bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第9节
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not repeat。 What she did say； I could more easily tell； if it were
worth the telling。 What she felt； and will feel to her dying hour； I
could never relate。
This interview took place at Windsor； where I had passed （as
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far as I knew）； my whole life。 On that day week； amply provided
with all necessaries； I left it； inside the stage…coach； for Reading。
Mrs Rachael was too good to feel any emotion at parting； but I
was not so good； and wept bitterly。 I thought that I ought to have
known her better after so many years； and ought to have made
myself enough of a favourite with her to make her sorry then。
When she gave me one cold parting kiss upon my forehead； like a
thaw…drop from the stone porch—it was a very frosty day—I felt so
miserable and self…reproachful； that I clung to her and told her it
was my fault； I knew； that she could say good…bye so easily！
“No Esther！” she returned。 “It is your misfortune！”
The coach was at the little lawn gate—we had not come out
until we heard the wheels—and thus I left her； with a sorrowful
heart。 She went in before my boxes were lifted to the coach…roof；
and shut the door。 As long as I could see the house； I looked back
at it from the window； through my tears。 My godmother had left
Mrs Rachael all the little property she possessed； and there was to
be a sale； and an old hearthrug with roses on it； which always
seemed to me the first thing in the world I had ever seen； was
hanging outside in the frost and snow。 A day or two before； I had
wrapped the dear old doll in her own shawl； and quietly laid her—
I am half ashamed to tell it—in the garden…earth； under the tree
that shaded my old window。 I had no companion left but my bird；
and him I carried with me in his cage。
When the house was out of sight； I sat with my bird…cage in the
straw at my feet； forward on the low seat； to look out of the high
window； watching the frosty trees； that were like beautiful pieces
of spar； and the fields all smooth and white with last night’s snow；
and the sun； so red but yielding so little heat； and the ice； dark like
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metal； where the skaters and sliders had brushed the snow away。
There was a gentleman in the coach who sat on the opposite seat；
and looked very large in a quantity of wrappings； but he sat gazing
out of the other window； and took no notice of me。
I thought of my dead godmother； of the night when I read to
her； of her frowning so fixedly and sternly in her bed； of the
strange place I was going to； of the people I should find there； and
what they would be like； and what they would say to me； when a
voice in the coach gave me a terrible start。
It said； “What the devil are you crying for？”
I was so frightened that I lost my voice； and could only answer
in a whisper。 “Me； sir？” For of course I knew it must have been
the gentleman in the quantity of wrappings； though he was still
looking out of his window。
“Yes you；” he said； turning round。
“I didn’t know I was crying； sir；” I faltered。
“But you are！” said the gentleman。 “Look here！” He came quite
opposite to me from the other corner of the coach； brushed one of
his large furry cuffs across my eyes （but without hurting me）； and
showed me that it was wet。
“There！” Now you know you are；” he said。 “Don’t you？”
“Yes； sir；” I said。
“And what are you crying for？” said the gentleman。 “Don’t you
want to go there？”
“Where； sir？”
“Where？ Why； wherever you are going；” said the gentleman。
“I am very glad to go there； sir；” I answered。
“Well； then！ Look glad！” said the gentleman。
I thought he was very strange； or at least that what I could see
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of him was very strange； for he was wrapped up to the chin； and
his face was almost hidden in a fur cap； with broad fur straps at
the side of his head； fastened under his chin； but I was composed
again； and not afraid of him。 So I told him that I thought I must
have been crying； because of my godmother’s death； and because
of Mrs Rachael’s not being sorry to part with me。
“Confound Mrs Rachael！” said the gentleman。 “Let her fly away
in a high wind on a broomstick！”
I began to be really afraid of him now； and looked at him with
the greatest astonishment。 But I thought that he had pleasant
eyes； although he kept on muttering to himself in an angry
manner； and calling Mrs Rachael names。
After a little while； he opened his outer wrapper； which
appeared to me large enough to wrap up the whole coach； and put
his arm down into a deep pocket in the side。
“Now look here！” he said。 “In this paper；” which was nicely
folded； “is a piece of the best plum cake that can be got for
money—sugar on the outside an inch thick； like fat on mutton
chops。 Here’s a little pie （a gem this is； both for size and quality）；
made in France。 And what do you suppose it’s made of？ Livers of
fat geese。 There’s a pie！ Now let’s see you eat ’em。”
“Thank you； sir；” I replied； “thank you very much indeed； but I
hope you won’t be offended； they are too rich for me。”
“Floored again！” said the gentleman； which I didn’t at all
understand； and threw them both out of the window。
He did not speak to me any more； until he got out of the coach a
little way short of Reading； when he advised me to be a good girl；
and to be studious； and shook hands with me。 I must say I was
relieved by his departure。 We left him at a milestone。 I often
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walked past it afterwards； and never； for a long time； without
thinking of him； and half expecting to meet him。 But I never did；
and so； as time went on； he passed out of my mind。
When the coach stopped； a very neat lady looked up at the
window； and said：
“Miss Donny。”
“No； ma’am； Esther Summerson。”
“That is quite right；” said the lady； “Miss Donny。”
I now understood that she introduced herself by that name； and
begged Miss Donny’s pardon for my mistake； and pointed out my
boxes at her request。 Under the direction of a very neat maid； they
were put outside a very small green carriage； and then Miss
Donny； the maid； and I； got inside； and were driven away。
“Everything is ready for you； Esther；” said Miss Donny； “and
the scheme of your pursuits has been arranged in exact
accordance with the wishes of your guardian； Mr Jarndyce。”
“Of —— did you say； ma’am？”
“Of your guardian； Mr Jarndyce；” said Miss Donny。
I was so bewildered that Miss Donny thought the cold had been
too severe for me； and lent me her smelling…bottle。
“Do you know my—guardian； Mr Jarndyce； ma’am？” I asked
after a good deal of hesitation。
“Not personally； Esther；” said Miss Donny； “merely through his
solicitors； Messrs。 Kenge and Carboy； of London。 A very superior
gentleman； Mr Kenge。 Truly eloquent indeed。 Some of his periods
quite majestic！”
I felt this to be very true； but was too confused to attend to it。
Our speedy arrival at our destination； before I had time to recover
myself； increased my confusion； and I never shall forget the
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uncertain and unreal air of every thing at Greenleaf （Miss Donny’s
house）； that afternoon！
