第30章

类别:其他 作者:Anne Bronte字数:5725更新时间:18/12/22 09:13:11
Infineweatherhegenerallymanagestogetthroughthetimeprettywell; butonrainydays,ofwhichwehavehadagoodmanyoflate,itisquitepainfultowitnesshisennui。Idoallcantoamusehim,butitisimpossibletogethimtofeelinterestedwhatImostliketotalkabout;while,ontheotherhand,helikestotalkaboutthingsthatcannotinterestme——oreventhatannoyme——andthesepleasehimthemostofall;forhisfavouriteamusementistositorlollbesidemeonthesofaandtellmestoriesofhisformeramours,alwaysturningupontheruinofsomeconfidinggirlorthecozeningofsomeunsuspectinghusband;andwhenIexpressmyhorrorandindignation,helaysitalltothechargeofjealousy,andlaughstillthetearsrundownhischeeks。Iusedtoflyintopassionsormeltintotearsatfirst,butseeingthathisdelightincreasedinproportiontomyangerandagitation,Ihavesinceendeavouredtosuppressmyfeelingsandreceivehisrevelationsinthesilenceofcalmcontempt;butstill,hereadstheinwardstruggleinmyface,andmisconstruesmybitternessofsoulforhisunworthinessintothepangsofwoundedjealousy;andwhenhehassufficientlydivertedhimselfwiththat,orfearsmydispleasurewillbecometooseriousforhiscomfort,betriestokissandsoothemeintosmilesagain——neverwerehiscaressessolittlewelcomeasthen!Thisisdoubleselfishness,displayedtomeandtothevictimsofhisformerlove。Therearetimeswhen,withamomentarypang——aflashofwilddismay,Iaskmyself,`Helen,whathaveyoudone?’ButIrebuketheinwardquestioner,andrepeltheobtrusivethoughtsthatcrowduponme;for,werehetentimesassensualandimpenetrabletogoodandloftythoughts,IwellknowIhaveDorighttocomplain。AndIdon’tandwon’tcomplain。Idoandwilllovehimstill;andIdonotandwillnotregretthatIhavelinkedmyfatewithhis。 April4th——Wehavehadadownrightquarrel。`Theparticularsareasfollows:——Arthurhadtoldme,atdifferentintervals,thewholestoryofhisintriguewithLadyF——,whichIwouldnotbelievebefore。 Itwassomeconsolation,however,tofindthat,inthisinstance,theladyhadbeenmoretoblamethanhe;forhewasveryyoungatthetime,andshehaddecidedlymadethefirstadvances,ifwhathesaidwastrue。I hatedherforit,foritseemedasifshehadchieflycontributedtohiscorruption,andwhenhewasbeginningtotalkabouthertheotherday,Ibeggedhewouldnotmentionher,forIdetestedtheverysoundofhername,—— `Notbecauseyoulovedher,Arthur,mind,butbecausesheinjuredyou,anddeceivedherhusband,andwasaltogetheraveryabominablewoman,whomyououghttobeashamedtomention。’ Buthedefendedherbysayingthatshehadadotingoldhusband,whomitwasimpossibletolove。 `Thenwhydidshemarryhim?’saidI。 `Forhismoney,’wasthereply。 `Thenthatwasanothercrime,andhersolemnpromisetoloveandhonourhimwasanother,thatonlyincreasedtheenormityofthelast。’ `Youaretoosevereuponthepoorlady,’laughedhe。`Butnevermind,Helen,Idon’tcareforhernow;andIneverlovedanyofthemhalfasmuchasIdoyou;soyouneedn’tfeartobeforsakenlikethem。’ `Ifyouhadtoldmethesethingsbefore,Arthur,Inevershouldhavegivenyouthechance。’ `Wouldn’tyou,mydarling!’ `Mostcertainlynot!’ Helaughedincredulously。 `IwishIcouldconvinceyouofitnow!’criedI,startingupfrombesidehim;andforthefirsttimeinmylife,andIhopethelast,IwishedIhadnotmarriedhim。 `Helen,’saidhe,moregravely,`doyouknowthatifIbelievedyounow,Ishouldbeveryangry?——butthankHeavenIdon’t。Thoughyoustandtherewithyourwhitefaceandflashingeyes,lookingatmelikeaverytigress,Iknowtheheartwithinyou,perhapsatriflebetterthanyouknowityourself。’ Withoutanotherword,Ilefttheroom,andlockedmyselfupinmyownchamber。Inabouthalfanhour,hecametothedoor;andfirsthetriedthehandle,thenheknocked。 `Won’tyouletmein,Helen?’saidhe。 `No;youhavedispleasedme,’Ireplied,`andIdon’twanttoseeyourfaceorhearyourvoiceagaintillthemorning。’ Hepausedamoment,asifdumbfounderedoruncertainhowtoanswersuchaspeech,andthenturnedandwalkedaway。Thiswasonlyanhourafterdinner:Iknewhewouldfinditverydulltositalonealltheevening; andthisconsiderablysoftenedmyresentment,thoughitdidnotmakemerelent。Iwasdeterminedtoshowhimthatmyheartwasnothisslave,andIcouldlivewithouthimifIchose;andIsatdownandwrotealonglettertomyaunt——ofcoursetellinghernothingofallthis。Soonafterteno’clock,Iheardhimcomeupagain;buthepassedmydoorandwentstraighttohisowndressing-room,whereheshuthimselfinforthefight。 Iwasratheranxioustoseehowhewouldmeetmeinthemorning,andnotalittledisappointedtobeholdhimenterthebreakfast-roomwithacarelesssmile。 `Areyoucrossstill,Helen?’saidhe,approachingasiftosaluteme。Icoldlyturnedtothetable,andbegantopouroutthecoffee,observingthathewasratherlate。 Heutteredalowwhistleandsaunteredawaytothewindow,wherehestoodforsomeminuteslookingoutuponthepleasingprospectofsullen,greyclouds,streamingrain,soakinglawn,anddripping,leaflesstrees——andmutteringexecrationsontheweather,andthensatdowntobreakfast。~etakinghiscoffee,hemuttereditwas`d——dcold。’ `Youshouldnothaveleftitsolong,’saidI。 HemadeDoanswer,andthemealwasconcludedinsilence。Itwasarelieftobothwhentheletter-bagwasbroughtin。Itcontained,uponexamination,anewspaperandoneortwolettersforhim,andacoupleoflettersforme,whichhetossedacrossthetablewithoutaremark。Onewasfrommybrother,theotherfromMilicentHargrave,whoisnowinLondonwithhermother。His,Ithink,werebusinessletters,andapparentlynotmuchtohismind,forhecrushedthemintohispocketwithsomemutteredexpletives,thatIshouldhavereprovedhimforatanyothertime。Thepaper,hesetbeforehim,andpretendedtobedeeplyabsorbedinitscontentsduringtheremainderofbreakfast,andaconsiderabletimeafter。 Thereadingandansweringofmyletters,andthedirectionofhouseholdconcerns,affordedmeampleemploymentforthemorning;afterlunch,Igotmydrawing,andfromdinnertillbedtime,Iread。Meanwhile,poorArthurwassadlyatalossforsomethingtoamusehimortooccupyhistime。HewantedtoappearasbusyandasunconcernedasIdid:hadtheweatheratallpermitted,hewoulddoubtlesshaveorderedhishorseandsetofftosomedistantregion——nomatterwhere——immediatelyafterbreakfast,andnotreturnedtillnight;hadtherebeenaladyanywherewithinreach,ofanyagebetweenfifteenandforty-five,hewouldhavesoughtrevengeandfoundemploymentingettingup——ortryingtogetup——adesperateflirtationwithher;butbeing,tomyprivatesatisfaction,entirelycutofffromboththesesourcesofdiversion,hissufferingsweretrulydeplorable。Benhehaddoneyawningoverhispaperandscribblingshortanswerstohisshorterletters,hespenttheremainderofthemorningandthewholeoftheafternooninfidgetingaboutfromroomtoroom,watchingtheclouds,cursingtherain,alternatelypetting,andteasing,andabusinghisdogs,sometimesloungingonthesofawithabookthathecouldnotforcehimselftoread,andveryoftenfixedlygazingatme,whenhethoughtIdidnotperceiveit,withthevainhopeofdetectingsometracesoftears,orsometokensofremorsefulanguishinmyface。ButImanagedtopreserveanundisturbed,thoughgraveserenitythroughouttheday。Iwasnotreallyangry:Ifeltforhimallthetime,andlongedtobereconciled;butI determinedheshouldmakethefirstadvances,oratleastshowsomesignsofanhumbleandcontritespirit,first;for,ifIbegan,itwouldonlyministertohisself-conceit,increasehisarrogance,andquitedestroythelessonIwantedtogivehim。 Hemadealongstayinthedining-roomafterdinner,and,Ifear,tookanunusualquantityofwine,butnotenoughtoloosenhistongue; forwhenhecameinandfoundmequietlyoccupiedwithmybook,toobusytoliftmyheadonhisentrance,hemerelymurmuredanexpressionofsuppresseddisapprobation,and,shuttingthedoorwithabang,wentandstretchedhimselfatfulllengthonthesofa,andcomposedhimselftosleep。Buthisfavouritecocker,Dash,thathadbeenlyingatmyfeet,tookthelibertyofjumpinguponhimandbeginningtolickhisface。Hestruckitoffwithasmartblow;andthepoordogsqueaked,andrancoweringbacktome。denhewokeup,abouthalfanhourafter,hecalledittohimagain;butDashonlylookedsheepishandwaggedthetipofhistail。Hecalledagain,moresharply,butDashonlyclungtheclosertome,andlickedmyhandasifimploringprotection。Enragedatthis,hismastersnatchedupaheavybookandhurleditathishead。Thepoordogsetupapiteousoutcryandrantothedoor。Ilethimout,andthenquietlytookupthebook。 `Givethatbooktome,’saidArthur,inverycourteoustone。I gaveittohim。’ `Whydidyouletthedogout?’heasked。`YouknewIwantedhim。’ `Bywhattoken?’Ireplied;`byyourthrowingthebookathim? butperhapsitwasintendedforme?’ `No——butIseeyou’vegotatasteofit,’saidhe,lookingatmyhand,thathadalsobeenstruck,andwasratherseverelygrazed。 Ireturnedtomyreading;andheendeavouredtooccupyhimselfinthesamemanner;but,inalittlewhile,afterseveralportentousyawns,hepronouncedhisbooktobe`cursedtrash,’andthrewitontothetable。Thenfollowedeightortenminutesofsilence,duringthegreaterpartofwhich,Ibelieve,hewasstaringatme。Atlasthispatiencewastiredout。 `Whatisthatbook,Helen?’heexclaimed。 Itoldhim。 `Isitinteresting?’ `Yes,very。’ `Humph!’ Iwentonreading——orpretendingtoread,atleast——Icannotsaytherewasmuchcommunicationbetweenmyeyesandmybrain;for,whiletheformerranoverthepages,thelatterwasearnestlywonderingwhenArthurwouldspeaknext,andwhathewouldsay,andwhatIshouldanswer。ButhedidnotspeakagaintillIrosetomakethetea,andthenitwasonlytosayheshouldnottakeany。Hecontinuedloungingonthesofa。andalternatelyclosinghiseyesandlookingathiswatchandatme,tillbedtime,whenIrose,andtookmycandleandretired。 `Helen!’criedhe,themomentIhadlefttheroom。Iturnedback,andstoodawaitinghiscommands。 `Whatdoyouwant,Arthur?’Isaid,atlength。 `Nothing,’repliedhe。`Go!’ Iwent,buthearinghimmuttersomethingasIwasclosingthedoor,Iturnedagain。Itsoundedverylike`confoundedslut,’butIwasquitewillingitshouldbesomethingelse。 `Wereyouspeaking,Arthur?’Iasked。 `No,’wastheanswer;andIshutthedoomanddeparted。Isawnothingmoreofhimtillthefollowingmorningatbreakfast,whenhecamedownafullhouraftertheusualtime。 `You’reverylate,’wasmymorning’ssalutation。 `Youneedn’thavewaitedforme,’washis;andhewalkeduptothewindowagain。Itwasjustsuchweatherasyesterday。 `Oh,thisconfoundedrain!’hemuttered。Butafterstudiouslyregardingitforaminuteortwo,abrightideaseemedtostrikehim,forhesuddenlyexclaimed,`ButIknowwhatI’lldo!’andthenreturnedandtookhisseatatthetable。Theletter。bagwasalreadythere,waitingtobeopened。Heunlockeditandexaminedthecontents,butsaidnothingaboutthem。 `Is,thereanythingforme?’Iasked。 `No。’Heopenedthenewspaperandbegantoread。 `You’dbettertakeyourcoffee,’suggestedI;`itwillbecoldagain。’ `Youmaygo,’saidhe,`ifyou’vedone。Idon’twantyou。’ Irose,andwithdrewtothenextroom,wonderingifweweretohaveanothersuchmiserabledayasyesterday,andwishingintenselyforanendofthesemutuallyinflictedtorments。Shortlyafter,Iheardhimringthebellandgivesomeordersabouthiswardrobethatsoundedasifhemeditatedalongjourney。Hethensentforthecoachman,andIheardsomethingaboutthecarriageandthehorses,andLondon,andseveno’clockto-morrowmorning,thatstartledanddisturbedmenotalittle。 `ImustnotlethimgotoLondon,whatevercomesofit,’saidItomyself:`hewillrunintoallkindsofmischief,andIshallbethecauseofit。Butthequestionis,howamItoalterhispurpose?——Well,Iwillwaitawhile,andseeifhementionsit。’ Iwaitedmostanxiously,fromhourtohour;butnotawordwasspoken,onthatoranyothersubject,tome。Hewhistled,andtalkedtohisdogs,andwanderedfromroomtoroom,muchthesameasonthepreviousday。AtlastIbegantothinkImustintroducethesubjectmyself,andwasponderinghowtobringitabout,whenJohnunwittinglycametomyreliefwiththefollowingmessagefromthecoachman:—— `Please,sir,Richardsaveoneofthehorseshasgotaverybadcold,andhethinks,sir,ifyoucouldmakeitconvenienttogothedayafterto-morrow,insteadofto-morrow,hecouldphysicittodaysoas——’ `Confoundhisimpudence!’interjectedthemaster。 `Please,sir,hesaysitwouldbeadealbetterifyoucould,’ persistedJohn,`forhehopesthere’llbeachangeintheweathershortly,andhesaysit’snotlikely,whenahorseissobadwithacold,andphysickedandall——’