hard times(艰难时世)-第63章
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implicated in this crime？”
“I don’t know。 I don’t see why he shouldn’t be。”
“He seemed to me an honest man。”
“Another person may seem to you dishonest； and yet not be so。”
There was a pause； for he had hesitated and stopped。
“In short；” resumed Tom； as if he had made up his mind； “if you
come to that； perhaps I was so far from being altogether in his
favour； that I took him outside the door to tell him quietly； that I
thought he might consider himself very well off to get such a
windfall as he had got from my sister； and that I hoped he would
make good use of it。 You remember whether I took him out or not。
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I say nothing against the man； he may be a very good fellow； for
anything I know； I hope he is。”
“Was he offended by what you said？”
“No； he took it pretty well； he was civil enough。 Where are you；
Loo？” He sat up in bed and kissed her。 “Good night； my dear；
good night！”
“You have nothing more to tell me？”
“No。 What should I have？ You wouldn’t have me tell you a lie？”
“I wouldn’t have you do that tonight； Tom； of all the nights in
your life； many and much happier as I hope they will be。”
“Thank you； my dear Loo。 I am so tired； that I am sure I wonder
I don’t say anything to get to sleep。 Go to bed； go to bed。”
Kissing her again； he turned round； drew the coverlet over his
head； and lay as still as if that time had come by which she had
adjured him。 She stood for some time at the bedside before she
slowly moved away。 She stopped at the door； looked back when
she had opened it； and asked him if he had called her？ But he lay
still； and she softly closed the door and returned to her room。
Then the wretched boy looked cautiously up and found her
gone； crept out of bed； and threw himself upon his pillow again：
tearing his hair； morosely crying； grudgingly loving her； hatefully
but impenitently spurning himself； and no less hatefully and
unprofitably spurning all the good in the world。
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Chapter 9
Hearing The Last Of It
rs Sparsit； lying by to recover the tone of her nerves in
Mr Bounderby’s retreat； kept such a sharp look…out；
M
night and day； under her Coriolanian eyebrows； that
her eyes； like a couple of lighthouses on an iron…bound coast；
might have warned all prudent mariners from that bold rock her
Roman nose and the dark and craggy region in its neighbourhood；
but for the placidity of her manner。 Although it was hard to
believe that her retiring for the night could be anything but a
form； so severely wide awake were those classical eyes of hers； and
so impossible did it seem that her rigid nose could yield to any
relaxing influence； yet her manner of sitting； smoothing her
uncomfortable； not to say； gritty mittens （they were constructed of
a cool fabric like a meat…safe）； or of ambling to unknown places of
destination with her foot in her cotton stirrup； was so perfectly
serene； that most observers would have been constrained to
suppose her a dove； embodied by some freak of nature； in the
earthly tabernacle of a bird of the hook…beaked order。
She was a most wonderful woman for prowling about the
house。 How she got from story to story was a mystery beyond
solution。 A lady so decorous in herself； and so highly connected；
was not to be suspected of dropping over the banisters or sliding
down them； yet her extraordinary facility of locomotion suggested
the wild idea。 Another noticeable circumstance in Mrs Sparsit
was； that she was never hurried。 She would shoot with
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consummate velocity from the roof to the hall； yet would be in full
possession of her breath and dignity on the moment of her arrival
there。 Neither was she ever seen by human vision to go at a great
pace。
She took very kindly to Mr Harthouse； and had some pleasant
conversation with him soon after her arrival。 She made him her
stately curtsey in the garden； one morning before breakfast。
“It appears but yesterday； sir；” said Mrs Sparsit； “that I had the
honour of receiving you at the Bank； when you were so good as to
wish to be made acquainted with Mr Bounderby’s address。”
“An occasion； I am sure； not to be forgotten by myself in the
course of Ages；” said Mr Harthouse； inclining his head to Mrs
Sparsit with the most indolent of all possible airs。
“We live in a singular world； sir；” said Mrs Sparsit。
“I have had the honour； by a coincidence of which I am proud；
to have made a remark； similar in effect； though not so
epigrammatically expressed。”
“A singular world I would say； sir；” pursued Mrs Sparsit； after
acknowledging the compliment with a drooping of her dark
eyebrows； not altogether so mild in its expression as her voice was
in its dulcet tones； “as regards the intimacies we form at one time；
with individuals we were quite ignorant of； at another。 I recall； sir；
that on that occasion you went so far as to say you were actually
apprehensive of Miss Gradgrind。”
“Your memory does me more honour than my insignificance
deserves。 I availed myself of your obliging hints to correct my
timidity； and it is unnecessary to add that they were perfectly
accurate。 Mrs Sparsit’s talent for—in fact for anything requiring
accuracy—with a combination of strength of mind—and Family—
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is too habitually developed to admit of any question。” He was
almost falling asleep over this compliment； it took him so long to
get through； and his mind wandered so much in the course of its
execution。
“You found Miss Gradgrind—I really cannot call her Mrs
Bounderby； it’s very absurd of me—as youthful as I described
her？” asked Mrs Sparsit； sweetly。
“You drew her portrait perfectly；” said Mr Harthouse。
“Presented her dead image。”
“Very engaging； sir；” said Mrs Sparsit； causing her mittens
slowly to revolve over one another。
“Highly so。”
“It used to be considered；” said Mrs Sparsit； “that Miss
Gradgrind was wanting in animation； but I confess she appears to
me considerably and strikingly improved in that respect。 Ay； and
indeed here is Mr Bounderby！” cried Mrs Sparsit； nodding her
head a
