Newman Noggs inducts Mrs and Miss Nickleby intotheir New Dwelling1 in the City.
Miss Nickleby’s reflections, as she wended her wayhomewards, were of that desponding nature which theoccurrences of the morning had been sufficientlycalculated to awaken2. Her uncle’s was not a manner likely todispel any doubts or apprehensions3 she might have formed, in theoutset, neither was the glimpse she had had of MadameMantalini’s establishment by any means encouraging. It was withmany gloomy forebodings and misgivings4, therefore, that shelooked forward, with a heavy heart, to the opening of her newcareer.
If her mother’s consolations5 could have restored her to apleasanter and more enviable state of mind, there were abundanceof them to produce the effect. By the time Kate reached home, thegood lady had called to mind two authentic6 cases of milliners whohad been possessed7 of considerable property, though whetherthey had acquired it all in business, or had had a capital to startwith, or had been lucky and married to advantage, she could notexactly remember. However, as she very logically remarked, theremust have been some young person in that way of business whohad made a fortune without having anything to begin with, andthat being taken for granted, why should not Kate do the same?
Miss La Creevy, who was a member of the little council, venturedto insinuate8 some doubts relative to the probability of Miss Nickleby’s arriving at this happy consummation in the compass ofan ordinary lifetime; but the good lady set that question entirely9 atrest, by informing them that she had a presentiment10 on thesubject—a species of second-sight with which she had been in thehabit of clenching11 every argument with the deceased Mr Nickleby,and, in nine cases and three-quarters out of every ten,determining it the wrong way.
‘I am afraid it is an unhealthy occupation,’ said Miss La Creevy.
‘I recollect12 getting three young milliners to sit to me, when I firstbegan to paint, and I remember that they were all very pale andsickly.’
‘Oh! that’s not a general rule by any means,’ observed MrsNickleby; ‘for I remember, as well as if it was only yesterday,employing one that I was particularly recommended to, to makeme a scarlet13 cloak at the time when scarlet cloaks werefashionable, and she had a very red face—a very red face, indeed.’
‘Perhaps she drank,’ suggested Miss La Creevy.
‘I don’t know how that may have been,’ returned Mrs Nickleby:
‘but I know she had a very red face, so your argument goes fornothing.’
In this manner, and with like powerful reasoning, did theworthy matron meet every little objection that presented itself tothe new scheme of the morning. Happy Mrs Nickleby! A projecthad but to be new, and it came home to her mind, brightlyvarnished and gilded14 as a glittering toy.
This question disposed of, Kate communicated her uncle’sdesire about the empty house, to which Mrs Nickleby assentedwith equal readiness, characteristically remarking, that, on thefine evenings, it would be a pleasant amusement for her to walk to the West end to fetch her daughter home; and no lesscharacteristically forgetting, that there were such things as wetnights and bad weather to be encountered in almost every week ofthe year.
‘I shall be sorry—truly sorry to leave you, my kind friend,’ saidKate, on whom the good feeling of the poor miniature painter hadmade a deep impression.
‘You shall not shake me off, for all that,’ replied Miss La Creevy,with as much sprightliness15 as she could assume. ‘I shall see youvery often, and come and hear how you get on; and if, in allLondon, or all the wide world besides, there is no other heart thattakes an interest in your welfare, there will be one little lonelywoman that prays for it night and day.’
With this, the poor soul, who had a heart big enough for Gog,the guardian16 genius of London, and enough to spare for Magog toboot, after making a great many extraordinary faces which wouldhave secured her an ample fortune, could she have transferredthem to ivory or canvas, sat down in a corner, and had what shetermed ‘a real good cry.’
But no crying, or talking, or hoping, or fearing, could keep offthe dreaded17 Saturday afternoon, or Newman Noggs either; who,punctual to his time, limped up to the door, and breathed a whiffof cordial gin through the keyhole, exactly as such of the churchclocks in the neighbourhood as agreed among themselves aboutthe time, struck five. Newman waited for the last stroke, and thenknocked.
‘From Mr Ralph Nickleby,’ said Newman, announcing hiserrand, when he got upstairs, with all possible brevity.
‘We shall be ready directly,’ said Kate. ‘We have not much to carry, but I fear we must have a coach.’
‘I’ll get one,’ replied Newman.
‘Indeed you shall not trouble yourself,’ said Mrs Nickleby.
‘I will,’ said Newman.
‘I can’t suffer you to think of such a thing,’ said Mrs Nickleby.
‘You can’t help it,’ said Newman.
‘Not help it!’
‘No; I thought of it as I came along; but didn’t get one, thinkingyou mightn’t be ready. I think of a great many things. Nobody canprevent that.’
‘Oh yes, I understand you, Mr Noggs,’ said Mrs Nickleby. ‘Ourthoughts are free, of course. Everybody’s thoughts are their own,clearly.’
‘They wouldn’t be, if some people had their way,’ mutteredNewman.
‘Well, no more they would, Mr Noggs, and that’s very true,’
rejoined Mrs Nickleby. ‘Some people to be sure are such—how’syour master?’
Newman darted18 a meaning glance at Kate, and replied with astrong emphasis on the last word of his answer, that Mr RalphNickleby was well, and sent his love.
‘I am sure we are very much obliged to him,’ observed MrsNickleby.
‘Very,’ said Newman. ‘I’ll tell him so.’
It was no very easy matter to mistake Newman Noggs, afterhaving once seen him, and as Kate, attracted by the singularity ofhis manner (in which on this occasion, however, there wassomething respectful and even delicate, notwithstanding theabruptness of his speech), looked at him more closely, she recollected19 having caught a passing glimpse of that strange figurebefore.
‘Excuse my curiosity,’ she said, ‘but did I not see you in thecoachyard, on the morning my brother went away to Yorkshire?’
Newman cast a wistful glance on Mrs Nickleby and said ‘No,’
most unblushingly.
‘No!’ exclaimed Kate, ‘I should have said so anywhere.’
‘You’d have said wrong,’ rejoined Newman. ‘It’s the first timeI’ve been out for three weeks. I’ve had the gout.’
Newman was very, very far from having the appearance of agouty subject, and so Kate could not help thinking; but theconference was cut short by Mrs Nickleby’s insisting on having thedoor shut, lest Mr Noggs should take cold, and further persistingin sending the servant girl for a coach, for fear he should bring onanother attack of his disorder20. To both conditions, Newman wascompelled to yield. Presently, the coach came; and, after manysorrowful farewells, and a great deal of running backwards21 andforwards across the pavement on the part of Miss La Creevy, inthe course of which the yellow turban came into violent contactwith sundry22 foot-passengers, it (that is to say the coach, not theturban) went away again, with the two ladies and their luggageinside; and Newman, despite all Mrs Nickleby’s assurances that itwould be his death—on the box beside the driver.
They went into the city, turning down by the river side; and,after a long and very slow drive, the streets being crowded at thathour with vehicles of every kind, stopped in front of a large olddingy house in Thames Street: the door and windows of whichwere so bespattered with mud, that it would have appeared tohave been uninhabited for years.
The door of this deserted23 mansion24 Newman opened with a keywhich he took out of his hat—in which, by-the-bye, in consequenceof the dilapidated state of his pockets, he deposited everything,and would most likely have carried his money if he had had any—and the coach being discharged, he led the way into the interior ofthe mansion.
Old, and gloomy, and black, in truth it was, and sullen25 and darkwere the rooms, once so bustling26 with life and enterprise. Therewas a wharf27 behind, opening on the Thames. An empty dog-kennel, some bones of animals, fragments of iron hoops28, andstaves of old casks, lay strewn about, but no life was stirring there.
It was a picture of cold, silent decay.
‘This house depresses and chills one,’ said Kate, ‘and seems asif some blight29 had fallen on it. If I were superstitious30, I should bealmost inclined to believe that some dreadful crime had beenperpetrated within these old walls, and that the place had neverprospered since. How frowning and how dark it looks!’
‘Lord, my dear,’ replied Mrs Nickleby, ‘don’t talk in that way, oryou’ll frighten me to death.’
‘It is only my foolish fancy, mama,’ said Kate, forcing a smile.
‘Well, then, my love, I wish you would keep your foolish fancy toyourself, and not wake up my foolish fancy to keep it company,’
retorted Mrs Nickleby. ‘Why didn’t you think of all this before—you are so careless—we might have asked Miss La Creevy to keepus company or borrowed a dog, or a thousand things—but italways was the way, and was just the same with your poor dearfather. Unless I thought of everything—’ This was Mrs Nickleby’susual commencement of a general lamentation31, running through adozen or so of complicated sentences addressed to nobody in particular, and into which she now launched until her breath wasexhausted.
Newman appeared not to hear these remarks, but precededthem to a couple of rooms on the first floor, which some kind ofattempt had been made to render habitable. In one, were a fewchairs, a table, an old hearth-rug, and some faded baize; and a firewas ready laid in the grate. In the other stood an old tentbedstead, and a few scanty32 articles of chamber33 furniture.
‘Well, my dear,’ said Mrs Nickleby, trying to be pleased, ‘nowisn’t this thoughtful and considerate of your uncle? Why, weshould not have had anything but the bed we bought yesterday, tolie down upon, if it hadn’t been for his thoughtfulness!’
‘Very kind, indeed,’ replied Kate, looking round. NewmanNoggs did not say that he had hunted up the old furniture theysaw, from attic34 and cellar; or that he had taken in thehalfpennyworth of milk for tea that stood upon a shelf, or filled therusty kettle on the hob, or collected the woodchips from the wharf,or begged the coals. But the notion of Ralph Nickleby havingdirected it to be done, tickled35 his fancy so much, that he could notrefrain from cracking all his ten fingers in succession: at whichperformance Mrs Nickleby was rather startled at first, butsupposing it to be in some remote manner connected with thegout, did not remark upon.
‘We need detain you no longer, I think,’ said Kate.
‘Is there nothing I can do?’ asked Newman.
‘Nothing, thank you,’ rejoined Miss Nickleby.
‘Perhaps, my dear, Mr Noggs would like to drink our healths,’
said Mrs Nickleby, fumbling36 in her reticule for some small coin.
‘I think, mama,’ said Kate hesitating, and remarking Newman’s averted37 face, ‘you would hurt his feelings if you offered it.’
Newman Noggs, bowing to the young lady more like agentleman than the miserable38 wretch39 he seemed, placed his handupon his breast, and, pausing for a moment, with the air of a manwho struggles to speak but is uncertain what to say, quitted theroom.
As the jarring echoes of the heavy house-door, closing on itslatch, reverberated40 dismally41 through the building, Kate felt halftempted to call him back, and beg him to remain a little while; butshe was ashamed to own her fears, and Newman Noggs was on hisroad homewards.
收听单词发音 |
1
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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3
apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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consolations
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| n.安慰，慰问( consolation的名词复数 )；起安慰作用的人（或事物） | |
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6
authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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8
insinuate
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| vt.含沙射影地说，暗示 | |
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9
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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10
presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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11
clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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12
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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13
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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15
sprightliness
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| n.愉快，快活 | |
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16
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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17
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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18
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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19
recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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20
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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21
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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22
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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23
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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24
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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26
bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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27
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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28
hoops
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| n.箍( hoop的名词复数 )；（篮球）篮圈；（旧时儿童玩的）大环子；（两端埋在地里的）小铁弓 | |
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29
blight
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| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
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superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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lamentation
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| n.悲叹，哀悼 | |
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scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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35
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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40
reverberated
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| 回响，回荡( reverberate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
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dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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