The Telegram
i
It was the end of February 1880. A day resembling spring had come, illusive1, but exquisite2. Hilda, having started out too hurriedly for the office after the midday dinner, had had to return home for a proof which she had forgotten.
She now had the house to herself, as a kingdom over which she reigned3; for, amid all her humiliation4 and pensive5 dejection, she had been able to exert sufficient harsh force to drive her mother to London in company with Miss Gailey. She was alone, free; and she tasted her freedom to the point of ecstasy6. She conned7 corrected proofs at her meals: this was life. When Florrie came in with another dish, Hilda looked up impatiently from printed matter, as if disturbed out of a dream, and Florrie put on an apologetic air, to invoke8 pardon. It was largely pretence9 on Hilda’s part, but it was life. Then she had the delicious anxiety of being responsible for Florrie. “Now, Florrie, I’m going out to-night, to see Miss Orgreave at Bleakridge. I shall rely on you to go to bed not later than nine. I’ve got the key. I may not be back till the last train.” “Yes, miss!” And what with Hilda’s solemnity and Florrie’s impressed eyes, the ten-forty-five was transformed into a train that circulated in the dark and mysterious hour just before cockcrow. Hilda, alone, was always appealing to Florrie’s loyalty10. Sometimes when discreetly11 abolishing some old-fashioned, work-increasing method of her mother’s, she would speak to Florrie in a tone of sudden, transient intimacy12, raising her for a moment to the rank of an intellectual equal as her voice hinted that her mother after all belonged to the effete13 generation.
Awkwardly, with her gloved hands, turning over the pages of a book in which the slip-proof had been carelessly left hidden, Hilda, from her bedroom, heard Florrie come whistling down the attic14 stairs. Florrie had certainly heard nothing of her young mistress since the door-bang which had signalled her departure for the office. In the delusion15 that she was utterly16 solitary17 in the house, Florrie was whistling, not at all like a modest young woman, but like a carter. Hilda knew that she could whistle, and had several times indicated to her indirectly18 that whistling was undesirable19; but she had never heard her whistling as she whistled now. Her first impulse was to rush out of the bedroom and ‘catch’ Florrie and make her look foolish, but a sense of honour restrained her from a triumph so mean, and she kept perfectly20 still. She heard Florrie run into her mother’s bedroom; and then she heard that voice, usually so timid, saying loudly, exultantly21, and even coarsely: “Oh! How beautiful I am! How beautiful I am! Shan’t I just mash22 the men! Shan’t I just mash ’em!” This new and vulgar word ‘mash’ offended Hilda.
ii
She crept noiselessly to the door, which was ajar, and looked forth23 like a thief. The door of her mother’s room was wide open, and across the landing she could see Florrie posturing24 in front of the large mirror of the wardrobe. The sight shocked her in a most peculiar25 manner. It was Florrie’s afternoon out, and the child was wearing, for the first time, an old brown skirt that Hilda had abandoned to her. But in this long skirt she was no more a child. Although scarcely yet fifteen years old, she was a grown woman. She had astoundingly developed during her service with Mrs. Lessways. She was scarcely less tall than Hilda, and she possessed26 a sturdy, rounded figure which put Hilda’s to shame. It was uncanny—the precocity27 of the children of the poor! It was disturbing! On a chair lay Florrie’s new ‘serviceable’ cloak, and a cheap but sound bonnet28: both articles the fruit of a special journey with her aunt to Baines’s drapery shop at Bursley, where there was a small special sober department for servants who were wise enough not to yield to the temptation of ‘finery.’ Florrie, who at thirteen and a half had never been able to rattle29 one penny against another, had since then earned some two thousand five hundred pennies, and had clothed herself and put money aside and also poured a shower of silver upon her clamorous30 family. Amazing feat31! Amazing growth! She seized the ‘good’ warm cloak and hid her poor old bodice beneath it, and drew out her thick pig-tail, and shook it into position with a free gesture of the head; and on the head she poised32 the bonnet, and tied the ribbons under the delightful33 chin. And then, after a moment of hard scrutiny34, danced and whistled, and cried again: “How beautiful I am! How pretty I am!”
She was. She positively35 did not look a bit like a drudge36. She was not the Florrie of the kitchen and of the sack-apron, but a young, fledged creature with bursting bosom37 who could trouble any man by the capricious modesty38 of a gaze downcast. The miraculous39 skirt, odious40 on Hilda, had the brightness of a new skirt. Her hands and arms were red and chapped, but her face had bloomed perfect in the kitchen like a flower in a marl-pit. It was a face that an ambitious girl could rely on. Its charm and the fluid charm of her movements atoned41 a thousand times for all her barbaric ignorance and crudity42; the grime on her neck was naught43.
Hilda watched, intensely ashamed of this spying, but she could not bring herself to withdraw. She was angry with Florrie; she was outraged44. Then she thought: “Why should I be angry? The fact is I’m being mother all over again. After all, why shouldn’t Florrie...?” And she was a little jealous of Florrie, and a little envious46 of her, because Florrie had the naturalness of a savage47 or of an animal, unsophisticated by ideals of primness48. Hilda was disconcerted at the discovery of Florrie as an authentic49 young woman. Florrie, more than seven years her junior! She felt experienced, and indulgent as the old are indulgent. For the first time in her life she did honestly feel old. And she asked herself—half in dismay: “Florrie has got thus far. Where am I? What am I doing?” It was upsetting.
At length Florrie took off the bonnet and ran upstairs, and shut the door of her attic. Apparently50 she meant to improve the bonnet by some touch. After waiting nervously51 a few moments, the aged45 Hilda slipped silently downstairs, and through the kitchen, and so by the garden, where with their feet in mire52 the hare trees were giving signs of hope under the soft blue sky, into the street. Florrie would never know that she had been watched.
iii
Ten minutes later, when she went into the office of Dayson & Co., Hilda was younger than ever. It was a young, fragile girl, despite the dark frown of her intense seriousness, who with accustomed gestures poked53 the stove, and hung bonnet and jacket on a nail and then sat down to the loaded desk; it was an ingenuous54 girl absurdly but fiercely anxious to shoulder the world’s weight. She had passed a whole night in revolt against George Cannon’s indignity55; she had called it, furiously, an insult. She had said to herself: “Well, if I’m so useless as all that, I’ll never go near his office again.” But the next afternoon she had appeared as usual at the office, meek56, modest, with a smile, fatigued57 and exquisitely58 resigned, and a soft voice. And she had worked with even increased energy and devotion. This kissing of the rod, this irrational59 instinctive60 humility61, was a strange and sweet experience for her. Such was the Hilda of the office; but Hilda at home, cantankerous62, obstinate63, and rude, had offered a remarkable64 contrast to her until the moment when it was decided65 that her mother should accompany Miss Gailey to London. From that moment Hilda at home had been an angel, and the Hilda of the office had shown some return of sturdy pride.
To-day the first number of The Five Towns Chronicle was to go to press.... The delays had been inexplicable66 and exasperating67 to Hilda, though she had not criticized them, even to herself; they were now over. The town had no air of being excited about the appearance of its new paper. But the office was excited. The very room itself looked feverish68. It was changed; more tables had been brought into it, and papers and litter had accumulated enormously; it was a room humanized by habitation, with a physiognomy that was individual and sympathetic.
From beyond the closed door of the inner room came the sound of men’s rapid voices. Hilda could distinguish Mr. Cannon’s and Arthur Dayson’s; there was a third, unfamiliar69 to her. Having nothing to do, she began to make work, rearranging the contents of her table, fingering with a factitious hurry the thick bundles of proofs of correspondence from the villages (so energetically organized by the great Dayson), and the now useless ‘copy,’ and the innumerable letters, that Dayson was always disturbing, and the samples of encaustic tiles brought in by an inventor who desired the powerful aid of the press, and the catalogues, and Dayson’s cuttings from the Manchester, Birmingham, and London papers, and the notepaper and envelopes and cards, and Veale Chifferiel & Co.‘s almanac that had somehow come up with other matters from Mr. Karkeek’s office below. And then she dusted, with pursed lips that blamed the disgraceful and yet excusable untidiness of men, and then she examined, with despair and with pride, her dirty little hands, whose finger-tips all clustered together (they were now like the hands of a nice, careless schoolboy), and lightly dusted one against the other. Then she found a galley-proof under the table. It was a duplicate proof of The Five Towns Chronicle’s leading article, dictated70 to her by a prodigious71 Arthur Dayson, in Mr. Cannon’s presence, on the previous day, and dealing72 faithfully with “The Calder Street Scandal” and with Mr. Enville, a member of the Local Board—implicated in the said scandal. The proof was useless now, for the leader-page was made up. Nevertheless, Hilda carefully classified it “in case...”
iv
On a chair was The Daily Telegraph, which Dayson had evidently been reading, for it was blue pencilled. Hilda too must read it; her duty was to read it: Dayson had told her that she ought never to neglect the chance of reading any newspaper whatever, and that a young woman in her responsible situation could not possibly know too much. Which advice, though it came from a person ridiculous to her, seemed sound enough, and was in fact rather flattering. In the Telegraph she saw, between Dayson’s blue lines, an account of a terrible military disaster. She was moved by it in different ways. It produced in her a grievous, horror-struck desolation; but it also gave her an extraordinary sensation of fervid73 pleasure. It was an item of news that would have to appear in the Chronicle, and this would mean changes in the make-up, and work at express speed, and similar delights. Already the paper was supposed to be on the machine, though in fact, as she well knew, it was not. No doubt the subject of discussion in the inner room was the disaster!... Yes, she was acutely and happily excited. And always afterwards, when she heard or saw the sinister74 word ‘Majuba’ (whose political associations never in the least interested her), she would recall her contradictory75, delicious feelings on that dramatic afternoon.
While she was busily cutting out the news from the Telegraph to be ready for Arthur Dayson, there was a very timid knock at the door, and Florrie entered, as into some formidable cabinet of tyrannic rulers.
“If you please, miss—” she began to whisper.
“Why, Florrie,” Hilda exclaimed, “what have you put that old skirt on for, when I’ve given you mine? I told you—”
“I did put it on, miss. But there came a telegram. I told the boy you were here, but he said that wasn’t no affair of his, so I brought it myself, and I thought you wouldn’t care for to see me in your skirt, miss, not while on duty, miss, ‘specially here like! So I up quick and changed it back.”
“Telegram?” Hilda repeated the word.
Florrie, breathless after running and all this whispering, advanced in the prettiest confusion towards the throne, and Hilda took the telegram with a gesture as casual as she could manage. Florrie’s abashed76 mien77, and the arrival of the telegram, stiffened78 her back and steadied her hand. Imagine that infant being afraid of her, Hilda! This too was life! And the murmur79 of the men in the inner room was thrilling to Hilda’s ears.
She brusquely opened the telegram and read: “Lessways, Lessways Street, Turnhill. Mother ill. Can you come?—Gailey.”
收听单词发音 |
1
illusive
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| adj.迷惑人的，错觉的 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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conned
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| adj.被骗了v.指挥操舵( conn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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invoke
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| v.求助于(神、法律)；恳求，乞求 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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12
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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effete
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| adj.无生产力的，虚弱的 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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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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indirectly
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| adv.间接地，不直接了当地 | |
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undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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20
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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exultantly
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| adv.狂欢地，欢欣鼓舞地 | |
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22
mash
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| n.麦芽浆，糊状物，土豆泥；v.把…捣成糊状，挑逗，调情 | |
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23
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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posturing
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| 做出某种姿势( posture的现在分词 ) | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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precocity
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| n.早熟，早成 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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clamorous
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| adj.吵闹的，喧哗的 | |
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feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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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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drudge
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| n.劳碌的人；v.做苦工，操劳 | |
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37
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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38
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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41
atoned
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| v.补偿，赎（罪）( atone的过去式和过去分词 )；补偿，弥补，赎回 | |
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42
crudity
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| n.粗糙，生硬；adj.粗略的 | |
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43
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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44
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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45
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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48
primness
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| n.循规蹈矩，整洁 | |
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49
authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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50
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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51
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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52
mire
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| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
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53
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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54
ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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55
indignity
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| n.侮辱，伤害尊严，轻蔑 | |
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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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59
irrational
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| adj.无理性的，失去理性的 | |
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60
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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62
cantankerous
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| adj.爱争吵的，脾气不好的 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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67
exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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73
fervid
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| adj.热情的；炽热的 | |
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74
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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76
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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78
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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