bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第210节
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you supposed。 He had a reason for going away； though it was an
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insufficient one。”
“Thank’ee； sir； thank’ee！” exclaims Jo。 “There now！ See how
hard you wos upon me。 But ony you tell the young lady wot the
genlmn ses； and it’s all right。 For you wos wery good to me； and I
knows too it。”
“Now； Jo；” says Allan； keeping his eye upon him； “come with
me； and I will find you a better place than this to lie down and hide
in。 If I take one side of the way and you the other to avoid
observation； you will not run away； I know very well； if you make
me a promise。”
“I won’t not unless I wos to see him a…coming； sir。”
“Very well。 I take your word。 Half the town is getting up by this
time； and the whole town will be broad awake in another hour。
Come along。 Good day again； my good woman；” “Good day again；
sir； and I thank you kindly many times again。”
She has been sitting on her bag； deeply attentive； and now rises
and takes it up。 Jo repeating； “Ony you tell the young lady as I
never went fur to hurt her and wot the genlmn ses！” nods and
shambles and shivers； and smears and blinks； and half laughs and
half cries； a farewell to her； and takes his creeping way along after
Allan Woodcourt； close to the houses on the opposite side of the
street。 In this order； the two come up out of Tom…all…Alone’s into
the broad rays of the sunlight and the purer air。
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Chapter 47
Jo’s Will
s Allan Woodcourt and Jo proceed along the streets；
Awhere the high church spires and the distances are so
near and clear in the morning light that the city itself
seems renewed by rest； Allan revolves in his mind how and where
he shall bestow his companion。 “It surely is a strange fact；” he
considers； “that in the heart of a civilised world this creature in
human form should be more difficult to dispose of than an
unknown dog。” But it is none the less a fact because of its
strangeness； and the difficulty remains。
As first he looks behind him often； to assure himself that Jo is
still really following。 But； look where he will； he still beholds him
close to the opposite houses； making his way with his wary hand
from brick to brick and from door to door； and often； as he creeps
along； glancing over at him； watchfully。 Soon satisfied that the last
thing in his thoughts is to give him the slip； Allan goes on；
considering with a less divided attention what he shall do。
A breakfast…stall at a street corner suggests the first thing to be
done。 He stops there； looks round； and beckons Jo。 Jo crosses； and
comes halting and shuffling up； slowly scooping the knuckles of
his right hand round and round in the hollowed palm of his left—
kneading dirt with a natural pestle and mortar。 What is a dainty
repast to Jo is then set before him； and he begins to gulp the
coffee； and to gnaw the bread and butter； looking anxiously about
him in all directions as he eats and drinks； like a scared animal。
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But he is so sick and miserable； that even hunger has
abandoned him。 “I thought I was amost a starvin； sir；” says Jo；
soon putting down his food； “but I don’t know nothink—not even
that。 I don’t care for eating wittles nor yet for drinking on ’em。”
And Jo stands shivering； and looking at the breakfast wonderingly。
Allan Woodcourt lays his hand upon his pulse； and on his chest。
“Draw breath； Jo！”
“It draws；” says Joe； “as heavy as a cart。” He might add； “and
rattles like it；” but he only mutters； “I’m a…moving on； sir。”
Allan looks about for an apothecary’s shop。 There is none at
hand； but a tavern does as well or better。 He obtains a little
measure of wine； and gives the lad a portion of it very carefully。 He
begins to revive； almost as soon as it passes his lips。 “We may
repeat that dose； Jo；” observes Allan； after watching him with his
attentive face。 “So！ Now we will take five minutes rest； and then
go on again。”
Leaving the boy sitting on the bench of the breakfast…stall； with
his back against an iron railing； Allan Woodcourt paces up and
down in the early sunshine； casting an occasional look towards
him without appearing to watch him。 It requires no discernment
to perceive that he is warmed and refreshed。 If a face so shaded
can brighten； his face brightens somewhat； and； by little and little；
he eats the slice of bread he had so hopelessly laid down。
Observant of these signs of improvement； Allan engages him in
conversation； and elicits to his no small wonder the adventure of
the lady in the veil； with all its consequences。 Jo slowly munches；
as he slowly tells it。 When he has finished his story and his bread；
they go on again。
Intending to refer his difficulty in finding a temporary place of
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refuge for the boy； to his old patient； zealous little Miss Flite； Allan
leads the way to the court where he and Jo first foregathered。 But
all is changed at the rag…and…bottle shop； Miss Flite no longer
lodges there； it is shut up； and a hard…featured female； much
obscured by dust； whose age is a problem—but who is indeed no
other than the interesting Judy—is tart and spare in her replies。
These sufficing； however； to inform the visitor that Miss Flite and
her birds are domiciled with a Mrs Blinder； in Bell Yard； he
repairs to that neighbouring place； where Miss Flite （who rises
early that she may be punctual at the Divan of justice held by her
excellent friend the Chancellor） comes running downstairs； with
tears of welcome and with open arms。
“My dear physician！” cries Miss Flite。 “My meritorious；
distinguished； honourable officer！” She uses some odd
expressions； but is as cordial and full of heart as sanity itself can
be—more so than it often is。 Allan； very patient with her； waits
until she has no more raptures to express； then points out Jo；
trembling in a doorway； and tells her how he comes there。
“Where can I lodge him hereabouts for the present？ Now you
have a fund of knowledge and good sense； and can advise me。”
Miss Flite； mighty proud of the compliment； sets herself to
consider； but it is long before a bright thought occurs to her。 Mrs
Blinder is entirely let； and she herself occupies poor Gridley’s
room。 “Gridley！” exclaims Miss Flite； clapping her hands； after a
twentieth repetition of this remark。 “Gridley！ To be sure！ of
course！ My dear physician！ General George will help us out。”
It is hopeless to ask for any information about General George；
and would be； though Miss Flite had not already run upstairs to
put on her pinched bonnet and her poor little shawl； and to arm
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herself with her reticule of documents。 But as she informs her
physician； in her disjointed manner； on coming down in full array；
that General Georg
