bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第263节
按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
last nor least among them； possibly； is a horror of what may befall
her little income； in the event； as she expresses it； “of anything
happening” to Sir Leicester。 Anything； in this sense； meaning one
thing only； and that the last thing that can happen to the
consciousness of any baronet in the known world。
An effect of these horrors is； that Volumnia finds she cannot go
to bed in her own room； or sit by the fire in her own room； but
must come forth with her fair head tied up in a profusion of shawl；
and her fair form enrobed in drapery； and parade the mansion like
a ghost： particularly haunting the rooms； warm and luxurious；
prepared for one who still does not return。 Solitude under such
circumstances being not to be thought of； Volumnia is attended by
her maid； who； impressed from her own bed for that purpose；
extremely cold； very sleepy； and generally an injured maid as
condemned by circumstances to take office with a cousin； when
she had resolved to be maid to nothing less than ten thousand a
year； has not a sweet expression of countenance。
The periodical visits of the trooper to these rooms； however； in
the course of his patrolling； is an assurance of protection and
company； both to mistress and maid； which renders them very
acceptable in the small hours of the night。 Whenever he is heard
advancing； they both make some little decorative preparation to
receive him； at other times； they divide their watches into short
scraps of oblivion； and dialogues； not wholly free from acerbity； as
to whether Miss Dedlock； sitting with her feet upon the fender；
was or was not falling into the fire when rescued （to her great
displeasure） by her guardian genius the maid。
“How is Sir Leicester； now； Mr George？” inquires Volumnia；
adjusting her cowl over her head。
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
… Page 1095…
Bleak House 1095
“Why； Sir Leicester is much the same； miss。 He is very low and
ill； and he even wanders a little sometimes。”
“Has he asked for me？” inquires Volumnia tenderly。
“Why no； I can’t say he has； miss。 Not within my hearing； that is
to say。”
“This is a truly sad time； Mr George。”
“It is indeed； miss。 Hadn’t you better go to bed？”
“You had a deal better go to bed； Miss Dedlock；” quoth the
maid； sharply。
But Volumnia answers No！ No！ She may be asked for； she may
be wanted at a moment’s notice。 She never should forgive herself
“if anything was to happen” and she was not on the spot。 She
declines to enter on the question； mooted by the maid； how the
spot comes to be there； and not in her own room （which is nearer
to Sir Leicester’s）； but staunchly declares that on the spot she will
remain。 Volumnia further makes a merit of not having “closed an
eye”—as if she had twenty or thirty—though it is hard to reconcile
this statement with her having most indisputably opened two
within five minutes。
But when it comes to four o’clock； and still the same blank；
Volumnia’s constancy begins to fail her； or rather it begins to
strengthen； for she now considers that it is her duty to be ready for
the morrow； when much may be expected of her； that； in fact；
howsoever anxious to remain upon the spot； it may be required of
her； as an act of self…devotion； to desert the spot。 So； when the
trooper reappears with his “Hadn’t you better go to bed； miss？”
and when the maid protests； more sharply than before； “You had a
deal better go to bed； Miss Dedlock！” she meekly rises and says；
“Do with me what you think best！”
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
… Page 1096…
Bleak House 1096
Mr George undoubtedly thinks it best to escort her on his arm
to the door of her cousinly chamber； and the maid as undoubtedly
thinks it best to hustle her into bed with mighty little ceremony。
Accordingly； these steps are taken； and now the trooper； in his
rounds； has the house to himself。
There is no improvement in the weather。 From the portico；
from the eaves； from the parapet； from every ledge； and post and
pillar； drips the thawed snow。 It has crept； as if for shelter； into the
lintels of the great door—under it into the corners of the windows；
into every chink and crevice of retreat； and there wastes and dies。
It is falling still； upon the roof； upon the skylight； even through the
skylight； and drip； drip； drip； with the regularity of the Ghost’s
Walk； on the stone floor below。
The trooper； his old recollections awakened by the solitary
grandeur of a great house—no novelty to him once at Chesney
Wold—goes up the stairs and through the chief rooms； holding up
his light at arm’s length。 Thinking of his varied fortunes within the
last few weeks； and of his rustic boyhood； and of the two periods of
his life so strangely brought together across the wide intermediate
space； thinking of the murdered man whose image is fresh in his
mind； thinking of the lady who has disappeared from these very
rooms； and the tokens of whose recent presence are all here；
thinking of the master of the house upstairs； and of the foreboding
“Who will tell him！” he looks here and looks there； and reflects
how he might see something now； which it would tax his boldness
to walk up to； lay his hand upon； and prove to be a fancy。 But it is
all blank； blank as the darkness above and below； while he goes up
the great staircase again； blank as the oppressive silence。
“All is still in readiness； George Rouncewell？”
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
… Page 1097…
Bleak House 1097
“Quite orderly and right； Sir Leicester。”
“No word of any kind？”
The trooper shakes his head。
“No letter that can possibly have been overlooked？”
But he knows there is no such hope as that； and lays his head
down without looking for an answer。
Very familiar to him； as he said himself some hours ago； George
Rouncewell lifts him into easier positions through the long
remainder of the blank wintry night； and； equally familiar with his
unexpressed wish； extinguishes the light； and undraws the
curtains at the first late break of day。 The day comes like a
phantom。 Cold； colourless； and vague； it sends a warning streak
before it of a deathlike hue； as if it cried out； “Look what I am
bringing you； who watch there！ Who will tell him！”
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
… Page 1098…
Bleak House 1098
Chapter 59
Esther’s Narrative
t was three o’clock in the morning when the houses outside
London did at last begin to exclude the country； and to close
I
us in with streets。 We had made our way along roads in a far
worse condition than when we had traversed them by daylight；
both the fall and the thaw having lasted ever since； but the energy
of my companion had never slackened。 It had only been； as I
thought； of less assistance than the horses in getting us on； and it
had often aided them。 They had stopped exhausted halfway up
hills； they had been driven through streams of turbulent water；
they had slipped down and become entangled with the harness；
but he and his little lantern had been always ready； and when the
mishap was set right； I had never heard any variation in his cool
“Get on； my lads！”
The steadiness and confidence with which he had directed
