Maurices mother lived near London, in a comfortable villa1 among some pines. There he and his sisters had been born, and thence his father had gone up to business every day, thither2, returning. They nearly left when the church was built, but they became accustomed to it, as to everything, and even found it a convenience. Church was the only place Mrs Hall had to go to—the shops delivered. The station was not far either, nor was a tolerable day school for the girls. It was a land of facilities, where nothing had to be striven for, and suc-cess was indistinguishable from failure.
Maurice liked his home, and recognized his mother as its pre-siding genius. Without her there would be no soft chairs or food or easy games, and he was grateful to her for providing so much, and loved her. He liked his sisters also. When he arrived they ran out with cries of joy, took off his greatcoat, and dropped it for the servants on the floor of the hall. It was nice to be the centre of attraction and show off about school. His Guatemala stamps were admired—so were "Those Holy Fields" and a Hol-bein photograph that Mr Ducie had given him. After tea the weather cleared, and Mrs Hall put on her goloshes and walked with him round the grounds. They went kissing one another and conversing3 aimlessly.
"Morrie ..."
"Mummie ..."
"Now I must give my Morrie a lovely time."
"Where's George?"
"Such a splendid report from Mr Abrahams. He says you re-mind him of your poor father. . .. Now what shall we do these holidays?"
"I like here best."
"Darling boy..." She embraced him, more affectionately than ever.
"There is nothing like home, as everyone finds. Yes, toma-toes—" she liked reciting the names of vegetables. "Tomatoes, radishes, broccoli4, onions—"
"Tomatoes, broccoli, onions, purple potatoes, white potatoes," droned the little boy.
"Mother, where's George?"
"He left last week."
"Why did George leave?" he asked.
"He was getting too old. Howell always changes the boy every two years."
"Oh."
"Turnip tops," she continued, "potatoes again, beetroot— Morrie, how would you like to pay a little visit to grandpapa and Aunt Ida if they ask us? I want you to have a very nice time this holiday, dear—you have been so good, but then Mr Abrahams is such a good man; you see, your father was at his school too, and we are sending you to your father's old public school too— Sunnington—in order that you may grow up like your dear father in every way."
"Morrie,darling —"
The little boy was in tears.
"My pet, what is it?"
"I don't know... I don't know..."
"Why, Maurice .. ."
He shook his head. She was grieved at her failure to make him happy, and began to cry too. The girls ran out, exclaiming, "Mother, what's wrong with Maurice?"
"Oh, don't," he wailed7. "Kitty, get out—"
"He's overtired," said Mrs Hall—her explanation for every-thing.
"I'm overtired."
"Come to your room, Morrie—Oh my sweet, this is really too dreadful."
"No—I'm all right." He clenched8 his teeth, and a great mass of sorrow that had overwhelmed him by rising to the surface began to sink. He could feel it going down into his heart until he was conscious of it no longer. "I'm all right." He looked around him fiercely and dried his eyes. "I'll play Halma, I think." Before the pieces were set, he was talking as before; the childish collapse9 was over.
He beat Ada, who worshipped him, and Kitty, who did not, and then ran into the garden again to see the coachman. "How d'ye do, Howell. How's Mrs Howell? How d'ye do, Mrs Howell," and so on, speaking in a patronizing voice, different from that he used to gentlefolks. Then altering back, "Isn't it a new garden boy?"
"Yes, Master Maurice."
"Was George too old?"
"No, Master Maurice. He wanted to better himself."
"Oh, you mean he gave notice."
"That's right."
"Mother said he was too old and you gave him notice."
"No, Master Maurice."
"My poor woodstacks'll be glad," said Mrs Howell. Maurice
and the late garden boy had been used to play about in them.
"They are Mother's woodstacks, not yours," said Maurice and went indoors. The Howells were not offended, though they pre-tended to be so to one another. They had been servants all their lives, and liked a gentleman to be a snob10. "He has quite a way with him already," they told the cook. "More like his father."
The Barrys, who came to dinner, were of the same opinion. Dr Barry was an old friend, or rather neighbour, of the family, and took a moderate interest in them. No one could be deeply inter-ested in the Halls. Kitty he liked—she had hints of grit11 in her— but the girls were in bed, and he told his wife afterwards that Maurice ought to have been there too. "And stop there all his life. As he will. Like his father. What is the use of such people?"
When Maurice did go to bed, it was reluctantly. That room always frightened him. He had been such a man all the evening, but the old feeling came over him as soon as his mother had kissed him good night. The trouble was the looking-glass. He did not mind seeing his face in it, nor casting a shadow on the ceiling, but he did mind seeing his shadow on the ceiling re-flected in the glass. He would arrange the candle so as to avoid the combination, and then dare himself to put it back and be gripped with fear. He knew what it was, it reminded him of nothing horrible. But he was afraid. In the end he would dash out the candle and leap into bed. Total darkness he could bear, but this room had the further defect of being opposite a street lamp. On good nights the light would penetrate12 the curtains un-alarmingly, but sometimes blots13 like skulls14 fell over the furni-ture. His heart beat violently, and he lay in terror, with all his household close at hand.
As he opened his eyes to look whether the blots had grown smaller, he remembered George. Something stirred in the unfathomable depths of his heart. He whispered, "George,
George." Who was George? Nobody—just a common servant. Mother and Ada and Kitty were far more important. But he was too little to argue this. He did not even know that when he yielded to this sorrow he overcame the spectral15 and fell asleep.
莫瑞斯的母亲住在伦敦郊外的一座松林环绕、舒适安逸的老宅里。他和妹妹们都是在这儿出生的，父亲每天从这里去上班，下班后再回来。修建起教堂的时候，他们差点儿搬家，然而他们对教堂也跟对其他的一切那样习惯起来，甚至发现教堂自有好处。惟独教堂是霍尔夫人非去不可的地方，因为家家店铺都送货上门。车站相距不远，女儿们就读的那所还算不错的学校也很近。这是一个凡事都方便的地方，没有任何值得为之拼搏的事物，成功与失败难以分辨。
莫瑞斯喜爱自己这个家，并把母亲看做保佑它的守护神。没有她的话，就不会有柔软的椅子、可口的食物以及轻松的游戏。由于她提供了这么多，他对她不胜感激，并且爱她。他也喜欢妹妹们，他一回家，她们就欢呼着跑出来，帮他脱下厚大衣，将它丢在门厅的地上，让仆人们收拾。像这样被大家捧着，把学校的事夸耀一番，是很惬意的。他那些危地马拉邮票、那本《神圣的田野》的书，以及杜希先生送给他的一帧霍尔拜因照片（译注：德国的霍尔拜因家族中有两位肖像画家最著名，名叫大霍尔拜因（约1465-1524）、小霍尔拜因（1497/1498-1543）。此处指根据肖像拍成的照片。），均受到称赞。喝完茶，天放晴了，霍尔太太穿上高筒橡皮套鞋，跟他一起在庭园里散步。母子二人边走边不时地吻一下，有一搭没一搭地聊着。
“莫瑞……”
“妈咪……”
“现在我得让我的莫瑞过上一段快乐的日子。”
“乔治在哪儿呢？”
“亚伯拉罕先生写来了一份非常出色的成绩报告单。他说，你使他想起你那可怜的父亲。……喂，咱们怎样度过这段假期好呢？”
“我最喜欢待在家里。”
“多乖的孩子啊……”她更亲热地拥抱了他。
“人人都认为任何地方都没有自己的家好。是啊，这里有西红柿——”她喜欢列举蔬菜的名字，“西红柿、萝卜、花椰菜、圆葱头——”
“西红柿、花椰菜、圆葱头、褐皮土豆、浅色皮土豆。”小男孩懒洋洋地说着。
“芜菁叶——”
“妈妈，乔治在哪儿呢？”
“上星期他辞工了。”
“乔治为什么要辞工？”他问道。
“他的年龄太大啦。豪厄尔总是每两年换一个小伙子。”
“哦。”
“芜菁叶，”她接着说下去，“土豆、甜菜根——莫瑞，要是外祖父和艾达姨妈邀请咱们-你愿意不愿意去？我想让你过个非常快乐的假期。亲爱的——你的成绩多棒哇。不过，亚伯拉罕先生这个人真好。要知道，你爸爸也在他那所学校念过书。为了让你成长得跟你爸爸一模一样，我们把你也送到你爸爸的母校萨宁顿公学去。”
一阵抽泣声打断了她的话。
“莫瑞，乖乖——”
小男孩泪流满面。
“我的乖乖，你怎么啦？”
“我不知道……我不知道……”
“哎呀，莫瑞斯……”
他摇摇头。她没能让他感到愉快，也开始哭起来。女孩们跑了出来，惊叫道：“妈妈，莫瑞斯怎么啦？”
“哦，别……”他大声哭叫，“吉蒂，走开——”
“他太累啦。”霍尔太太说—一凡事她都这么解释。
“我太累啦。”
“到你的屋里去吧，莫瑞——啊，我亲爱的，真是太可怕啦。”
“不——我不要紧。”他咬紧牙关。于是，冒到意识表层的使他突然感到不能自持的那一大团悲哀开始下沉了。他觉察出它降人到自己的心灵深处，终于再也意识不到了。“我不要紧。”他恶狠狠地四下里看了看，将眼泪挤干。“我想玩希腊跳棋。”（译注：希腊跳棋发明于1880年。在方形棋盘上绘有256个方格，双方将棋子从棋盘一角移至对角，先移完者胜。两人玩时每人有19个子，也可以三人玩。） 还没摆好棋子，他就已经能够像平时那样谈话了。那阵稚气的精神崩溃症状消失了。
他把崇拜他的艾达打败了，并将不崇拜他的吉蒂也打败了。接着，他重新跑到庭院里去看望车夫。“你好，豪厄尔。豪厄尔大婶在吗？你好，豪厄尔大婶。”不同于跟社会地位高的人交谈，他用一种屈尊俯就的腔调跟他们说话。接着，话题一转，“那是新来的小园丁吗？”
“是的，莫瑞斯少爷。”
“乔治年龄太大了吗？”
“不是的，莫瑞斯少爷。他找到了一份更好的工作。”
“哦，你的意思是说，是他自己辞工的。”
“可不是嘛。”
“妈妈说，你嫌他年龄太大了，就把他辞掉了。”
“不是这么回事，莫瑞斯少爷。”
“这下子我那堆可怜的柴火就高兴了。”豪厄尔大婶说。莫瑞斯和原先那个园丁总是将柴火垛当游戏场。“那是我妈妈的柴火垛，不是你的。”莫瑞斯说罢，掉头进屋去了。尽管豪厄尔夫妇相互间假装对此耿耿于怀，其实他们并没有感到不快。他们做了一辈子仆人，喜欢自命不凡的主人。
“少爷已经蛮有派头儿啦，”他们对厨师说，“越来越像老爷了。”
应邀来吃晚饭的巴里夫妇有着同样的看法。巴里大夫是这家人的老朋友，或者说是邻居，对他们有一定的兴趣。谁也不会深切关注霍尔家族。他喜欢吉蒂一她有那么一股刚毅劲头——然而女孩们都已经上床了。事后他告诉自己的妻子，莫瑞斯也该待在床上。“在那儿结束他的一生。他会这样的，就像他的父亲一样。这种人到底有什么用呢？”
莫瑞斯终于勉勉强强地上了床，那间卧室一向使他害怕。整个晚上他都做出一个男人的样子，然而当他的母亲道晚安吻别他的时候，原来的感觉又回来了。是那面镜子在作怪。他并不介意照在镜子里的自己的脸，也不在乎天花板上映着自己的投影，然而他却怕天花板上自己那个投影映现在镜中。他把蜡烛挪开，以便拆散这种组合，随后又鼓起勇气将蜡烛放回原处，顿时又惊恐万状。他知道那究竟是怎么回事，它并没使他联想到任何可怕的事，但是他很害怕。最后，他扑灭蜡烛，跳进被窝里。他能忍受伸手不见五指的黑暗，但这间屋子有着比镜子还严重的缺点：面对着一盏街灯。有些夜晚运气好，灯光丝毫不令人惊恐地透过窗帘照射进来。然而有时头盖骨般的黑斑会落在家具上，他的心脏就怦怦地猛跳，他惊慌失措地躺着，其实全家人近在咫尺。
他睁开眼睛看看那些黑斑是否缩小了。这时他想起了乔治。心中那不可测的深处，不知何物在蠕动。他喃喃自语：“乔治，乔治。”乔治是谁呢？无足轻重的人——一个普普通通的仆人而已。妈妈、艾达和吉蒂比他重要多了。然而他毕竟太小，考虑不周。他甚至不曾意识到，当自己沉浸在悲哀中时，竟制服了心里的鬼怪，进入了梦乡。
收听单词发音 |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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broccoli
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| n.绿菜花，花椰菜 | |
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turnip
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| n.萝卜，芜菁 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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snob
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| n.势利小人，自以为高雅、有学问的人 | |
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grit
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| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
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penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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blots
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| 污渍( blot的名词复数 )； 墨水渍； 错事； 污点 | |
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skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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