Abel went to school again in the spring, and, though George would have been better pleased had he forgotten the whole affair, he remembered the word in George’s young woman’s love-letter which had puzzled him; and never was a spelling-lesson set him among the M’s that he did not hope to come across it and to be able to demand the meaning of Moerdyk from his Dame.
Without the excuse of its coming in the column of spelling set by herself, Abel dared not ask her to solve his puzzle; for never did teacher more warmly resent questions which she was unable to answer than Dame Datchett.
Abel could not fully3 make up his mind whether it should be looked up among two-syllabled or three-syllabled words. He decided4 for the former, and one day brought his spelling-book to George in the round-house.
“I’ve been a looking for that yere word, Gearge,” said he. “There’s lots of Mo’s, but it bean’t among ’em. Here they be. Words of two syllables5; M, Ma, Me, Mi; here they be, Mo.” And Abel began to rattle6 off the familiar column at a good rate, George looking earnestly over his shoulder, and following the boy’s finger as it moved rapidly down the page. “Mocking, Modern, Mohawk, Molar, Molly, Moment, Money, Moping, Moral, Mortal, Moses, Motive7, Movement.”
“Stop a bit, mun,” cried George; “what do all they words mean? They bothers me.”
“I knows some of ’em,” said Abel, “and I asked Dame Datchett about the others, but she do be so cross; and I thinks some of ’em bothered she too. There’s mocking. I knows that. ‘What’s a modern, Dame?’ says I. ‘A muddle-headed fellow the likes of you,’ says she. ‘What’s a mohawk, Dame?’ says I. ‘It’s what you’ll come to before long, ye young hang-gallus,’ says she. I was feared on her, Gearge, I can tell ’ee; but I tried my luck again. ‘What’s a molar, Dame?’ says I. ‘’Tis a wus word than t’other,’ says she; ‘and, if ’ee axes me any more voolish questions, I’ll break thee yead for ’ee.’ Do ’ee think ’tis a very bad word, Gearge?” added Abel, with a rather indefensible curiosity.
“I never heard un,” said George. And this was perhaps decisive against the Dame’s statement. “And I don’t believe un neither. I think it bothered she. I believe ’tis a genteel word for a man as catches oonts. They call oonts moles8 in some parts, so p’r’aps they calls a man as catches moles a molar, as they calls a man as drives a mill a miller.”
“’Tis likely too, Gearge,” said Abel. “Well! Molly we knows. And moment, and moping, and moral.”
“What’s moral?” inquired George.
“’Tis what they put at the end of Vables, Gearge. There’s Vables at the end of the spelling-book, and I’ve read un all. There’s the Wolf and the Lamb, and”—
“I knows now,” said George. “’Tis like the last verse of that song about the Harnet and the Bittle. Go on, Abel.”
“Mortal. That’s swearing. Moses. That’s in the Bible, Gearge. Motive. I thought I’d try un just once more. ‘What’s a motive, Dame?’ says I. ‘I’ve got un here,’ says she, quite quiet-like. But I seed her feeling under ’s chair, and I know’d ’twas for the strap9, and I ran straight off, spelling-book and all, Gearge.”
“So thee’ve been playing moocher, eh?” said George, with an unpleasant twinkle in his eyes. “What’ll Master Lake say to that?”
“Don’t ’ee tell un, Gearge!” Abel implored10; “and, O Gearge! let I tell mother about the word. Maybe she’ve heard tell of it. Let I show her the letter, Gearge. She’ll read it for ’ee. She’s a scholard, is mother.”
There was no mistaking now the wrath11 in George’s face. The fury that is fed by fear blazes pretty strongly at all times.
“Look ’ee, Abel, my boy,” said he, pinching Abel’s shoulder till he turned red and white with pain. “If thee ever speaks of that letter and that word to any mortal soul, I’ll tell Master Lake thee plays moocher, and I’ll half kill thee myself. Thee shall rue12 the day ever thee was born!” he added, almost beside himself with rage and terror. And as, after a few propitiating13 words, Abel fled from the mill, George ground his hands together and muttered, “Motive! I wish the old witch had motived every bone in thee body, or let me do ’t!”
Master George Sannel was indeed a little irritable14 at this stage of his career. Like the miller, he had had one stroke of good luck, but capricious fortune would not follow up the blow.
He had made five pounds pretty easily. But how to turn some other property of which he had become possessed15 to profit for himself was, after months of waiting, a puzzle still.
He was well aware that his own want of education was the great hindrance16 to his discovering for himself the exact worth of what he had got. And to his suspicious nature the idea of letting any one else into his secret, even to gain help, was quite intolerable.
Abel seemed to be no nearer even to the one word that George had showed him, after weeks of “schooling,” and George himself progressed so slowly in learning to read that he was at times tempted17 to give up the effort in despair.
Of his late outburst against Abel he afterwards repented18, as impolitic, and was soon good friends again with his very placable teacher.
Much of the time when he should have been at work did George spend in “puzzling” over his position. Sometimes, as from an upper window of the mill he saw the little Jan in Abel’s arms, he would mutter,—
“If a body were to kidnap un, would they advertise he, I wonders?” and after some consideration would shake his white head doubtfully, saying, “No, they wants to get rid of un, or they wouldn’t have brought un here.”
Happily for poor little Jan, the unscrupulous rustic19 rejected the next idea which came to him as too doubtful of success.
“I wonder if they’d come down something handsome to them as could tell ’em the young varmint was off their hands for good and all. ’Twould save un ten shilling a week. Ten shilling a week! I heard un with my own ears. I’d a kep’ un for five, if they’d asked me. I wonders now. Little uns like that does get stole by gipsies sometimes. Varmer Smith’s son were, and never heard on again. They falls into a mill-race too sometimes. They be so venturesome. But I doubt ’twouldn’t do. Them as it belongs to might be glad enough to get rid of un, and save their credit and their money too by turning upon I after all.”
The miller’s man puzzled himself in vain. He could think of no mode of action at once safe and certain of success. He did not even know whether what he possessed had any value, or how or where to make use of it. But a sort of dim hope of seeing his way yet kept him about the mill, and he persevered20 in the effort to learn to read, and kept his big ears open for any thing that might drop from the miller or his wife to throw light on the history of Jan, with whom his hopes were bound up.
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1
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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2
miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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3
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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4
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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6
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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7
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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8
moles
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| 防波堤( mole的名词复数 )； 鼹鼠； 痣； 间谍 | |
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9
strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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10
implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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12
rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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13
propitiating
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| v.劝解，抚慰，使息怒( propitiate的现在分词 ) | |
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14
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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15
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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16
hindrance
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| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
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17
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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18
repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19
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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20
persevered
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| v.坚忍，坚持( persevere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
bided
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| v.等待，停留( bide的过去式 )；居住；等待；面临 | |
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