round the sofa-第2节

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it；　bearing　seven　or　eight　wax…lights；　and　that　was　all　the　light　in

the　room；　which　looked　to　me　very　vast　and　indistinct　after　our

pinched…up　apartment　at　the　Mackenzie's。　　Mrs。　Dawson　must　have　been

sixty；　and　yet　her　face　looked　very　soft　and　smooth　and　child…like。

Her　hair　was　quite　gray：　　it　would　have　looked　white　but　for　the

snowiness　of　her　cap；　and　satin　ribbon。　　She　was　wrapped　in　a　kind　of

dressing…gown　of　French　grey　merino：　　the　furniture　of　the　room　was

deep　rose…colour；　and　white　and　gold；the　paper　which　covered　the

walls　was　Indian；　beginning　low　down　with　a　profusion　of　tropical

leaves　and　birds　and　insects；　and　gradually　diminishing　in　richness

of　detail　till　at　the　top　it　ended　in　the　most　delicate　tendrils　and

most　filmy　insects。



Mr。　Dawson　had　acquired　much　riches　in　his　profession；　and　his　house

gave　one　this　impression。　　In　the　corners　of　the　rooms　were　great

jars　of　Eastern　china；　filled　with　flower…leaves　and　spices；　and　in

the　middle　of　all　this　was　placed　the　sofa；　which　poor　Margaret

Dawson　passed　whole　days；　and　months；　and　years；　without　the　power　of

moving　by　herself。　　By…and…by　Mrs。　Dawson's　maid　brought　in　tea　and

macaroons　for　us；　and　a　little　cup　of　milk　and　water　and　a　biscuit

for　her。　　Then　the　door　opened。　　We　had　come　very　early；　and　in　came

Edinburgh　professors；　Edinburgh　beauties；　and　celebrities；　all　on

their　way　to　some　other　gayer　and　later　party；　but　coming　first　to

see　Mrs。　Dawson；　and　tell　her　their　bon…mots；　or　their　interests；　or

their　plans。　　By　each　learned　man；　by　each　lovely　girl；　she　was

treated　as　a　dear　friend；　who　knew　something　more　about　their　own

individual　selves；　independent　of　their　reputation　and　general

society…character；　than　any　one　else。



It　was　very　brilliant　and　very　dazzling；　and　gave　enough　to　think

about　and　wonder　about　for　many　days。



Monday　after　Monday　we　went；　stationary；　silent；　what　could　we　find

to　say　to　any　one　but　Mrs。　Margaret　herself？　　Winter　passed；　summer

was　coming；　still　I　was　ailing；　and　weary　of　my　life；　but　still　Mr。

Dawson　gave　hopes　of　my　ultimate　recovery。　　My　father　and　mother　came

and　went；　but　they　could　not　stay　long；　they　had　so　many　claims　upon

them。　　Mrs。　Margaret　Dawson　had　become　my　dear　friend；　although；

perhaps；　I　had　never　exchanged　as　many　words　with　her　as　I　had　with

Miss　Mackenzie；　but　then　with　Mrs。　Dawson　every　word　was　a　pearl　or　a

diamond。



People　began　to　drop　off　from　Edinburgh；　only　a　few　were　left；　and　I

am　not　sure　if　our　Monday　evenings　were　not　all　the　pleasanter。



There　was　Mr。　Sperano；　the　Italian　exile；　banished　even　from　France；

where　he　had　long　resided；　and　now　teaching　Italian　with　meek

diligence　in　the　northern　city；　there　was　Mr。　Preston；　the

Westmoreland　squire；　or；　as　he　preferred　to　be　called；　statesman；

whose　wife　had　come　to　Edinburgh　for　the　education　of　their　numerous

family；　and　who；　whenever　her　husband　had　come　over　on　one　of　his

occasional　visits；　was　only　too　glad　to　accompany　him　to　Mrs。

Dawson's　Monday　evenings；　he　and　the　invalid　lady　having　been　friends

from　long　ago。　　These　and　ourselves　kept　steady　visitors；　and　enjoyed

ourselves　all　the　more　from　having　the　more　of　Mrs。　Dawson's　society。



One　evening　I　had　brought　the　little　stool　close　to　her　sofa；　and　was

caressing　her　thin　white　hand；　when　the　thought　came　into　my　head　and

out　I　spoke　it。



〃Tell　me；　dear　Mrs。　Dawson；〃　said　I；　〃how　long　you　have　been　in

Edinburgh；　you　do　not　speak　Scotch；　and　Mr。　Dawson　says　he　is　not

Scotch。〃



〃No；　I　am　LancashireLiverpool…born；〃　said　she；　smiling。　　〃Don't　you

hear　it　in　my　broad　tongue？〃



〃I　hear　something　different　to　other　people；　but　I　like　it　because　it

is　just　you；　is　that　Lancashire？〃



〃I　dare　say　it　is；　for；　though　I　am　sure　Lady　Ludlow　took　pains

enough　to　correct　me　in　my　younger　days；　I　never　could　get　rightly

over　the　accent。〃



〃Lady　Ludlow；〃　said　I；　〃what　had　she　to　do　with　you？　　I　heard　you

talking　about　her　to　Lady　Madeline　Stuart　the　first　evening　I　ever

came　here；　you　and　she　seemed　so　fond　of　Lady　Ludlow；　who　is　she？〃



〃She　is　dead；　my　child；　dead　long　ago。〃



I　felt　sorry　I　had　spoken　about　her；　Mrs。　Dawson　looked　so　grave　and

sad。　　I　suppose　she　perceived　my　sorrow；　for　she　went　on　and　said

〃My　dear；　I　like　to　talk　and　to　think　of　Lady　Ludlow：　　she　was　my

true；　kind　friend　and　benefactress　for　many　years；　ask　me　what　you

like　about　her；　and　do　not　think　you　give　me　pain。〃



I　grew　bold　at　this。



〃Will　you　tell　me　all　about　her；　then；　please；　Mrs。　Dawson？〃



〃Nay；〃　said　she；　smiling；　〃that　would　be　too　long　a　story。　　Here　are

Signor　Sperano；　and　Miss　Duncan；　and　Mr。　and　Mrs。　Preston　are　coming

to…night；　Mr。　Preston　told　me；　how　would　they　like　to　hear　an　old…

world　story　which；　after　all；　would　be　no　story　at　all；　neither

beginning；　nor　middle；　nor　end；　only　a　bundle　of　recollections？〃



〃If　you　speak　of　me；　madame；〃　said　Signor　Sperano；　〃I　can　only　say

you　do　me　one　great　honour　by　recounting　in　my　presence　anything

about　any　person　that　has　ever　interested　you。〃



Miss　Duncan　tried　to　say　something　of　the　same　kind。　　In　the　middle

of　her　confused　speech；　Mr。　and　Mrs。　Preston　came　in。　　I　sprang　up；　I

went　to　meet　them。



〃Oh；〃　said　I；　〃Mrs。　Dawson　is　just　going　to　tell　us　all　about　Lady

Ludlow；　and　a　great　deal　more；　only　she　is　afraid　it　won't　interest

anybody：　　do　say　you　would　like　to　hear　it！〃



Mrs。　Dawson　smiled　at　me；　and　in　reply　to　their　urgency　she　promised

to　tell　us　all　about　Lady　Ludlow；　on　condition　that　each　one　of　us

should；　after　she　had　ended；　narrate　something　interesting；　which　we

had　either　heard；　or　which　had　fallen　within　our　own　experience。　　We

all　promised　willingly；　and　then　gathered　round　her　sofa　to　hear　what

she　could　tell　us　about　my　Lady　Ludlow。



＇At　this　point　comes　〃My　Lady　Ludlow〃already　released　by　Project

Gutenberg＇



As　any　one　may　guess；　it　had　taken　Mrs。　Dawson　several　Monday

evenings　to　narrate　all　this　history　of　the　days　of　her　youth。　　Miss

Duncan　thought　it　would　be　a　good　exercise　for　me；　both　in　memory　and

composition；　to　write　out　on　Tuesday　mornings　all　that　I　had　heard

the　night　before；　and　thus　it　came　to　pass　that　I　have　the　manuscript

of　〃My　Lady　Ludlow〃　now　lying　by　me。





Mr。　Dawson　had　often　come　in　and　out　of　the　room　during　the　time　that

his　sister　had　been　telling　us　about　Lady　Ludlow。　　He　would　stop；　and

listen　a　little；　and　smile　or　sigh　as　the　case　might　be。　　The　Monday

after　the　dear　old　lady　had　wound　up　her　tale　（if　tale　it　could　be

called）；　we　felt　rather　at　a　loss　what　to　talk　about；　we　had　grown　so

accustomed　to　listen　to　Mrs。　Dawson。　　I　remember　I　was　saying；　〃Oh；

dear！　　I　wish　some　one　would　tell　us　another　story！〃　when　her　brother

said；　as　if　in　answer　to　my　speech；　that　he　had　drawn　up　a　paper　all

ready　for　the　Philosophical　Society；　and　that　perhaps　we　might　care

to　hear　it　before　it　was　sent　off：　　it　was　in　a　great　measure

compiled　from　a　French　book；　published　by　one　of　the　Academies；　and

rather　dry　in　itself；　but　to　which　Mr。　Dawson's　attention　had　been

directed；　after　a　tour　he　had　made　in　England　during　the　past　year；

in　which　he　had　noticed　small　walled…up　doors　in　unusual　parts　of

some　old　parish　churches；　and　had　been　told　that　they　had　formerly

been　appropriated　to　the　use　of　some　half…heathen　race；　who；　before

the　days　of　gipsies；　held　the　same　outcast　pariah　position　in　most　of

the　countries　of　western　Europe。　　Mr。　Dawson　had　been　recommended　to

the　French　book　which　he　named；　as　containing　the　fullest　and　most

authentic　account　of　this　mysterious　race；　the　Cagots。　　I　did　not

think　I　should　like　hearing　this　paper　as　much　as　a　story；　but；　of

course；　as　he　meant　it　kindly；　we　were　bound　to　submit；　and　I　found

it；　on　the　whole；　more　interesting　than　I　anticipated。



＇At　this　point　comes　〃An　Accursed　Race〃already　released　by　Project

Gutenberg＇



For　some　time　past　I　had　observed　that　Miss　Duncan　made　a　good　deal

of　occupation　for　herself　in　writing；　but　that　she　did　not　like　me　to

notice　her　employment。　　Of　course　this　made　me　all　the　more　curious；

and　many　were　my　silent　conjecturessome　of　them　so　near　the　truth

that　I　was　not　much　surprised　when；　after　Mr。　Dawson　had　finished

reading　his　Paper　to　us；　she　hesitated；　coughed；　and　abruptly

introduced　a　little　formal　speech；　to　the　effect　that　she　had　noted

down　an　old　Welsh　story　the　particulars　of　which　had　often　been　told

her　in　her　youth；　as　she　lived　close　to　the　place　where　the　events

occurred。　　Everybody　pressed　her　to　read　the　manuscript；　which　she

now　produced　from　her　reticule；　but；　when　on　the　point　of　beginning；

her　nervousness　seemed　to　overcome　her；　and　she　made　so　many

apologies　for　its　being　the　first　and　only　attempt　she　had　ever　made

at　that　kind　of　composition；　that　I　began　to　wonder　if　we　should　ever

arrive　at　the　story　at　all。　　At　length；　in　a　high…pitche