On the dark winter morning when Samuel set off to the grand assize, Constance did not ask his views as to what protection he would adopt against the weather. She silently ranged special underclothing, and by the warmth of the fire, which for days she had kept ablaze1 in the bedroom, Samuel silently donned the special underclothing. Over that, with particular fastidious care, he put his best suit. Not a word was spoken. Constance and he were not estranged2, but the relations between them were in a state of feverish3 excitation. Samuel had had a cold on his flat chest for weeks, and nothing that Constance could invent would move it. A few days in bed or even in one room at a uniform temperature would have surely worked the cure. Samuel, however, would not stay in one room: he would not stay in the house, nor yet in Bursley. He would take his lacerating cough on chilly4 trains to Stafford. He had no ears for reason; he simply could not listen; he was in a dream. After Christmas a crisis came. Constance grew desperate. It was a battle between her will and his that occurred one night when Constance, marshalling all her forces, suddenly insisted that he must go out no more until he was cured. In the fight Constance was scarcely recognizable. She deliberately5 gave way to hysteria; she was no longer soft and gentle; she flung bitterness at him like vitriol; she shrieked6 like a common shrew. It seems almost incredible that Constance should have gone so far; but she did. She accused him, amid sobs7, of putting his cousin before his wife and son, of not caring whether or not she was left a widow as the result of this obstinacy8. And she ended by crying passionately9 that she might as well talk to a post. She might just as well have talked to a post. Samuel answered quietly and coldly. He told her that it was useless for her to put herself about, as he should act as he thought fit. It was a most extraordinary scene, and quite unique in their annals. Constance was beaten. She accepted the defeat, gradually controlling her sobs and changing her tone to the tone of the vanquished10. She kissed him in bed, kissing the rod. And he gravely kissed her.
Henceforward she knew, in practice, what the inevitable11, when you have to live with it, may contain of anguish12 wretched and humiliating. Her husband was risking his life, so she was absolutely convinced, and she could do nothing; she had come to the bed-rock of Samuel's character. She felt that, for the time being, she had a madman in the house, who could not be treated according to ordinary principles. The continual strain aged13 her. Her one source of relief was to talk with Cyril. She talked to him without reserve, and the words 'your father,' 'your father,' were everlastingly14 on her complaining tongue. Yes, she was utterly15 changed. Often she would weep when alone.
Nevertheless she frequently forgot that she had been beaten. She had no notion of honourable16 warfare17. She was always beginning again, always firing under a flag of truce18; and thus she constituted a very inconvenient19 opponent. Samuel was obliged, while hardening on the main point, to compromise on. lesser20 questions. She too could be formidable, and when her lips took a certain pose, and her eyes glowed, he would have put on forty mufflers had she commanded. Thus it was she who arranged all the details of the supreme21 journey to Stafford. Samuel was to drive to Knype, so as to avoid the rigours of the Loop Line train from Bursley and the waiting on cold platforms. At Knype he was to take the express, and to travel first-class.
After he was dressed on that gas-lit morning, he learnt bit by bit the extent of her elaborate preparations. The breakfast was a special breakfast, and he had to eat it all. Then the cab came, and he saw Amy put hot bricks into it. Constance herself put goloshes over his boots, not because it was damp, but because indiarubber keeps the feet warm. Constance herself bandaged his neck, and unbuttoned his waistcoat and stuck an extra flannel22 under his dickey. Constance herself warmed his woollen gloves, and enveloped23 him in his largest overcoat.
Samuel then saw Cyril getting ready to go out. "Where are you off?" he demanded.
"He's going with you as far as Knype," said Constance grimly. "He'll see you into the train and then come back here in the cab."
She had sprung this indignity24 upon him. She glared. Cyril glanced with timid bravado25 from one to the other. Samuel had to yield.
Thus in the winter darkness--for it was not yet dawn--Samuel set forth26 to the trial, escorted by his son. The reverberation27 of his appalling28 cough from the cab was the last thing that Constance heard.
During most of the day Constance sat in 'Miss Insull's corner' in the shop. Twenty years ago this very corner had been hers. But now, instead of large millinery-boxes enwrapped in brown paper, it was shut off from the rest of the counter by a rich screen of mahogany and ground-glass, and within the enclosed space all the apparatus29 necessary to the activity of Miss Insull had been provided for. However, it remained the coldest part of the whole shop, as Miss Insull's fingers testified. Constance established herself there more from a desire to do something, to interfere30 in something, than from a necessity of supervising the shop, though she had said to Samuel that she would keep an eye on the shop. Miss Insull, whose throne was usurped31, had to sit by the stove with less important creatures; she did not like it, and her underlings suffered accordingly.
It was a long day. Towards tea-time, just before Cyril was due from school, Mr. Critchlow came surprisingly in. That is to say, his arrival was less of a surprise to Miss Insull and the rest of the staff than to Constance. For he had lately formed an irregular habit of popping in at tea-time, to chat with Miss Insull. Mr. Critchlow was still defying time. He kept his long, thin figure perfectly32 erect33. His features had not altered. His hair and heard could not have been whiter than they had been for years past. He wore his long white apron34, and over that a thick reefer jacket. In his long, knotty35 fingers he carried a copy of the Signal.
Evidently he had not expected to find the corner occupied by Constance. She was sewing.
"So it's you!" he said, in his unpleasant, grating voice, not even glancing at Miss Insull. He had gained the reputation of being the rudest old man in Bursley. But his general demeanour expressed indifference36 rather than rudeness. It was a manner that said: "You've got to take me as I am. I may be an egotist, hard, mean, and convinced; but those who don't like it can lump it. I'm indifferent."
He put one elbow on the top of the screen, showing the Signal.
"Mr. Critchlow!" said Constance, primly37; she had acquired Samuel's dislike of him.
"It's begun!" he observed with mysterious glee.
"Has it?" Constance said eagerly. "Is it in the paper already?"
She had been far more disturbed about her husband's health than about the trial of Daniel Povey for murder, but her interest in the trial was of course tremendous. And this news, that it had actually begun, thrilled her.
"Ay!" said Mr. Critchlow. "Didn't ye hear the Signal boy hollering just now all over the Square?"
"No," said Constance. For her, newspapers did not exist. She never had the idea of opening one, never felt any curiosity which she could not satisfy, if she could satisfy it at all, without the powerful aid of the press. And even on this day it had not occurred to her that the Signal might be worth opening.
"Ay!" repeated Mr. Critchlow. "Seemingly it began at two o'clock-- or thereabouts." He gave a moment of his attention to a noisy gas- jet, which he carefully lowered.
"What does it say?"
"Nothing yet!" said Mr. Critchlow; and they read the few brief sentences, under their big heading, which described the formal commencement of the trial of Daniel Povey for the murder of his wife. "There was some as said," he remarked, pushing up his spectacles, "that grand jury would alter the charge, or summat!" He laughed, grimly tolerant of the extreme absurdity38. "Ah!" he added contemplatively, turning his head to see if the assistants were listening. They were. It would have been too much, on such a day, to expect a strict adherence39 to the etiquette40 of the shop.
Constance had been hearing a good deal lately of grand juries, but she had understood nothing, nor had she sought to understand.
"I'm very glad it's come on so soon," she said. "In a sense, that is! I was afraid Sam might be kept at Stafford for days. Do you think it will last long?"
"Not it!" said Mr. Critchlow, positively41. "There's naught42 in it to spin out."
Then a silence, punctuated43 by the sound of stitching.
Constance would really have preferred not to converse44 with the old man; but the desire for reassurance45, for the calming of her own fears, forced her to speak, though she knew well that Mr. Critchlow was precisely46 the last man in the town to give moral assistance if he thought it was wanted.
"I do hope everything will be all right!" she murmured.
"Everything'll be all right!" he said gaily47. "Everything'll be all right. Only it'll be all wrong for Dan."
"Whatever do you mean, Mr. Critchlow?" she protested.
Nothing, she reflected, could rouse pity in that heart, not even a tragedy like Daniel's. She bit her lip for having spoken.
"Well," he said in loud tones, frankly48 addressing the girls round the stove as much as Constance. "I've met with some rare good arguments this new year, no mistake! There's been some as say that Dan never meant to do it. That's as may be. But if it's a good reason for not hanging, there's an end to capital punishment in this country. 'Never meant'! There's a lot of 'em as 'never meant'! Then I'm told as she was a gallivanting woman and no housekeeper49, and as often drunk as sober. I'd no call to be told that. If strangling is a right punishment for a wife as spends her time in drinking brandy instead of sweeping50 floors and airing sheets, then Dan's safe. But I don't seem to see Judge Lindley telling the jury as it is. I've been a juryman under Judge Lindley myself--and more than once--and I don't seem to see him, like!" He paused with his mouth open. "As for all them nobs," he continued, "including th' rector, as have gone to Stafford to kiss the book and swear that Dan's reputation is second to none--if they could ha' sworn as Dan wasn't in th' house at all that night, if they could ha' sworn he was in Jericho, there'd ha' been some sense in their going. But as it is, they'd ha' done better to stop at home and mind their business. Bless us! Sam wanted ME to go!"
He laughed again, in the faces of the horrified51 and angry women.
"I'm surprised at you, Mr. Critchlow! I really am!" Constance exclaimed.
And the assistants inarticulately supported her with vague sounds. Miss Insull got up and poked52 the stove. Every soul in the establishment was loyally convinced that Daniel Povey would be acquitted53, and to breathe a doubt on the brightness of this certainty was a hideous54 crime. The conviction was not within the domain55 of reason; it was an act of faith; and arguments merely fretted56, without in the slightest degree disturbing it.
"Ye may be!" Mr. Critchlow gaily concurred57. He was very content.
Just as he shuffled58 round to leave the shop, Cyril entered.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Critchlow," said Cyril, sheepishly polite.
Mr. Critchlow gazed hard at the boy, then nodded his head several times rapidly, as though to say: "Here's another fool in the making! So the generations follow one another!" He made no answer to the salutation, and departed.
Cyril ran round to his mother's corner, pitching his bag on to the showroom stairs as he passed them. Taking off his hat, he kissed her, and she unbuttoned his overcoat with her cold hands.
"What's old Methuselah after?" he demanded.
"Hush59!" Constance softly corrected him. "He came in to tell me the trial had started."
"Oh, I knew that! A boy bought a paper and I saw it. I say, mother, will father be in the paper?" And then in a different tone: "I say, mother, what is there for tea?"
When his stomach had learnt exactly what there was for tea, the boy began to show an immense and talkative curiosity in the trial. He would not set himself to his home-lessons. "It's no use, mother," he said, "I can't." They returned to the shop together, and Cyril would go every moment to the door to listen for the cry of a newsboy. Presently he hit upon the idea that perhaps newsboys might be crying the special edition of the Signal in the market- place, in front of the Town Hall, to the neglect of St. Luke's Square. And nothing would satisfy him but he must go forth and see. He went, without his overcoat, promising60 to run. The shop waited with a strange anxiety. Cyril had created, by his restless movements to and fro, an atmosphere of strained expectancy61. It seemed now as if the whole town stood with beating heart, fearful of tidings and yet burning to get them. Constance pictured Stafford, which she had never seen, and a court of justice, which she had never seen, and her husband and Daniel in it. And she waited.
Cyril ran in. "No!" he announced breathlessly. "Nothing yet."
"Don't take cold, now you're hot," Constance advised.
But he would keep near the door. Soon he ran off again.
And perhaps fifteen seconds after he had gone, the strident cry of a Signal boy was heard in the distance, faint and indistinct at first, then clearer and louder.
"There's a paper!" said the apprentice62.
"Sh!" said Constance, listening.
"Sh!" echoed Miss Insull.
"Yes, it is!" said Constance. "Miss Insull, just step out and get a paper. Here's a halfpenny."
The halfpenny passed quickly from one thimbled hand to another. Miss Insull scurried63.
She came in triumphantly64 with the sheet, which Constance tremblingly took. Constance could not find the report at first. Miss Insull pointed65 to it, and read--
"'Summing up!' Lower down, lower down! 'After an absence of thirty-five minutes the jury found the prisoner guilty of murder, with a recommendation to mercy. The judge assumed the black cap and pronounced sentence of death, saying that he would forward the recommendation to the proper quarter.'"
Cyril returned. "Not yet!" he was saying--when he saw the paper lying on the counter. His crest66 fell.
Long after the shop was shut, Constance and Cyril waited in the parlour for the arrival of the master of the house. Constance was in the blackest despair. She saw nothing but death around her. She thought: misfortunes never come singly. Why did not Samuel come? All was ready for him, everything that her imagination could suggest, in the way of food, remedies, and the means of warmth. Amy was not allowed to go to bed, lest she might be needed. Constance did not even hint that Cyril should go to bed. The dark, dreadful minutes ticked themselves off on the mantelpiece until only five minutes separated Constance from the moment when she would not know what to do next. It was twenty-five minutes past eleven. If at half-past Samuel did not appear, then he could not come that night, unless the last train from Stafford was inconceivably late.
The sound of a carriage! It ceased at the door. Mother and son sprang up.
Yes, it was Samuel! She beheld67 him once more. And the sight of his condition, moral and physical, terrified her. His great strapping68 son and Amy helped him upstairs. "Will he ever come down those stairs again?" This thought lanced Constance's heart. The pain was come and gone in a moment, but it had surprised her tranquil69 commonsense70, which was naturally opposed to, and gently scornful of, hysterical71 fears. As she puffed72, with her stoutness73, up the stairs, that bland74 cheerfulness of hers cost her an immense effort of will. She was profoundly troubled; great disasters seemed to be slowly approaching her from all quarters.
Should she send for the doctor? No. To do so would only be a concession75 to the panic instinct. She knew exactly what was the matter with Samuel: a severe cough persistently76 neglected, no more. As she had expressed herself many times to inquirers, "He's never been what you may call ill." Nevertheless, as she laid him in bed and possetted him, how frail77 and fragile he looked! And he was so exhausted78 that he would not even talk about the trial.
"If he's not better to-morrow I shall send for the doctor!" she said to herself. As for his getting up, she swore she would keep him in bed by force if necessary.
收听单词发音 |
1
ablaze
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| adj.着火的，燃烧的；闪耀的，灯火辉煌的 | |
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estranged
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| adj.疏远的，分离的 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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everlastingly
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| 永久地，持久地 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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indignity
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| n.侮辱，伤害尊严，轻蔑 | |
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bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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reverberation
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| 反响； 回响； 反射； 反射物 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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31
usurped
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| 篡夺，霸占( usurp的过去式和过去分词 )； 盗用； 篡夺，篡权 | |
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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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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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knotty
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| adj.有结的，多节的，多瘤的，棘手的 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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primly
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| adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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adherence
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| n.信奉，依附，坚持，固着 | |
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etiquette
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| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
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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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naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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punctuated
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| v.（在文字中）加标点符号，加标点( punctuate的过去式和过去分词 )；不时打断某事物 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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reassurance
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| n.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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concurred
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| 同意（concur的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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59
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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apprentice
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| n.学徒，徒弟 | |
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scurried
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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67
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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68
strapping
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| adj. 魁伟的, 身材高大健壮的 n. 皮绳或皮带的材料, 裹伤胶带, 皮鞭 动词strap的现在分词形式 | |
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69
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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70
commonsense
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| adj.有常识的；明白事理的；注重实际的 | |
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71
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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72
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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73
stoutness
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| 坚固，刚毅 | |
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74
bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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75
concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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76
persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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77
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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78
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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