Hilda’s World
i
The conversation in the inner room promised to be interminable. Hilda could not decide what to do. She felt no real alarm on her mother’s account. Mrs. Lessways, often slightly indisposed, was never seriously ill; she possessed1 one of those constitutions which do not go to extremes of disease; if a malady2 overtook her, she invariably ‘had’ it in a mild form. Doubtless Sarah Gailey, preoccupied3 and worried by new responsibilities, desired to avoid the added care of nursing the sick. Hence the telegram. Moreover, if the case had been grave, she would not have put the telegram in the interrogative; she would have written, ‘Please come at once.’ No, Hilda was not unduly4 disturbed. Nevertheless, she had an odd idea that she ought to rush to the station and catch the next train, which left Knype at five minutes to four; this idea did not spring from her own conscience, but rather from the old-fashioned collective family conscience. But at a quarter to four, when it was already too late to catch the local train at Turnhill, the men had not emerged from the inner room; nor had Hilda come to any decision. As the departure of her mother and Miss Gailey had involved much solemn poring over time-tables, it happened that she knew the times of all the trains to London; to catch the next and last she would have to leave Turnhill at 5.55. She said that she would wait and see. Her work for the first number of the paper was practically done, but there was this mysterious conclave5 which fretted6 her curiosity and threatened exciting development; also the Majuba disaster would mean trouble for somebody. And in any event she hated the very thought of quitting Turnhill before the Chronicle was definitely out. She had lived for the moment of its publication, and she could not bear to miss it. She was almost angry with her mother; she was certainly angry with Miss Gailey. All the egotism of the devotee in her was aroused and irate7.
Then the men came forth8 from the inner room, with a rather unexpected suddenness. Mr. Cannon9 appeared first; and after him Mr. Enville; lastly Arthur Dayson, papers in hand. Intimidated10 by the presence of the stranger, Hilda affected11 to be busy at her table. Mr. Enville shook hands very amicably12 with George Cannon, and instantly departed. As he passed down the stairs she caught sight of him; he was a grizzled man of fifty, lean and shabby, despite his reputation for riches. She knew that he was a candidate for the supreme13 position of Chief Bailiff at the end of the year, and he did not accord with her spectacular ideal of a Chief Bailiff; the actual Chief Bailiff was a beautiful and picturesque14 old man, with perfectly15 tended white whiskers, and always a flower in his coat. Further, she could not reconcile this nearly effusive16 friendliness17 between Mr. Enville and Mr. Cannon with the animadversions of the leading article which Arthur Dayson had composed, and Mr. Cannon had approved, only twenty-four hours earlier.
As Mr. Cannon shut the door at the head of the stairs, she saw him give a discreet18, disdainful wink20 to Dayson. Then he turned sharply to Hilda, and said, thoughtful and stern:
“Your notebook, please.”
Bracing21 herself, and still full of pride in her ability to write this mysterious shorthand, she opened her notebook, and waited with poised22 pencil. The mien23 of the two men had communicated to her an excitement far surpassing their own, in degree and in felicity. The whole of her vital force was concentrated at the point of her pencil, and she seemed to be saying to herself: “I’m very sorry, mother, but see how important this is! I shall consider what I can do for you the very moment I am free.”
Arthur Dayson coughed and plumped heavily on a chair.
ii
It was in such moments as this that Dayson really lived, with all the force of his mediocrity. George Cannon was not a journalist; he could compose a letter, but he had not the trick of composing an article. He felt, indeed, a negligent24 disdain19 for the people who possessed this trick, as for performers in a circus; he certainly did not envy them, for he knew that he could buy them, as a carpenter buys tools. His attitude was that of the genuine bourgeois25 towards the artist: possessive, incurious, and contemptuous. Dayson, however, ignored George Cannon’s attitude, perhaps did not even perceive what it was. He gloried in his performance. Accustomed to dictate26 extempore speeches on any subject whatever to his shorthand pupils, he was quite at his ease, quite master of his faculties27, and self-satisfaction seemed to stand out on his brow like genial28 sweat while the banal29 phrases poured glibly30 from the cavern31 behind his jagged teeth; and each phrase was a perfect model of provincial32 journalese. George Cannon had to sit and listen,—to approve, or at worst to make tentative suggestions.
The first phrase which penetrated33 through the outer brain of the shorthand writer to the secret fastness where Hilda sat in judgment34 on the world was this:
“The campaign of vulgar vilification35 inaugurated yesterday by our contemporary The Staffordshire Signal against our esteemed36 fellow-townsman Mr. Richard Enville...”
This phrase came soon after such phrases as “Our first bow to the public”... “Our solemn and bounden duty to the district which it is our highest ambition to serve...” etc. Phrases which had already occurred in the leading article dictated37 on the previous day.
Hilda soon comprehended that in twenty-four hours Mr. Enville, from being an unscrupulous speculator who had used his official position to make illicit38 profits out of the sale of land to the town for town improvements, had become the very mirror of honesty and high fidelity39 to the noblest traditions of local government. Without understanding the situation, and before even she had formulated40 to herself any criticism of the persons concerned, she felt suddenly sick. She dared not look at George Cannon, but once when she raised her head to await the flow of a period that had been arrested at a laudatory41 superlative, she caught Dayson winking42 coarsely at him. She hated Dayson for that; George Cannon might wink at Dayson (though she regretted the condescending43 familiarity), but Dayson had no right to presume to wink at George Cannon. She hoped that Mr. Cannon had silently snubbed him.
As the article proceeded there arose a crying from the Square below. A Signal boy, one of the earliest to break the silent habit of the Square, was bawling44 a fresh edition of Arthur Dayson’s contemporary, and across the web of the dictator’s verbiage45 she could hear the words: “South Africa—Details—” Mr. Cannon glanced at his watch impatiently. Hilda could see, under her bent46 and frowning brow, his white hand moving on the dark expanse of his waistcoat.
Immediately afterwards Mr. Cannon, interrupting, said:
“That’ll be all right. Finish it. I must be off.”
“Right you are!” said Dayson grandly. “I’ll run down with it to the printer’s myself—soon as it’s copied.”
Mr. Cannon nodded. “And tell him we’ve got to be on the railway bookstalls first thing tomorrow morning.”
“He’ll never do it.”
“He must do it. I don’t care if he works all night.”
“But—”
“There hasn’t got to be any ‘buts,’ Dayson. There’s been a damned sight too much delay as it is.”
“All right! All right!” Dayson placated47 him hastily.
Mr. Cannon departed.
It seemed to Hilda that she shivered, but whether with pain or pleasure she knew not. Never before had Mr. Cannon sworn in her presence. All day his manner had been peculiar48, as though the strain of mysterious anxieties was changing his spirit. And now he was gone, and she had said naught49 to him about the telegram from Miss Gailey!
Arthur Dayson rolled oratorically on in defence of the man whom yesterday he had attacked.
And then Sowter, the old clerk, entered.
“What is it? Don’t interrupt me!” snapped Dayson.
“There’s the Signal.... Latest details.... This here Majuba business!”
“What do I care about your Majuba?” Dayson retorted. “I’ve got something more important than your Majuba.”
“It was the governor as told me to give it you,” said Sowter, restive50.
“Well, give it me, then; and don’t waste my time!” Dayson held out an imperial hand for the sheet. He looked at Hilda as if for moral support and added, to her, in a martyred tone: “I suppose I shall have to dash off a few lines about Sowter’s Majuba while you’re copying out my article.”
“And the governor said to remind you that Mr. Enville wants a proof of his advertisement,” Sowter called out sulkily as he was disappearing down the stairs.
Hilda blushed, as she had blushed in writing George Cannon’s first lie about the printing of the first issue. She had accustomed herself to lies, and really without any difficulty or hesitation51. Yes! She had even reached the level of being religiously proud of them! But now her bullied52 and crushed conscience leaped up again, and in the swift alarm of the shock her heart was once more violently beating. Yet amid the wild confusion of her feelings, a mechanical intelligence guided her hand to follow Arthur Dayson’s final sentences. And there shone out from her soul a contempt for the miserable53 hack54, so dazzling that it would have blinded him—had he not been already blind.
iii
That evening she sat alone in the office. The first number of The Five Towns Chronicle, after the most astounding55 adventures, had miraculously56 gone to press. Dayson and Sowter had departed. There was no reason why Hilda should remain,—burning gas to no purpose. She had telegraphed, by favour of a Karkeek office-boy, to Miss Gailey, saying that she would come by the first train on the morrow—Saturday, and she had therefore much to do at home. Nevertheless, she sat idle in the office, unable to leave. Her whole life was in that office, and it was just when she was most weary of the environment that she would vacillate longest before quitting it. She was unhappy and apprehensive57, much less about her mother than about the attitude of her conscience towards the morals of this new world of hers. The dramatic Enville incident had spoiled the pleasure which she had felt in sacrificing her formal duty as a daughter to her duty as a clerk. She had been disillusioned58. She foresaw the future with alarm.
And yet, strangely, the disillusion59 and the fear were a source of pleasure. She savoured them with her loyalty60, that loyalty which had survived even the frightful61 blow of George Cannon’s casual disdain at her mother’s tea-table! Whatever this new world might be, it was hers, it was precious. She would no more think of abandoning it than a young mother would think of abandoning a baby obviously imperfect.... Nay62, she would cling to it the tighter!
George Cannon came up the stairs with his decisive and rapid step. She rose from her chair at the table as he entered. He was wearing a new overcoat, that she had never seen before, with a fine velvet63 collar.
“You’re going?” he asked, a little breathless.
“I was going,” she replied in her clear, timid voice, implying that she was ready to stay.
“Everything all right?”
“Mr. Dayson said so.”
“He’s gone?”
“Yes. Mr. Sowter’s gone too.”
“Good!” he murmured. And he straightened his shoulders, and, putting his hands in the pockets of his trousers, began to walk about the room.
Hilda moved to get her bonnet64 and jacket. She moved very quietly and delicately, and, because he was there, she put on her bonnet and jacket with gestures of an almost apologetic modesty65. He seemed to ignore her, so that she was able to glance surreptitiously at his face. He was now apparently66 less worried. Still, it was an enigmatic face. She had no notion of what he had been doing since his hurried exit in the afternoon. He might have been attending to his legal practice, or he might have been abroad on mysterious errands.
“Funny business, this newspaper business is, isn’t it?” he remarked, after a moment. “Just imagine Enville, now! Upon my soul I didn’t think he had it in him!... Of course,”—he threw his head up with a careless laugh,—“of course, it would have been madness for us to miss such a chance! He’s one of the men of the future, in this town.”
“Yes,” she agreed, in an eager whisper.
In an instant George Cannon had completely changed the attitude of her conscience,—by less than a phrase, by a mere67 intonation68. In an instant he had reassured69 her into perfect security. It was plain, from every accent of his voice, that he had done nothing of which he thought he ought to be ashamed. Business was business, and newspapers were newspapers; and the simple truth was that her absurd conscience had been in the wrong. Her duty was to accept the standards of her new world. Who was she? Nobody! She did accept the standards of her new world, with fervour. She was proud of them, actually proud of their apparent wickedness. She had accomplished70 an act of faith. Her joy became intense, and shot glinting from her eyes as she put on her gloves. Her life became grand to her. She knew she was known in the town as ‘the girl who could write shorthand.’ Her situation was not ordinary; it was unique. Again, the irregularity of the hours, and the fact that the work never commenced till the afternoon, seemed to her romantic and beautiful. Here she was, at nine o’clock, alone with George Cannon on the second floor of the house! And who, gazing from the Square at the lighted window, would guess that she and he were there alone?
All the activities of newspaper production were poetized by her fervour. The Chronicle was not a poor little weekly sheet, struggling into existence anyhow, at haphazard71, dependent on other newspapers for all except purely72 local items of news. It was an organ! It was the courageous73 rival of the ineffable74 Signal, its natural enemy! One day it would trample75 on the Signal! And though her r?le was humble76, though she understood scarcely anything of the enterprise beyond her own duties, yet she was very proud of her r?le too. And she was glad that the men were seemingly so careless, so disorderly, so forgetful of details, so—in a word—childish! For it was part of her r?le to remind them, to set them right, to watch over their carelessness, to restore order where they had left disorder77. In so far as her r?le affected them, she condescended78 to them.
She informed George Cannon of her mother’s indisposition, and that she meant to go to London the next morning, and to return most probably in a few days. He stopped in his walk, near her. Like herself, he was not seriously concerned about Mrs. Lessways, but he showed a courteous79 sympathy.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t go to London when your mother went,” he said, after a little conversation.
He did not add: “You’ve been indispensable.” He had no air of apologizing for his insult at the tea-table. But he looked firmly at her, with a peculiar expression.
Suddenly she felt all her slimness and fragility; she felt all the girl in herself and all the dominant80 man in him, and all the empty space around them. She went hot. Her sight became dim. She was ecstatically blissful; she was deeply ashamed. She desired the experience to last for ever, and him and herself to be eternally moveless; and at the same time she desired to fly. Or rather, she had no desire to fly, but her voice and limbs acted of themselves, against her volition81.
“Good-night, then.”
“But I say! Your wages. Shall I pay you now?”
“No, no! It doesn’t matter in the least, thanks.”
He shook hands with a careless, good-natured smile, which seemed to be saying: “Foolish creature! You can’t defend yourself, and these airs are amusing. But I am benevolent82.” And she was ashamed of her shame, and furious against the childishness that made her frown, and lower her eyes, and escape out of the room like a mouse.
收听单词发音 |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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conclave
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| n.秘密会议，红衣主教团 | |
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fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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intimidated
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| v.恐吓；威胁adj.害怕的；受到威胁的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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amicably
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| adv.友善地 | |
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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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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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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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effusive
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| adj.热情洋溢的；感情(过多)流露的 | |
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friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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negligent
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| adj.疏忽的；玩忽的；粗心大意的 | |
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bourgeois
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| adj./n.追求物质享受的(人)；中产阶级分子 | |
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dictate
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| v.口授；(使)听写；指令，指示，命令 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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banal
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| adj.陈腐的，平庸的 | |
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glibly
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| adv.流利地，流畅地；满口 | |
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cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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vilification
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| n.污蔑，中伤，诽谤 | |
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esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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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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illicit
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| adj.非法的，禁止的，不正当的 | |
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fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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formulated
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| v.构想出( formulate的过去式和过去分词 )；规划；确切地阐述；用公式表示 | |
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laudatory
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| adj.赞扬的 | |
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winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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bawling
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的现在分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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verbiage
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| n.冗词；冗长 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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placated
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| v.安抚，抚慰，使平静( placate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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restive
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| adj.不安宁的，不安静的 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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bullied
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| adj.被欺负了v.恐吓，威逼( bully的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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hack
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| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
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astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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disillusioned
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| a.不再抱幻想的，大失所望的，幻想破灭的 | |
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disillusion
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| vt.使不再抱幻想，使理想破灭 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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71
haphazard
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| adj.无计划的，随意的，杂乱无章的 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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75
trample
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| vt.踩，践踏；无视，伤害，侵犯 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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condescended
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| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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79
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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80
dominant
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| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
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81
volition
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| n.意志；决意 | |
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benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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