the professor(教授)-第84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！
children。”
I have a word to say of Victor ere I shut this manuscript in my
desk—but it must be a brief one； for I hear the tinkle of silver on
porcelain。
Victor is as little of a pretty child as I am of a handsome man； or
his mother of a fine woman； he is pale and spare； with large eyes；
as dark as those of Frances； and as deeply set as mine。 His shape is
symmetrical enough； but slight； his health is good。 I never saw a
child smile less than he does； nor one who knits such a formidable
brow when sitting over a book that interests him； or while
listening to tales of adventure； peril； or wonder； narrated by his
mother； Hunsden； or myself。 But though still； he is not unhappy—
Charlotte Bronte ElecBook Classics
… Page 311…
The Professor 311
though serious； not morose； he has a susceptibility to pleasurable
sensations almost too keen； for it amounts to enthusiasm。 He
learned to read in the old…fashioned way out of a spelling…book at
his mother’s knee； and as he got on without driving by that
method； she thought it unnecessary to buy him ivory letters； or to
try any of the other inducements to learning now deemed
indispensable。 When he could read； he became a glutton of books；
and is so still。 His toys have been few； and he has never wanted
more。 For those he possesses； he seems to have contracted a
partiality amounting to affection； this feeling； directed towards one
or two living animals of the house； strengthens almost to a passion。
Mr。 Hunsden gave him a mastiff cub； which he called Yorke；
after the donor； it grew to a superb dog； whose fierceness；
however； was much modified by the companionship and caresses
of its young master。 He would go nowhere； do nothing without
Yorke； Yorke lay at his feet while he learned his lessons； played
with him in the garden； walked with him in the lane and wood； sat
near his chair at meals； was fed always by his own hand； was the
first thing he sought in the morning； the last he left at night。 Yorke
accompanied Mr。 Hunsden one day to X—； and was bitten in the
street by a dog in a rabid state。 As soon as Hunsden had brought
him home； and had informed me of the circumstance； I went into
the yard and shot him where he lay licking his wound： he was
dead in an instant； he had not seen me level the gun； I stood
behind him。 I had scarcely been ten minutes in the house； when
my ear was struck with sounds of anguish： I repaired to the yard
once more； for they proceeded thence。 Victor was kneeling beside
his dead mastiff； bent over it； embracing its bull…like neck； and lost
in a passion of the wildest woe： he saw me。
Charlotte Bronte ElecBook Classics
… Page 312…
The Professor 312
“Oh； papa； I’ll never forgive you！ I’ll never forgive you！” was his
exclamation。 “You shot Yorke—I saw it from the window。 I never
believed you could be so cruel—I can love you no more！”
I had much ado to explain to him； with a steady voice； the stern
necessity of the deed； he still； with that inconsolable and bitter
accent which I cannot render； but which pierced my heart；
repeated—
“He might have been cured—you should have tried—you
should have burnt the wound with a hot iron； or covered it with
caustic。 You gave no time； and now it is too late—he is dead！”
He sank fairly down on the senseless carcase； I waited patiently
a long while； till his grief had somewhat exhausted him； and then I
lifted him in my arms and carried him to his mother； sure that she
would comfort him best。 She had witnessed the whole scene from
a window； she would not come out for fear of increasing my
difficulties by her emotion； but she was ready now to receive him。
She took him to her kind heart； and on to her gentle lap； consoled
him but with her lips； her eyes； her soft embrace； for some time；
and then； when his sobs diminished； told him that Yorke had felt
no pain in dying； and that if he had been left to expire naturally；
his end would have been most horrible； above all； she told him
that I was not cruel （for that idea seemed to give exquisite pain to
poor Victor）； that it was my affection for Yorke and him which had
made me act so； and that I was now almost heart…broken to see
him weep thus bitterly。
Victor would have been no true son of his father； had these
considerations； these reasons； breathed in so low； so sweet a
tone—married to caresses so benign； so tender—to looks so
inspired with pitying sympathy—produced no effect on him。 They
Charlotte Bronte ElecBook Classics
… Page 313…
The Professor 313
did produce an effect： he grew calmer； rested his face on her
shoulder； and lay still in her arms。 Looking up； shortly； he asked
his mother to tell him over again what she had said about Yorke
having suffered no pain； and my not being cruel； the balmy words
being repeated； he again pillowed his cheek on her breast； and
was again tranquil。
Some hours after； he came to me in my library； asked if I
forgave him； and desired to be reconciled。 I drew the lad to my
side； and there I kept him a good while； and had much talk with
him； in the course of which he disclosed many points of feeling
and thought I approved of in my son。 I found； it is true； few
elements of the “good fellow” or the “fine fellow” in him； scant
sparkles of the spirit which loves to flash over the wine cup； or
which kindles the passions to a destroying fire； but I saw in the
soil of his heart healthy and swelling germs of compassion；
affection； fidelity。 I discovered in the garden of his intellect a rich
growth of wholesome principles—reason； justice； moral courage；
promised； if not blighted； a fertile bearing。 So I bestowed on his
large forehead； and on his cheek—still pale with tears—a proud
and contented kiss； and sent him away comforted。 Yet I saw him
the next day laid on the mound under which Yorke had been
buried； his face covered with his hands； he was melancholy for
some weeks； and more than a year elapsed before he would listen
to any proposal of having another dog。
Victor learns fast。 He must soon go to Eton； where； I suspect；
his first year or two will be utter wretchedness： to leave me； his
mother； and his home； will give his heart an agonized wrench；
then； the fagging will not suit him—but emulation； thirst after
knowledge； the glory of success； will stir and reward him in time。
Charlotte Bronte ElecBook Classics
… Page 314…
