little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第63章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


had　faded；　but　her　lover　thought　he　saw　it　ing　back　just　then；　'and　I
may　be　often　here。　I　know　it　is　only　necessary　for　me　to　tell　you　so；　to
be　quite　sure　that　you　will　never　e　here　again　in　search　of　me。　And　I
am……quite　sure！'

She　might　rely　upon　it；　said　Young　John。　He　was　a　miserable　wretch；　but
her　word　was　more　than　a　law　for　him。

'And　good…bye；　John；'　said　Little　Dorrit。　'And　I　hope　you　will　have　a
good　wife　one　day；　and　be　a　happy　man。　I　am　sure　you　will　deserve　to　be
happy；　and　you　will　be；　John。'

As　she　held　out　her　hand　to　him　with　these　words；　the　heart　that　was
under　the　waistcoat　of　sprigs……mere　slop…work；　if　the　truth　must　be
known……swelled　to　the　size　of　the　heart　of　a　gentleman；　and　the　poor
mon　little　fellow；　having　no　room　to　hold　it；　burst　into　tears。

'Oh；　don't　cry；'　said　Little　Dorrit　piteously。　'Don't；　don't！　Good…bye；
John。　God　bless　you！'

'Good…bye；　Miss　Amy。　Good…bye！'

And　so　he　left　her：　first　observing　that　she　sat　down　on　the　corner　of　a
seat；　and　not　only　rested　her　little　hand　upon　the　rough　wall；　but　laid
her　face　against　it　too；　as　if　her　head　were　heavy；　and　her　mind　were
sad。　It　was　an　affecting　illustration　of　the　fallacy　of　human　projects；
to　behold　her　lover；　with　the　great　hat　pulled　over　his　eyes；　the　velvet
collar　turned　up　as　if　it　rained；　the　plum…coloured　coat　buttoned
to　conceal　the　silken　waistcoat　of　golden　sprigs；　and　the　little
direction…post　pointing　inexorably　home；　creeping　along　by　the　worst
back…streets；　and　posing；　as　he　went；　the　following　new　inscription
for　a　tombstone　in　St　George's　Churchyard：

'Here　lie　the　mortal　remains　Of　JOHN　CHIVERY；　Never　anything　worth
mentioning；　Who　died　about　the　end　of　the　year　one　thousand　eight
hundred　and　twenty…six；　Of　a　broken　heart；　Requesting　with　his　last
breath　that　the　word　AMY　might　be　inscribed　over　his　ashes；　which　was
accordingly　directed　to　be　done；　By　his　afflicted　Parents。'




CHAPTER　19。　The　Father　of　the　Marshalsea　in　two　or　three　Relations


The　brothers　William　and　Frederick　Dorrit；　walking　up　and　down　the
College…yard……of　course　on　the　aristocratic　or　Pump　side；　for　the　Father
made　it　a　point　of　his　state　to　be　chary　of　going　among　his　children
on　the　Poor　side；　except　on　Sunday　mornings；　Christmas　Days；　and　other
occasions　of　ceremony；　in　the　observance　whereof　he　was　very　punctual；
and　at　which　times　he　laid　his　hand　upon　the　heads　of　their　infants；
and　blessed　those　young　insolvents　with　a　benignity　that　was　highly
edifying……the　brothers；　walking　up　and　down　the　College…yard　together；
were　a　memorable　sight。　Frederick　the　free；　was　so　humbled；　bowed；
withered；　and　faded；　William　the　bond；　was　so　courtly；　condescending；
and　benevolently　conscious　of　a　position；　that　in　this　regard　only；　if
in　no　other；　the　brothers　were　a　spectacle　to　wonder　at。

They　walked　up　and　down　the　yard　on　the　evening　of　Little　Dorrit's
Sunday　interview　with　her　lover　on　the　Iron　Bridge。　The　cares　of　state
were　over　for　that　day；　the　Drawing　Room　had　been　well　attended；　several
new　presentations　had　taken　place；　the　three…and…sixpence　accidentally
left　on　the　table　had　accidentally　increased　to　twelve　shillings；　and
the　Father　of　the　Marshalsea　refreshed　himself　with　a　whiff　of　cigar。　As
he　walked　up　and　down；　affably　acmodating　his　step　to　the　shuffle　of
his　brother；　not　proud　in　his　superiority；　but　considerate　of　that　poor
creature；　bearing　with　him；　and　breathing　toleration　of　his　infirmities
in　every　little　puff　of　smoke　that　issued　from　his　lips　and　aspired　to
get　over　the　spiked　wall；　he　was　a　sight　to　wonder　at。

His　brother　Frederick　of　the　dim　eye；　palsied　hand；　bent　form；　and
groping　mind；　submissively　shuffled　at　his　side；　accepting　his　patronage
as　he　accepted　every　incident　of　the　labyrinthian　world　in　which　he　had
got　lost。　He　held　the　usual　screwed　bit　of　whitey…brown　paper　in　his
hand；　from　which　he　ever　and　again　unscrewed　a　spare　pinch　of　snuff。
That　falteringly　taken；　he　would　glance　at　his　brother　not　unadmiringly；
put　his　hands　behind　him；　and　shuffle　on　so　at　his　side　until　he　took
another　pinch；　or　stood　still　to　look　about　him……perchance　suddenly
missing　his　clario。　The　College　visitors　were　melting　away　as
the　shades　of　night　drew　on；　but　the　yard　was　still　pretty　full；　the
Collegians　being　mostly　out；　seeing　their　friends　to　the　Lodge。　As　the
brothers　paced　the　yard；　William　the　bond　looked　about　him　to　receive
salutes；　returned　them　by　graciously　lifting　off　his　hat；　and；　with
an　engaging　air；　prevented　Frederick　the　free　from　running　against　the
pany；　or　being　jostled　against　the　wall。　The　Collegians　as　a　body
were　not　easily　impressible；　but　even　they；　according　to　their　various
ways　of　wondering；　appeared　to　find　in　the　two　brothers　a　sight　to
wonder　at。

'You　are　a　little　low　this　evening；　Frederick；'　said　the　Father　of　the
Marshalsea。　'Anything　the　matter？'

'The　matter？'　He　stared　for　a　moment；　and　then　dropped　his　head　and　eyes
again。　'No；　William；　no。　Nothing　is　the　matter。'

'If　you　could　be　persuaded　to　smarten　yourself　up　a　little；　Frederick……'

'Aye；　aye！'　said　the　old　man　hurriedly。　'But　I　can't　be。　I　can't　be。
Don't　talk　so。　That's　all　over。'

The　Father　of　the　Marshalsea　glanced　at　a　passing　Collegian　with　whom　he
was　on　friendly　terms；　as　who　should　say；　'An　enfeebled　old　man；　this；
but　he　is　my　brother；　sir；　my　brother；　and　the　voice　of　Nature　is
potent！'　and　steered　his　brother　clear　of　the　handle　of　the　pump　by　the
threadbare　sleeve。　Nothing　would　have　been　wanting　to　the　perfection　of
his　character　as　a　fraternal　guide；　philosopher　and　friend；　if　he　had
only　steered　his　brother　clear　of　ruin；　instead　of　bringing　it　upon　him。

'I　think；　William；'　said　the　object　of　his　affectionate　consideration；
'that　I　am　tired；　and　will　go　home　to　bed。'

'My　dear　Frederick；'　returned　the　other；　'don't　let　me　detain　you；　don't
sacrifice　your　inclination　to　me。'

'Late　hours；　and　a　heated　atmosphere；　and　years；　I　suppose；'　said
Frederick；　'weaken　me。'

'My　dear　Frederick；'　returned　the　Father　of　the　Marshalsea；　'do　you
think　you　are　sufficiently　careful　of　yourself？　Do　you　think　your　habits
are　as　precise　and　methodical　as……shall　I　say　as　mine　are？　Not　to　revert
again　to　that　little　eccentricity　which　I　mentioned　just　now；　I　doubt　if
you　take　air　and　exercise　enough；　Frederick。　Here　is　the　parade；　always
at　your　service。　Why　not　use　it　more　regularly　than　you　do？'

'Hah！'　sighed　the　other。　'Yes；　yes；　yes；　yes。'

'But　it　is　of　no　use　saying　yes；　yes；　my　dear　Frederick；'　the　Father
of　the　Marshalsea　in　his　mild　wisdom　persisted；　'unless　you　act　on　that
assent。　Consider　my　case；　Frederick。　I　am　a　kind　of　example。　Necessity
and　time　have　taught　me　what　to　do。　At　certain　stated　hours　of　the　day；
you　will　find　me　on　the　parade；　in　my　room；　in　the　Lodge；　reading　the
paper；　receiving　pany；　eating　and　drinking。　I　have　impressed　upon　Amy
during　many　years；　that　I　must　have　my　meals　（for　instance）　punctually。
Amy　has　grown　up　in　a　sense　of　the　importance　of　these　arrangements；　and
you　know　what　a　good　girl　she　is。'

The　brother　only　sighed　again；　as　he　plodded　dreamily　along；　'Hah！　Yes；
yes；　yes；　yes。'

'My　dear　fellow；'　said　the　Father　of　the　Marshalsea；　laying　his　hand
upon　his　shoulder；　and　mildly　rallying　him……mildly；　because　of　his
weakness；　poor　dear　soul；　'you　said　that　before；　and　it　does　not　express
much；　Frederick；　even　if　it　means　much。　I　wish　I　could　rouse　you；　my
good　Frederick；　you　want　to　be　roused。'

'Yes；　William；　yes。　No　doubt；'　returned　the　other；　lifting　his　dim　eyes
to　his　face。　'But　I　am　not　like　you。'

The　Father　of　the　Marshalsea　said；　with　a　shrug　of　modest
self…depreciation；　'Oh！　You　might　be　like　me；　my　dear　Frederick；
you　might　be；　if　you　chose！'　and　forbore；　in　the　magnanimity　of　his
strength；　to　press　his　fallen　brother　further。

There　was　a　great　deal　of　leave…taking　going　on　in　corners；　as　was　usual
on　Sunday　nights；　and　here　and　there　in　the　dark；　some　poor　woman；　wife
or　mother；　was　weeping　with　a　new　Collegian。　The　time　had　been　when　the
Father　himself　had　wept；　in　the　shades　of　that　yard；　as　his　own
poor　wife　had　wept。　But　it　was　m