bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第213节
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his open shirt…collar； as if it were scarcely open enough to prevent
his being troubled by a choking sensation。 In short； Allan
Woodcourt has not much doubt about the going down of Mr
Tulkinghorn on the field referred to。
Jo and his conductor presently return； and Jo is assisted to his
mattress by the careful Phil； to whom； after due administration of
medicine by his own hands； Allan confides all needful means and
instructions。 The morning is by this time getting on apace。 He
repairs to his lodgings to dress and breakfast； and then； without
seeking rest； goes away to Mr Jarndyce to communicate his
discovery。
With him Mr Jarndyce returns alone； confidentially telling him
that there are reasons for keeping this matter very quiet indeed；
and showing a serious interest in it。 To Mr Jarndyce； Jo repeats in
substance what he said in the morning； without any material
variation。 Only； that cart of his is heavier to draw； and draws with
a hollower sound。
“Let me lay here quiet； and not be chivied no more；” falters Jo；
“and be so kind any person as is a…passin’ nigh where I used fur to
sweep； as jist to say to Mr Snagsby that Jo； wot he known once； is
a…moving on right forards with his duty； and I’ll be wery thankful。
I’d be more thankful than I am aready； if it wos any ways possible
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for an unfortnet to be it。”
He makes so many of these references to the law…stationer in
the course of a day or two； that Allan； after conferring with Mr
Jarndyce； good…naturedly resolves to call in Cook’s Court； the
rather； as the cart seems to be breaking down。
To Cook’s Court； therefore； he repairs。 Mr Snagsby is behind
his counter in his grey coat and sleeves； inspecting an Indenture of
several skins which has just come in from the engrosser’s； an
immense desert of law…hand and parchment； with here and there a
resting…place of a few large letters to break the awful monotony；
and save the traveller from despair。 Mr Snagsby puts up at one of
these inky wells； and greets the stranger with his cough of general
preparation for business。
“You don’t remember me； Mr Snagsby？”
The stationer’s heart begins to thump heavily； for his old
apprehensions have never abated。 It is as much as he can do to
answer； “No； sir； I can’t say I do。 I should have considered—not to
put too fine a point upon it—that I never saw you before； sir。”
“Twice before；” says Allan Woodcourt。 “Once at a poor bedside；
and once—”
“It’s come at last！” thinks the afflicted stationer； as recollection
breaks upon him。 “It’s got to a head now； and is going to burst！”
But； he has sufficient presence of mind to conduct his visitor into
the little counting…house； and to shut the door。
“Are you a married man； sir？”
“No； I am not。”
“Would you make the attempt； though single；” says Mr Snagsby
in a melancholy whisper； “to speak as low as you can？ For my
little woman is a listening somewheres； or I’ll forfeit the business
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and five hundred pound！”
In deep dejection Mr Snagsby sits down on his stool； with his
back against his desk； protesting：
“I never had a secret of my own； sir。 I can’t charge my memory
with ever having once attempted to deceive my little woman on
my own account； since she named the day。 I wouldn’t have done it；
sir。 Not to put too fine a point upon it； I couldn’t have done it； I
durstn’t have done it。 Whereas； and nevertheless； I find myself
wrapped round with secrecy and mystery； till my life is a burden
to me。”
His visitor professes his regret to hear it； and asks him does he
remember Jo？ Mr Snagsby answers with a suppressed groan。 O
don’t he！
“You couldn’t name an individual human being—except
myself—that my little woman is more set and determined against
than Jo；” says Mr Snagsby。
Allan asks why？
“Why？” repeats Mr Snagsby； in his desperation clutching at the
clump of hair at the back of his bald head； “How should I know
why？ But you are a single person； sir； and may you long be spared
to ask a married person such a question！”
With this beneficent wish； Mr Snagsby coughs a cough of
dismal resignation； and submits himself to hear what the visitor
has to communicate。
“There again！” says Mr Snagsby； who； between the earnestness
of his feelings； and the suppressed tones of his voice； is
discoloured in the face。 “At it again； in a new direction！ A certain
person charges me； in the solemnest way； not to talk of Jo to any
one； even my little woman。 Then comes another certain person； in
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the person of yourself； and charges me； in an equally solemn way；
not to mention Jo to that other certain person above all other
persons。 Why； this is a private asylum！ Why； not to put too fine a
point upon it； this is Bedlam； sir！” says Mr Snagsby。
But it is better than he expected； after all； being no explosion of
the mine below him； or deepening of the pit into which he has
fallen。 And being tender…hearted； and affected by the account he
hears of Jo’s condition； he readily engages to “look round；” as
early in the evening as he can manage it quietly。 He looks round
very quietly； when the evening comes； but it may turn out that Mrs
Snagsby is as quiet a manager as he。
Jo is very glad to see his old friend； and says； when they are left
alone； that he takes it uncommon kind as Mr Sangsby should
come so far out of his way on accounts of sich as him。 Mr Snagsby；
touched by the spectacle before him； immediately lays upon the
table half…a…crown： that magic balsam of his for all kinds of
wounds。
“And how do you find yourself； my poor lad？” inquires the
stationer； with his cough of sympathy。
“I am in luck； Mr Sangsby； I am；” returns Jo； “and don’t want
for nothink。 I’m more cumfbler nor you can’t think。 Mr Sangsby！
I’m wery sorry that I done it； but I didn’t go fur to do it； sir。”
The stationer softly lays down another half…crown； and asks him
what it is that he is sorry for having done？
“Mr Sangsby；” says Jo； “I went and giv a illness to the lady as
wos and yit as warn’t the t’other lady； and none of ’em never says
nothink to me for having done it； on accounts of their being ser
good and my having been s’ unfortnet。 The lady come herself and
see me yesday； and she ses； ‘Ah Jo！’ she ses。 ‘We thought we’d lost
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you； Jo！’ she ses。 And she sits down a…smilin so quiet； and don’t
pass a word nor yit a look upon me for having done it； she don’t；
and I turns agin the wall； I doos； Mr Sangsby。 And Mr Jarnders； I
see him a…forced to turn away his own self。 And Mr Woodcot； he
come fur to give me somethink fur to ease me； wot he’s allus a…
doin on day and night； and wen he come a…bendin over me and a…
speakin up so bold； I see his tears a…fallin； Mr Sangsby。”
The softened stationer deposits another half…crown on the
table。 Nothing less than a repetition of that infallible remedy will
relieve his feelings。
“Wot I wos a…thinkin on； Mr Sangsby；” proceeds Jo； “wos； as
you was able to write wery large； p’raps？”
“Yes； Jo； please God；” returns the stationer。
“Uncommon precious large； p’raps？” says Jo； with eagerness。
