Rachel had on various occasions gone with her sister to the Dorcas meetings, and once or twice had remained at Miss Pucker’s house, drinking tea there. But this she greatly disliked. She was aware, when she did so, that her sister paid for her, and she thought that Dorothea showed by her behaviour that she was mistress of the entertainment. And then Rachel greatly disliked Miss Pucker. She disliked that lady’s squint5, she disliked the tone of her voice, she disliked her subservience6 to Mrs Prime, and she especially disliked the vehemence7 of her objection to — young men. When Rachel had last left Miss Pucker’s room she had resolved that she would never again drink tea there. She had not said to herself positively8 that she would attend no more of the Dorcas meetings — but as regarded their summer arrangement this resolve against the tea-drinking amounted almost to the same thing.
It was on this account, I protest, and by no means on account of that young man from the brewery9, that Rachel had with determination opposed her sister’s request on this special Saturday. And the refusal had been made in an unaccustomed manner, owing to the request also having been pressed with unusual vigour10.
“Rachel, I particularly wish it, and I think that you ought to come,” Dorothea had said.
“I had rather not come, Dolly.”
“That means”, continued Mrs Prime, “that you prefer your pleasure to your duty — that you boldly declare yourself determined11 to neglect that which you know you ought to do.”
“I don’t know any such thing,” said Rachel.
“If you think of it you will know it,” said Mrs Prime.
“At any rate I don’t mean to go to Miss Pucker’s this afternoon.” Then Rachel left the room.
It was immediately after this conversation that Mrs Prime uttered to Mrs Ray that terrible hint about the young man; and at the same time uttered another hint by which she strove to impress upon her mother that Rachel ought to be kept in subordination — in fact, that the power should not belong to Rachel of choosing whether she would or would not go to Dorcas meetings. In all such matters, according to Dorothea’s view of the case, Rachel should do as she was bidden. But then how was Rachel to be made to do as she was bidden? How was her sister to enforce her attendance? Obedience13 in this world depends as frequently on the weakness of him who is governed as on the strength of him who governs. That man who was going to the left is ordered by you with some voice of command to go to the right. When he hesitates you put more command into your voice, more command into your eyes — and then he obeys. Mrs Prime had tried this, but Rachel had not turned to the right. When Mrs Prime applied14 for aid to their mother, it was a sign that the power of command was going from herself. After dinner the elder sister made another little futile15 attempt, and then, when she had again failed, she trudged16 off with her basket.
Mrs Ray and Rachel were left sitting at the open window, looking out upon the mignonette. It was now in July, when the summer sun is at the hottest — and in those southern parts of Devonshire the summer sun in July is very hot. There is no other part of England like it. The lanes are low and narrow, and not a breath of air stirs through them. The ground rises in hills on all sides, so that every spot is a sheltered nook. The rich red earth drinks in the heat and holds it, and no breezes come up from the southern torpid17 sea. Of all counties in England Devonshire is the fairest to the eye; but, having known it in its summer glory, I must confess that those southern regions are not fitted for much noonday summer walking.
“I’m afraid she’ll find it very hot with that big basket,” said Mrs Ray, after a short pause. It must not be supposed that either she or Rachel were idle because they remained at home. They both had their needles in their hands, and Rachel was at work, not on that coloured frock of her own which had roused her sister’s suspicion, but on needful aid to her mother’s Sunday gown.
“She might have left it in Baslehurst if she liked,” said Rachel, “or I would have carried it for her as far as the bridge, only that she was so angry with me when she went.”
“I don’t think she was exactly angry, Rachel.”
“Oh, but she was, mamma — very angry. I know by her way of flinging out of the house.”
“I think she was sorry because you would not go with her.”
“But I don’t like going there, mamma. I don’t like that Miss Pucker. I can’t go without staying to tea, and I don’t like drinking tea there.” Then there was a little pause. “You don’t want me to go — do you, mamma? How would the things get done here? and you can’t like having your tea alone.”
“No; I don’t like that at all,” said Mrs Ray. But she hardly thought of what she was saying. Her mind was away, working on the subject of that young man. She felt that it was her duty to say something to Rachel, and yet she did not know what to say. Was she to quote Miss Pucker? It went, moreover, sorely against the grain with her to disturb the comfort of their present happy moments by any disagreeable allusion18. The world gave her nothing better than those hours in which Rachel was alone with her — in which Rachel tended her and comforted her. No word had been said on a subject so wicked and full of vanity, but Mrs Ray knew that her evening meal would be brought in at half past five in the shape of a little feast — a feast which would not be spread if Mrs Prime had remained at home. At five o’clock Rachel would slip away and make hot toast, and would run over the Green to Farmer Sturt’s wife for a little thick cream, and there would be a batter19 cake, and so there would be a feast. Rachel was excellent at the preparation of such banquets, knowing how to coax20 the teapot into a good drawing humour, and being very clever in little comforts; and she would hover21 about her mother, in a way very delightful22 to that lady, making the widow feel for the time that there was a gleam of sunshine in the valley of tribulation23. All that must be over for this afternoon if she spoke24 of Miss Pucker and the young man. Yes; and must it not be over for many an afternoon to come? If there were to be distrust between her and Rachel what would her life be worth to her?
But yet there was her duty! As she sat there looking out into the garden indistinct ideas of what were a mother’s duties to her child lay heavy on her mind — ideas which were very indistinct, but which were not on that account the less powerful in their operation. She knew that it behoved her to sacrifice everything to her child’s welfare, but she did not know what special sacrifice she was at this moment called upon to make. Would it be well that she should leave this matter altogether in the hands of Mrs Prime, and thus, as it were, abdicate25 her own authority? Mrs Prime would undertake such a task with much more skill and power of language than she could use. But then would this be fair to Rachel, and would Rachel obey her sister? Any explicit26 direction from herself — if only she could bring herself to give any — Rachel would, she thought, obey. In this way she resolved that she would break the ice and do her duty.
“Are you going into Baslehurst this evening, dear?” she said.
“Yes, mamma; I shall walk in after tea — that is if you don’t want me. I told the Miss Tappitts I would meet them.”
“No; I shan’t want you. But, Rachel —”
“Well, mamma?”
Mrs Ray did not know how to do it. The matter was surrounded with difficulties. How was she to begin, so as to introduce the subject of the young man without shocking her child and showing an amount of distrust which she did not feel? “Do you like those Miss Tappitts?” she said.
“Yes — in a sort of a way. They are very good-natured, and one likes to know somebody. I think they are nicer than Miss Pucker.”
“Oh, yes — I never did like Miss Pucker myself. But, Rachel —”
“What is it, mamma? I know you’ve something to say, and that you don’t half like to say it. Dolly has been telling tales about me, and you want to lecture me, only you haven’t got the heart. Isn’t that it, mamma?” Then she put down her work, and coming close up to her mother, knelt before her and looked up into her face, “You want to scold me, and you haven’t got the heart to do it.”
“My darling, my darling,” said the mother, stroking her child’s soft smooth hair. “I don’t want to scold you — I never want to scold you. I hate scolding anybody.”
“I know you do, mamma.”
“But they have told me something which has frightened me.”
“They! who are they?”
“Your sister told me, and Miss Pucker told her.”
“Oh, Miss Pucker! What business has Miss Pucker with me? If she is to come between us all our happiness will be over.” Then Rachel rose from her knees and began to look angry, whereupon her mother was more frightened than ever. “But let me hear it, mamma. I’ve no doubt it is something very awful.”
Mrs Ray looked at her daughter with beseeching27 eyes, as though praying to be forgiven for having introduced a subject so disagreeable. “Dorothea says that on Wednesday evening you were walking under the churchyard elms with — that young man from the brewery.”
At any rate everything had been said now. The extent of the depravity with which Rachel was to be charged had been made known to her in the very plainest terms. Mrs Ray as she uttered the terrible words turned first pale and then red — pale with fear and red with shame. As soon as she had spoken them she wished the words unsaid. Her dislike to Miss Pucker amounted almost to hatred28. She felt bitterly even towards her own eldest29 daughter. She looked timidly into Rachel’s face and unconsciously construed30 into their true meaning those lines which formed themselves on the girl’s brow and over her eyes.
“Well, mamma; and what else?” said Rachel.
“Dorothea thinks that perhaps you are going into Baslehurst to meet him again.”
“And suppose I am?”
From the tone in which this question was asked it was clear to Mrs Ray that she was expected to answer it. And yet what answer could she make?
It had never occurred to her that her child would take upon herself to defend such conduct as that imputed31 to her, or that any question would be raised as to the propriety32 or impropriety of the proceeding33. She was by no means prepared to show why it was so very terrible and iniquitous34. She regarded it as a sin — known to be a sin generally — as is stealing or lying. “Suppose I am going to walk with him again? what then?”
“Oh, Rachel, who is he? I don’t even know his name. I didn’t believe it, when Dorothea told me; only as she did tell me I thought I ought to mention it. Oh dear, oh dear! I hope there is nothing wrong. You were always so good — I can’t believe anything wrong of you.”
“No, mamma — don’t. Don’t think evil of me.”
“I never did, my darling.”
“I am not going into Baslehurst to walk with Mr Rowan — for I suppose it is him you mean.”
“I don’t know, my dear; I never heard the young man’s name.”
“It is Mr Rowan. I did walk with him along the churchyard path when that woman with her sharp squinting35 eyes saw me. He does belong to the brewery. He is related in some way to the Tappitts, and was a nephew of old Mrs Bungall’s. He is there as a clerk, and they, say he is to be a partner — only I don’t think he ever will, for he quarrels with Mr Tappitt.”
“Dear, dear!” said Mrs Ray.
“And now, mamma, you know as much about him as I do; only this, that he went to Exeter this morning, and does not come back till Monday, so that it is impossible that I should meet him in Baslehurst this evening — and it was very unkind of Dolly to say so; very unkind indeed.” Then Rachel gave way and began to cry.
It certainly did seem to Mrs Ray that Rachel knew a good deal about Mr Rowan. She knew of his kith and kin1, she knew of his prospects36 and what was like to mar37 his prospects, and she knew also of his immediate12 proceedings38, whereabouts, and intentions. Mrs Ray did not logically draw any conclusion from these premises39, but she became uncomfortably assured that there did exist a considerable intimacy40 between Mr Rowan and her daughter. And how had it come to pass that this had been allowed to form itself without any knowledge on her part? Miss Pucker might be odious41 and disagreeable — Mrs Ray was inclined to think that the lady in question was very odious and disagreeable — but must it not be admitted that her little story about the young man had proved itself to be true?
“I never will go to those nasty rag meetings any more.”
“Oh, Rachel, don’t speak in that way.”
“But I won’t. I will never put my foot in that woman’s room again. They talk nothing but scandal all the time they are there, and speak any ill they can of the poor young girls whom they talk about. If you don’t mind my knowing Mr Rowan, what is it to them?”
But this was assuming a great deal. Mrs Ray was by no means prepared to say that she did not object to her daughter’s acquaintance with Mr Rowan. “But I don’t know anything about him, my dear. I never heard his name before.”
“No, mamma; you never did. And I know very little of him; so little that there has been nothing to tell — at least next to nothing, I don’t want to have any secrets from you, mamma.”
“But, Rachel — he isn’t, is he —? I mean there isn’t anything particular between him and you? How was it you were walking with him alone?”
“I wasn’t walking with him alone — at least only for a little way. He had been out with his cousins and we had all been together, and when they went in, of course I was obliged to come home. I couldn’t help his coming along the churchyard path with me. And what if he did, mamma? He couldn’t bite me.”
“But, my dear —”
“Oh, mamma — don’t be afraid of me.” Then she came across, and again knelt at her mother’s feet. “If you’ll trust me I’ll tell you everything.”
Upon hearing this assurance, Mrs Ray of course promised Rachel that she would trust her and expected in return to be told everything then, at the moment. But she perceived that her daughter did not mean to tell her anything further at that time. Rachel, when she had received her mother’s promise, embraced her warmly, caressing42 her and petting her as was her custom, and then after a while she resumed her work. Mrs Ray was delighted to have the evil thing over, but she could not but feel that the conversation had not terminated as it should have done.
Soon after that the hour arrived for their little feast, and Rachel went about her work just as merrily and kindly43 as though there had been no words about the young man. She went across for the cream, and stayed gossiping for some few minutes with Mrs Sturt. Then she bustled44 about the kitchen making the tea and toasting the bread. She had never been more anxious to make everything comfortable for her mother, and never more eager in her coaxing45 way of doing honour to the good things which she had prepared; but, through it all, her mother was aware that everything was not right; there was something in Rachel’s voice which betrayed inward uneasiness — something in the vivacity46 of her movements that was not quite true to her usual nature. Mrs Ray felt that it was so, and could not therefore be altogether at her ease. She pretended to enjoy herself — but Rachel knew that her joy was not real. Nothing further, however, was said, either regarding that evening’s walk into Baslehurst, or touching47 that other walk as to which Miss Pucker’s tale had been told. Mrs Ray had done as much as her courage enabled her to attempt on that occasion.
When the tea-drinking was over, and the cups and spoons had been tidily put away, Rachel prepared herself for her walk. She had been very careful that nothing should be hurried — that there should be no apparent anxiety on her part to leave her mother quickly. And even when all was done, she would not go without some assurance of her mother’s goodwill48. “If you have any wish that I should stay, mamma, I don’t care in the least about going.”
“No, my dear; I don’t want you to stay at all.”
“Your dress is finished.”
“Thank you, my dear; you have been very good.”
“I haven’t been good at all; but I will be good if you’ll trust me.”
“I will trust you.”
“At any rate you need not be afraid tonight, for I am only going to take a walk with these three girls across the church meadows. They’re always very civil, and I don’t like to turn my back upon them.”
“I don’t wish you to turn your back upon them.”
“It’s stupid not to know anybody; isn’t it?”
“I dare say it is,” said Mrs Ray. Then Rachel had finished tying on her hat, and she walked forth49.
For more than two hours after that the widow sat alone, thinking of her children. As regarded Mrs Prime, there was at any rate no cause for trembling, timid thoughts. She might be regarded as being safe from the world’s wicked allurements50. She was founded like a strong rock, and was, with her steadfast51 earnestness, a staff on which her weaker mother might lean with security. But then she was so stern — and her very strength was so oppressive! Rachel was weaker, more worldly, given terribly to vain desires and thoughts that were almost wicked; but then it was so pleasant to live with her! And Rachel, though weak and worldly and almost wicked, was so very good and kind and sweet! As Mrs Ray thought of this she began to doubt whether, after all, the world was so very bad a place, and whether the wickedness of tea and toast, and of other creature comforts, could be so very great. “I wonder what sort of a young man he is,” she said to herself.
Mrs Prime’s return was always timed with the regularity52 of clockwork. At this period of the year she invariably came in exactly at half past nine. Mrs Ray was very anxious that Rachel should come in first, so that nothing should be said of her walk on this evening, she had been unwilling53 to imply distrust by making any special request on this occasion, and had therefore said nothing on the subject as Rachel went; but she had carefully watched the clock, and had become uneasy as the time came round for Mrs Prime’s appearance. Exactly at half past nine she entered the house, bringing with her the heavy basket laden54 with work, and bringing with her also a face full of the deepest displeasure, she said nothing as she seated herself wearily on a chair against the wall; but her manner was such as to make it impossible that her mother should not notice it, “Is there anything wrong, Dorothea?” she said.
“Rachel has not come home yet, of course?” said Mrs Prime.
“No; not yet. She is with the Miss Tappitts.”
“No, mother, she is not with the Miss Tappitts:” and her voice, as she said these words, was dreadful to the mother’s ears.
“Isn’t she? I thought she was. Do you know where she is?”
“Who is to say where she is? Half an hour since I saw her alone with —”
“With whom? Not with that young man from the brewery, for he is at Exeter.”
“Mother, he is here — in Baslehurst! Half an hour since he and Rachel were standing55 alone together beneath the elms in the churchyard. I saw them with my own eyes.”
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1
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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2
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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3
pucker
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| v.撅起，使起皱；n.（衣服上的）皱纹，褶子 | |
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4
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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5
squint
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| v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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6
subservience
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| n.有利，有益；从属（地位），附属性；屈从，恭顺；媚态 | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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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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brewery
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| n.啤酒厂 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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14
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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15
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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16
trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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torpid
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| adj.麻痹的，麻木的，迟钝的 | |
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18
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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19
batter
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| v.接连重击；磨损；n.牛奶面糊；击球员 | |
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coax
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| v.哄诱，劝诱，用诱哄得到，诱取 | |
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hover
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| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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tribulation
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| n.苦难，灾难 | |
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24
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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abdicate
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| v.让位，辞职，放弃 | |
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explicit
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| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
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27
beseeching
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| adj.恳求似的v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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30
construed
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| v.解释（陈述、行为等）( construe的过去式和过去分词 )；翻译，作句法分析 | |
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imputed
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| v.把（错误等）归咎于( impute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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iniquitous
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| adj.不公正的；邪恶的；高得出奇的 | |
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35
squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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39
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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40
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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41
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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42
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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43
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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44
bustled
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| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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45
coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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46
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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47
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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48
goodwill
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| n.善意，亲善，信誉，声誉 | |
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49
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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50
allurements
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| n.诱惑( allurement的名词复数 )；吸引；诱惑物；有诱惑力的事物 | |
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51
steadfast
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| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
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52
regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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53
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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54
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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55
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
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