第 32 节
作者:温暖寒冬      更新:2024-04-09 19:50      字数:9285
  and  why  the   damp came   in   the   walls; and   what   they   must   do   to
  stop the rats; and wrote a beautiful hand that you could read off;
  and   could   do   figures   in   his   head—a   degree   of      accomplishment
  totally   unknown   among   the   richest   farmers   of   that   countryside。
  Not   at   all   like   that   slouching   Luke   Britton;   who;   when   she   once
  walked with him all the way from Broxton to Hayslope; had only
  broken   silence   to   remark   that   the   grey   goose   had   begun   to   lay。
  And as for Mr。 Craig; the gardener; he was a sensible man enough;
  to be sure; but he was knock…kneed; and had a queer sort of sing…
  song in his talk; moreover; on the most charitable supposition; he
  must be far on the way to forty。
  Hetty   was     quite   certain    her   uncle   wanted     her   to  encourage
  Adam; and would be pleased for her to marry him。 For those were
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  times   when   there   was no  rigid  demarcation   of  rank   between   the
  farmer   and   the   respectable   artisan;   and   on   the   home   hearth;   as
  well as in the public house; they might be seen taking their jug of
  ale   together;   the   farmer   having   a   latent   sense   of   capital;   and   of
  weight       in   parish     affairs;    which     sustained      him     under      his
  conspicuous   inferiority  in conversation。   Martin   Poyser  was   not   a
  frequenter of public houses; but he  liked a   friendly  chat  over  his
  own home…brewed; and though it was pleasant to lay down the law
  to a stupid neighbour who had no notion how to make the best of
  his farm; it was also an agreeable variety to learn something from
  a   clever   fellow   like   Adam   Bede。   Accordingly;   for   the   last   three
  years—ever   since   he   had   superintended   the   building   of   the   new
  barn—Adam   had   always   been   made   welcome   at   the   Hall   Farm;
  especially      of   a   winter    evening;      when     the    whole     family;    in
  patriarchal   fashion;   master   and   mistress;   children   and   servants;
  were      assembled       in   that   glorious     kitchen;     at   well…graduated
  distances from the blazing fire。 And for the last two years; at least;
  Hetty had been in the habit of hearing her uncle say; “Adam Bede
  may   be   working   for   wage   now;   but   he’ll   be   a   master…man   some
  day; as sure as I sit in this chair。 Mester Burge is in the right on ’t
  to   want   him   to   go   partners   and   marry   his   daughter;   if   it’s   true
  what  they  say;   the  woman   as   marries   him   ’ull   have   a   good   take;
  be’t    Lady…day      or   Michaelmas;”        a  remark      which     Mrs。    Poyser
  always followed up with her  cordial   assent。 “Ah;” she   would say;
  “it’s all very fine having a ready…made rich  man; but  mayhappen
  he’ll be a ready…made fool; and it’s no use filling your pocket full o’
  money if you’ve got a hole in the corner。 It’ll do you no good to sit
  in a spring…cart o’ your own; if you’ve got a soft to drive you: he’ll
  soon turn you over into the ditch。 I allays   said   I’d  never  marry  a
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  man as had got no brains; for where’s the use of a woman having
  brains    of  her   own    if   she’s  tackled  to   a   geck  as  everybody’s    a…
  laughing at? She might as well dress herself fine to  sit  back’ards
  on a donkey。”
  These expressions; though figurative; sufficiently indicated the
  bent of Mrs。 Poyser’s mind with regard to Adam; and though she
  and    her   husband      might    have   viewed    the   subject   differently    if
  Hetty   had   been   a   daughter   of   their   own;   it   was   clear   that   they
  would have welcomed the match with Adam for a penniless niece。
  For   what   could   Hetty   have   been   but   a   servant   elsewhere;   if   her
  uncle had not taken her in and brought her up as a domestic help
  to   her   aunt;   whose   health   since   the   birth   of   Totty   had   not   been
  equal     to   more    positive    labour    than    the   superintendence        of
  servants     and   children?     But   Hetty    had   never    given   Adam     any
  steady encouragement。 Even in the moments when she was most
  thoroughly conscious of his superiority to her other admirers; she
  had never brought herself to think of accepting him。 She liked to
  feel that this strong; skilful; keen…eyed man was in her power; and
  would     have    been   indignant     if  he  had   shown     the  least   sign  of
  slipping     from    under    the   yoke   of   her   coquettish    tyranny     and
  attaching himself to the gentle Mary Burge; who would have been
  grateful     enough     for  the  most    trifling   notice   from    him。   “Mary
  Burge; indeed! Such a sallow…faced girl: if she put on a bit of pink
  ribbon; she looked as yellow as a crow…flower and her hair was as
  straight as a hank of cotton。” And always when Adam stayed away
  for several weeks from the Hall Farm; and otherwise made some
  show of resistance to his passion as a foolish one; Hetty took care
  to   entice   him   back   into   the  net   by   little   airs  of   meekness  and
  timidity; as if she were in trouble at his neglect。 But as to marrying
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  Adam;   that  was   a   very  different affair!  There   was nothing  in   the
  world   to   tempt   her   to   do   that。   Her   cheeks   never   grew   a   shade
  deeper when his name was mentioned; she felt no thrill when she
  saw him passing along the causeway by the window; or advancing
  towards her unexpectedly in the footpath across the meadow; she
  felt nothing; when his eyes rested on her; but the cold triumph of
  knowing   that   he   loved   her   and   would   not   care   to   look   at   Mary
  Burge。 He could no  more   stir  in   her  the   emotions  that  make   the
  sweet   intoxication   of   young   love   than   the   mere   picture   of   a   sun
  can  stir  the   spring  sap   in   the   subtle   fibres   of   the   plant。   She   saw
  him as he was—a poor man with old parents to keep; who would
  not    be   able;   for  a   long   while    to  come;     to  give   her   even    such
  luxuries   as   she   shared   in   her  uncle’s   house。   And   Hetty’s   dreams
  were all of luxuries: to sit in a carpeted parlour; and always wear
  white   stockings;   to   have   some   large   beautiful   ear…rings;   such   as
  were all the fashion; to have Nottingham lace round the top of her
  gown;   and   something   to   make   her   handkerchief   smell   nice;   like
  Miss Lydia Donnithorne’s when she drew it out at church; and not
  to   be   obliged     to  get   up   early   or   be   scolded     by   anybody。      She
  thought;   if   Adam   had   been   rich   and   could   have   given   her   these
  things; she loved him well enough to marry him。
  But   for    the   last  few   weeks     a  new    influence      had   come     over
  Hetty—vague;   atmospheric;   shaping   itself   into   no   self…confessed
  hopes      or   prospects;     but    producing      a   pleasant     narcotic     effect;
  making her tread the   ground and   go  about  her  work   in a   sort  of
  dream; unconscious of weight or effort; and showing her all things
  through   a   soft;   liquid   veil;   as   if   she   were   living   not   in   this   solid
  world of brick and stone; but in a beatified world; such as the sun
  lights   up   for  us   in   the   waters。   Hetty  had   become   aware   that   Mr。
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  Arthur   Donnithorne   would           take   a  good    deal   of   trouble   for   the
  chance of seeing her; that he always placed himself at church so as
  to  have   the   fullest  view  of  her  both   sitting   and   standing;   that   he
  was   constantly   finding   reason   for   calling   at   the   Hall   Farm;   and
  always would contrive to say something for the sake of making her
  speak to him and look at him。 The poor child no more conceived at
  present the idea that the young squire could ever be her lover than
  a   baker’s   pretty   daughter   in   the   crowd;   w