In which one Scene of this History is closed.
Dividing the distance into two days’ journey, in order thathis charge might sustain the less exhaustion1 and fatiguefrom travelling so far, Nicholas, at the end of the secondday from their leaving home, found himself within a very few milesof the spot where the happiest years of his life had been passed,and which, while it filled his mind with pleasant and peacefulthoughts, brought back many painful and vivid recollections of thecircumstances in which he and his had wandered forth2 from theirold home, cast upon the rough world and the mercy of strangers.
It needed no such reflections as those which the memory of olddays, and wanderings among scenes where our childhood hasbeen passed, usually awaken3 in the most insensible minds, tosoften the heart of Nicholas, and render him more than usuallymindful of his drooping4 friend. By night and day, at all times andseasons: always watchful5, attentive6, and solicitous7, and nevervarying in the discharge of his self-imposed duty to one sofriendless and helpless as he whose sands of life were now fastrunning out and dwindling8 rapidly away: he was ever at his side.
He never left him. To encourage and animate9 him, administer tohis wants, support and cheer him to the utmost of his power, wasnow his constant and unceasing occupation.
They procured10 a humble11 lodging12 in a small farmhouse,surrounded by meadows where Nicholas had often revelled13 whena child with a troop of merry schoolfellows; and here they took up 1063their rest.
At first, Smike was strong enough to walk about, for shortdistances at a time, with no other support or aid than that whichNicholas could afford him. At this time, nothing appeared tointerest him so much as visiting those places which had been mostfamiliar to his friend in bygone days. Yielding to this fancy, andpleased to find that its indulgence beguiled14 the sick boy of manytedious hours, and never failed to afford him matter for thoughtand conversation afterwards, Nicholas made such spots the scenesof their daily rambles15: driving him from place to place in a littlepony-chair, and supporting him on his arm while they walkedslowly among these old haunts, or lingered in the sunlight to takelong parting looks of those which were most quiet and beautiful.
It was on such occasions as these, that Nicholas, yielding almostunconsciously to the interest of old associations, would point outsome tree that he had climbed, a hundred times, to peep at theyoung birds in their nest; and the branch from which he used toshout to little Kate, who stood below terrified at the height he hadgained, and yet urging him higher still by the intensity16 of heradmiration. There was the old house too, which they would passevery day, looking up at the tiny window through which the sunused to stream in and wake him on the summer mornings—theywere all summer mornings then—and climbing up the garden-walland looking over, Nicholas could see the very rose-bush which hadcome, a present to Kate, from some little lover, and she hadplanted with her own hands. There were the hedgerows where thebrother and sister had so often gathered wild flowers together, andthe green fields and shady paths where they had so often strayed.
There was not a lane, or brook17, or copse, or cottage near, with 1064which some childish event was not entwined, and back it cameupon the mind—as events of childhood do—nothing in itself:
perhaps a word, a laugh, a look, some slight distress18, a passingthought or fear: and yet more strongly and distinctly marked, andbetter remembered, than the hardest trials or severest sorrows ofa year ago.
One of these expeditions led them through the churchyardwhere was his father’s grave. ‘Even here,’ said Nicholas softly, ‘weused to loiter before we knew what death was, and when we littlethought whose ashes would rest beneath; and, wondering at thesilence, sit down to rest and speak below our breath. Once, Katewas lost, and after an hour of fruitless search, they found her, fastasleep, under that tree which shades my father’s grave. He wasvery fond of her, and said when he took her up in his arms, stillsleeping, that whenever he died he would wish to be buried wherehis dear little child had laid her head. You see his wish was notforgotten.’
Nothing more passed at the time, but that night, as Nicholas satbeside his bed, Smike started from what had seemed to be aslumber, and laying his hand in his, prayed, as the tears courseddown his face, that he would make him one solemn promise.
‘What is that?’ said Nicholas, kindly20. ‘If I can redeem21 it, or hopeto do so, you know I will.’
‘I am sure you will,’ was the reply. ‘Promise me that when I die,I shall be buried near—as near as they can make my grave—to thetree we saw today.’
Nicholas gave the promise; he had few words to give it in, butthey were solemn and earnest. His poor friend kept his hand inhis, and turned as if to sleep. But there were stifled22 sobs23; and the 1065hand was pressed more than once, or twice, or thrice, before hesank to rest, and slowly loosed his hold.
In a fortnight’s time, he became too ill to move about. Once ortwice, Nicholas drove him out, propped24 up with pillows; but themotion of the chaise was painful to him, and brought on fits offainting, which, in his weakened state, were dangerous. There wasan old couch in the house, which was his favourite resting-place byday; and when the sun shone, and the weather was warm,Nicholas had this wheeled into a little orchard25 which was close athand, and his charge being well wrapped up and carried out to it,they used to sit there sometimes for hours together.
It was on one of these occasions that a circumstance took place,which Nicholas, at the time, thoroughly26 believed to be the meredelusion of an imagination affected27 by disease; but which he had,afterwards, too good reason to know was of real and actualoccurrence.
He had brought Smike out in his arms—poor fellow! a childmight have carried him then—to see the sunset, and, havingarranged his couch, had taken his seat beside it. He had beenwatching the whole of the night before, and being greatly fatiguedboth in mind and body, gradually fell asleep.
He could not have closed his eyes five minutes, when he wasawakened by a scream, and starting up in that kind of terrorwhich affects a person suddenly roused, saw, to his greatastonishment, that his charge had struggled into a sitting posture,and with eyes almost starting from their sockets28, cold dewstanding on his forehead, and in a fit of trembling which quiteconvulsed his frame, was calling to him for help.
‘Good Heaven, what is this?’ said Nicholas, bending over him.
1066‘Be calm; you have been dreaming.’
‘No, no, no!’ cried Smike, clinging to him. ‘Hold me tight. Don’tlet me go. There, there. Behind the tree!’
Nicholas followed his eyes, which were directed to somedistance behind the chair from which he himself had just risen.
But, there was nothing there.
‘This is nothing but your fancy,’ he said, as he strove tocompose him; ‘nothing else, indeed.’
‘I know better. I saw as plain as I see now,’ was the answer. ‘Oh!
say you’ll keep me with you. Swear you won’t leave me for aninstant!’
‘Do I ever leave you?’ returned Nicholas. ‘Lie down again—there! You see I’m here. Now, tell me; what was it?’
‘Do you remember,’ said Smike, in a low voice, and glancingfearfully round, ‘do you remember my telling you of the man whofirst took me to the school?’
‘Yes, surely.’
‘I raised my eyes, just now, towards that tree—that one with thethick trunk—and there, with his eyes fixed29 on me, he stood!’
‘Only reflect for one moment,’ said Nicholas; ‘granting, for aninstant, that it’s likely he is alive and wandering about a lonelyplace like this, so far removed from the public road, do you thinkthat at this distance of time you could possibly know that managain?’
‘Anywhere—in any dress,’ returned Smike; ‘but, just now, hestood leaning upon his stick and looking at me, exactly as I toldyou I remembered him. He was dusty with walking, and poorlydressed—I think his clothes were ragged—but directly I saw him,the wet night, his face when he left me, the parlour I was left in, 1067and the people that were there, all seemed to come back together.
When he knew I saw him, he looked frightened; for he started, andshrunk away. I have thought of him by day, and dreamt of him bynight. He looked in my sleep, when I was quite a little child, andhas looked in my sleep ever since, as he did just now.’
Nicholas endeavoured, by every persuasion30 and argument hecould think of, to convince the terrified creature that hisimagination had deceived him, and that this close resemblancebetween the creation of his dreams and the man he supposed hehad seen was but a proof of it; but all in vain. When he couldpersuade him to remain, for a few moments, in the care of thepeople to whom the house belonged, he instituted a strict inquirywhether any stranger had been seen, and searched himself behindthe tree, and through the orchard, and upon the land immediatelyadjoining, and in every place near, where it was possible for a manto lie concealed31; but all in vain. Satisfied that he was right in hisoriginal conjecture32, he applied33 himself to calming the fears ofSmike, which, after some time, he partially34 succeeded in doing,though not in removing the impression upon his mind; for he stilldeclared, again and again, in the most solemn and fervid35 manner,that he had positively36 seen what he had described, and thatnothing could ever remove his conviction of its reality.
And now, Nicholas began to see that hope was gone, and that,upon the partner of his poverty, and the sharer of his betterfortune, the world was closing fast. There was little pain, littleuneasiness, but there was no rallying, no effort, no struggle for life.
He was worn and wasted to the last degree; his voice had sunk solow, that he could scarce be heard to speak. Nature wasthoroughly exhausted37, and he had lain him down to die.
1068On a fine, mild autumn day, when all was tranquil38 and at peace:
when the soft sweet air crept in at the open window of the quietroom, and not a sound was heard but the gentle rustling39 of theleaves: Nicholas sat in his old place by the bedside, and knew thatthe time was nearly come. So very still it was, that, every now andthen, he bent40 down his ear to listen for the breathing of him wholay asleep, as if to assure himself that life was still there, and thathe had not fallen into that deep slumber19 from which on earththere is no waking.
While he was thus employed, the closed eyes opened, and onthe pale face there came a placid41 smile.
‘That’s well!’ said Nicholas. ‘The sleep has done you good.’
‘I have had such pleasant dreams,’ was the answer. ‘Suchpleasant, happy dreams!’
‘Of what?’ said Nicholas.
The dying boy turned towards him, and, putting his arm abouthis neck, made answer, ‘I shall soon be there!’
After a short silence, he spoke42 again.
‘I am not afraid to die,’ he said. ‘I am quite contented43. I almostthink that if I could rise from this bed quite well I would not wishto do so, now. You have so often told me we shall meet again—sovery often lately, and now I feel the truth of that so strongly—thatI can even bear to part from you.’
The trembling voice and tearful eye, and the closer grasp of thearm which accompanied these latter words, showed how theyfilled the speaker’s heart; nor were there wanting indications ofhow deeply they had touched the heart of him to whom they wereaddressed.
‘You say well,’ returned Nicholas at length, ‘and comfort me 1069very much, dear fellow. Let me hear you say you are happy, if youcan.’
‘I must tell you something, first. I should not have a secret fromyou. You would not blame me, at a time like this, I know.’
‘I blame you!’ exclaimed Nicholas.
‘I am sure you would not. You asked me why I was so changed,and—and sat so much alone. Shall I tell you why?’
‘Not if it pains you,’ said Nicholas. ‘I only asked that I mightmake you happier, if I could.’
‘I know. I felt that, at the time.’ He drew his friend closer tohim. ‘You will forgive me; I could not help it, but though I wouldhave died to make her happy, it broke my heart to see—I know heloves her dearly—Oh! who could find that out so soon as I?’
The words which followed were feebly and faintly uttered, andbroken by long pauses; but, from them, Nicholas learnt, for thefirst time, that the dying boy, with all the ardour of a natureconcentrated on one absorbing, hopeless, secret passion, loved hissister Kate.
He had procured a lock of her hair, which hung at his breast,folded in one or two slight ribbons she had worn. He prayed that,when he was dead, Nicholas would take it off, so that no eyes buthis might see it, and that when he was laid in his coffin44 and aboutto be placed in the earth, he would hang it round his neck again,that it might rest with him in the grave.
Upon his knees Nicholas gave him this pledge, and promisedagain that he should rest in the spot he had pointed45 out. Theyembraced, and kissed each other on the cheek.
‘Now,’ he murmured, ‘I am happy.’
He fell into a light slumber, and waking smiled as before; then, 1070spoke of beautiful gardens, which he said stretched out beforehim, and were filled with figures of men, women, and manychildren, all with light upon their faces; then, whispered that itwas Eden—and so died.
收听单词发音 |
1
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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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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4
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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7
solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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8
dwindling
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| adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
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9
animate
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| v.赋于生命，鼓励；adj.有生命的，有生气的 | |
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10
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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12
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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13
revelled
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| v.作乐( revel的过去式和过去分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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14
beguiled
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| v.欺骗( beguile的过去式和过去分词 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
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15
rambles
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| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的第三人称单数 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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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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redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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29
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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32
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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33
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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35
fervid
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| adj.热情的；炽热的 | |
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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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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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40
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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41
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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42
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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43
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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44
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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45
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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