Not having any free and comfortable subject to talk of, we naturally fell to books, though Mr. Cresswell, I believe, never opened one. He wanted to know if Sara had been reading novels all day long, and immediately Sara turned to me to ask whether she might have one home with her which she had begun to read. Then there burst on my mind an innocent way of putting a question to Mr. Cresswell which I had been very anxious to ask without seeing any way to do it.
“I don’t think you will care for it when you do read it Sara; it is all about a poor boy who gets persuaded not to marry, and breaks the poor creature’s heart who is engaged to him, because there has been madness in the family. High principle, you know. I am not quite so sure in my own mind that I don’t think him a humbug3; but I suppose it’s all very grand and splendid to you young people. Young persons should be trained very closely in their own family history if that is to be the way of it. I hope there never was a Cresswell touched in his brain, or, Sara, it would be a bad prospect4 for you.”
“If you suppose I should think it a bad prospect to do as Gilbert did, you are very wrong, godmamma,” cried Sara. “Why shouldn’t he have been quite as happy one way as the other? Do you suppose people must be married to be happy? it is dreadful to hear such a thing from you!”
“Well, to be sure, so it would be,” said I, “if I had said it. I am not unhappy that I know of, nor happy either. Oh, you little velvet5 kitten, how do you know how people get through life? One goes jog-jog, and does not stop to find out how one feels. But I’d rather—though I daresay it’s very bad philosophy—have creatures like you do things innocently, without being too particular about the results. Besides, I think Cheshire air is good steady air for the mind,—not exciting, you know. I don’t think we’ve many mad people in our county, eh, Mr. Cresswell?—Did you ever hear of a crazy Mortimer?”
Mr. Cresswell looked up at me a little curiously—which, to{158} be sure, not having any command over my face, or habit of concealing6 what I thought, made me look foolish. Sarah lifted her eyes, too, with a kind of smile which alarmed me—a smile of ridicule7 and superior knowledge. Perhaps I had exposed my fears to both of them by that question. I shrank away from it immediately, frightened at my own rashness. But Mr. Cresswell would not let me off.
“I have always heard that your grand-uncle Lewis was very peculiar,” said Mr. Cresswell,—“he that your cousin is descended8 from. Let us hope it doesn’t run in Mr. Richard’s family. I suppose there’s no reason to imagine that such a motive9 would prevent him from marrying?” he continued, rather spitefully. “And it was no wonder if Lewis Mortimer was a little queer. What could you expect? he was the second son! an unprecedented10 accident. The wonder is that something did not happen in consequence. Oh yes, he was soft a little, was your grand-uncle Lewis; but most likely it descended to him from his mother’s side of the house.”
“And my father was named after him!” cried I, with a certain dismay.
They all laughed, even Sarah. She kept her eyes on me as if searching through me to find out what I meant. She was puzzled a little, I could see. She saw it was not a mere11 idle question, and wanted to know the meaning. She was not conscious, thank heaven! and people are dismally12 conscious, as I have heard, when their brain is going. This was a little comfort to me under the unexpected answer I had got, for I certainly never heard of a crazy Mortimer all my life.
“If qualities descended by names, my little kitten would be in luck,” said Mr. Cresswell. “But here is a new lot of officers coming, Miss Milly; what would you recommend a poor man to do?”
“Papa!” cried Sara, with blazing indignation, “what does any one suppose the officers are to me? You say so to make my own godmamma despise me, though you know it isn’t true! I can bear anything that is true. That is why we always quarrel, papa and I. He does not mind what stories he tells, and thinks it good fun. I am not a flirt13, nor never was—never, even when I was too young to know any better. No, godmamma, no more than you are!—nobody dares say it of me.”
We were just rising from table when she made this defence of herself. It was not quite true. I know she tormented14 that poor boy Wilde as if he had been a mouse, the{159} cruel creature; and I am perfectly15 convinced that she was much disappointed Mr. Luigi did not come to the Park, because she had precisely16 the same intentions with regard to him. I must allow, though I was very fond of Sara, that, professing17 to be mighty18 scornful and sceptical as to hearts breaking, she loved to try when she had it in her power. I daresay she was not conscious of her wicked arts, she used them by instinct; but it came to much the same thing in the end.
I went out of the room with her, under pretence19 of seeing that her boxes were nicely packed; I did not say anything about it, whether I thought her a flirt or not, and she quieted down immediately, with a perception that I had something to say. I drew her into the great window of the hall, when Sarah, and immediately after her Mr. Cresswell,—for, of course, to him our early dinner only served as lunch, and no man would dream of sitting over his wine at three o’clock in the afternoon, especially in a lady’s house,—had passed into the drawing-room. It was a great round bay-window, at one end of the hall, where our footmen used to lounge in my father’s time, when we kept footmen. It had our escutcheon in it, in painted glass, and the lower panes20 were obscured, I cannot tell why, unless because it made them look ugly. The hall was covered with matting, and the fire had been lighted that day, but must have gone out, it felt so cold.
“Sara, I wish to say to you—not that I don’t trust your discretion21, my dear child;” said I, “but you might not think I cared—don’t say anything about your godmamma, or about this Mr. Luiggi, dear——”
I was quite prepared to see her resent this caution, but I was not prepared for the burst of saucy22 laughter with which the foolish little girl replied to me.
“Oh dear, godmamma, don’t be so comical! it isn’t Luiggi, it’s Luidgi, that’s how it sounds,” cried Sara. “To think of any one murdering the beautiful Italian so! Don’t you really think it’s a beautiful name?”
“I freely confess I never could see any beauty in Italian, nor any other outlandish tongue,” said I. “Luidgi, be it, if that’s better. I can’t see how it makes one morsel23 of difference; but you will remember what I say?”
“Luigi simply means Lewis; and how should you be pleased to hear Lewis mispronounced? You said it was your father’s name, godmamma,” said the incorrigible24 child.
I turned away, shaking my head. It was no use saying anything more; most likely she would pay attention to what I{160} said, though she was so aggravating25; oh, but she was contrairy. Never man spoke26 a truer word. Nevertheless, as she stood there in her velvet jacket, with her close-cropped pretty curls, and her eyes sparkling with laughter, I could not help admiring her myself. I don’t mind saying I am very inconsistent. A little while before, I had been thinking it would be rather pleasant to have the house quiet and to ourselves. Now, I could not help thinking what a gap it would leave when she was gone. Then the child, who at home was led into every kind of amusement (to be sure procurable27 in Cheshire, must be added to this), had been so contented28, after all, to live with two old women, whom nobody came to see, except now and then in a morning call; and though she was so wicked, and provoking, and careless, she was at the same time so good and clever (when she pleased) and captivating. One could have put her in the corner, and kissed her the next moment. As she stood there in the light of the great window, I, who had left her, shaking my head, and reflecting how contrairy she was, went back to kiss her, though I gave her a little shake as well. That is how one always feels to these creatures, half-and-half; ready to punish them and to pet them all at once.
However, after a while (though it was no easy matter getting Sara’s trunks on the carriage—I wonder Mr. Cresswell ventured on it, for his poor horse’s sake), they went away; and feeling just a little dull after they were gone, and as it was just that good-for-nothing time, which is the worst of an early dinner, the interval29 between dinner and tea, I set out for a walk down to the village. It was Sarah’s day for her drive, and she passed me on the road, and kissed her hand to me out of the carriage window. No blinds down now; the horses going at their steady pace, rather slowly than otherwise, wheeling along through the soft hedgerows which began to have some buds on them. I wonder what Jacob thought of it; I wonder what Williams at the lodge30 had to say on the subject. Such a strange unreasonable31 change!
点击收听单词发音
1 sociable | |
adj.好交际的,友好的,合群的 | |
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2 constrained | |
adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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3 humbug | |
n.花招,谎话,欺骗 | |
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4 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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5 velvet | |
n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
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6 concealing | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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7 ridicule | |
v.讥讽,挖苦;n.嘲弄 | |
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8 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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9 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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10 unprecedented | |
adj.无前例的,新奇的 | |
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11 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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12 dismally | |
adv.阴暗地,沉闷地 | |
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13 flirt | |
v.调情,挑逗,调戏;n.调情者,卖俏者 | |
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14 tormented | |
饱受折磨的 | |
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15 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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16 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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17 professing | |
声称( profess的现在分词 ); 宣称; 公开表明; 信奉 | |
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18 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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19 pretence | |
n.假装,作假;借口,口实;虚伪;虚饰 | |
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20 panes | |
窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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21 discretion | |
n.谨慎;随意处理 | |
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22 saucy | |
adj.无礼的;俊俏的;活泼的 | |
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23 morsel | |
n.一口,一点点 | |
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24 incorrigible | |
adj.难以纠正的,屡教不改的 | |
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25 aggravating | |
adj.恼人的,讨厌的 | |
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26 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 | |
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27 procurable | |
adj.可得到的,得手的 | |
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28 contented | |
adj.满意的,安心的,知足的 | |
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29 interval | |
n.间隔,间距;幕间休息,中场休息 | |
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30 lodge | |
v.临时住宿,寄宿,寄存,容纳;n.传达室,小旅馆 | |
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31 unreasonable | |
adj.不讲道理的,不合情理的,过度的 | |
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