She rushed to the quay5, and looked down the harbour towards the blue rim6 of the sea, but she could only see the masts and bulging7 sails of the Joanna; no human figures. ‘’Tis I have sent them!’ she said wildly, and burst into tears. In the house the chalked ‘Good-bye’ nearly broke her heart. But when she had re-entered the front room, and looked across at Emily’s, a gleam of triumph lit her thin face at her anticipated release from the thraldom8 of subservience9.
To do Emily Lester justice, her assumption of superiority was mainly a figment of Joanna’s brain. That the circumstances of the merchant’s wife were more luxurious10 than Joanna’s, the former could not conceal11; though whenever the two met, which was not very often now, Emily endeavoured to subdue12 the difference by every means in her power.
The first summer lapsed13 away; and Joanna meagrely maintained herself by the shop, which now consisted of little more than a window and a counter. Emily was, in truth, her only large customer; and Mrs. Lester’s kindly14 readiness to buy anything and everything without questioning the quality had a sting of bitterness in it, for it was the uncritical attitude of a patron, and almost of a donor15. The long dreary16 winter moved on; the face of the bureau had been turned to the wall to protect the chalked words of farewell, for Joanna could never bring herself to rub them out; and she often glanced at them with wet eyes. Emily’s handsome boys came home for the Christmas holidays; the University was talked of for them; and still Joanna subsisted17 as it were with held breath, like a person submerged. Only one summer more, and the ‘spell’ would end. Towards the close of the time Emily called on her quondam friend. She had heard that Joanna began to feel anxious; she had received no letter from husband or sons for some months. Emily’s silks rustled18 arrogantly19 when, in response to Joanna’s almost dumb invitation, she squeezed through the opening of the counter and into the parlour behind the shop.
‘You are all success, and I am all the other way!’ said Joanna.
‘But why do you think so?’ said Emily. ‘They are to bring back a fortune, I hear.’
‘Ah! will they come? The doubt is more than a woman can bear. All three in one ship—think of that! And I have not heard of them for months!’
‘But the time is not up. You should not meet misfortune half-way.’
‘Nothing will repay me for the grief of their absence!’
‘Then why did you let them go? You were doing fairly well.’
‘I made them go!’ she said, turning vehemently20 upon Emily. ‘And I’ll tell you why! I could not bear that we should be only muddling21 on, and you so rich and thriving! Now I have told you, and you may hate me if you will!’
‘I shall never hate you, Joanna.’
And she proved the truth of her words afterwards. The end of autumn came, and the brig should have been in port; but nothing like the Joanna appeared in the channel between the sands. It was now really time to be uneasy. Joanna Jolliffe sat by the fire, and every gust22 of wind caused her a cold thrill. She had always feared and detested23 the sea; to her it was a treacherous24, restless, slimy creature, glorying in the griefs of women. ‘Still,’ she said, ‘they must come!’
She recalled to her mind that Shadrach had said before starting that if they returned safe and sound, with success crowning their enterprise, he would go as he had gone after his shipwreck25, and kneel with his sons in the church, and offer sincere thanks for their deliverance. She went to church regularly morning and afternoon, and sat in the most forward pew, nearest the chancel-step. Her eyes were mostly fixed26 on that step, where Shadrach had knelt in the bloom of his young manhood: she knew to an inch the spot which his knees had pressed twenty winters before; his outline as he had knelt, his hat on the step beside him. God was good. Surely her husband must kneel there again: a son on each side as he had said; George just here, Jim just there. By long watching the spot as she worshipped it became as if she saw the three returned ones there kneeling; the two slim outlines of her boys, the more bulky form between them; their hands clasped, their heads shaped against the eastern wall. The fancy grew almost to an hallucination: she could never turn her worn eyes to the step without seeing them there.
Nevertheless they did not come. Heaven was merciful, but it was not yet pleased to relieve her soul. This was her purgation for the sin of making them the slaves of her ambition. But it became more than purgation soon, and her mood approached despair. Months had passed since the brig had been due, but it had not returned.
Joanna was always hearing or seeing evidences of their arrival. When on the hill behind the port, whence a view of the open Channel could be obtained, she felt sure that a little speck27 on the horizon, breaking the eternally level waste of waters southward, was the truck of the Joana’s mainmast. Or when indoors, a shout or excitement of any kind at the corner of the Town Cellar, where the High Street joined the Quay, caused her to spring to her feet and cry: ‘’Tis they!’
But it was not. The visionary forms knelt every Sunday afternoon on the chancel-step, but not the real. Her shop had, as it were, eaten itself hollow. In the apathy28 which had resulted from her loneliness and grief she had ceased to take in the smallest supplies, and thus had sent away her last customer.
In this strait Emily Lester tried by every means in her power to aid the afflicted29 woman; but she met with constant repulses30.
‘I don’t like you! I can’t bear to see you!’ Joanna would whisper hoarsely31 when Emily came to her and made advances.
‘You are a lady, with a rich husband and fine sons! What can you want with a bereaved33 crone like me!’
‘Joanna, I want this: I want you to come and live in my house, and not stay alone in this dismal34 place any longer.’
‘And suppose they come and don’t find me at home? You wish to separate me and mine! No, I’ll stay here. I don’t like you, and I can’t thank you, whatever kindness you do me!’
However, as time went on Joanna could not afford to pay the rent of the shop and house without an income. She was assured that all hope of the return of Shadrach and his sons was vain, and she reluctantly consented to accept the asylum35 of the Lesters’ house. Here she was allotted36 a room of her own on the second floor, and went and came as she chose, without contact with the family. Her hair greyed and whitened, deep lines channeled her forehead, and her form grew gaunt and stooping. But she still expected the lost ones, and when she met Emily on the staircase she would say morosely37: ‘I know why you’ve got me here! They’ll come, and be disappointed at not finding me at home, and perhaps go away again; and then you’ll be revenged for my taking Shadrach away from ’ee!’
Emily Lester bore these reproaches from the grief-stricken soul. She was sure—all the people of Havenpool were sure—that Shadrach and his sons could not return. For years the vessel38 had been given up as lost.
Nevertheless, when awakened39 at night by any noise, Joanna would rise from bed and glance at the shop opposite by the light from the flickering40 lamp, to make sure it was not they.
It was a damp and dark December night, six years after the departure of the brig Joanna. The wind was from the sea, and brought up a fishy41 mist which mopped the face like moist flannel42. Joanna had prayed her usual prayer for the absent ones with more fervour and confidence than she had felt for months, and had fallen asleep about eleven. It must have been between one and two when she suddenly started up. She had certainly heard steps in the street, and the voices of Shadrach and her sons calling at the door of the grocery shop. She sprang out of bed, and, hardly knowing what clothing she dragged on herself; hastened down Emily’s large and carpeted staircase, put the candle on the hall-table, unfastened the bolts and chain, and stepped into the street. The mist, blowing up the street from the Quay, hindered her seeing the shop, although it was so near; but she had crossed to it in a moment. How was it? Nobody stood there. The wretched woman walked wildly up and down with her bare feet—there was not a soul. She returned and knocked with all her might at the door which had once been her own—they might have been admitted for the night, unwilling43 to disturb her till the morning.
It was not till several minutes had elapsed that the young man who now kept the shop looked out of an upper window, and saw the skeleton of something human standing44 below half-dressed.
‘Has anybody come?’ asked the form.
‘O, Mrs. Jolliffe, I didn’t know it was you,’ said the young man kindly, for he was aware how her baseless expectations moved her. ‘No; nobody has come.’
June 1891.
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收听单词发音
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1
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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2
bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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3
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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4
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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quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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7
bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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8
thraldom
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| n.奴隶的身份，奴役，束缚 | |
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9
subservience
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| n.有利，有益；从属（地位），附属性；屈从，恭顺；媚态 | |
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10
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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11
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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12
subdue
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| vt.制服，使顺从，征服；抑制，克制 | |
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13
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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14
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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15
donor
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| n.捐献者；赠送人；(组织、器官等的)供体 | |
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16
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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17
subsisted
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| v.（靠很少的钱或食物）维持生活，生存下去( subsist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19
arrogantly
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| adv.傲慢地 | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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21
muddling
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| v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的现在分词 )；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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22
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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23
detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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25
shipwreck
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| n.船舶失事，海难 | |
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26
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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27
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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28
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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29
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
repulses
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| v.击退( repulse的第三人称单数 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
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31
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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32
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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33
bereaved
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| adj.刚刚丧失亲人的v.使失去（希望、生命等）( bereave的过去式和过去分词)；（尤指死亡）使丧失（亲人、朋友等）；使孤寂；抢走（财物） | |
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34
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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35
asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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36
allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37
morosely
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| adv.愁眉苦脸地，忧郁地 | |
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38
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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39
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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40
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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41
fishy
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| adj. 值得怀疑的 | |
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42
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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43
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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44
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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