little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第11章

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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　wa