jeremy-第50节

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four　of　them；　all　as　yet　unmarried；　all　with　brown…red　faces　and
hard　straw　hats；　short　skirts；　and　tremendous　voices；　forerunners；
in　fact；　of　a　type　now　almost　universal。　They　played　croquet　and
lawn…tennis；　were　prominent　members　of　the　Archery　Club；　and　hunted
when　their　fathers　would　let　them。　They　were　terrible　Dianas　to
Jeremy。　He　had　met　one　of　them　once　at　a　Children's　Dance；　and　she
had　whirled　him　around　until；　with　a　terrified　scream；　he　broke；
howling；　from　her　arms；　and　hid　himself　in　the　large　bosom　of　the
Jampot。　He　was　always　ashamed　of　this　memory；　and　he　could　never　see
them　without　blushing；　but；　to…day；　he　seemed　less　afraid　of　them；
and　actually；　when　he　passed　them；　touched　his　hat　and　looked　them
in　the　face。　They　all　smiled　and　nodded　to　him；　and　when　they　had
gone　he　was　so　deeply　astonished　at　this　adventure　that　he　had　to
stop　and　consider　himself。　If　the　Craggs　were　nothing　to　him；　what
might　he　not　face？

〃Come　here；　Hamlet。　How　dare　you？〃　he　ordered　in　so　sharp　and
military　a　voice　that　Hamlet；　who　had　merely　cast　a　most　innocent
glance　at　a　disdainful　and　conceited　white　poodle；　looked　up　at　his
master　with　surprise。

Nevertheless；　his　new…found　hardihood　received；　in　the　very　midst　of
his　self…congratulation；　its　severest　test。　He　stumbled　into　the
very　path　of　the　Dean's　wife。

Mrs。　Dean　could　never　have　seemed　to　anyone　a　large　woman；　but　to
Jeremy　she　had　always　been　a　terror。　She　was　thick　and　hard；　like　a
wall；　and　wore　the　kind　of　silken　clothes；　that　rustledlike　the
whispering　of　a　whole　meeting　of　frightened　clergymen's　wivesas
she　moved。　She　had　a　hard；　condemnatory　voice；　and　she　spoke　as
though　she　were　addressing　an　assembly；　but；　worst　of　all；　she　had
black；　beetling　eyebrows；　and　these　frightened　Jeremy　into　fits。　He
did　not；　of　course；　know　that　the　poor　lady　suffered　continually
from　nervous　headaches。　He　suddenly　heard　that　voice　in　his　ear：
〃Good　morning；　Jeremy；　and　where　are　you　off　to　so　early？〃　Mrs。　Dean
was　never　so　awful　as　when　she　was　jolly；　and　Jeremy；　caught　up　by
the　eyebrows　as　though　they　had　been　hooks　and　hung　thus　in　mid…air
for　all　the　street　to　laugh　at；　nearly　lost　his　command　of　his
natural　tongue。　He　found　his　voice　just　in　time：

〃To　Ponting's；〃　he　said。

〃All　alone？　Ah；　no；　I　see　you　have　your　little　dog。　Nice　little　dog。
And　how's　your　mother？〃

〃She's　quite　well；　thank　you。〃

〃That's　rightthat's　right。　We　haven't　seen　you　lately。　You　must
come　up　to　tea　with　your　sisters。　I'm　afraid　you　won't　find　Ernest；
he's　gone　back　to　schoolbut　I　dare　say　you're　not　too　big　to　play
with　little　girls。〃

Jeremy　felt　some　triumph　at　his　heart。

〃I'm　going　to　school　to…morrow；〃　he　said。　But　if　he　expected　Mrs。
Dean　to　be　pitiful　at　this　statement　he　was　greatly　mistaken。

〃Are　you；　indeed？　Such　a　pity　you　couldn't　have　gone　with　Ernest
but　he'd　be　senior　to　you；　of　course。　。　。　Good…bye。　Good…bye。　Give
my　love　to　your　mother；〃　and　she　pounded　her　way　along。

〃She's　a　beastly　woman　anyway〃　thought　Jeremy。　〃I　wish　I'd　found
something　to　say　to　her。　I　wonder　whether　she　knows　I　knocked　Ernest
down　in　the　summer　and　trod　on　him？〃

But　the　sight　of　the　High　Street　soon　restored　his　equanimity。　On
other　occasions　he　had　been　pushed　through　it；　either　by　the　Jampot
or　Miss　Jones；　so　rapidly　that　he　could　gather　only　the　most
fleeting　impressions。　To…day　he　could　linger　and　linger；　he　did。　The
two　nicest　shops　were　Mannings'　the　hairdressers　and　Ponting's　the
book…shop；　but　Rose　the　grocer's；　and　Coulter's　the　confectioner's
were　very　good。　Mr。　Manning　was　an　artist。　He　did　not　simply　put　a
simpering　bust　with　an　elaborate　head　of　hair　in　his　window　and
leave　it　at　thathe　did；　indeed；　place　there　a　smiling　lady　with　a
wonderful　jewelled　comb　and　a　radiant　row　of　teeth；　but　around　this
he　built　up　a　magnificent　world　of　silver　brushes；　tortoise…　shell
combs；　essences　and　perfumes　and　powders；　jars　and　bottles　and
boxes。　Manning　was　the　finest　artist　in　the　town。　Ponting；　at　the
top　of　the　street　just　at　the　corner　of　the　Close；　was　an　artist
too；　but　in　quite　another　fashion。　Ponting　was　the　best　established；
most　sacred　and　serious　bookseller　in　the　county。　In　the　days　when
the　new　〃Waverley〃　was　the　sensation　of　the　moment　Mr。　Ponting；
grandfather　of　the　present　Mr。　Ponting；　had　been　in　quite　constant
correspondence　with　Mr。　Southey；　and　Mr。　Coleridge；　and　had　once；
when　on　a　visit　to　London；　spoken　to　the　great　Lord　Byron　himself。
This　tradition　of　aristocracy　remained；　and　the　present　Mr。　Pouting
always　advised　the　Bishop　what　to　read　and　was　consulted　by　Mrs。
Lamb；　our　only　authoress；　on　questions　of　publishers　and　editions
and　such　technical　points。　For　all　this　Jeremy；　at　his　present　stage
of　interest；　would　have　cared　nothing　even　had　he　known　it；　but　what
he　did　care　for　were　the　rows　of　calf…bound　books　with　little　ridges
of　gold；　that　made　a　fine　wall　across　the　window　with　an　old　print
of　the　Cathedral　and　the　Close　in　the　middle　of　them。　Inside
Pontings　there　was　a　hush　as　of　the　study　and　the　church　combined。
It　was　a　rather　dark　shop　with　rows　and　rows　of　books　disappearing
into　the　ceiling；　and　one　grave　and　unnaturally　old　young　man　behind
the　counter。　Jeremy　did　not　know　what　he　should　do　about　Hamlet；　so
he　brought　him　inside；　only　to　discover　to　his　horror　that　the
fiercest　of　all　the　Canons；　Canon　Waterbury；　held　the　floor　of　the
shop。　Canon　Waterbury　had　a　black　beard　and　a　biting　tongue。　He　had
once　warned　Jeremy　off　the　Cathedral　grass　in　a　voice　of　thunder；
and　Jeremy　had　never　forgotten　it。　He　glared　now　and　pulled　his
beard；　but　Hamlet　fortunately　behaved　well；　and　the　old　young　man
discovered　Jeremy's　notepaper　within　a　very　short　period。

Then　suddenly　the　Canon　spoke。

〃Dogs　should　not　be　inside　shops；〃　He　said；　as　though　he　were
condemning　someone　to　death。

〃I　know；〃　said　Jeremy　frankly。　〃I　wanted　to　tie　him　up　to　something
and　there　was　nothing　to　tie　him　up　to。〃

〃What　did　you　bring　him　out　for　at　all？〃　said　the　Canon。

〃Because　he's　got　to　have　exercise；〃　said　Jeremy；　discovering；　to
his　own　delighted　surprise；　that　he　was　not　frightened　in　the　least。

〃Oh；　has　he？　I　don't　know　what　people　keep　dogs　for。〃

And　then　he　stamped　out　of　the　shop。

Jeremy　regarded　this　in　the　light　of　a　victory　and　marched　away；　his
head　more　in　the　air　than　ever。　He　should　now　have　hurried　home。　The
midday　chimes　had　rung　out　and　Jeremy's　duties　were　performed。　But
he　lingered；　listening　to　the　last　notes　of　the　chimes；　hearing　the
cries　of　the　Cathedral　choir…boys　as　they　moved　across　the　green　to
the　choir…school；　watching　all　the　people　hurry　up　and　down　the
street。　Ah；　there　was　the　Castle　carriage！　Perhaps　the　old　Countess
was　inside　it。　He　had　only　seen　her　once；　at　some　service　in　the
Cathedral　to　which　his　mother　had　taken　him；　but　she　had　made　a
great　impression　on　him　with　her　snow…white　hair。　He　had　heard
people　speak　of　her　as　〃a　wicked　old　woman。〃　Perhaps　she　was　inside
the　carriage　。　。　。　but　he　only　saw　the　Castle　coachman　and　footman
and　the　coronet　on　the　door。　It　rolled　slowly　up　the　hill　with　its
fine　air　of　commanding　the　whole　worldthen　it　disappeared　around
the　corner　of　the　Close。

Jeremy　decided　then　that　he　would　go　home　across　the　green　and　down
Orchard　Lane。　He　had　a　wish　to　enter　the　Cathedral　for　a　moment；
such　a　visit　would；　after　all；　complete　the　round　of　his
experiences。　He　had　never　entered　the　Cathedral　alone；　and　now；　as
he　saw　it　facing　him；　so　vast　and　majestic　and　quiet；　across　the
sun…drenched　green；　he　felt　a　sudden　fear　and　awe。　He　found　a　ring
in　a　stone　near　the　west　end　through　which　he　might　fasten　Hamlet's
lead；　then；　slowly　pushing　back　the　heavy　door；　he　passed　inside。
The　Cathedral　was　utterly　quiet。　The　vast　nave；　stained　with
reflections　of　purple　and　green　and　ruby；　was　vague　and
unsubstantial；　all　the　little　wooden　chairs　huddled　together　to　the
right　and　left；　leaving　a　great　path　that　swept　up　to　the　High　Altar
under　shafts　of　light　that　fell　like　searchlights　from　the　windows。
The　tombs　and　the　statues　peered　dimly　from　the　shadow；　and　the
great　east　end　window；　with　its　deep　purple　light；　seemed　to　draw
the　whole　nave　up　into　its　heart　and　hold　it　there。　All　was　space
and　silence；　light　and　dusk；　a　little　doll　of　a　verger　moved　in　the
far　distance；　an　old　woman；　so　quiet　that　she　seemed　only　a　shadow；
passed　him；　wiping　the　little　chairs　with　a　duster。

It　seemed　to　Jeremy　that　he　had　never　been　in　the　Cathedral　before；
he　stood　there；　breathless；　as　though　in　a　moment　something　must
inevitably　happen。　Although　he　did　not　think　of　it；　the　moment　was
one　of　a　sequence　that　had　come　to　him　during　the　yearhis　entry
into　the　theatre　with　his　uncle；　his　first　conversation　with　the
sea…captain；　the　hour　when　his　mother　had　been　so　ill；　the　evening
on　the　beach　when　Charlotte　had　been　frightened；　the　time　when
Hamlet　had　been　lost　and　he　had　slept　with　him　under　a　tree。　All
these　moments　had　been　something　more　than　merely　themselves；　had
had　something　behind　them　or　inside　them　for　which　simply　they　stood
as　words　stand　for　pictures。　He　analysed；　of　course；　not