the professor(教授)-第48节
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regretting the dead； are； at times； so sorely oppressed。 Many tears
rolled down； which she wiped away； again and again； with her
handkerchief； some distressed sobs escaped her； and then； the
paroxysm over； she sat quiet as before。 I put my hand gently on
her shoulder； no need further to prepare her； for she was neither
hysterical nor liable to fainting…fits； a sudden push； indeed； might
have startled her； but the contact of my quiet touch merely woke
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attention as I wished； and； though she turned quickly； yet so
lightning…swift is thought—in some minds especially—I believe the
wonder of what—the consciousness of who it was that thus stole
unawares on her solitude； had passed through her brain； and
flashed into her heart； even before she had effected that hasty
movement； at least； Amazement had hardly opened her eyes and
raised them to mine； ere Recognition informed their irids with
most speaking brightness。 Nervous surprise had hardly
discomposed her features ere a sentiment of most vivid joy shone
clear and warm on her whole countenance。 I had hardly time to
observe that she was wasted and pale； ere called to feel a
responsive inward pleasure by the sense of most full and exquisite
pleasure glowing in the animated flush； and shining in the
expansive light； now diffused over my pupil’s face。 It was the
summer sun flashing out after the heavy summer shower； and
what fertilizes more rapidly than that beam； burning almost like
fire in its ardour？
I hate boldness—that boldness which is of the brassy brow and
insensate nerves； but I love the courage of the strong heart； the
fervour of the generous blood； I loved with passion the light of
Frances Evans’ clear hazel eye when it did not fear to look straight
into mine； I loved the tones with which she uttered the words—
“Mon maitre！ mon maitre！”
I loved the movement with which she confided her hand to my
hand； I loved her as she stood there； penniless and parentless； for
a sensualist charmless； for me a treasure—my best object of
sympathy on earth； thinking such thoughts as I thought； feeling
such feelings as I felt； my ideal of the shrine in which to seal my
stores of love； personification of discretion and forethought； of
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diligence and perseverance； of self…denial and self…control—those
guardians； those trusty keepers of the gift I longed to confer on
her—the gift of all my affections； model of truth and honour； of
independence and conscientiousness—those refiners and
sustainers of an honest life； silent possessor of a well of
tenderness； of a flame； as genial as still； as pure as quenchless； of
natural feeling； natural passion—those sources of refreshment and
comfort to the sanctuary of home。 I knew how quietly and how
deeply the well bubbled in her heart； I knew how the more
dangerous flame burned safely under the eye of reason； I had seen
when the fire shot up a moment high and vivid； when the
accelerated heat troubled life’s current in its channels； I had seen
reason reduce the rebel； and humble its blaze to embers。 I had
confidence in Frances Evans； I had respect for her； and as I drew
her arm through mine； and led her out of the cemetery； I felt I had
another sentiment； as strong as confidence； as firm as respect；
more fervid than either—that of love。
“Well； my pupil；” said I； as the ominous sounding gate swung to
behind us—“Well； I have found you again： a month’s search has
seemed long； and I little thought to have discovered my lost sheep
straying amongst graves。”
Never had I addressed her but as “Mademoiselle” before； and
to speak thus was to take up a tone new to both her and me。 Her
answer surprised me that this language ruffled none of her
feelings； woke no discord in her heart：—
“Mon maitre；” she said； “have you troubled yourself to seek
me？ I little imagined you would think much of my absence； but I
grieved bitterly to be taken away from you。 I was sorry for that
circumstance when heavier troubles ought to have made me forget
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it。”
“Your aunt is dead？”
“Yes； a fortnight since； and she died full of regret； which I could
not chase from her mind； she kept repeating； even during the last
night of her existence； ‘Frances； you will be so lonely when I am
gone； so friendless：’ she wished too that she could have been
buried in Switzerland； and it was I who persuaded her in her old
age to leave the banks of Lake Leman； and to come； only as it
seems to die； in this flat region of Flanders。 Willingly would I have
observed her last wish； and taken her remains back to our own
country； but that was impossible； I was forced to lay her here。”
“She was ill but a short time； I presume？”
“But three weeks。 When she began to sink I asked Mdlle
Reuter’s leave to stay with her and wait on her； I readily got
leave。”
“Do you return to the pensionnat！” I demanded hastily。
“Monsieur； when I had been at home a week Mdlle Reuter
called one evening； just after I had got my aunt to bed； she went
into her room to speak to her； and was extremely civil and affable；
as she always is； afterwards she came and sat with me a long time；
and just as she rose to go away； she said： “Mademoiselle； I shall
not soon cease to regret your departure from my establishment；
though indeed it is true that you have taught your class of pupils
so well that they are all quite accomplished in the little works you
manage so skilfully； and have not the slightest need of further
instruction； my second teacher must in future supply your place；
with regard to the younger pupils； as well as she can； though she is
indeed an inferior artiste to you； and doubtless it will be your part
now to assume a higher position in your calling； I am sure you will
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everywhere find schools and families willing to profit by your
talents。’ And then she paid me my last quarter’s salary。 I asked； as
mademoiselle would no doubt think； very bluntly； if she designed
to discharge me from the establishment。 She smiled at my
inelegance of speech； and answered that ‘our connection as
employer and employed was certainly dissolved； but that she
hoped still to retain the pleasure of my acquaintance； she should
always be happy to see me as a friend；’ and then she said
something about the excellent condition of the streets； and the
long continuance of fine weather； and went away quite cheerful。”
I laughed inwardly； all this was so like the directress—so like
what I had expected and guessed of her conduct； and then the
exposure and proof of her lie； unconsciously afforded by
Frances：—“She had frequently applied for Mdlle Henri’s address；”
forsooth； “Mdlle Henri had always evaded giving it；” &c。； &c。； and
here I found her a visitor at the very house of whose locality she
had professed absolute ignorance！
Any
