bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第248节
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but for my old comrade’s wife here； who I find has been too many
for me。 But I thank her for it。 I thank you for it； Mrs Bagnet； with
all my heart and might。”
To which Mrs Bagnet responds with two pokes。
And now the old lady impresses upon her son George； her own
dear recovered boy； her joy and pride； the light of her eyes； the
happy close of her life； and every fond name she can think of； that
he must be governed by the best advice obtainable by money and
influence； that he must yield up his case to the greatest lawyers
that can be got； that he must act； in this serious plight； as he shall
be advised to act； and must not be self…willed； however right； but
must promise to think only of his poor old mother’s anxiety and
suffering until he is released； or he will break her heart。
“Mother； ’tis little enough to consent to；” returns the trooper；
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stopping her with a kiss； “tell me what I shall do； and I’ll make a
late beginning； and do it。 Mrs Bagnet； you’ll take care of my
mother； I know？”
A very hard poke from the old girl’s umbrella。
“If you’ll bring her acquainted with Mr Jarndyce and Miss
Summerson； she will find them of her way of thinking； and they
will give her the best advice and assistance。”
“And； George；” says the old lady； “we must send with all haste
for your brother。 He is a sensible sound man as they tell me—out
in the world beyond Chesney Wold； my dear； though I don’t know
much of it myself—and will be of great service。”
“Mother；” returns the trooper； “is it too soon to ask a favour？”
“Surely not； my dear。”
“Then grant me this one great favour。 Don’t let my brother
know。”
“Not know what； my dear？”
“Not know of me。 In fact； mother； I can’t bear it； I can’t make
up my mind to it。 He has proved himself so different from me； and
has done so much to raise himself while I have been soldiering；
that I haven’t brass enough in my composition； to see him in this
place and under this charge。 How could a man like him be
expected to have any pleasure in such a discovery？ It’s impossible。
No； keep my secret from him； mother； do me a greater kindness
than I deserve； and keep my secret from my brother； of all men。”
“But not always； dear George？”
“Why； mother； perhaps not for good and all—though I may
come to ask that too—but keep it now； I do entreat you。 If it’s ever
broke to him that his Rip of a brother has turned up； I could wish；”
says the trooper； shaking his head very doubtfully； “to break it
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myself； and be governed； as to advancing or retreating； by the way
in which he seems to take it。”
As he evidently has a rooted feeling on this point； and as the
depth of it is recognised in Mrs Bagnet’s face； his mother yields
her implicit assent to what he asks。 For this he thanks her kindly。
“In all other respects； my dear mother； I’ll be as tractable and
obedient as you can wish； on this one alone； I stand out。 So now I
am ready even for the lawyers。 I have been drawing up；” he
glances at his writing on the table； “an exact account of what I
knew of the deceased； and how I came to be involved in this
unfortunate affair。 It’s entered； plain and regular； like an orderly…
book； not a word in it but what’s wanted for the facts。 I did intend
to read it； straight on end； whensoever I was called upon to say
anything in my defence。 I hope I may be let to do it still； but I have
no longer a will of my own in this case； and whatever is said or
done； I give my promise not to have any。”
Matters being brought to this so far satisfactory pass； and time
being on the wane； Mrs Bagnet proposes a departure。 Again and
again the old lady hangs upon her son’s neck； and again and again
the trooper holds her to his broad chest。
“Where are you going to take my mother； Mrs Bagnet？”
“I am going to the town house； my dear； the family house。 I
have some business there； that must be looked to directly；” Mrs
Rouncewell answers。
“Will you see my mother safe there； in a coach； Mrs Bagnet？
But of course I know you will。 Why should I ask it！”
Why indeed； Mrs Bagnet expresses with the umbrella。
“Take her； my old friend； and take my gratitude along with you。
Kisses to Quebec and Malta； love to my godson； a hearty shake of
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the hand to Lignum； and this for yourself； and I wish it was ten
thousand pound in gold； my dear！” So saying； the trooper puts his
lips to the old girl’s tanned forehead； and the door shuts upon him
in his cell。
No entreaties on the part of the good old housekeeper will
induce Mrs Bagnet to retain the coach for her own conveyance
home。 Jumping out cheerfully at the door of the Dedlock mansion；
and handing Mrs Rouncewell up the steps； the old girl shakes
hands and trudges off； arriving soon afterwards in the bosom of
the Bagnet family； and falling to washing the greens as if nothing
had happened。
My Lady is in that room in which she held her last conference
with the murdered man； and is sitting where she sat that night；
and is looking at the spot where he stood upon the hearth；
studying her so leisurely； when a tap comes at the door。 Who is it？
Mrs Rouncewell。 What has brought Mrs Rouncewell to town so
unexpectedly？
“Trouble； my Lady。 Sad trouble。 O； my Lady； may I beg a word
with you？”
What new occurrence is it that makes this tranquil old woman
tremble so？ Far happier than her Lady； as her Lady has often
thought； why does she falter in this manner； and look at her with
such strange mistrust！
“What is the matter？ Sit down and take your breath。”
“O； my Lady； my Lady。 I have found my son—my youngest；
who went away for a soldier so long ago。 And he is in prison。”
“For debt？”
“O no； my Lady； I would have paid any debt； and joyful。”
“For what is he in prison then？”
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“Charged with a murder； my Lady； of which he is as innocent
as—as I am。 Accused of the murder of Mr Tulkinghorn。”
What does she mean by this look and this imploring gesture？
Why does she come so close？ What is the letter that she holds？
“Lady Dedlock； my dear Lady； my good Lady； my kind Lady！
You must have a heart to feel for me； you must have a heart to
forgive me。 I was in this family before you were born。 I am devoted
to it。 But think of my dear son wrongfully accused。”
“I do not accuse him。”
“No； my Lady； no。 But others do； and he is in prison and in
danger。 O Lady Dedlock； if you can say but a word to help to clear
him； say it！”
What delusion can this be？ What power does she suppose is in
the person she petitions； to avert this unjust suspicion； if it be
unjust？ Her Lady’s handsome eyes regard her with astonishment；
almost with fear。
“My Lady； I came away last night from Chesney Wold to find
my son in my old age； and the step upon the Ghost’s Walk was so
constant and so solemn that I never heard the like in all these
years。 Night after night； as it has fallen dark； the sound has echoed
through your rooms； but last night it was awfullest。 And as it fell
dark last night； my Lady； I got this letter。”
“What letter is
