enemy.
'Couldn't prevail on him to turn back,' he said (looking anywhere but at Mrs. Brimble). 'A positive fellow when he's once made up his mind, I can see; but he has promised to come when he returns from a few days' ramble78; and, in the meantime, you, Char, are welcome to any of his sketches79 that you think worth copying; he has a large portfolio80, which you may ransack81 at pleasure during his absence.'
'Did he bring letters of introduction?' asked Mrs. Brimble, with significant dryness.
'I didn't require any,' said her husband carelessly, less uneasy at the conflict now he was fairly in for it.
'Your imprudence, Mr. Brimble, does surprise me, though it ought not to do so, considering my long experience of it.'
'Imprudence, imprudence! what imprudence?' inquired the squire quickly; 'am I to welcome no one to my house who does not bring a certificate? Isn't it my habit to call on all new-comers?'
'Very few gentlemen would expect to be called on in this person's circumstances; and I must say'—
'Now, there's your mistake, Mary. You think you must say; but you mustn't say; for once, my imprudence will come to no harm, at any rate. He's a gentleman,—a most agreeable, clever fellow, and a great acquisition to us in our dull quarters.'
'Don't you remember that account in the paper,' said Mrs. Brimble, turning to Miss Cruden, 'of a very clever man, who introduced himself under false pretences82 into a family, and an extensive robbery was the consequence?'
'No, she does not; though she is trying to get up a reminiscence to accommodate you, I can see. But if she does, it proves nothing; there's no analogy. To begin, this man didn't introduce himself; I sought him, and, to cut it short, Mary, I have indubitable proof that he is a gentleman.'
Mrs. Brimble looked up for the proof that thus cut her short; but the squire, feeling he had the advantage in asserting which he would have lost in proving,—for his conviction lay only in his innate83 perception of gentle birth and high breeding,—kept on high ground, and, declaring it was not endurable that they should waste the day in the house during such glorious weather, invited them to follow him to the shrubberies to look at his improvements there.
Miss Cruden immediately proceeded to fold into its proper creases84 a large square of cambric she was hemming85 for the doctor; Mrs. Brimble looked offended, and disinclined to accede86 to the proposal. Flora threw down her work, wondering she could have stayed in so long; and Charity, as she followed her, questioned why the stranger should have remembered her and her love for art. Her sister, as if answering her thoughts, said carelessly, while adjusting her hat, 'How kind it was of papa to ask that you might see those things! for of course he asked, though he is willing that the credit should lie with "the admirable Jobson." It's just like him, dear kind heart!' and she hastened after him into the shrubbery.
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1
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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3
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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lodger
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| n.寄宿人，房客 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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char
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| v.烧焦；使...燃烧成焦炭 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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furrowed
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| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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condescension
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| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
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flora
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| n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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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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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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plying
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的现在分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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flute
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| n.长笛；v.吹笛 | |
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delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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upbraided
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| v.责备，申斥，谴责( upbraid的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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ignoble
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| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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sketching
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| n.草图 | |
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sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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revelling
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| v.作乐( revel的现在分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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42
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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molestation
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| n.骚扰，干扰，调戏；折磨 | |
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46
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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47
rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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48
labyrinths
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| 迷宫( labyrinth的名词复数 )； （文字，建筑）错综复杂的 | |
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49
trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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50
anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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51
peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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52
nettled
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| v.拿荨麻打，拿荨麻刺（nettle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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54
graphically
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| adv.通过图表；生动地，轮廓分明地 | |
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55
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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57
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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58
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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59
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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60
crochet
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| n.钩针织物；v.用钩针编制 | |
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61
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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62
narrated
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| v.故事( narrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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65
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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67
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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68
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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71
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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72
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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73
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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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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76
censure
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| v./n.责备；非难；责难 | |
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77
abhorred
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| v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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78
ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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80
portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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81
ransack
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| v.彻底搜索，洗劫 | |
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82
pretences
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| n.假装( pretence的名词复数 )；作假；自命；自称 | |
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83
innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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84
creases
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的第三人称单数 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹 | |
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85
hemming
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| 卷边 | |
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86
accede
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| v.应允，同意 | |
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