Full seven happy years I have been the mistress of Bleak1 House.
The few words that I have to add to what I have written are soonpenned; then I and the unknown friend to whom I write will part forever. Not without much dear remembrance on my side. Not withoutsome, I hope, on his or hers.
They gave my darling into my arms, and through many weeks I neverleft her. The little child who was to have done so much was bornbefore the turf was planted on its father's grave. It was a boy;and I, my husband, and my guardian2 gave him his father's name.
The help that my dear counted on did come to her, though it came,in the eternal wisdom, for another purpose. Though to bless andrestore his mother, not his father, was the errand of this baby,its power was mighty3 to do it. When I saw the strength of the weaklittle hand and how its touch could heal my darling's heart andraised hope within her, I felt a new sense of the goodness and thetenderness of God.
They throve, and by degrees I saw my dear girl pass into my countrygarden and walk there with her infant in her arms. I was marriedthen. I was the happiest of the happy.
It was at this time that my guardian joined us and asked Ada whenshe would come home.
"Both houses are your home, my dear," said he, "but the older BleakHouse claims priority. When you and my boy are strong enough to doit, come and take possession of your home."Ada called him "her dearest cousin, John." But he said, no, itmust be guardian now. He was her guardian henceforth, and theboy's; and he had an old association with the name. So she calledhim guardian, and has called him guardian ever since. The childrenknow him by no other name. I say the children; I have two littledaughters.
It is difficult to believe that Charley (round-eyed still, and notat all grammatical) is married to a miller4 in our neighbourhood;yet so it is; and even now, looking up from my desk as I writeearly in the morning at my summer window, I see the very millbeginning to go round. I hope the miller will not spoil Charley;but he is very fond of her, and Charley is rather vain of such amatch, for he is well to do and was in great request. So far as mysmall maid is concerned, I might suppose time to have stood forseven years as still as the mill did half an hour ago, since littleEmma, Charley's sister, is exactly what Charley used to be. As toTom, Charley's brother, I am really afraid to say what he did atschool in ciphering, but I think it was decimals. He isapprenticed to the miller, whatever it was, and is a good bashfulfellow, always falling in love with somebody and being ashamed ofit.
Caddy Jellyby passed her very last holidays with us and was adearer creature than ever, perpetually dancing in and out of thehouse with the children as if she had never given a dancing-lessonin her life. Caddy keeps her own little carriage now instead ofhiring one, and lives full two miles further westward5 than NewmanStreet. She works very hard, her husband (an excellent one) beinglame and able to do very little. Still, she is more than contentedand does all she has to do with all her heart. Mr. Jellyby spendshis evenings at her new house with his head against the wall as heused to do in her old one. I have heard that Mrs. Jellyby wasunderstood to suffer great mortification6 from her daughter'signoble marriage and pursuits, but I hope she got over it in time.
She has been disappointed in Borrioboola-Gha, which turned out afailure in consequence of the king of Boorioboola wanting to selleverybody--who survived the climate--for rum, but she has taken upwith the rights of women to sit in Parliament, and Caddy tells meit is a mission involving more correspondence than the old one. Ihad almost forgotten Caddy's poor little girl. She is not such amite now, but she is deaf and dumb. I believe there never was abetter7 mother than Caddy, who learns, in her scanty8 intervals9 ofleisure, innumerable deaf and dumb arts to soften10 the affliction ofher child.
As if I were never to have done with Caddy, I am reminded here ofPeepy and old Mr. Turveydrop. Peepy is in the Custom House, anddoing extremely well. Old Mr. Turveydrop, very apoplectic11, stillexhibits his deportment about town, still enjoys himself in the oldmanner, is still believed in in the old way. He is constant in hispatronage of Peepy and is understood to have bequeathed him afavourite French clock in his dressing-room--which is not hisproperty.
With the first money we saved at home, we added to our pretty houseby throwing out a little growlery expressly for my guardian, whichwe inaugurated with great splendour the next time he came down tosee us. I try to write all this lightly, because my heart is fullin drawing to an end, but when I write of him, my tears will havetheir way.
I never look at him but I hear our poor dear Richard calling him agood man. To Ada and her pretty boy, he is the fondest father; tome he is what he has ever been, and what name can I give to that?
He is my husband's best and dearest friend, he is our children'sdarling, he is the object of our deepest love and veneration12. Yetwhile I feel towards him as if he were a superior being, I am sofamiliar with him and so easy with him that I almost wonder atmyself. I have never lost my old names, nor has he lost his; nordo I ever, when he is with us, sit in any other place than in myold chair at his side, Dame13 Trot14, Dame Durden, Little Woman--alljust the same as ever; and I answer, "Yes, dear guardian!" just thesame.
I have never known the wind to be in the east for a single momentsince the day when he took me to the porch to read the name. Iremarked to him once that the wind seemed never in the east now,and he said, no, truly; it had finally departed from that quarteron that very day.
I think my darling girl is more beautiful than ever. The sorrowthat has been in her face--for it is not there now--seems to havepurified even its innocent expression and to have given it adiviner quality. Sometimes when I raise my eyes and see her in theblack dress that she still wears, teaching my Richard, I feel--itis difficult to express--as if it were so good to know that sheremembers her dear Esther in her prayers.
I call him my Richard! But he says that he has two mamas, and I amone.
We are not rich in the bank, but we have always prospered15, and wehave quite enough. I never walk out with my husband but I hear thepeople bless him. I never go into a house of any degree but I hearhis praises or see them in grateful eyes. I never lie down atnight but I know that in the course of that day he has alleviatedpain and soothed16 some fellow-creature in the time of need. I knowthat from the beds of those who were past recovery, thanks haveoften, often gone up, in the last hour, for his patientministration. Is not this to be rich?
The people even praise me as the doctor's wife. The people evenlike me as I go about, and make so much of me that I am quiteabashed. I owe it all to him, my love, my pride! They like me forhis sake, as I do everything I do in life for his sake.
A night or two ago, after bustling17 about preparing for my darlingand my guardian and little Richard, who are coming to-morrow, I wassitting out in the porch of all places, that dearly memorableporch, when Allan came home. So he said, "My precious littlewoman, what are you doing here?" And I said, "The moon is shiningso brightly, Allan, and the night is so delicious, that I have beensitting here thinking.""What have you been thinking about, my dear?" said Allan then.
"How curious you are!" said I. "I am almost ashamed to tell you,but I will. I have been thinking about my old looks--such as theywere.""And what have you been thinking about THEM, my busy bee?" saidAllan.
"I have been thinking that I thought it was impossible that youCOULD have loved me any better, even if I had retained them.""'Such as they were'?" said Allan, laughing.
"Such as they were, of course.""My dear Dame Durden," said Allan, drawing my arm through his, "doyou ever look in the glass?""You know I do; you see me do it.""And don't you know that you are prettier than you ever were?""I did not know that; I am not certain that I know it now. But Iknow that my dearest little pets are very pretty, and that mydarling is very beautiful, and that my husband is very handsome,and that my guardian has the brightest and most benevolent18 facethat ever was seen, and that they can very well do without muchbeauty in me--even supposing--.
The End
1 bleak | |
adj.(天气)阴冷的;凄凉的;暗淡的 | |
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2 guardian | |
n.监护人;守卫者,保护者 | |
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3 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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4 miller | |
n.磨坊主 | |
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5 westward | |
n.西方,西部;adj.西方的,向西的;adv.向西 | |
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6 mortification | |
n.耻辱,屈辱 | |
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7 abetter | |
n.教唆者,怂恿者 | |
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8 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
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9 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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10 soften | |
v.(使)变柔软;(使)变柔和 | |
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11 apoplectic | |
adj.中风的;愤怒的;n.中风患者 | |
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12 veneration | |
n.尊敬,崇拜 | |
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13 dame | |
n.女士 | |
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14 trot | |
n.疾走,慢跑;n.老太婆;现成译本;(复数)trots:腹泻(与the 连用);v.小跑,快步走,赶紧 | |
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15 prospered | |
成功,兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16 soothed | |
v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 );抚慰;使舒服;减轻痛苦 | |
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17 bustling | |
adj.喧闹的 | |
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18 benevolent | |
adj.仁慈的,乐善好施的 | |
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