Sir Bale Mardykes being now established in his ancestral house, people had time to form conclusions respecting him. It must be allowed he was not popular. There was, perhaps, in his conduct something of the caprice of contempt. At all events his temper and conduct were uncertain, and his moods sometimes violent and insulting.
With respect to but one person was his conduct uniform, and that was Philip Feltram. He was a sort of aide-decamp near Sir Bale’s person, and chargeable with all the commissions and offices which could not be suitably intrusted to a mere1 servant. But in many respects he was treated worse than any servant of the Baronet’s. Sir Bale swore at him, and cursed him; laid the blame of everything that went wrong in house, stable, or field upon his shoulders; railed at him, and used him, as people said, worse than a dog.
Why did Feltram endure this contumelious life? What could he do but endure it? was the answer. What was the power that induced strong soldiers to put off their jackets and shirts, and present their hands to be tied up, and tortured for hours, it might be, under the scourge2, with an air of ready volition3? The moral coercion4 of despair; the result of an unconscious calculation of chances which satisfies them that it is ultimately better to do all that, bad as it is, than try the alternative. These unconscious calculations are going on every day with each of us, and the results embody5 themselves in our lives; and no one knows that there has been a process and a balance struck, and that what they see, and very likely blame, is by the fiat6 of an invisible but quite irresistible7 power.
A man of spirit would rather break stones on the highway than eat that bitter bread, was the burden of every man’s song on Feltram’s bondage8. But he was not so sure that even the stone-breaker’s employment was open to him, or that he could break stones well enough to retain it on a fair trial. And he had other ideas of providing for himself, and a different alternative in his mind.
Good-natured Mrs. Julaper, the old housekeeper9 at Mardykes Hall, was kind to Feltram, as to all others who lay in her way and were in affliction.
She was one of those good women whom Nature provides to receive the burden of other people’s secrets, as the reeds did long ago, only that no chance wind could steal them away, and send them singing into strange ears.
You may still see her snuggery in Mardykes Hall, though the housekeeper’s room is now in a different part of the house.
Mrs. Julaper’s room was in the oldest quarter of that old house. It was wainscoted, in black panels, up to the ceiling, which was stuccoed over in the fanciful diagrams of James the First’s time. Several dingy11 portraits, banished12 from time to time from other statelier rooms, found a temporary abode13 in this quiet spot, where they had come finally to settle and drop out of remembrance. There is a lady in white satin and a ruff; a gentleman whose legs have faded out of view, with a peaked beard, and a hawk14 on his wrist. There is another in a black periwig lost in the dark background, and with a steel cuirass, the gleam of which out of the darkness strikes the eye, and a scarf is dimly discoverable across it. This is that foolish Sir Guy Mardykes, who crossed the Border and joined Dundee, and was shot through the temple at Killiecrankie and whom more prudent15 and whiggish scions16 of the Mardykes family removed forthwith from his place in the Hall, and found a retirement17 here, from which he has not since emerged.
At the far end of this snug10 room is a second door, on opening which you find yourself looking down upon the great kitchen, with a little balcony before you, from which the housekeeper used to issue her commands to the cook, and exercise a sovereign supervision18.
There is a shelf on which Mrs Julaper had her Bible, her Whole Duty of Man, and her Pilgrim’s Progress; and, in a file beside them, her books of housewifery, and among them volumes of MS. recipes, cookery-books, and some too on surgery and medicine, as practised by the Ladies Bountiful of the Elizabethan age, for which an antiquarian would nowadays give an eye or a hand.
Gentle half-foolish Philip Feltram would tell the story of his wrongs, and weep and wish he was dead; and kind Mrs. Julaper, who remembered him a child, would comfort him with cold pie and cherry-brandy, or a cup of coffee, or some little dainty.
“O, ma’am, I’m tired of my life. What’s the good of living, if a poor devil is never let alone, and called worse names than a dog? Would not it be better, Mrs. Julaper, to be dead? Wouldn’t it be better, ma’am? I think so; I think it night and day. I’m always thinking the same thing. I don’t care, I’ll just tell him what I think, and have it off my mind. I’ll tell him I can’t live and bear it longer.”
“There now, don’t you be frettin’; but just sip19 this, and remember you’re not to judge a friend by a wry20 word. He does not mean it, not he. They all had a rough side to their tongue now and again; but no one minded that. I don’t, nor you needn’t, no more than other folk; for the tongue, be it never so bitin’, it can’t draw blood, mind ye, and hard words break no bones; and I’ll make a cup o’ tea — ye like a cup o’ tea — and we’ll take a cup together, and ye’ll chirp21 up a bit, and see how pleasant and ruddy the sun shines on the lake this evening.”
She was patting him gently on the shoulder, as she stood slim and stiff in her dark silk by his chair, and her rosy22 little face smiled down on him. She was, for an old woman, wonderfully pretty still. What a delicate skin she must have had! The wrinkles were etched upon it with so fine a needle, you scarcely could see them a little way off; and as she smiled her cheeks looked fresh and smooth as two ruddy little apples.
“Look out, I say,” and she nodded towards the window, deep set in the thick wall. “See how bright and soft everything looks in that pleasant light; that’s better, child, than the finest picture man’s hand ever painted yet, and God gives it us for nothing; and how pretty Snakes Island glows up in that light!”
The dejected man, hardly raising his head, followed with his eyes the glance of the old woman, and looked mournfully through the window.
“That island troubles me, Mrs. Julaper.”
“Everything troubles you, my poor goose-cap. I’ll pull your lug23 for ye, child, if ye be so dowly;” and with a mimic24 pluck the good-natured old housekeeper pinched his ear and laughed.
“I’ll go to the still-room now, where the water’s boiling, and I’ll make a cup of tea; and if I find ye so dow when I come back, I’ll throw it all out o’ the window, mind.”
It was indeed a beautiful picture that Feltram saw in its deep frame of old masonry25. The near part of the lake was flushed all over with the low western light; the more distant waters lay dark in the shadow of the mountains; and against this shadow of purple the rocks on Snakes Island, illuminated26 by the setting sun, started into sharp clear yellow.
But this beautiful view had no charm — at least, none powerful enough to master the latent horror associated with its prettiest feature — for the weak and dismal27 man who was looking at it; and being now alone, he rose and leant on the window, and looked out, and then with a kind of shudder28 clutching his hands together, and walking distractedly about the room.
Without his perceiving, while his back was turned, the housekeeper came back; and seeing him walking in this distracted way, she thought to herself, as he leant again upon the window:
“Well, it is a burning shame to worrit any poor soul into that state. Sir Bale was always down on someone or something, man or beast; there always was something he hated, and could never let alone. It was not pretty; it was his nature. Happen, poor fellow, he could not help it; but so it was.”
A maid came in and set the tea-things down; and Mrs. Julaper drew her sad guest over by the arm, and made him sit down, and she said: “What has a man to do, frettin’ in that way? By Jen, I’m ashamed o’ ye, Master Philip! Ye like three lumps o’ sugar, I think, and — look cheerful, ye must!— a good deal o’ cream?”
“You’re so kind, Mrs. Julaper, you’re so cheery. I feel quite comfortable after awhile when I’m with you; I feel quite happy,” and he began to cry.
She understood him very well by this time and took no notice, but went on chatting gaily29, and made his tea as he liked it; and he dried his tears hastily, thinking she had not observed.
So the clouds began to clear. This innocent fellow liked nothing better than a cup of tea and a chat with gentle and cheery old Mrs. Julaper, and a talk in which the shadowy old times which he remembered as a child emerged into sunlight and lived again.
When he began to feel better, drawn30 into the kindly31 old times by the tinkle32 of that harmless old woman’s tongue, he said:
“I sometimes think I would not so much mind — I should not care so much — if my spirits were not so depressed33, and I so agitated34. I suppose I am not quite well.”
“Well, tell me what’s wrong, child, and it’s odd but I have a recipe on the shelf there that will do you good.”
“It is not a matter of that sort I mean; though I’d rather have you than any doctor, if I needed medicine, to prescribe for me.”
Mrs. Julaper smiled in spite of herself, well pleased; for her skill in pharmacy35 was a point on which the good lady prided herself, and was open to flattery, which, without intending it, the simple fellow administered.
“No, I’m well enough; I can’t say I ever was better. It is only, ma’am, that I have such dreams — you have no idea.”
“There are dreams and dreams, my dear: there’s some signifies no more than the babble36 of the lake down there on the pebbles37, and there’s others that has a meaning; there’s dreams that is but vanity, and there’s dreams that is good, and dreams that is bad. Lady Mardykes — heavens be her bed this day! that’s his grandmother I mean — was very sharp for reading dreams. Take another cup of tea. Dear me! what a noise the crows keep aboon our heads, going home! and how high they wing it!— that’s a sure sign of fine weather. An’ what do you dream about? Tell me your dream, and I may show you it’s a good one, after all. For many a dream is ugly to see and ugly to tell, and a good dream, with a happy meaning, for all that.”
收听单词发音 |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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volition
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| n.意志；决意 | |
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coercion
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| n.强制，高压统治 | |
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embody
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| vt.具体表达，使具体化；包含，收录 | |
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fiat
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| n.命令，法令，批准；vt.批准，颁布 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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scions
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| n.接穗，幼枝( scion的名词复数 )；（尤指富家）子孙 | |
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retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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supervision
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| n.监督，管理 | |
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sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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wry
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| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
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chirp
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| v.(尤指鸟)唧唧喳喳的叫 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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lug
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| n.柄，突出部，螺帽；(英）耳朵；（俚）笨蛋；vt.拖，拉，用力拖动 | |
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mimic
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| v.模仿，戏弄；n.模仿他人言行的人 | |
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masonry
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| n.砖土建筑；砖石 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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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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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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tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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pharmacy
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| n.药房，药剂学，制药业，配药业，一批备用药品 | |
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babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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