第 114 节
作者:温暖寒冬      更新:2024-04-09 19:50      字数:9239
  should like to allow Mrs。 Poyser a pension for life; and wanted to
  invite her to the parsonage that she might hear an account of the
  scene from Mrs。 Poyser’s own lips。
  “No; no; Mother;” said Mr。 Irwine; “it was a little bit of irregular
  justice   on   Mrs。   Poyser’s   part;   but   a   magistrate   like   me   must   not
  countenance   irregular   justice。   There          must   be   no   report   spread
  that  I   have   taken  notice   of  the   quarrel;   else   I   shall   lose   the   little
  good influence I have over the old man。”
  “Well; I like that woman even better than her cream…cheeses;”
  said Mrs。 Irwine。 “She has the spirit of three men; with that pale
  face of hers。 And she says such sharp things too。”
  “Sharp!   Yes;   her   tongue   is   like   a   new…set   razor。     She’s   quite
  original   in   her   talk   too;   one   of   those   untaught   wits   that   help   to
  stock a country with proverbs。 I told you that capital thing I heard
  her say about Craig—that he was like a cock; who thought the sun
  had     risen   to  hear   him    crow。   Now     that’s   an  AEsop’s     fable   in  a
  sentence。”
  “But it will be a bad business if the old gentleman turns them
  out of the farm next Michaelmas; eh?” said Mrs。 Irwine。
  “Oh;   that  must  not   be;   and   Poyser   is   such   a   good   tenant   that
  Donnithorne is likely to think   twice;  and digest  his spleen   rather
  than turn them out。 But if he should give them notice at Lady Day;
  Arthur and I must move heaven and earth to mollify him。 Such old
  parishioners as they are must not go。”
  “Ah;   there’s   no  knowing   what   may   happen   before   Lady   day;”
  said Mrs。 Irwine。 “It struck me   on  Arthur’s   birthday  that  the   old
  man was a little shaken: he’s eighty…three; you know。 It’s really an
  unconscionable age。   It’s   only   women   who   have   a   right   to   live   as
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  long as that。”
  “When      they’ve    got  old…bachelor      sons   who    would     be  forlorn
  without them;” said Mr。 Irwine; laughing; and kissing his mother’s
  hand。
  Mrs。 Poyser; too; met her husband’s occasional forebodings of a
  notice to quit with “There’s no knowing what may happen before
  Lady   Day”—one   of   those   undeniable   general   propositions   which
  are usually intended to convey a particular meaning very far from
  undeniable。   But   it   is   really   too   hard   upon   human   nature   that   it
  should be held a criminal offence to imagine the death even of the
  king when he is turned   eighty…three。   It  is   not  to  be   believed   that
  any but the dullest Britons can be good subjects under that hard
  condition。
  Apart from this foreboding; things went on much as usual in the
  Poyser   household。   Mrs。   Poyser   thought   she   noticed   a   surprising
  improvement in Hetty。 To be sure; the girl   got  “closer  tempered;
  and   sometimes   she   seemed   as   if   there’d   be   no   drawing   a   word
  from   her   with   cart…ropes;”   but   she   thought   much   less   about   her
  dress; and went after the work quite eagerly; without any telling。
  And     it   was  wonderful     how   she   never   wanted      to   go   out  now—
  indeed; could hardly be persuaded to go; and she bore her aunt’s
  putting   a    stop   to   her   weekly   lesson   in  fine…work     at  the  Chase
  without the least grumbling or pouting。 It must  be; after  all;   that
  she   had   set   her   heart   on   Adam   at   last;   and   her   sudden   freak   of
  wanting to be a lady’s maid must have been caused by some little
  pique   or  misunderstanding between   them;   which  had passed   by。
  For whenever Adam came to the Hall Farm; Hetty seemed to be in
  better spirits and to talk more than at other times; though she was
  almost  sullen  when   Mr。   Craig  or  any  other  admirer  happened   to
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  pay a visit there。
  Adam      himself    watched      her   at  first  with   trembling      anxiety;
  which   gave   way   to   surprise   and   delicious   hope。   Five   days   after
  delivering Arthur’s letter; he had ventured to go to the Hall Farm
  again—not without dread lest the sight of him might be painful to
  her。 She was not in the house…place when he entered; and he sat
  talking to Mr。 and Mrs。 Poyser for a few minutes with a heavy fear
  on his heart that they might presently tell him Hetty was   ill。   But
  by…and…by   there   came   a   light   step   that   he   knew;   and   when   Mrs。
  Poyser   said;   “Come;       Hetty;   where    have    you   been?”   Adam       was
  obliged   to   turn   round;   though   he   was   afraid   to   see   the   changed
  look there must be in her face。 He almost started when he saw her
  smiling   as   if   she   were   pleased   to   see   him—looking   the   same   as
  ever at a first glance; only that she had her cap on; which he had
  never seen her in before when he came of an evening。 Still; when
  he looked at her again and again as she moved about or sat at her
  work;   there   was   a   change:   the   cheeks   were   as   pink   as   ever;   and
  she   smiled   as   much  as   she   had   ever   done   of   late;   but   there   was
  something different in her eyes; in the expression of her face; in all
  her    movements;       Adam      thought—something           harder;    older;   less
  child…like。 “Poor thing!” he said to himself; “that’s allays likely。 It’s
  because she’s had her first heartache。 But she’s got a spirit to bear
  up under it。 Thank God for that。”
  As the weeks went by; and he saw her always looking pleased to
  see him—turning up her lovely face towards him as if she   meant
  him to understand that she was glad for him to come—and going
  about     her   work    in  the   same    equable     way;   making      no   sign   of
  sorrow; he began to believe that her feeling towards Arthur must
  have     been    much     slighter    than    he   had    imagined      in  his   first
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  indignation and alarm; and that she had been able to think of her
  girlish fancy that Arthur was in love with her and would marry her
  as a folly of which she was timely cured。 And it perhaps was; as he
  had sometimes in his more cheerful moments hoped it would be—
  her heart was really turning with all the more warmth towards the
  man she knew to have a serious love for her。
  Possibly   you   think   that   Adam   was   not   at   all   sagacious   in   his
  interpretations; and that it was altogether extremely unbecoming
  in a sensible man to behave as he   did—falling  in love   with  a   girl
  who really had nothing more than her beauty to recommend her;
  attributing   imaginary   virtues   to   her;   and   even   condescending   to
  cleave to her after she had fallen in love with another man; waiting
  for her kind looks as a patient trembling dog waits for his master’s
  eye to be turned upon him。 But in   so complex a   thing  as   human
  nature;     we    must     consider;    it  is  hard     to  find    rules   without
  exceptions。 Of course; I know that; as a rule; sensible men fall in
  love    with   the   most   sensible     women     of  their   acquaintance;       see
  through all the pretty deceits of coquettish beauty; never imagine
  themselves   loved       when     they   are  not   loved;   cease    loving   on   all
  proper   occasions;   and   marry   the   woman   most   fitted   for   them   in
  every respect—indeed; so as to compel the approbation of all the
  maiden   ladies   in   their   neighbourhood。   But   even   to   this   rule   an
  exception   will   occur  now  and  then   in   the   lapse   of centuries;   and
  my friend Adam was one。 For my own part; however; I respect him
  none   the   less—nay;   I   think   the   deep   love   he   had   for   that   sweet;
  rounded;   blossom…like;   dark…eyed   Hetty;   of   whose   inward   self   he
  was    really   very   ignorant;    came   out   of   the   very   strength    of  his
  nature      and   not    out   of  any    inconsistent     weakness。      Is  it  any
  weakness; pray; to be wrought on by exquisite music? To feel  its
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