bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第6节
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of the place in Lincolnshire still upon her； “whether anything has
been done。”
“Nothing that you would call anything has been done today；”
replies Mr Tulkinghorn。
“Nor ever will be；” says my Lady。
Sir Leicester has no objection to an interminable Chancery suit。
It is a slow； expensive； British； constitutional kind of thing。 To be
sure； he has not a vital interest in the suit in question； her part in
which was the only property my Lady brought him； and he has a
shadowy impression that for his name—the name of Dedlock—to
be in a cause； and not in the title of that cause； is a most ridiculous
accident。 But he regards the Court of Chancery； even if it should
involve an occasional delay of justice and a trifling amount of
confusion； as a something； devised in conjunction with a variety of
other somethings； by the perfection of human wisdom； for the
eternal settlement （humanly speaking） of every thing。 And he is
upon the whole of a fixed opinion； that to give the sanction of his
countenance to any complaints respecting it； would be to
encourage some person in the lower classes to rise up
somewhere—like Wat Tyler。
“As a few fresh affidavits have been put upon the file；” says Mr
Tulkinghorn； “and as they are short； and as I proceed upon the
troublesome principle of begging leave to possess my clients with
any new proceedings in a cause；” cautious man Mr Tulkinghorn；
taking no more responsibility than necessary； “and further； as I
see you are going to Paris； I have brought them in my pocket。”
（Sir Leicester was going to Paris too； by…the…bye； but the delight
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of the fashionable intelligence was in his Lady。） Mr Tulkinghorn
takes out his papers； asks permission to place them on a golden
talisman of a table at my Lady’s elbow； puts on his spectacles； and
begins to read by the light of a shaded lamp。
“‘In Chancery。 Between John Jarndyce—’” My Lady interrupts；
requesting him to miss as many of the formal horrors as he can。
Mr Tulkinghorn glances over his spectacles； and begins again
lower down。 My Lady carelessly and scornfully abstracts her
attention。 Sir Leicester in a great chair looks at the fire； and
appears to have a stately liking for the legal repetitions and
prolixities； as ranging among the national bulwarks。 It happens
that the fire is hot； where my Lady sits； and that the hand…screen
is more beautiful than useful； being priceless but small。 My Lady；
changing her position； sees the papers on the table—looks at them
nearer—looks at them nearer still—asks impulsively：
“Who copied that？”
Mr Tulkinghorn stops short； surprised by my Lady’s animation
and her unusual tone。
“Is it what you people call law…hand？” she asks； looking full at
him in her careless way again； and toying with her screen。
“Not quite。 Probably”—Mr Tulkinghorn examines it as he
speaks—“the legal character it has； was acquired after the original
hand was formed。 Why do you ask？”
“Anything to vary this detestable monotony。 O； go on； do！”
Mr Tulkinghorn reads again。 The heat is greater； my Lady
screens her face。 Sir Leicester dozes； starts up suddenly； and cries
“Eh？ what do you say？”
“I say I am afraid；” says Mr Tulkinghorn； who has risen hastily；
“that Lady Dedlock is ill。”
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“Faint；” my Lady murmurs； with white lips； “only that； but it is
like the faintness of death。 Don’t speak to me。 Ring； and take me to
my room！”
Mr Tulkinghorn retires into another chamber； bells ring； feet
shuffle and patter； silence ensues。 Mercury at last begs Mr
Tulkinghorn to return。
“Better now；” quoth Sir Leicester； motioning the lawyer to sit
down and read to him alone。 “I have been quite alarmed。 I never
knew my Lady swoon before。 But the weather is extremely
trying—and she really has been bored to death down at our place
in Lincolnshire。”
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Bleak House 27
Chapter 3
A Progress
have a great deal of difficulty in beginning to write my
portion of these pages； for I know I am not clever。 I always
I
knew that。 I can remember； when I was a very little girl
indeed； I used to say to my doll； when we were alone together；
“Now Dolly； I am not clever； you know very well； and you must be
patient with me； like a dear！” And so she used to sit propped up in
a great armchair； with her beautiful complexion and rosy lips；
staring at me—or not so much at me； I think； as at nothing—while
I busily stitched away； and told her every one of my secrets。
My dear old doll！ I was such a shy little thing that I seldom
dared to open my lips； and never dared to open my heart； to
anybody else。 It almost makes me cry to think what a relief it used
to be to me； when I cam home from school of a day； to run upstairs
to my room； and say； “O you dear faithful Dolly； I knew you would
be expecting me！” and then to sit down on the floor； leaning on the
elbow of her great chair； and tell her all I had noticed since we
parted。 I had always rather a noticing way—not a quick way； O
no！—a silent way of noticing what passed before me； and thinking
I should like to understand it better。 I have not by any means a
quick understanding。 When I love a person very tenderly indeed；
it seems to brighten。 But even that may be my vanity。
I was brought up； from my earliest remembrance—like some of
the princesses in the fairy stories； only I was not charming—by my
godmother。 At least I only knew her as such。 She was a good； good
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Bleak House 28
woman！ She went to church three times every Sunday； and to
morning prayers on Wednesdays and Fridays； and to lectures
whenever there were lectures； and never missed。 She was
handsome； and if she had ever smiled； would have been （I used to
think） like an angel—but she never smiled。 She was always grave
and strict。 She was so very good herself； I thought； that the
badness of other people made her frown all her life。 I felt so
different from her； even making every allowance for the
differences between a child and a woman； I felt so poor； so trifling；
and so far off； that I never could be unrestrained with her—no；
could never even love her as I wished。 It made me very sorry to
consider how good she was； and how unworthy of her I was； and I
used ardently to hope that I might have a better heart； and I talked
it over very often with the dear old doll； but I never loved my
godmother as I ought to have loved her； and as I felt I must have
loved her if I had been a better girl。
This made me； I dare say； more timid and retiring than I
naturally was； and cast me upon Dolly as the only friend with
whom I felt at ease。 But something happened when I was still
quite a little thing； that helped it very much。
I had never heard my mama spoken of。 I had never heard of my
papa either； but I felt more interested about my mama。 I had
never worn a black frock； that I could recollect。 I had never been
shown my mama’s grave。 I had never been told where it was。 Yet I
had never been taught to pray for any relation but my godm
