The mornings were beginning to grow dark and chilly1: fires were laid overnight in the outer classrooms — and the junior governess who was on early duty, having pealed2 the six-o’clock bell, flitted like a grey wraith3 from room to room and from one gas-jet to another, among stretched, sleeping forms. And the few minutes’ grace at an end, it was a cold, unwilling4 pack that threw off coverlets and jumped out of bed, to tie on petticoats and snuggle into dressing-gowns and shawls; for the first approach of cooler weather was keenly felt, after the summer heat. The governess blew on speedily chilblained fingers, in making her rounds of the verandahs to see that each of the twenty pianos was rightly occupied; and, as winter crept on, its chief outward sign an occasional thin white spread of frost which vanished before the mighty5 sun of ten o’clock, she sometimes took the occupancy for granted, and skipped an exposed room.
At eight, the boarders assembled in the dining-hall for prayers and breakfast. After this meal it was Mrs. Gurley’s custom to drink a glass of hot water. While she sipped6, she gave audience, meting7 out rebukes8 and crushing complaints — were any bold enough to offer them — standing9 erect10 behind her chair at the head of the table, supported by one or more of the staff. To suit the season she was draped in a shawl of crimson11 wool, which reached to the flounce of her skirt, and was borne by her portly shoulders with the grace of a past day. Beneath the shawl, her dresses were built, year in, year out, on the same plan: cut in one piece, buttoning right down the front, they fitted her like an eelskin, rigidly12 outlining her majestic13 proportions, and always short enough to show a pair of surprisingly small, well-shod feet. Thus she stood, sipping14 her water, and boring with her hard, unflagging eye every girl that presented herself to it. Most shrank noiselessly away as soon as breakfast was over; for, unless one was very firm indeed in the conviction of one’s own innocence15, to be beneath this eye was apt to induce a disagreeable sense of guilt16. In the case of Mrs. Gurley, familiarity had never been known to breed contempt. She was possessed17 of what was little short of genius, for ruling through fear; and no more fitting overseer could have been set at the head of these half-hundred girls, of all ages and degrees: gentle and common; ruly and unruly, children hardly out of the nursery, and girls well over the brink18 of womanhood, whose ripe, bursting forms told their own tale; the daughters of poor ministers at reduced fees; and the spoilt heiresses of wealthy wool-brokers and squatters, whose dowries would mount to many thousands of pounds.— Mrs. Gurley was equal to them all.
In a very short time, there was no more persistent19 shrinker from the ice of this gaze than little Laura. In the presence of Mrs. Gurley the child had a difficulty in getting her breath. Her first week of school life had been one unbroken succession of snubs and reprimands. For this, the undue20 familiarity of her manner was to blame: she was all too slow to grasp — being of an impulsive21 disposition22 and not naturally shy — that it was indecorous to accost23 Mrs. Gurley off-hand, to treat her, indeed, in any way as if she were an ordinary mortal. The climax24 had come one morning — it still made Laura’s cheeks burn to remember it. She had not been able to master her French lesson for that day, and seeing Mrs. Gurley chatting to a governess had gone thoughtlessly up to her and tapped her on the arm.
“Mrs. Gurley, please, do you think it would matter very much if I only took half this verb today? It’s COUDRE, and means to sew, you know, and it’s SO hard. I don’t seem to be able to get it into my head.”
Before the words were out of her mouth, she saw that she had made a terrible mistake. Mrs. Gurley’s face, which had been smiling, froze to stone. She looked at her arm as though the hand had bitten her, and Laura’s sudden shrinking did not move her, to whom seldom anyone addressed a word unbidden.
“How DARE you interrupt me — when I am speaking!”— she hissed25, punctuating26 her words with the ominous27 head-shakes and pauses. “The first thing, miss, for you to do, will be, to take a course of lessons, in manners. Your present ones, may have done well enough, in the outhouse, to which you have evidently belonged. They will not do, here, in the company of your betters.”
Above the child’s head the two ladies smiled significantly at each other, assured that, after this, there would be no further want of respect; but Laura did not see them. The iron of the thrust went deep down into her soul: no one had ever yet cast a slur28 upon her home. Retreating to a lavatory29 she cried herself nearly sick, making her eyes so red that she was late for prayers in trying to wash them white. Since that day, she had never of her own free will approached Mrs. Gurley again, and even avoided those places where she was likely to be found. This was why one morning, some three weeks later, on discovering that she had forgotten one of her lesson-books, she hesitated long before re-entering the dining-hall. The governesses still clustered round their chief, and the pupils were not expected to return. But it was past nine o’clock; in a minute the public prayer-bell would ring, which united boarders, several hundred day-scholars, resident and visiting teachers in the largest class-room; and Laura did not know her English lesson. So she stole in, cautiously dodging30 behind the group, in a twitter lest the dreaded31 eyes should turn her way.
It was Miss Day who spied her and demanded an explanation.
“Such carelessness! You girls would forget your heads if they weren’t screwed on,” retorted the governess, in the dry, violent manner that made her universally disliked.
Thankful to escape with this, Laura picked out her book and hurried from the room.
But the thoughts of the group had been drawn32 to her.
“The greatest little oddity we’ve had here for some time,” pronounced Miss Day, pouting33 her full bust34 in decisive fashion.
“She is, indeed,” agreed Miss Zielinski.
“I don’t know what sort of a place she comes from, I’m sure,” continued the former: “but it must be the end of creation. She’s utterly35 no idea of what’s what, and as for her clothes they’re fit for a Punch and Judy show.”
“She’s had no training either — stupid, I call her,” chimed in one of the younger governesses, whose name was Miss Snodgrass. “She doesn’t know the simplest things, and her spelling is awful. And yet, do you know, at history the other day, she wanted to hold forth36 about how London looked in Elizabeth’s reign37 — when she didn’t know a single one of the dates!”
“She can say some poetry,” said Miss Zielinski. “And she’s read Scott.”
One and all shook their heads at this, and Mrs. Gurley went on shaking hers and smiling grimly. “Ah! the way gels are brought up nowadays,” she said. “There was no such thing in my time. We were made to learn what would be of some use and help to us afterwards.”
Elderly Miss Chapman twiddled her chain. “I hope I did right Mrs. Gurley. She had one week’s early practice, but she looked so white all day after it that I haven’t put her down for it again. I hope I did right?”
“Oh, well, we don’t want to have them ill, you know,” replied Mrs. Gurley, in the rather irresponsive tone she adopted towards Miss Chapman. “As long as it isn’t mere38 laziness.”
“I don’t think she’s lazy,” said Miss Chapman. “At least she takes great pains with her lessons at night.”
This was true. Laura tried her utmost, with an industry born of despair. For the comforting assurance of speedy promotion39, which she had given Mother, had no root in fact. These early weeks only served to reduce, bit by bit, her belief in her own knowledge. How slender this was, and of how little use to her in her new state, she did not dare to confess even to herself. Her disillusionment had begun the day after her arrival, when Dr Pughson, the Headmaster, to whom she had gone to be examined in arithmetic, flung up hands of comical dismay at her befogged attempts to solve the mysteries of long division. An upper class was taking a lesson in Euclid, and in the intervals40 between her mazy reckonings she had stolen glances at the master. A tiny little nose was as if squashed flat on his face, above a grotesquely41 expressive42 mouth, which displayed every one of a splendid set of teeth. He had small, short-sighted, red-rimmed eyes, and curly hair which did not stop growing at his ears, but went on curling, closely cropped, down the sides of his face. He taught at the top of his voice, thumped43 the blackboard with a pointer, was biting at the expense of a pupil who confused the angle BFC with the angle BFG, a moment later to volley forth a broad Irish joke which convulsed the class. He bewitched Laura; she forgot her sums in the delight of watching him; and this made her learning seem a little scantier44 than it actually was; for she had to wind up in a great hurry. He pounced45 down upon her; the class laughed anew at his playful horror; and yet again at the remark that it was evident she had never had many pennies to spend, or she would know better what to do with the figures that represented them.— In these words Laura scented46 a reference to Mother’s small income, and grew as red as fire.
In the lowest class in the College she sat bottom, for a week or more: what she did know, she knew in such an awkward form that she might as well have known nothing. And after a few efforts to better her condition she grew cautious, and hesitated discreetly47 before returning one of those ingenuous48 answers which, in the beginning, had made her the merry-andrew of the class. She could for instance, read a French story-book without skipping very many words; but she had never heard a syllable49 of the language spoken, and her first attempts at pronunciation caused even Miss Zielinski to sit back in her chair and laugh till the tears ran down her face. History Laura knew in a vague, pictorial52 way: she and Pin had enacted53 many a striking scene in the garden — such as “Not Angles but Angels,” or, did the pump-drain overflow54, Canute and his silly courtiers — and she also had out-of-the-way scraps55 of information about the characters of some of the monarchs56, or, as the governess had complained, about the state of London at a certain period; but she had never troubled her head with dates. Now they rose before her, a hard, dry, black line from 1066 on, accompanied, not only by the kings who were the cause of them, but by dull laws, and their duller repeals57. Her lessons in English alone gave her a mild pleasure; she enjoyed taking a sentence to pieces to see how it was made. She was fond of words, too, for their own sake, and once, when Miss Snodgrass had occasion to use the term “eleemosynary”, Laura was so enchanted58 by it that she sought to share her enthusiasm with her neighbour. This girl, a fat little Jewess, went crimson, from trying to stifle59 her laughter.
“What IS the matter with you girls down there?” cried Miss Snodgrass. “Carrie Isaacs, what are you laughing like that for?”
“It’s Laura Rambotham, Miss Snodgrass. She’s so funny,” spluttered the girl.
“What are you doing, Laura?”
Laura did not answer. The girl spoke50 for her.
“She said — hee, hee!— she said it was blue.”
“Blue? What’s blue?” snapped Miss Snodgrass.
“That word. She said it was so beautiful . . . and that it was blue.”
“I didn’t. Grey-blue, I said,” murmured Laura her cheeks aflame.
The class rocked; even Miss Snodgrass herself had to join in the laugh while she hushed and reproved. And sometimes after this, when a particularly long or odd word occurred in the lesson, she would turn to Laura and say jocosely60: “Now, Laura, come on, tell us what colour that is. Red and yellow, don’t you think?”
But these were “Tom Fool’s colours”; and Laura kept a wise silence.
One day at geography, the pupils were required to copy the outline of the map of England. Laura, about to begin, found to her dismay that she had lost her pencil. To confess the loss meant one of the hard, public rebukes from which she shrank. And so, while the others drew, heads and backs bent61 low over their desks, she fidgeted and sought — on her lap, the bench, the floor.
“What on earth’s the matter?” asked her neighbour crossly; it was the black-haired boarder who had winked62 at Laura the first evening at tea; her name was Bertha Ramsey. “I can’t draw a stroke if you shake like that.”
“I’ve lost my pencil.”
The girl considered Laura for a moment, then pushed the lid from a box of long, beautifully sharpened drawing-pencils. “Here, you can have one of these.”
Laura eyed the well-filled box admiringly, and modestly selected the shortest pencil. Bertha Ramsay, having finished her map, leaned back in her seat.
“And next time you feel inclined to boo-hoo at the tea-table, hold on to your eyebrows63 and sing Rule Britannia.— DID it want its mummy, poor ickle sing?”
Here Bertha’s chum, a girl called Inez, chimed in from the other side.
“It’s all very well for you,” she said to Bertha, in a deep, slow voice. “You’re a weekly boarder.”
Laura had the wish to be very pleasant, in return for the pencil. So she drew a sigh, and said, with over-emphasis: “How nice for your mother to have you home every week!”
Bertha only laughed at this, in a teasing way: “Yes, isn’t it?” But Inez leaned across behind her and gave Laura a poke51.
“Shut up!” she telegraphed.
“Who’s talking down there?” came the governess’s cry. “Here you, the new girl, Laura what’s — your-name, come up to the map.”
A huge map of England had been slung64 over an easel; Laura was required to take the pointer and show where Stafford lay. With the long stick in her hand, she stood stupid and confused. In this exigency65, it did not help her that she knew, from hear-say, just how England looked; that she could see, in fancy, its ever-green grass, thick hedges, and spreading trees; its never-dry rivers; its hoary66 old cathedrals; its fogs, and sea-mists, and over-populous cities. She stood face to face with the most puzzling map in the world — a map seared and scored with boundary-lines, black and bristling67 with names. She could not have laid her finger on London at this moment, and as for Stafford, it might have been in the moon.
While the class straggled along the verandah at the end of the hour, Inez came up to Laura’s side.
“I say, you shouldn’t have said that about her mother.” She nodded mysteriously.
“Why not?” asked Laura, and coloured at the thought that she had again, without knowing it, been guilty of a FAUX PAS.
Inez looked round to see that Bertha was not within hearing, then put her lips to Laura’s ear.
“She drinks.”
Laura gaped68 incredulous at the girl, her young eyes full of horror. From actual experience, she hardly knew what drunkenness meant; she had hitherto associated it only with the lowest class of Irish agricultural labourer, or with those dreadful white women who lived, by choice, in Chinese Camps. That there could exist a mother who drank was unthinkable . . . outside the bounds of nature.
“Oh, how awful!” she gasped69, and turned pale with excitement. Inez could not help giggling70 at the effect produced by her words — the new girl was a ‘rum stick’ and no mistake — but as Laura’s consternation71 persisted, she veered72 about
“Oh, well, I don’t know for certain if that’s it. But there’s something awfully73 queer about her.”
“Oh, HOW do you know?” asked her breathless listener, mastered by a morbid74 curiosity.
“I’ve been there — at Vaucluse — from a Saturday till Monday. She came in to lunch, and she only talked to herself, not to us. She tried to eat mustard with her pudding too, and her meat was cut up in little pieces for her. I guess if she’d had a knife she’d have cut our throats.”
“Oh!” was all Laura could get out.
“I was so frightened my mother said I shouldn’t go again.”
“Oh, I hope she won’t ask me. What shall I do if she does?”
“Look out, here she comes! Don’t say a word. Bertha’s awfully ashamed of it,” said Inez, and Laura had just time to give a hasty promise.
“Hullo, you two, what are you gassing about?” cried Bertha, and dealt out a couple of her rough and friendly punches.—“I say, who’s on for a race up the garden?”
They raced, all three, with flying plaits and curls, much kicking-up of long black legs, and a frank display of frills and tuckers. Laura won; for Inez’s wind gave out half way, and Bertha was heavy of foot. Leaning against the palings Laura watched the latter come puffing75 up to join her — Bertha with the shameful76 secret in the background, of a mother who was not like other mothers.
收听单词发音 |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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pealed
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| v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wraith
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| n.幽灵；骨瘦如柴的人 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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meting
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| v.（对某人）施以，给予（处罚等）( mete的现在分词 ) | |
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rebukes
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的第三人称单数 ) | |
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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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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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undue
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| adj.过分的；不适当的；未到期的 | |
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impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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accost
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| v.向人搭话，打招呼 | |
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climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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punctuating
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| v.（在文字中）加标点符号，加标点( punctuate的现在分词 )；不时打断某事物 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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slur
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| v.含糊地说；诋毁；连唱；n.诋毁；含糊的发音 | |
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lavatory
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| n.盥洗室，厕所 | |
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dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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grotesquely
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| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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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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thumped
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| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scantier
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| adj.（大小或数量）不足的，勉强够的( scanty的比较级 ) | |
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45
pounced
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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50
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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51
poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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52
pictorial
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| adj.绘画的；图片的；n．画报 | |
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enacted
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| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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55
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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monarchs
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| 君主，帝王( monarch的名词复数 ) | |
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repeals
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| 撤销，废除( repeal的名词复数 ) | |
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58
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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jocosely
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| adv.说玩笑地，诙谐地 | |
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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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62
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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63
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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64
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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exigency
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| n.紧急；迫切需要 | |
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66
hoary
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| adj.古老的；鬓发斑白的 | |
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67
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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68
gaped
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| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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69
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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70
giggling
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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71
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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72
veered
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| v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的过去式和过去分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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73
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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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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76
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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