bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第114节
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he was not； and； solely on his side； an estrangement began to arise
between them。
In the business of preparation and equipment he soon lost
himself； and even his grief at parting from Ada； who remained in
Hertfordshire； while he； Mr Jarndyce； and I went up to London for
a week。 He remembered her by fits and starts； even with bursts of
tears； and at such times would confide to me the heaviest self…
reproaches。 But； in a few minutes he would recklessly conjure up
some undefinable means by which they were both to be made rich
and happy for ever； and would become as gay as possible。
It was a busy time； and I trotted about with him all day long；
buying a variety of things； of which he stood in need。 Of the things
he would have bought； if he had been left to his own ways； I say
nothing。 He was perfectly confidential with me； and often talked so
sensibly and feelingly about his faults and his vigorous resolutions；
and dwelt so much upon the encouragement he derived from
these conversations； that I could never have been tired if I had
tried。
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There used； in that week； to come backward and forward to our
lodging； to fence with Richard； a person who had formerly been a
cavalry soldier； he was a fine bluff…looking man； of a frank free
bearing； with whom Richard had practised for some months。 I
heard so much about him； not only from Richard； but from my
Guardian too； that I was purposely in the room； with my work； one
morning after breakfast when he came。
“Good morning； Mr George；” said my Guardian； who happened
to be alone with me。 “Mr Carstone will be here directly。
Meanwhile； Miss Summerson is very happy to see you； I know。 Sit
down。”
He sat down； a little disconcerted by my presence； I thought；
and； without looking at me； drew his heavy sunburnt hand across
and across his upper lip。
“You are as punctual as the sun；” said Mr Jarndyce。
“Military time； sir；” he replied。 “Force of habit。 A mere habit in
me； sir。 I am not at all business…like。”
“Yet you have a large establishment； too； I am told？” said Mr
Jarndyce。
“Not much of a one； sir。 I keep a shooting gallery； but not much
of a one。”
“And what kind of a shot； and what kind of a swordsman； do
you make of Mr Carstone？” said my Guardian。
“Pretty good； sir；” he replied； folding his arms upon his broad
chest； and looking very large。 “If Mr Carstone was to give his full
mind to it； he would come out very good。”
“But he don’t； I suppose？” said my Guardian。
“He did at first； sir； but not afterwards。 Not his full mind。
Perhaps he has something else upon it—some young lady；
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Bleak House 475
perhaps。” His bright dark eyes glanced at me for the first time。
“He has not me upon his mind； I assure you； Mr George；” said I；
laughing； “though you seem to suspect me。”
He reddened a little through his brown； and made me a
trooper’s bow。 “No offence； I hope； miss。 I am one of the Roughs。”
“Not at all；” said I。 “I take it as a compliment。”
If he had not looked at me before； he looked at me now； in three
or four quick successive glances。 “I beg your pardon； sir；” he said
to my Guardian； with a manly kind of diffidence； “but you did me
the honour to mention the young lady’s name—”
“Miss Summerson。”
“Miss Summerson；” he repeated； and looked at me again。
“Do you know the name？” I asked。
“No； miss。 To my knowledge； I never heard it。 I thought I had
seen you somewhere。”
“I think not；” I returned； raising my head from my work to look
at him； and there was something so genuine in his speech and
manner； that I was glad of the opportunity。 “I remember faces
very well。”
“So do I； miss！” he returned； meeting my look with the fulness
of his dark eyes and broad forehead。 “Humph！ What set me off；
now； upon that！”
His once more reddening through his brown； and being
disconcerted by his efforts to remember the association； brought
my Guardian to his relief。
“Have you many pupils； Mr George？”
“They vary in their number； sir。 Mostly； they’re but a small lot
to live by。”
“And what classes of chance people come to practise at your
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gallery？”
“All sorts； sir。 Natives and foreigners。 From gentlemen to
’prentices。 I have had French women come； before now； and show
themselves dabs at pistol…shooting。 Mad people out of number； of
course—but they go everywhere； where the doors stand open。”
“People don’t come with grudges and schemes of finishing their
practice with live targets； I hope？” said my Guardian； smiling。
“Not much of that； sir； though that has happened。 Mostly they
come for skill—or idleness。 Six of one； and half a dozen of the
other。 I beg your pardon；” said Mr George； sitting stiffly upright；
and squaring an elbow on each knee； “but I believe you’re a
Chancery suitor； if I have heard correct？”
“I am sorry to say I am。”
“I have had one of your compatriots in my time； sir。”
“A Chancery suitor？” returned my Guardian。 “How was that？”
“Why； the man was so badgered； and worried； and tortured； by
being knocked about from post to pillar； and from pillar to post；”
said Mr George； “that he got out of sorts。 I don’t believe he had
any idea of taking aim at anybody； but he was in that condition of
resentment and violence； that he would come and pay for fifty
shots； and fire away till he was red hot。 One day I said to him when
there was nobody by； and he had been talking to me angrily about
his wrongs； ‘If this practice is a safety…valve； comrade； well and
good； but I don’t altogether like your being so bent upon it； in your
present state of mind； I’d rather you took to something else。’ I was
on my guard for a blow； he was that passionate； but he received it
in very good part； and left off directly。 We shook hands； and struck
up a sort of friendship。”
“What was that man？” asked my Guardian； in a new tone of
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interest。
“Why； he began by being a small Shropshire farmer； before
they made a baited bull of him；” said Mr George。
“Was his name Gridley？”
“It was； sir。”
Mr George directed another succession of quick bright glances
at me； as my Guardian and I exchanged a word or two of surprise
at the coincidence； and I therefore explained to him how we knew
the name。 He made me another of his soldierly bows； in
acknowledgment of what he called my condescension。
“I don’t know；” he said； as he looked at me； “what it is that sets
me off again—but—bosh； what’s my head running against！” He
passed one of his heavy hands over his crisp dark hair； as if to
sweep the broken thoughts out of his mind； and sat a little
forward； with one arm akimbo and the other resting on his leg；
looking in a brown study at the ground。
“I am sorry to learn that the same state of mind has got this
Gridley into new troubles； and that he is hiding；” said my
guardian。
“So I am told； sir；” returned Mr George； still musing and
looking on the ground。 “So I am told。”
“You don’t know where？”
“No； sir；” returned the trooper； lifting up his eyes and coming
out of his reverie
