little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第6部分

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some　half…dozen　gigantic　crutches：　which　gymnasium　for　the　neighbouring
cats；　weather…stained；　smoke…blackened；　and　overgrown　with　weeds；
appeared　in　these　latter　days　to　be　no　very　sure　reliance。

'Nothing　changed；'　said　the　traveller；　stopping　to　look　round。　'Dark　and
miserable　as　ever。　A　light　in　my　mother's　window；　which　seems　never　to
have　been　extinguished　since　I　came　home　twice　a　year　from　school；　and
dragged　my　box　over　this　pavement。　Well；　well；　well！'

He　went　up　to　the　door；　which　had　a　projecting　canopy　in　carved　work
of　festooned　jack…towels　and　children's　heads　with　water　on　the　brain；
designed　after　a　once…popular　monumental　pattern；　and　knocked。　A
shuffling　step　was　soon　heard　on　the　stone　floor　of　the　hall；　and　the
door　was　opened　by　an　old　man；　bent　and　dried；　but　with　keen　eyes。

He　had　a　candle　in　his　hand；　and　he　held　it　up　for　a　moment　to　assist
his　keen　eyes。　'Ah；　Mr　Arthur？'　he　said；　without　any　emotion；　'you　are
e　at　last？　Step　in。'

Mr　Arthur　stepped　in　and　shut　the　door。

'Your　figure　is　filled　out；　and　set；'　said　the　old　man；　turning　to　look
at　him　with　the　light　raised　again；　and　shaking　his　head；　'but　you　don't
e　up　to　your　father　in　my　opinion。　Nor　yet　your　mother。'

'How　is　my　mother？'

'She　is　as　she　always　is　now。　Keeps　her　room　when　not　actually
bedridden；　and　hasn't　been　out　of　it　fifteen　times　in　as　many　years；
Arthur。'　They　had　walked　into　a　spare；　meagre　dining…room。　The　old　man
had　put　the　candlestick　upon　the　table；　and；　supporting　his　right　elbow
with　his　left　hand；　was　smoothing　his　leathern　jaws　while　he　looked　at
the　visitor。　The　visitor　offered　his　hand。　The　old　man　took　it　coldly
enough；　and　seemed　to　prefer　his　jaws；　to　which　he　returned　as　soon　as
he　could。

'I　doubt　if　your　mother　will　approve　of　your　ing　home　on　the　Sabbath；
Arthur；'　he　said；　shaking　his　head　warily。

'You　wouldn't　have　me　go　away　again？'

'Oh！　I？　I？　I　am　not　the　master。　It's　not　what　_I_　would　have。　I　have
stood　between　your　father　and　mother　for　a　number　of　years。　I　don't
pretend　to　stand　between　your　mother　and　you。'

'Will　you　tell　her　that　I　have　e　home？'

'Yes；　Arthur；　yes。　Oh；　to　be　sure！　I'll　tell　her　that　you　have　e
home。　Please　to　wait　here。　You　won't　find　the　room　changed。'

He　took　another　candle　from　a　cupboard；　lighted　it；　left　the　first　on
the　table；　and　went　upon　his　errand。　He　was　a　short；　bald　old　man；　in　a
high…shouldered　black　coat　and　waistcoat；　drab　breeches；　and　long　drab
gaiters。　He　might；　from　his　dress；　have　been　either　clerk　or　servant；
and　in　fact　had　long　been　both。　There　was　nothing　about　him　in　the　way
of　decoration　but　a　watch；　which　was　lowered　into　the　depths　of　its
proper　pocket　by　an　old　black　ribbon；　and　had　a　tarnished　copper　key
moored　above　it；　to　show　where　it　was　sunk。　His　head　was　awry；　and
he　had　a　one…sided；　crab…like　way　with　him；　as　if　his　foundations　had
yielded　at　about　the　same　time　as　those　of　the　house；　and　he　ought　to
have　been　propped　up　in　a　similar　manner。

'How　weak　am　I；'　said　Arthur　Clennam；　when　he　was　gone；　'that　I　could
shed　tears　at　this　reception！　I；　who　have　never　experienced　anything
else；　who　have　never　expected　anything　else。'　He　not　only　could；
but　did。　It　was　the　momentary　yielding　of　a　nature　that　had　been
disappointed　from　the　dawn　of　its　perceptions；　but　had　not　quite　given
up　all　its　hopeful　yearnings　yet。　He　subdued　it；　took　up　the　candle；
and　examined　the　room。　The　old　articles　of　furniture　were　in　their　old
places；　the　Plagues　of　Egypt；　much　the　dimmer　for　the　fly　and　smoke
plagues　of　London；　were　framed　and　glazed　upon　the　walls。　There　was　the
old　cellaret　with　nothing　in　it；　lined　with　lead；　like　a　sort　of　coffin
in　partments；　there　was　the　old　dark　closet；　also　with　nothing　in
it；　of　which　he　had　been　many　a　time　the　sole　contents；　in　days　of
punishment；　when　he　had　regarded　it　as　the　veritable　entrance　to　that
bourne　to　which　the　tract　had　found　him　galloping。　There　was　the　large；
hard…featured　clock　on　the　sideboard；　which　he　used　to　see　bending　its
figured　brows　upon　him　with　a　savage　joy　when　he　was　behind…hand　with
his　lessons；　and　which；　when　it　was　wound　up　once　a　week　with　an　iron
handle；　used　to　sound　as　if　it　were　growling　in　ferocious　anticipation
of　the　miseries　into　which　it　would　bring　him。　But　here　was　the　old　man
e　back；　saying；　'Arthur；　I'll　go　before　and　light　you。'

Arthur　followed　him　up　the　staircase；　which　was　panelled　off　into　spaces
like　so　many　mourning　tablets；　into　a　dim　bed…chamber；　the　floor　of
which　had　gradually　so　sunk　and　settled；　that　the　fire…place　was　in　a
dell。　On　a　black　bier…like　sofa　in　this　hollow；　propped　up　behind　with
one　great　angular　black　bolster　like　the　block　at　a　state　execution　in
the　good　old　times；　sat　his　mother　in　a　widow's　dress。

She　and　his　father　had　been　at　variance　from　his　earliest　remembrance。
To　sit　speechless　himself　in　the　midst　of　rigid　silence；　glancing　in
dread　from　the　one　averted　face　to　the　other；　had　been　the　peacefullest
occupation　of　his　childhood。　She　gave　him　one　glassy　kiss；　and　four
stiff　fingers　muffled　in　worsted。　This　embrace　concluded；　he　sat　down　on
the　opposite　side　of　her　little　table。　There　was　a　fire　in　the　grate；
as　there　had　been　night　and　day　for　fifteen　years。　There　was　a　kettle　on
the　hob；　as　there　had　been　night　and　day　for　fifteen　years。　There　was　a
little　mound　of　damped　ashes　on　the　top　of　the　fire；　and　another　little
mound　swept　together　under　the　grate；　as　there　had　been　night　and　day
for　fifteen　years。　There　was　a　smell　of　black　dye　in　the　airless　room；
which　the　fire　had　been　drawing　out　of　the　crape　and　stuff　of　the
widow's　dress　for　fifteen　months；　and　out　of　the　bier…like　sofa　for
fifteen　years。

'Mother；　this　is　a　change　from　your　old　active　habits。'

'The　world　has　narrowed　to　these　dimensions；　Arthur；'　she　rep　lied；
glancing　round　the　room。　'It　is　well　for　me　that　I　never　set　my　heart
upon　its　hollow　vanities。'

The　old　influence　of　her　presence　and　her　stern　strong　voice；　so
gathered　about　her　son；　that　he　felt　conscious　of　a　renewal　of　the　timid
chill　and　reserve　of　his　childhood。

'Do　you　never　leave　your　room；　mother？'

'What　with　my　rheumatic　affection；　and　what　with　its　attendant　debility
or　nervous　weakness……names　are　of　no　matter　now……I　have　lost　the　use
of　my　limbs。　I　never　leave　my　room。　I　have　not　been　outside　this　door
for……tell　him　for　how　long；'　she　said；　speaking　over　her　shoulder。

'A　dozen　year　next　Christmas；'　returned　a　cracked　voice　out　of　the
dimness　behind。

'Is　that　Affery？'　said　Arthur；　looking　towards　it。

The　cracked　voice　replied　that　it　was　Affery：　and　an　old　woman　came
forward　into　what　doubtful　light　there　was；　and　kissed　her　hand　once；
then　subsided　again　into　the　dimness。

'I　am　able；'　said　Mrs　Clennam；　with　a　slight　motion　of　her
worsted…muffled　right　hand　toward　a　chair　on　wheels；　standing　before　a
tall　writing　cabi　close　shut　up；　'I　am　able　to　attend　to　my　business
duties；　and　I　am　thankful　for　the　privilege。　It　is　a　great　privilege。
But　no　more　of　business　on　this　day。　It　is　a　bad　night；　is　it　not？'

'Yes；　mother。'

'Does　it　snow？'

'Snow；　mother？　And　we　only　yet　in　September？'

'All　seasons　are　alike　to　me；'　she　returned；　with　a　grim　kind　of
luxuriousness。　'I　know　nothing　of　summer　and　winter；　shut　up　here。

The　Lord　has　been　pleased　to　put　me　beyond　all　that。'　With　her　cold　grey
eyes　and　her　cold　grey　hair；　and　her　immovable　face；　as　stiff　as　the
folds　of　her　stony　head…dress；……her　being　beyond　the　reach　of　the
seasons　seemed　but　a　fit　sequence　to　her　being　beyond　the　reach　of　all
changing　emotions。

On　her　little　table　lay　two　or　three　books；　her　handkerchief；　a　pair　of
steel　spectacles　newly　taken　off；　and　an　old…fashioned　gold　watch　in　a
heavy　double　case。　Upon　this　last　object　her　son's　eyes　and　her　own　now
rested　together。

'I　see　that　you　received　the　packet　I　sent　you　on　my　father's　death；
safely；　mother。'

'You　see。'

'I　never　knew　my　father　to　show　so　much　anxiety　on　any　subject；　as　that
his　watch　should　be　sent　straight　to　you。'

'I　keep　it　here　as　a　remembrance　of　your　father。'

'It　was　not　until　the　last；　that　he　expressed　the　wish；　when　he　could
only　put　his　hand　upon　it；　and　very　indistinctly　say　to　me　〃your
mother。〃　A　moment　before；　I　thought　him　wandering　in　his　mind；　as　he
had　been　for　many　hours……I　think　he　had　no　consciousness　of　pain　in　his
short　illness……when　I　saw　him　turn　himself　in　his　bed　and　try　to　open
it。'

'Was　your　father；　then；　not　wandering　in　his　mind　when　he　tried　to　open
it？'

'No。　He　was　quite　sensible　at　that　time。'

Mrs　Clennam　shook　her　head；　whether　in　dismissal　of　the　deceased　or
opposing　herself　to　her　son's　opinion；　was　not　clearly　expressed。

'After　my　father's　death　I　opened　it　myself；　thinking　there　might　be；
for　anything　I　knew；　some　memorandum　there。　However；　as　I　need　not　tell
you；　mother；　there　was　nothing　but　the　old　silk　watch…paper　worked　in
beads；　which　you　found　（no　doubt）　in　its　place　between　the　cases；　where
I　found　and　left　it。'

Mrs　Clennam　signified　assent；　then　added；　'No　more　of　business　on　this
day；'　and　then　added；　'Affery；　it　is　nine　o'clock。'

Upon　this；　the　old　woman　cleared　the　little　table；　went　out　of　the　room；
and　quickly　returned　with　a　tray　on　which　was　a　dish　of　little　rusks　and
a　small　precise　pat　of　butter；　cool；　symmetrical；　white；　and　plump。　The
old　man　who　had　been　standing　by　the　door　in　one　attitude　during　the
whole　interview；　looking　at　the　mother　up…stairs　as　he　had　looked　at　the
son　down…stairs；　went　out　at　the　same　time；　and；　after　a　longer　absence；
returned　with　another　tray　on　which　was　the　greater　part　of　a　bottle
of　port　wine　（which；　to　judge　by　his　panting；　he　had　brought　from　the
cellar）；　a　lemon；　a　sugar…basin；　and　a　spice　box。　With　these　materials
and　the　aid　of　the　kettle；　he　filled　a　tumbler　with　a　hot　and
odorous　mixture；　measured　out　and　pounded　with　as　much　nicety　as　a
physician's　prescription。　Into　this　mixture　Mrs　Clennam　dipped　certain
of　the　rusks；　and　ate　them；　while　the　old　woman　buttered　certain　other
of　the　rusks；　which　were　to　be　eaten　alone。　When　the　invalid　had　eaten
all　the　rusks　and　drunk　all　the　mixture；　the　two　trays　were　removed；
and　the　books　and　the　candle；　watch；　handkerchief；　and　spectacles　were
replaced　upon　the　table。　She　then　put　on　the　spectacles　and　read　certain
passages　aloud　from　a　book……sternly；　fiercely；　wrathfully……praying　that
her　enemies　（she　made　them　by　her　tone　and　manner　expressly　hers）　might
be　put　to　the　edge　of　the　sword；　consumed　by　fire；　smitten　by　plagues
and　leprosy；　that　their　bones　might　be　ground　to　dust；　and　that　they
might　be　utterly　exterminated。　As　she　read　on；　years　seemed　to　fall
away　from　her　son　like　the　imaginings　of　a　dream；　and　all　the　old　dark
horrors　of　his　usual　preparation　for　the　sleep　of　an　innocent　child　to
overshadow　him。

She　shut　the　book　and　remained　for　a　little　time　with　her　face　shaded　by
her　hand。　So　did　the　old　man；　otherwise　still　unchanged　in　attitude；　so；
probably；　did　the　old　woman　in　her　dimmer　part　of　the　room。　Then　the
sick　woman　was　ready　for　bed。

'Good　night；　Arthur。　Affery　will　see　to　your　acmodation。　Only　touch
me；　for　my　hand　is　tender。'　He　touched　the　worsted　muffling　of　her
hand……that　was　nothing；　if　his　mother　had　been　sheathed　in　brass　there
would　have　been　no　new　barrier　between　them……and　followed　the　old　man
and　woman　down…stairs。

The　latter　asked　him；　when　they　were　alone　together　among　the　heavy
shadows　of　the　dining…room；　would　he　have　some　supper？

'No；　Affery；　no　supper。'

'You　shall　if　you　like；'　said　Affery。　'There's　her　tomorrow's　partridge
in　the　larder……her　first　this　year；　say　the　word　and　I'll　cook　it。'

No；　he　had　not　long　dined；　and　could　eat　nothing。

'Have　something　to　drink；　then；'　said　Affery；　'you　shall　have　some　of
her　bottle　of　port；　if　you　like。　I'll　tell　Jeremiah　that　you　ordered　me
to　bring　it　you。'

No；　nor　would　he　have　that；　either。

'It's　no　reason；　Arthur；'　said　the　old　woman；　bending　over　him　to
whisper；　'that　because　I　am　afeared　of　my　life　of　'em；　you　should　be。
You've　got　half　the　property；　haven't　you？'

'Yes；　yes。'

'Well　then；　don't　you　be　cowed。　You're　clever；　Arthur；　an't　you？'　He
nodded；　as　she　seemed　to　expect　an　answer　in　the　affirmative。　'Then
stand　up　against　them！　She's　awful　clever；　and　none　but　a　clever　one
durst　say　a　word　to　her。　HE'S　a　clever　one……oh；　he's　a　clever　one！……and
he　gives　it　her　when　he　has　a　mind　to't；　he　does！'

'Your　husband　does？'

'Does？　It　makes　me　shake　from　head　to　foot；　to　hear　him　give　it　her。　My
husband；　Jeremiah　Flintother。　What　can　he
be　but　a　clever　one　to　do　that！'

His　shuffling　footstep　ing　towards　them　caused　her　to　retreat　to　the
other　end　of　the　room。　Though　a　tall；　hard…favoured；　sinewy　old　woman；
who　in　her　youth　might　have　enlisted　in　the　Foot　Guards　without　much
fear　of　discovery；　she　collapsed　before　the　little　keen…eyed　crab…like
old　man。

'Now；　Affery；'　said　he；　'now；　woman；　what　are　you　doing？　Can't　you　find
Master　Arthur　something　or　another　to　pick　at？'

Master　Arthur　repeated　his　recent　refusal　to　pick　at　anything。

'Very　well；　then；'　said　the　old　man；　'make　his　bed。　Stir　yourself。'　His
neck　was　so　twisted　that　the　knotted　ends　of　his　white　cravat　usually
dangled　under　one　ear；　his　natural　acerbity　and　energy；　always
contending　with　a　second　nature　of　habitual　repression；　gave　his
features　a　swollen　and　suffused　look；　and　altogether；　he　had　a　weird
appearance　of　having　hanged　himself　at　one　time　or　other；　and　of　having
gone　about　ever　since；　halter　and　all；　exactly　as　some　timely　hand　had
cut　him　down。

'You'll　have　bitter　words　together　to…morrow；　Arthur；　you　and　your
mother；'　said　Jeremiah。　'Your　having　given　up　the　business　on　your
father's　death……which　she　suspects；　though　we　have　left　it　to　you　to
tell　her……won't　go　off　smoothly。'

'I　have　given　up　everything　in　life　for　the　business；　and　the　time　came
for　me　to　give　up　that。'

'Good！'　cried　Jeremiah；　evidently　meaning　Bad。　'Very　good！　only　don't
expect　me　to　stand　between　your　mother　and　you；　Arthur。　I　stood　between
your　mother　and　your　father；　fending　off　this；　and　fending　off　that；　and
getting　crushed　and　pounded　betwixt　em；　and　I've　done　with　such　work。'

'You　will　never　be　asked　to　begin　it　again　for　me；　Jeremiah。'

'Good。　I'm　glad　to　hear　it；　because　I　should　have　had　to　decline　it；　if
I　had　been。　That's　enough……as　your　mother　says……and　more　than　enough　of
such　matters　on　a　Sabbath　night。　Affery；　woman；　have　you　found　what　you
want　yet？'

She　had　been　collecting　sheets　and　blankets　from　a　press；　and　hastened
to　gather　them　up；　and　to　reply；　'Yes；　Jeremiah。'　Arthur　Clennam　helped
her　by　carrying　the　load　himself；　wished　the　old　man　good　night；　and
went　up…stairs　with　her　to　the　top　of　the　house。

They　mounted　up　and　up；　through　the　musty　smell　of　an　old　close　house；
little　used；　to　a　large　garret　bed…room。　Meagre　and　spare；　like　all　the
other　rooms；　it　was　even　uglier　and　grimmer　than　the　rest；　by　being　the
place　of　banishment　for　the　worn…out　furniture。　Its　movables　were　ugly
old　chairs　with　worn…out　seats；　and　ugly　old　chairs　without　any　seats；
a　threadbare　patternless　carpet；　a