the legacy of cain-第10节

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key；　in　the　lock　which　was　intended　to　keep　her　writing　private。

〃It's　not　worth　while；〃　she　answered。　〃Anybody　who　cares　to　do　it
may　read　what　I　write。　Good…night。〃

The　singular　change　which　I　had　noticed　in　her　began　to
disappear；　when　she　set　about　her　preparations　for　bed。　I　noticed
the　old　easy　indolent　movements　again；　and　that　regular　and
deliberate　method　of　brushing　her　hair；　which　I　can　never
contemplate　without　feeling　a　stupefying　influence　that　has
helped　me　to　many　a　deli　cious　night's　sleep。　She　said　her
prayers　in　her　favorite　corner　of　the　room；　and　laid　her　head　on
the　pillow　with　the　luxurious　little　sigh　which　announces　that
she　is　falling　asleep。　This　reappearance　of　her　usual　habits　was
really　a　relief　to　me。　Eunice　in　a　state　of　excitement　is　Eunice
exhibiting　an　unnatural　spectacle。

The　next　thing　I　did　was　to　take　the　liberty　which　she　had
already　sanctionedI　mean　the　liberty　of　reading　what　she　had
written。　Here　it　is；　copied　exactly：

〃I　am　not　half　so　fond　of　anybody　as　I　am　of　papa。　He　is　always
kind；　he　is　always　right。　I　love　him；　I　love　him；　I　love　him。

〃But　this　is　not　how　I　meant　to　begin。　I　must　tell　how　he　talked
to　us；　I　wish　he　was　here　to　tell　it　himself。

〃He　said　to　me：　'You　are　getting　lazier　than　ever；　Eunice。'　He
said　to　Helena：　'You　are　feeling　the　influence　of　Eunice's
example。'　He　said　to　both　of　us：　'You　are　too　ready；　my　dear
children；　to　sit　with　your　hands　on　your　laps；　looking　at　nothing
and　thinking　of　nothing；　I　want　to　try　a　new　way　of　employing
your　leisure　time。'

〃He　opened　a　parcel　on　the　table。　He　made　each　of　us　a　present　of
a　beautiful　book；　called　'Journal。'　He　said：　'When　you　have
nothing　to　do；　my　dears；　in　the　evening；　employ　yourselves　in
keeping　a　diary　of　the　events　of　the　day。　It　will　be　a　useful
record　in　many　ways；　and　a　good　moral　discipline　for　young
girls。'　Helena　said：　'Oh；　thank　you！'　I　said　the　same；　but　not　so
cheerfully。

〃The　truth　is；　I　feel　out　of　spirits　now　if　I　think　of　papa；　I　am
not　easy　in　my　mind　about　him。　When　he　is　very　much　interested；
there　is　a　quivering　in　his　face　which　I　don't　remember　in　past
times。　He　seems　to　have　got　older　and　thinner；　all　on　a　sudden。
He　shouts　（which　he　never　used　to　do）　when　he　threatens　sinners
at　sermon…time。　Being　in　dreadful　earnest　about　our　souls；　he　is
of　course　obliged　to　speak　of　the　devil；　but　he　never　used　to　hit
the　harmless　pulpit　cushion　with　his　fist　as　he　does　now。　Nobody
seems　to　have　seen　these　things　but　me；　and　now　I　have　noticed
them　what　ought　I　to　do？　I　don't　know；　I　am　certain　of　nothing；
except　what　I　have　put　in　at　the　top　of　page　one：　I　love　him；　I
love　him；　I　love　him。〃

。　。　。　。　。　。　。

There　this　very　curious　entry　ended。　It　was　easy　enough　to
discover　the　influence　which　had　made　my　slow…minded　sister　so
ready　with　her。　memory　and　her　penso　ready；　in　short；　to　do
anything　and　everything；　provided　her　heart　was　in　it；　and　her
father　was　in　it。

But　Eunice　is　wrong；　let　me　tell　her；　in　what　she　says　of　myself。

I；　too；　have　seen　the　sad　change　in　my　father；　but　I　happen　to
know　that　he　dislikes　having　it　spoken　of　at　home；　and　I　have
kept　my　painful　discoveries　to　myself。　Unhappily；　the　best
medical　advice　is　beyond　our　reach。　The　one　really　competent
doctor　in　this　place　is　known　to　be　an　infidel。　But　for　that
shocking　obstacle　I　might　have　persuaded　my　father　to　see　him。　As
for　the　other　two　doctors　whom　he　has　consulted；　at　different
times；　one　talked　about　suppressed　gout；　and　the　other　told　him
to　take　a　year's　holiday　and　enjoy　himself　on　the　Continent。

The　clock　has　just　struck　twelve。　I　have　been　writing　and　copying
till　my　eyes　are　heavy；　and　I　want　to　follow　Eunice's　example　and
sleep　as　soundly　as　she　does。　We　have　made　a　strange　beginning　of
this　journalizing　experiment。　I　wonder　how　long　it　will　go　on；
and　what　will　come　of　it。

SECOND　DAY。


I　begin　to　be　afraid　that　I　am　as　stupidno；　that　is　not　a　nice
word　to　uselet　me　say　as　simple　as　dear　Eunice。　A　diary　means　a
record　of　the　events　of　the　day；　and　not　one　of　the　events　of
yesterday　appears　in　my　sister's　journal　or　in　mine。　Well；　it　is
easy　to　set　that　mistake　right。　Our　lives　are　so　dull　（but　I
would　not　say　so　in　my　father's　hearing　for　the　world）　that　the
record　of　one　day　will　be　much　the　same　as　the　record　of　another。

After　family　prayers　and　breakfast　I　suffer　my　customary
persecution　at　the　hands　of　the　cook。　That　is　to　say；　I　am
obliged；　being　the　housekeeper；　to　order　what　we　have　to　eat。　Oh；
how　I　hate　inventing　dinners！　and　how　I　admire　the　enviable
slowness　of　mind　and　laziness　of　body　which　have　saved　Eunice
from　undertaking　the　worries　of　housekeeping　in　her　turn！　She　can
go　and　work　in　her　garden；　while　I　am　racking　my　invention　to
discover　variety　in　dishes　without　overstepping　the　limits　of
economy。　I　suppose　I　may　confess　it　privately　to　myselfhow
sorry　I　am　not　to　have　been　born　a　man！

My　next　employment　leads　me　to　my　father's　study；　to　write　under
his　dictation。　I　don't　complain　of　this；　it　flatters　my　pride　to
feel　that　I　am　helping　so　great　a　man。　At　the　same　time；　I　do
notice　that　here　again　Eunice's　little　defects　have　relieved　her
of　another　responsibility。　She　can　neither　keep　dictated　words　in
her　memory；　nor　has　she　ever　been　able　to　learn　how　to　put　in　her
stops。

After　the　dictation；　I　have　an　hour's　time　left　for　practicing
music。　My　sister　comes　in　from　the　garden；　with　her　pencil　and
paint…box；　and　practices　drawing。　Then　we　go　out　for　a　walka
delightful　walk；　if　my　father　goes　too。　He　has　something　always
new　to　tell　us；　suggested　by　what　we　pass　on　the　way。　Then；
dinner…time　comesnot　always　a　pleasant　part　of　the　day　to　me。
Sometimes　I　hear　paternal　complaints　（always　gentle　complaints）
of　my　housekeeping；　sometimes　my　sister　（I　won't　say　the　greedy
sister）　tells　me　I　have　not　given　her　enough　to　eat。　Poor　father！
Dear　Eunice！

Dinner　having　reached　its　end；　we　stroll　in　the　garden　when　the
weather　is　fine。　When　it　rains；　we　make　flannel　petticoats　for
poor　old　women。　What　a　horrid　thing　old　age　is　to　look　at！　To　be
ugly；　to　be　helpless；　to　be　miserably　unfit　for　all　the　pleasures
of　lifeI　hope　I　shall　not　live　to　be　an　old　woman。　What　would
my　father　say　if　he　saw　this？　For　his　sake；　to　say　nothing　of　my
own　feelings；　I　shall　do　well　if　I　make　it　a　custom　to　use　the
lock　of　my　journal。

Our　next　occupation　is　to　join　the　Scripture　class　for　girls；　and
to　help　the　teacher。　This　is　a　good　discipline　for　Eunice's
temper；　andoh；　I　don't　deny　it！for　my　temper；　too。　I　may　long
to　box　the　ears　of　the　whole　class；　but　it　is　my　duty　to　keep　a
smiling　face　and　to　be　a　model　of　patience。　From　the　Scripture
class　we　sometimes　go　to　my　father's　lecture。　At　other　times；　we
may　amuse　ourselves　as　well　as　we　can　till　the　tea　is　ready。
After　tea；　we　read　books　which　instruct　us；　poetry　and　novels
being　forbidden。　When　we　are　tired　of　the　books　we　talk。　When
supper　is　over；　we　have　prayers　again；　and　we　go　to　bed。　There　is
our　day。　Oh；　dear　me！　there　is　our　day。

。　。　。　。　。　。　。

And　how　has　Eunice　succeeded　in　her　second　attempt　at　keeping　a
diary？　Here　is　what　she　has　written。　It　has　one　merit　that　nobody
can　denyit　is　soon　read：

〃I　hope　papa　will　excuse　me；　I　have　nothing　to　write　about
to…day。〃

Over　and　over　again　I　have　tried　to　point　out　to　my　sister　the
absurdity　of　calling　her　father　by　the　infantile　nickname　of
papa。　I　have　reminded　her　that　she　is　（in　years；　at　least）　no
longer　a　child。　〃Why　don't　you　call　him　father；　as　I　do？〃　I　asked
only　the　other　day。

She　made　an　absurd　reply：　〃I　used　to　call　him　papa　when　I　was　a
little　girl。〃

〃That；〃　I　reminded　her；　〃doesn't　justify　you　in　calling　him　papa
now。〃

And　she　actually　answered：　〃Yes　it　does。〃　What　a　strange　state　of
mind！　And　what　a　charming　girl；　in　spite　of　her　mind！

THIRD　DAY。

The　morning　post　has　brought　with　it　a　promise　of　some　little
variety　in　our　livesor；　to　speak　more　correctly；　in　the　life　of
my　sister。

Our　new　and　nice　friends；　the　Staveleys；　have　written　to　invite
Eunice　to　pay　them　a　visit　at　their　house　in　London。　I　don't
complain　at　being　left　at　home。　It　would　be　unfilial；　indeed；　if
we　both　of　us　forsook　our　father；　and　last　year　it　was　my　turn　to
receive　the　first　invitation；　and　to　enjoy　the　change　of　scene。
The　Staveleys　are　excellent　peoplestrictly　pious　members　of　the
Methodist　Connectionand　exceedingly　kind　to　my　sister　and　me。
But　it　was　just　as　well　for　my　moral　welfare　that　I　ended　my
visit　to　our　friends　when　I　did。　With　my　fondness　for　music；　I
felt　the　temptation　of　the　Evil　One　trying　me；　when　I　saw
placards　in　the　street　announcing　that　the　Italian　Opera
　was　open。　I　had　no　wish　to　be　a　witness　of　the　shameful　and
sinful　dancing　which　goes　on　（I　am　told）　at　the　opera；　but　I　did
feel　my　principles　shaken　when　I　thought　of　the　wonderful　singers
and　the　entrancing　music。　And　this；　when　I　knew　what　an
atmosphere　of　wickedness　people　breathe　who　enter　a　theater！　I
reflect　with　horror　on　what　_might_　have　happened　if　I　had
remained　a　little　longer　in　London。

Helping　Eunice　to　pack　up；　I　put　her　journal　into　the　box。