And this I need not now he telling the reader, if I had related this story on the plan of a miscellaneous chronicle. But the affairs of the heart are so absorbing, that, even in a narrative1, they thrust aside important circumstances of a less moving kind.
I must therefore go back a step, before I advance further. You must know that forty years before our Griffith Gaunt saw the light, another Griffith Gaunt was born in Cumberland: a younger son, and the family estate entailed2; but a shrewd lad, who chose rather to hunt fortune elsewhere, than to live in miserable3 dependence4 on his elder brother. His godfather, a city merchant, encouraged him, and he left Cumberland. He went into commerce, and in twenty years became a wealthy man, so wealthy that he lived to look down on his brother's estate, which he had once thought opulence5. His life was all prosperity, with a single exception; but that a bitter one. He laid out some of his funds in a fashionable and beautiful wife. He loved her before marriage: and, as she was always cold to him, he loved her more and more.
In the second year of their marriage she ran away from him; and no beggar in the streets of London was so miserable as the wealthy merchant.
It blighted6 the man, and left him a sore heart all his days. He never married again; and railed on all womankind for this one. He led a solitary7 life in London till he was sixty-nine; and then, all of a sudden, Nature, or accident, or both, changed his whole habits. Word came to him that the family estate, already deeply mortgaged, was for sale, and a farmer who had rented a principal farm on it, and held a heavy mortgage, had made the highest offer.
Old Griffith sent down Mr. Atkins, his solicitor8, post haste, and snapped the estate out of that purchaser's hands.
When the lands and house had been duly conveyed to him, he came down, and his heart seemed to bud again, in the scenes of his childhood.
Finding the house small, and built in a valley instead of on rising ground, he got an army of bricklayers, and began to build a mansion9 with a rapidity unheard of in those parts; and he looked about for some one to inherit it.
The name of Gaunt had dwindled10 down to three since he left Cumberland; but a rich man never lacks relations. Featherstonhaughs, and Underhills, and even Smiths, poured in, with parish registers in their laps, and proved themselves Gauntesses; and flattered and carneyed the new head of the family.
Then the perverse11 old gentleman felt inclined to look elsewhere. He knew he had a namesake at the other side of the county, but this namesake did not come near him.
This independent Gaunt excited his curiosity and interest. He made inquiries12, and heard that young Griffith had just quarrelled with his wife, and gone away in despair.
Griffith senior took for granted that the fault lay with Mrs. Gaunt, and wasted some good sympathy on Griffith junior.
On further inquiry13 he learnt that the truant14 was dependent on his wife. Then, argued the moneyed man, he would not run away from her, but that his wound was deep.
The consequence of all this was, that he made a will very favorable to his absent and injured (?) namesake. He left numerous bequests15; but made Griffith his residuary legatee; and having settled this matter, urged on, and superintended his workmen.
Alas16! just as the roof was going on, a narrower house claimed him, and he made good the saying of the wise bard—
—Tu secanda marmora
Locas sub ipsum funus et sepulchri
Immemor struis domos.
The heir of his own choosing could not be found to attend his funeral; and Mr. Atkins, his solicitor, a very worthy17 man, was really hurt at this. With the quiet bitterness of a displeased18 attorney, he merely sent Mrs. Gaunt word her husband inherited something under the will, and she would do well to produce him, or else furnish him (Atkins) with proof of his decease.
Mrs. Gaunt was offended by this cavalier note, and replied very like a woman, and very unlike Business.
"I do not know where he is," said she, "nor whether he is alive or dead. Nor do I feel disposed to raise the hue20 and cry after him. But, favor me with your address, and I shall let you know should I hear anything about him."
Mr. Atkins was half annoyed, half amused, at this piece of indifference21. It never occurred to him that it might be all put on.
He wrote back to say that the estate was large, and, owing to the terms of the will, could not be administered without Mr. Griffith Gaunt; and, in the interest of the said Griffith Gaunt, and also of the other legatees, he really must advertise for him.
La Gaunt replied that he was very welcome to advertise for whomsoever he pleased.
Mr. Atkins was a very worthy man; but human. To tell the truth, he was himself one of the other legatees. He inherited (and, to be just, had well deserved,) four thousand guineas, under the will, and could not legally touch it without Griffith Gaunt. This little circumstance spurred his professional zeal22.
Mr. Atkins advertised for Griffith Gaunt, in the London and Cumberland papers, and in the usual enticing23 form. He was to apply to Mr. Atkins, Solicitor, of Gray's Inn, and he would hear of something greatly to his advantage.
These advertisements had not been out a fortnight, when Griffith came home, as I have related.
But Mr. Atkins had punished Mrs. Gaunt for her insouciance24, by not informing her of the extent of her good fortune; so she merely told Griffith, casually25, that old Griffith Gaunt had left him some money, and the solicitor, Mr. Atkins, could not get on without him. Even this information she did not vouchsafe26 until she had given him her 500l., for she grudged27 Atkins the pleasure of supplying her husband with money.
However, as soon as Griffith left her, she wrote to Mr. Atkins to say that her husband had come home in perfect health, thank God; had only stayed two days, but was to return in a week.
When ten days had elapsed, Atkins wrote to inquire.
She replied he had not yet returned: and this went on till Mr. Atkins showed considerable impatience28.
As for Mrs. Gaunt, she made light of the matter to Mr. Atkins; but, in truth, this new mystery irritated her and pained her deeply.
In one respect she was more unhappy than she had been before he came back at all. Then she was alone; her door was closed to commentators29. But now, on the strength of so happy a reconciliation30, she had re-entered the world, and received visits from Sir George Neville, and others; and, above all, had announced that Griffith would be back for good in a few days. So now his continued absence exposed her to sly questions from her own sex, to the interchange of glances between female visitors, as well as to the internal torture of doubt and suspense31.
But what distracted her most, was the view Mrs. Ryder took of the matter.
That experienced lady had begun to suspect some other woman was at the bottom of Griffith's conduct: and her own love for Griffith was now soured; repeated disappointments and affronts32, spretæque injuria formæ, had not quite extinguished it, but had mixed so much spite with it, that she was equally ready to kiss or to stab him.
So she took every opportunity to instill into her mistress, whose confidence she had won at last, that Griffith was false to her.
"That is the way with these men that are so ready to suspect others. Take my word for it. Dame33, he has carried your money to his leman. 'Tis still the honest woman that must bleed for some nasty trollop or other."
She enforced this theory by examples drawn34 from her own observations in families, and gave the very names; and drove Mrs. Gaunt almost mad with fear, anger, jealousy35, and cruel suspense. She could not sleep, she could not eat; she was in a constant fever.
Yet before the world she battled it out bravely, and indeed none but Ryder knew the anguish36 of her spirit, and her passionate37 wrath38.
At last there came a most eventful day.
Mrs. Gaunt had summoned all her pride and fortitude39, and invited certain ladies and gentlemen to dine and sup.
She was one of the true Spartan40 breed, and played the hostess as well as if her heart had been at ease. It was an age in which the host struggled fiercely to entertain the guests; and Mrs. Gaunt was taxing all her powers of pleasing in the dining-room, when an unexpected guest strolled into the kitchen. The pedlar, Thomas Leicester.
Jane welcomed him cordially, and he was soon seated at a table eating his share of the feast.
Presently Mrs. Ryder came down, dressed in her best, and looking handsomer than ever.
At sight of her, Tom Leicester's affection revived; and he soon took occasion to whisper an inquiry whether she was still single.
"Ay," said she, "and like to be."
"Waiting for the master still? Mayhap I could cure you of that complaint. But least said is soonest mended."
This mysterious hint showed Ryder he had a secret burning his bosom41. The sly hussy said nothing just then, but plied19 him with ale and flattery; and, when he whispered a request for a private meeting out of doors, she cast her eyes down, and assented42.
And in that meeting she carried herself so adroitly44, that he renewed his offer of marriage, and told her not to waste her fancy on a man who cared neither for her nor any other she in Cumberland.
"Prove that to me," said Ryder, cunningly, "and may be I'll take you at your word."
The bribe45 was not to be resisted. Tom revealed to her, under a solemn promise of secrecy46, that the Squire47 had got a wife and child in Lancashire; and had a farm and an inn, which latter he kept, under the name of Thomas Leicester.
In short, he told her, in his way, all the particulars I have told in mine.
She led him on with a voice of very velvet48. He did not see how her cheek paled and her eyes flashed jealous fury.
When she had sucked him dry, she suddenly turned on him, with a cold voice, and said, "I can't stay any longer with you just now. She will want me."
"You will meet me here again, lass?" said Tom, ruefully.
"Yes, for a minute, after supper."
She then left him and went to Mrs. Gaunt's room, and sat crouching49 before the fire, all hate and bitterness.
What? he had left the wife he loved, and yet had not turned to her!
She sat there, waiting for Mrs. Gaunt, and nursing her vindictive50 fury, two mortal hours.
At last, just before supper, Mrs. Gaunt came up to her room, to cool her fevered hands and brow, and found this creature crouched51 by her fire, all in a heap, with pale cheek, and black eyes that glittered like basilisk's.
"What is the matter, child?" said Mrs. Gaunt. "Good Heavens! what hath happened?"
"Dame!" said Ryder, sternly, "I have got news of him."
"I don't know whether to tell you or not," said Ryder, sulkily, but with a touch of human feeling.
"What cannot I bear? What have I not borne? Tell me the truth."
"Well, it is as I said; only worse. Dame, he has got a wife and child in another county; and no doubt been deceiving her, as he has us."
"A wife!" gasped54 Mrs. Gaunt, and one white hand clutched her bosom, and the other the mantelpiece.
"Ay, Thomas Leicester, that is in the kitchen now, saw her, and saw his picture hanging aside hers on the wall. And he goes by the name of Thomas Leicester: that was what made Tom go into the inn, seeing his own name on the sign-board. Nay55, Dame, never give way like that, lean on me; so. He is a villain56, a false, jealous, double-faced villain."
Mrs. Gaunt's head fell on Ryder's shoulder, and she said no word; but only moaned and moaned, and her white teeth clicked convulsively together.
Ryder wept over her sad state: the tears were half impulse, half crocodile.
She applied57 hartshorn to the sufferer's nostrils58, and tried to rouse her mind by exciting her anger. But all was in vain. There hung the betrayed wife, pale, crushed, and quivering under the cruel blow.
Ryder asked her if she should go down and excuse her to her guests.
Ryder then laid her down on the bed with her head low, and was just about to leave her on that errand, when hurried steps were heard outside the door, and one of the female servants knocked; and, not waiting to be invited, put her head in, and cried, "Oh, Dame, the Master is come home. He is in the kitchen."
该作者其它作品
《The Cloister and the Hearth回廊与壁炉》
该作者其它作品
《The Cloister and the Hearth回廊与壁炉》
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1
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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entailed
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| 使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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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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dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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opulence
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| n.财富，富裕 | |
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blighted
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| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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solicitor
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| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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10
dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11
perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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12
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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14
truant
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| n.懒惰鬼，旷课者；adj.偷懒的，旷课的，游荡的；v.偷懒，旷课 | |
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bequests
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| n.遗赠( bequest的名词复数 )；遗产，遗赠物 | |
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16
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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17
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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18
displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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20
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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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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22
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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23
enticing
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| adj.迷人的；诱人的 | |
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insouciance
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| n.漠不关心 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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vouchsafe
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| v.惠予，准许 | |
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grudged
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| 怀恨（grudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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28
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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29
commentators
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| n.评论员( commentator的名词复数 )；时事评论员；注释者；实况广播员 | |
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30
reconciliation
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| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
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31
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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32
affronts
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| n.（当众）侮辱，（故意）冒犯( affront的名词复数 )v.勇敢地面对( affront的第三人称单数 )；相遇 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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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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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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spartan
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| adj.简朴的，刻苦的；n.斯巴达；斯巴达式的人 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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42
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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adroitly
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| adv.熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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45
bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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46
secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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47
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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48
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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49
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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50
vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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54
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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55
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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56
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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