I do not, by any means, intend to say that the rector’s wife was tortured by perpetual struggling with her creditors22. It was not so bad as that. The difficulty was rather to keep going, to be not too much in debt to any one, to pay soon enough to preserve her credit, and yet get as long a day as possible. Mrs. Damerel had come by long practice to have the finest intuition in such matters. She knew exactly how long a tailor or a wine merchant would wait for his money without acerbation of temper, and would seize that crowning moment to have him paid by hook or by crook23. But by thus making a fine art of her bills, she added infinitely24 to her mental burdens—for a woman must never forget anything or neglect anything when she holds her tradespeople so very delicately in hand.
The school-room, as I have just said, was very noisy, not to say uproarious, when she got back to it, and it was hard not to remember that Rose ought to have been there. There were five children in it, of various ages and sizes. The two big boys were both at Eton. The eldest25, Bertie, who was bright and clever, was “on the foundation,” and therefore did not cost his parents much; the second had his expenses paid by a relation—thus these two were off their mother’s hands. The eldest in the school-room was Agatha, aged26 fourteen, who taught the two little ones; but who, during her mother’s absence, ought to have been playing “her scales,” and had conscientiously27 tried to do so for ten minutes, at the end of which time she had been obliged to resign the music in order to rescue these same two little ones, her special charge, from the hands of Dick, aged ten, who was subjecting them to unknown tortures, which caused the babes to howl unmercifully. Patty, the next girl to Agatha, aided and abetted28 Dick; and what with the laughter of these two pickles29, and the screams of the small ones, and poor Agatha’s remonstrances30, the scene was Pandemonium31 itself, and almost as hot; for the room was on the sunny side of the house, and blazing, notwithstanding the drawn32 blinds. The children were all languid and irritable33 with the heat, hating their confinement34 in-doors; and, indeed, if Rose had come, she would have made a very poor exchange. Agatha’s music had tumbled down from the piano, the old red cover was half drawn off the table, and threatened at any moment a clean sweep of copybooks, inkbottles and slates35. Dick stood among his books, all tumbled on the floor, his heels crushing the cover of one, while Patty sat upon the open dictionary, doubling down half the leaves with her weight. Such a scene for a bothered mother to come into! Mr. Damerel himself heard some faint rumor36 of the noise, and his fine brow had begun to draw itself into lines, and a resolution to “speak to their mother” formed itself within his mind. Poor mother! She could have cried when she went in out of all her other troubles; but that was a mere1 momentary37 weakness, and the rebels were soon reduced to order, Agatha sent back to her scales, and Dick and Patty to their copybooks. “You two little ones may go,” Mrs. Damerel said, and with a shriek38 of delight the babies toddled39 out and made their way to the hayfield behind the house, where they were perfectly happy, and liable to no more danger than that of being carried off in a load of fragrant40 hay. When Mr. Nolan, the curate, came in to talk about parish business, Agatha’s “scales,” not badly played, were trilling through the place, and Patty and Dick, very deep in ink, and leaning all their weight upon their respective pens, were busy with their writing; and calm—the calm of deep awe—prevailed.
“Shall I disturb you if I come in here?” asked the curate, with a mellow41 sound in his voice which was not brogue—or at least he thought it was not, and was ingenuously42 surprised when he was recognized as an Irish-man. (“It will be my name, to be sure,” he would say on such occasions, somewhat puzzled.) He was a bony man, loosely put together, in a long coat, with rather a wisp of a white{14} tie; for, indeed, it was very hot and dusty on the roads, and where the rector is an elegant man of very refined mind, the curate, like the wife, has generally a good deal to do.
“Indeed, the lessons have been so much disturbed as it is, that it does not much matter,” said Mrs. Damerel. “On Monday morning there are so many things to call me away.”
“How selfish of me!” said the curate. “Monday morning is just the time I’ve little or nothing to do, except when there’s sickness. What a brute44 I was not to offer meself,—and indeed, that’s just what I’ve come to speak about.”
“No, no, you are too kind, and do too much already,” said Mrs. Damerel, looking at him with a grateful smile, but shaking her head. “And, indeed,” she added, the cloud coming over her face again, “Rose ought to come and relieve me; but her father has to be attended to, and that takes up so much of her time.”
“To be sure,” said the curate cheerily, “and reason good. Besides, it would be wearing work for one like her—whereas the like o’ me is made for it. Look here, Dick, my boy, will you promise to learn your lessons like a brick to-morrow if I ask the mother for a holiday to-day?”
“Oh, hurrah45!” cried Dick, delighted.
“Oh, mamma, like twenty bricks,” cried Patty, “though how a brick can learn lessons?—It’s so hot, and one keeps thinking of the hayfield.”
“Then be off wi’ you all,” cried the curate. “Don’t you see the mother smile? and Agatha too. I’m going to talk business. Sure, you don’t mind for one day?”
“Oh, mind!” said poor Mrs. Damerel, with a half-smile; then waiting till they were all out of hearing, an exit speedily accomplished46, “if it were not for duty, how glad I should be to give it up altogether!—but they could not go on with Miss Hunt,” she added, with a quick glance at the curate to see whether by chance he understood her. Good curate, he could be very stolid47 on occasion, though I hope he was not fool enough to be taken in by Mrs. Damerel’s pretences48: though it was true enough that Miss Hunt was impracticable. She could not afford a better; this was what she really meant.
“Out of the question,” said Mr. Nolan; “and I’m no scholar myself to speak of, notwithstanding what I’m going to have the presumption50 to say to you. It’s just this—I don’t do much visiting of mornings; they don’t like it. It takes them all in a mess as it were, before they’ve had time to get tidy, and these mornings hang heavy on my hands. I want you to let me have the three big ones. I might get them on a bit; and time, as I tell you, my dear lady, hangs heavy on my hands.”
“How can you tell me such a fib?” said Mrs. Damerel, half crying, half laughing. “Oh, you are too good, too good; but, Mr. Nolan, I can’t take anything more from you. Rose must help me, it is her duty; it is bad for her to be left so much to herself; why, I was married and had all the troubles of life on my head at her age.”
“And so she’ll have, before you know where you are,” said the good curate, which will show the reader at once that he entertained no absorbing passion for Miss Rose, though I am aware it is a curate’s duty so to do. “So she’ll have; she’ll be marrying some great grandee51 or other. She looks like a princess, and that’s what she’ll be.”
“She has no right to be a princess,” said the mother, overwrought and irritable, “and duty is better than ease surely. You, I know, think so.”
“For the like of me, yes,” said the curate; “for her, I don’t know.”
“I was once very much like her, though you would not think it,” said the mother, with the slightest tinge52 of bitterness, “but that is not the question—no, no, we must not trouble you.”
“When I tell you the mornings hang on my hands! I don’t know what to do with my mornings. There’s Tuesday I’m due at the schools, but the rest of the week I do nothing but idle. And idling’s a great temptation. A cigar comes natural when you’ve nothing to do. You don’t like a man smoking in the morning; I’ve heard you say so. So you see the young ones will save me from a—no, I won’t say cigar; worse than that; cigars are too dear for a curate, me dear lady—from a pipe.”
“Mr. Nolan, you are too good for this world,” said poor Mrs. Damerel,{15} affected53 to tears; “but I must first try what can be done at home,” she added after a pause; “no, no, you weigh me down under your kindness. What would the parish be but for you?”
“It would be just the same if I were dead and buried,” said the curate, shrugging his shoulders. “Ah, that’s the worst of it: try for a little bit of a corner of work like a child’s lessons, and you may be of service; but try to mend the world, even a bit of a parish, and you’re nowhere. They don’t think half as much of me as they do of the rector?” he added, with a curious smile, which the rector’s wife only half understood. Was it satirical? or could it be possible that the curate was surprised that the people thought more of the rector than of himself? Mrs. Damerel was aware, no one better, of her husband’s faults. Many a time she was ready to say in bitterness (to herself) that he was wearing her to death; but nevertheless she looked at long, loosely-built, snub-nosed Mr. Nolan, with mingled amusement and surprise. Was it possible that he could entertain any hopes of rivalling her husband? Of course a visit from the rector was an honor to any one, for Mr. Damerel was a man who, notwithstanding a little human weakness, was the very picture and model of a gentleman; and the idea of comparing him with good Mr. Nolan was too absurd.
“Yes, no doubt they are pleased to see him,” she said: “poor people are very quick to recognize high breeding; but I am sure, my dear Mr. Nolan, that they are all very fond of you.”
The curate made no immediate54 answer. I am not sure that he had not in his private heart something of the same feeling with which his present companion had been thinking of her daughter, a feeling less intense in so far as it was much more indifferent to him, yet in a way stronger because untempered by affection. The rector was of his own kind, the ornamental55 and useless specimen56, while he was the worker whom nobody thought of; but these secret feelings neither of the two confided57 to the other. Mr. Nolan would have been horrified58 had he detected in Mrs. Damerel that slight bitterness about Rose, which indeed would have shocked herself as deeply had she paused to identity the sentiment, and she would have been, and was, to some slight extent—suspecting the existence of the feeling—contemptuous and indignant of Nolan’s “jealousy,” as I fear she would have called it. They returned, however, to the educational question, which did not involve anything painful, and after considerable discussion it was settled that he should give the elder children lessons in the morning “if their papa approved.” It is impossible to say what a relief this decision was to the mother, who had felt these lessons to be the last straw which proverbially breaks the camel’s back. She was glad of the chat with a sympathizing friend, who understood, without saying anything about, her troubles—and doubly glad of the holiday exacted from her by his means—and gladder still to get rid of him and return to her many other occupations; for it was Monday, as has already been mentioned, and there was the laundress to look after, and a thousand other things awaiting her. The curate went out by the garden door when he left her, out upon the lawn, where he paused to look at as charming a scene as could be found in England: a fair country spreading out for miles its trees and fields and soft undulations under a summer sky, which was pale with excess of light, and ran into faint lines of misty59 distance almost colorless in heat and haze60. Here and there the sunshine caught in a bend of the river, and brought out a startling gleam as from a piece of silver. The world was still with noon and distance, no sound in the air but the rustle61 of the leaves, the hum of insects; the landscape was all the sweeter that there was no remarkable62 feature in it, nothing but breadth and space, and undulating lines, and light, everywhere light; and to make up for its broad, soft vagueness, how distinct, like a picture, was the little group in the foreground—the lime-trees in their silken green, the soft rippling63 shadows on the grass, the picturesque64 figure in the chair, and the beautiful girl!
The beauty of the sight charmed good Mr. Nolan. Had it been put to him at that moment, I believe he would have protested that his rector should never do anything in his life except recline with languid limbs out-stretched,{16} and his poetical65 head bent66 over his book, under the sweet shadow of the trees. And if this was true even in respect to Mr. Damerel, how much more true was it with Rose?
“Well, Nolan,” said Mr. Damerel, suavely67, as the bony curate and his shadow came stalking across the sunshine; “well, worrying yourself to death as usual in this hot weather? My wife and you are congenial souls.”
“That is true, and it’s a great honor for me,” said Nolan. “She is worrying herself to death with the children, and one thing and another. As for me, in the mornings, as I tell her, I’ve next to nothing to do.”
Rose looked up hastily as he spoke68. How angry she felt! If her mother chose to worry herself to death, who had anything to do with that? was it not her own pleasure? A hot flush came over the girl’s face. Mr. Nolan thought it was the quick, ingenuous43 shame which is so beautiful in youth; but it was a totally different sentiment.
“Mamma does nothing she does not choose to do,” she cried; then blushed more hotly, perceiving vaguely69 that there was something of self-defense in the heat with which she spoke.
Mr. Nolan was not graceful70 in his manners, like Mr. Damerel, but he had that good breeding which comes from the heart, and he changed the subject instantly, and began to talk to the rector of parish business, over which Mr. Damerel yawned with evident weariness. “Excuse me; the heat makes one languid,” he said. “You have my full sanction, Nolan. You know how entirely71 I trust to your discretion72; indeed, I feel that you understand the people in some respects better than I do. Don’t trouble yourself to enter into details.”
Mr. Nolan withdrew from these refined precincts with an odd smile upon his face, which was not half so handsome as Mr. Damerel’s. He had the parish in his hands, and the rector did not care to be troubled with details; but the rector had all the advantages of the position, all the income, and even so much the moral superiority over his curate, that even they (by which pronoun Mr. Nolan indicated his poorer parishioners) felt much more deeply honored by a chance word from the rector than they did by his constant ministrations and kindness.
What an odd, unequal world this is! he was thinking of himself—not ruled by justice, or even a pretence49 at justice, but by circumstances alone and external appearances. This did not make him bitter, for he had a kind of placid philosophy in him, and was of the kind of man who takes things very easily, as people say; but the curious force of the contrast made him smile.
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1
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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labors
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| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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toils
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| 网 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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annoyances
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| n.恼怒( annoyance的名词复数 )；烦恼；打扰；使人烦恼的事 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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aggravates
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| 使恶化( aggravate的第三人称单数 )； 使更严重； 激怒； 使恼火 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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applicants
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| 申请人，求职人( applicant的名词复数 ) | |
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obsequious
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| adj.谄媚的，奉承的，顺从的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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creditors
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| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
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crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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abetted
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| v.教唆（犯罪）( abet的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；怂恿；支持 | |
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pickles
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| n.腌菜( pickle的名词复数 )；处于困境；遇到麻烦；菜酱 | |
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remonstrances
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| n.抱怨，抗议( remonstrance的名词复数 ) | |
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pandemonium
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| n.喧嚣，大混乱 | |
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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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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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confinement
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| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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slates
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| （旧时学生用以写字的）石板( slate的名词复数 )； 板岩； 石板瓦； 石板色 | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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toddled
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| v.（幼儿等）东倒西歪地走( toddle的过去式和过去分词 )；蹒跚行走；溜达；散步 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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ingenuously
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| adv.率直地，正直地 | |
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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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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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hurrah
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| int.好哇，万岁，乌拉 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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pretences
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| n.假装( pretence的名词复数 )；作假；自命；自称 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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presumption
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| n.推测，可能性，冒昧，放肆，[法律]推定 | |
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grandee
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| n.贵族；大公 | |
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52
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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53
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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54
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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57
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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66
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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suavely
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68
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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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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70
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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71
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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72
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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