bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第246节
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sits within the chaise； and by her side sits Mrs Bagnet with her
grey cloak and umbrella。 The old girl would prefer the bar in front；
as being exposed to the weather； and a primitive sort of perch
more in accordance with her usual course of travelling； but Mrs
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Rouncewell is too thoughtful of her comfort to admit of her
proposing it。 The old lady cannot make enough of the old girl。 She
sits； in her stately manner； holding her hand； and； regardless of its
roughness； puts it often to her lips。 “You are a mother； my dear
soul；” says she many times； “and you found out my George’s
mother！”
“Why； George；” returns Mrs Bagnet； “was always free with me；
ma’am； and when he said at our house to my Woolwich； that of all
the things my Woolwich could have to think of when he grew to be
a man； the comfortablest would be that he had never brought a
sorrowful line into his mother’s face； or turned a hair of her head
grey； then I felt sure； from his way； that something fresh had
brought his own mother into his mind。 I had often known him say
to me； in past times； that he had behaved bad to her。”
“Never； my dear！” returns Mrs Rouncewell； bursting into tears
“My blessing on him； never！ He was always fond of me； and loving
to me； was my George！ But he had a bold spirit； and he ran a little
wild； and went for a soldier。 And I know he waited at first； in
letting us know about himself； till he should rise to be an officer；
and when he didn’t rise； I know he considered himself beneath us；
and wouldn’t be a disgrace to us。 For he had a lion heart； had my
George； always from a baby！”
The old lady’s hands stray about her as of yore； while she
recalls； all in a tremble； what a likely lad； what a fine lad； what a
gay good…humoured clever lad he was； how they all took to him；
down at Chesney Wold； how Sir Leicester took to him when he
was a young gentleman； how the dogs took to him； how even the
people； who had been angry with him； forgave him the moment he
was gone； poor boy。 And now to see him after all； and in a prison
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too！ And the broad stomacher heaves； and the quaint upright old…
fashioned figure bends under its load of affectionate distress。
Mrs Bagnet； with the instinctive skill of a good warm heart；
leaves the old housekeeper to her emotions for a little while—not
without passing the back of her hand across her own motherly
eyes—and presently chirps up in her cheery manner：—
“So I says to George when I goes to call him in to tea （he
pretended to be smoking his pipe outside）； ‘What ails you this
afternoon； George； for gracious sake？ I have seen all sorts； and I
have seen you pretty often in season and out of season； abroad and
at home； and I never see you so melancholy penitent。’ ‘Why； Mrs
Bagnet；’ says George； ‘it’s because I am melancholy and penitent
both； this afternoon； that you see me so。’ ‘What have you done； old
fellow？’ I says。 ‘Why； Mrs Bagnet；’ says George； shaking his head；
‘what I have done has been done this many a long year； and is best
not tried to be undone now。 If I ever get to Heaven； it won’t be for
being a good son to a widowed mother； I say no more。 Now；
ma’am； when George says to me that it’s best not tried to be
undone now； I have my thoughts as I have often had before； and I
draw it out of George how he comes to have such things on him
that afternoon。 Then George tells me that he has seen by chance；
at the lawyer’s office； a fine old lady that has brought his mother
plain before him； and he runs on about that old lady till he quite
forgets himself； and paints her picture to me as she used to be；
years upon years back。 So I says to George when he has done； who
is this old lady he has seen？ And George tells me it’s Mrs
Rouncewell； housekeeper for more than half a century to the
Dedlock family down at Chesney Wold in Lincolnshire。 George has
frequently told me before that he’s a Lincolnshire man； and I says
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to my old Lignum that night； ‘Lignum； that’s his mother for five…
and…for…ty pound！’“ All this Mrs Bagnet now relates for the
twentieth time at least within the last four hours。 Trilling it out；
like a kind of bird； with a pretty high note； that it may be audible
to the old lady above the hum of the wheels。
“Bless you； and thank you；” says Mrs Rouncewell。 “Bless you；
and thank you； my worthy soul！”
“Dear heart！” cries Mrs Bagnet； in the most natural manner。
“No thanks to me； I am sure。 Thanks to yourself； ma’am； for being
so ready to pay ’em！ And mind once more； ma’am； what you had
best do on finding George to be your own son； is； to make him—for
your sake—have every sort of help to put himself in the right； and
clear himself of a charge of which he is as innocent as you or me。 It
won’t do to have truth and justice on his side； he must have law
and lawyers；” exclaims the old girl； apparently persuaded that the
latter form a separate establishment； and have dissolved
partnership with truth and justice for ever and a day。
“He shall have；” says Mrs Rouncewell； “all the help that can be
got for him in the world； my dear。 I will spend all I have； and
thankfully； to procure it。 Sir Leicester will do his best； the whole
family will do their best。 I—I know something； my dear； and will
make my own appeal； as his mother parted from him all these
years； and finding him in a jail at last。”
The extreme disquietude of the old housekeeper’s manner in
saying this； her broken words； and her wringing of her hands；
make a powerful impression on Mrs Bagnet； and would astonish
her but that she refers them all to her sorrow for her son’s
condition。 And yet Mrs Bagnet wonders； too； why Mrs Rouncewell
should murmur so distractedly； “My Lady； my Lady； my Lady！”
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over and over again。
The frosty night wears away； and the dawn breaks； and the
post…chaise comes rolling on through the early mist； like the ghost
of a chaise departed。 It has plenty of spectral company； in ghosts
of trees and hedges； slowly vanishing and giving place to the
realities of day。 London reached； the travellers alight； the old
housekeeper in great tribulation and confusion； Mrs Bagnet； quite
fresh and collected—as she would be； if her next point； with no
new equipage and outfit； were the Cape of Good Hope； the Island
of Ascension； Hong Kong； or any other military station。
But when they set out for the prison where the trooper is
confined； the old lady has managed to draw about her； with her
lavender…coloured dress； much of the staid calmness which is its
usual accompaniment。 A wonderfully grave； precise； and
handsome piece of old china she looks； though her heart beats
fast； and her stomacher is ruffled more than even the
remembrance of this wayward son has ruffled it these many years。
Approaching the cell； they find the door opening and a warder
in the act of coming out。 The old girl promptly makes a sign of
entreaty to him to say nothing； assenting； with a nod； he suffers
them to enter as he shu
