“I heard your voice outside with the master,” she said, rising from her chair to answer the parson’s salutation, and putting down her stockings first, and then her spectacles upon the book, so that the Bible was completely hidden; “and I knew you would not go without saying a word to the old woman.”
“I believe I came mostly to see you to-day, Mrs. Brattle.”
“Did you then? It’s kind of you, I’m sure, Mr. Fenwick, this hot weather,—and you with so many folk to mind too. Will you take an apple, Mr. Fenwick? I don’t know that we’ve anything else to offer, but the quarantines are rare this year, they say;—though, no doubt, you have them better at the Vicarage?”
Fenwick took a large, red apple from the dresser, and began to munch4, it, declaring that they had none such in their orchard5. And then, when the apple was finished, he had to begin his story.
“Mrs. Brattle, I’m sorry that I have something to say that will vex6 you.”
“Eh, Mr. Fenwick! Bad news? ‘Deed and I think there’s but little good news left to us now,—little that comes from the tongues of men. It’s bad news that is always coming here. Mr. Fenwick,—what is it, sir?”
Then he repeated the question he had before put to the miller7 about Sam. Where was Sam last night?—She only shook her head. Did he sleep at home?—She shook her head again. Had he breakfasted at home?
“‘Deed no, sir. I haven’t set eyes on him since before yesterday.”
“But how does he live? His father does not give him money, I suppose?”
“There’s little enough to give him, Mr. Fenwick. When he is at the mill his father do pay him a some’at over and above his keep. It isn’t much, sir. Young men must have a some’at in their pockets at times.”
“He has too much in his pockets, I fear. I wish he had nothing, so that he needs must come home for his meals. He works at the mill, doesn’t he?”
“At times, sir; and there isn’t a lad in all Bullumpton,”—for so the name was ordinarily pronounced,—“who can do a turn of work to beat him.”
“Do he and his father agree pretty well?”
“At times, sir. Times again his father don’t say much to him. The master ain’t given to much talking in the mill, and Sam, when he’s there, works with a will. There’s times when his father softens8 down to him, and then to see ’em, you’d think they was all in all to each other. There’s a stroke of the master about Sam hisself, at times, Mr. Fenwick, and the old man’s eyes gladden to see it. There’s none so near his heart now as poor Sam.”
“If he were as honest a man as his father, I could forgive all the rest,” said Mr. Fenwick slowly, meaning to imply that he was not there now to complain of church observances neglected, or of small irregularities of life. The paganism of the old miller had often been the subject of converse9 between the parson and Mrs. Brattle, it being a matter on which she had many an unhappy thought. He, groping darkly among subjects which he hardly dared to touch in her presence lest he should seem to unteach that in private which he taught in public, had subtlely striven to make her believe that though she, through her faith, would be saved, he, the husband, might yet escape that doom10 of everlasting11 fire, which to her was so stern a reality that she thought of its fury with a shudder12 whenever she heard of the world’s wickedness. When Parson Fenwick had first made himself intimate at the mill Mrs. Brattle had thought that her husband’s habits of life would have been to him as wormwood and gall,—that he would be unable not to chide13, and well she knew that her husband would bear no chiding14. By degrees she had come to understand that this new parson was one who talked more of life with its sorrows, and vices15, and chances of happiness, and possibilities of goodness, than he did of the requirements of his religion. For herself inwardly she had grieved at this, and, possibly, also for him; but, doubtless, there had come to her some comfort, which she did not care to analyse, from the manner in which “the master,” as she called him, Pagan as he was, had been treated by her clergyman. She wondered that it should be so, but yet it was a relief to her to know that God’s messenger should come to her, and yet say never a word of his message to that hard lord, whom she so feared and so loved, and who was, as she well knew, too stubborn to receive it. And Fenwick had spoken,—still spoke16 to her, so tenderly of her erring17, fallen child, never calling her a castaway, talking of her as Carry, who might yet be worthy18 of happiness here and of all joy hereafter; that when she thought of him as a minister of God, whose duty it was to pronounce God’s threats to erring human beings, she was almost alarmed. She could hardly understand his leniency,—his abstinence from reproof19; but entertained a vague, wandering, unformed wish that, as he never opened the vials of his wrath20 on them, he would pour it out upon her,—on her who would bear it for their sake so meekly21. If there was such a wish it was certainly doomed22 to disappointment. At this moment Fanny came in and curtseyed as she gave her hand to the parson.
“Was Sam at home last night, Fan?” asked the mother, in a sad, low voice.
“Yes, mother. He slept in his bed.”
“You are sure?” said the parson.
“Quite sure. I heard him this morning as he went out. It was about five. He spoke to me, and I answered him.”
“What did he say?”
“That he must go over to Lavington, and wouldn’t be home till nightfall. I told him where he would find bread and cheese, and he took it.”
“But you didn’t see him last night?”
“No, sir. He comes in at all hours, when he pleases. He was at dinner before yesterday, but I haven’t seen him since. He didn’t go nigh the mill after dinner that day.”
Then Mr. Fenwick considered how much he would tell to the mother and sister, and how much he would keep back. He did not in his heart believe that Sam Brattle had intended to enter his house and rob it; but he did believe that the men with whom Sam was associated were thieves and housebreakers. If these men were prowling about Bullhampton it was certainly his duty to have them arrested if possible, and to prevent probable depredations23, for his neighbours’ sake as well as for his own. Nor would he be justified24 in neglecting this duty with the object of saving Sam Brattle. If only he could entice25 Sam away from them, into his own hands, under the power of his tongue,—there might probably be a chance.
“You think he’ll be home to-night?” he asked.
“He said he would,” replied Fanny, who knew that she could not answer for her brother’s word.
“If he does, bid him come to me. Make him come to me! Tell him that I will do him no harm. God knows how truly it is my object to do him good.”
“We are sure of that, sir,” said the mother.
“He need not be afraid that I will preach to him. I will only talk to him, as I would to a younger brother.”
“But what is it that he has done, sir?”
“He has done nothing that I know. There;—I will tell you the whole. I found him prowling about my garden at near midnight, yesterday. Had he been alone I should have thought nothing of it. He thinks he owes me a grudge26 for speaking to his father; and had I found him paying it by filling his pockets with fruit, I should only have told him that it would be better that he should come and take it in the morning.”
“But he wasn’t—stealing?” asked the mother.
“He was doing nothing; neither were the men. But they were blackguards, and he was in bad hands. He could not have been in worse. I had a tussle27 with one of them, and I am sure the man was hurt. That, however, has nothing to do with it. What I desire is to get a hold of Sam, so that he may be rescued from the hands of such companions. If you can make him come to me, do so.”
Fanny promised, and so did the mother; but the promise was given in that tone which seemed to imply that nothing should be expected from its performance. Sam had long been deaf to the voices of the women of his family, and, when his father’s anger would be hot against him, he would simply go, and live where and how none of them knew. Among such men and women as the Brattles, parental28 authority must needs lie much lighter29 than it does with those who are wont30 to give much and to receive much. What obedience31 does the lad owe who at eighteen goes forth32 and earns his own bread? What is it to him that he has not yet reached man’s estate? He has to do a man’s work, and the price of it is his own, in his hands, when he has earned it. There is no curse upon the poor heavier than that which comes from the early breach33 of all ties of duty between fathers and their sons, and mothers and their daughters.
Mr. Fenwick, as he passed out of the miller’s house, saw Jacob Brattle at the door of the mill. He was tugging34 along some load, pulling it in at the door, and prevailing35 against the weakness of his age by the force of his energy. The parson knew that the miller saw him, but the miller took no notice,—looked rather as though he did not wish to be observed,—and so the parson went on. When at home he postponed36 his account of what had taken place till he should be alone with his wife; but at night he told her the whole story.
“The long and the short of it is, Master Sam will turn to housebreaking, if somebody doesn’t get hold of him.”
“To housebreaking, Frank?”
“I believe that he is about it.”
“And were they going to break in here?”
“I don’t think he was. I don’t believe he was so minded then. But he had shown them the way in, and they were looking about on their own scores. Don’t you frighten yourself. What with the constable37 and the life-preserver, we’ll be safe. I’ve a big dog coming, a second Bone’m. Sam Brattle is in more danger, I fear, than the silver forks.”
But, in spite of the cheeriness of his speech, the Vicar was anxious, and almost unhappy. After all that occurred in reference to himself and to Sam Brattle,—their former intimacies38, the fish they had caught together, the rats they had killed together, the favour which he, the parson of the parish, had shown to this lad, and especially after the evil things which had been said of himself because of this friendship on his part for one so much younger than himself, and so much his inferior in rank,—it would be to him a most grievous misfortune should he be called upon to acknowledge publicly Sam Brattle’s iniquity39, and more grievous still, if the necessity should be forced upon him of bringing Sam to open punishment. Fenwick knew well that diverse accusations40 had been made against him in the parish regarding Sam. The Marquis of Trowbridge had said a word. Mr. Puddleham had said many words. The old miller himself had growled41. Even Gilmore had expressed disapprobation. The Vicar, in his pride, had turned a deaf ear to them all. He began to fear now that possibly he had been wrong in the favours shown to Sam Brattle.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
utensils
|
|
| 器具，用具，器皿( utensil的名词复数 )； 器物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
sundry
|
|
| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
zeal
|
|
| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
munch
|
|
| v.用力嚼，大声咀嚼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
orchard
|
|
| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
vex
|
|
| vt.使烦恼，使苦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
miller
|
|
| n.磨坊主 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
softens
|
|
| （使）变软( soften的第三人称单数 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
converse
|
|
| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
doom
|
|
| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
everlasting
|
|
| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
shudder
|
|
| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
chide
|
|
| v.叱责；谴责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
chiding
|
|
| v.责骂，责备( chide的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
vices
|
|
| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
erring
|
|
| 做错事的，错误的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
reproof
|
|
| n.斥责，责备 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
wrath
|
|
| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
meekly
|
|
| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
doomed
|
|
| 命定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
depredations
|
|
| n.劫掠，毁坏( depredation的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
justified
|
|
| a.正当的，有理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
entice
|
|
| v.诱骗，引诱，怂恿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
grudge
|
|
| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
tussle
|
|
| n.&v.扭打，搏斗，争辩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
parental
|
|
| adj.父母的；父的；母的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
lighter
|
|
| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
obedience
|
|
| n.服从，顺从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
breach
|
|
| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
tugging
|
|
| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
prevailing
|
|
| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
postponed
|
|
| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
constable
|
|
| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
intimacies
|
|
| 亲密( intimacy的名词复数 )； 密切； 亲昵的言行； 性行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
iniquity
|
|
| n.邪恶；不公正 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
accusations
|
|
| n.指责( accusation的名词复数 )；指控；控告；（被告发、控告的）罪名 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
growled
|
|
| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |