adam bede(亚当[1].比德)-第13节
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broadly marked eyebrows are still black； her teeth are sound； and
as she stands knitting rapidly and unconsciously with her work…
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hardened hands； she has as firmly upright an attitude as when she
is carrying a pail of water on her head from the spring。 There is
the same type of frame and the same keen activity of temperament
in mother and son； but it was not from her that Adam got his well…
filled brow and his expression of large…hearted intelligence。
Family likeness has often a deep sadness in it。 Nature； that
great tragic dramatist； knits us together by bone and muscle； and
divides us by the subtler web of our brains； blends yearning and
repulsion； and ties us by our heart…strings to the beings that jar us
at every movement。 We hear a voice with the very cadence of our
own uttering the thoughts we despise； we see eyes—ah； so like our
mother’s！—averted from us in cold alienation； and our last darling
child startles us with the air and gestures of the sister we parted
from in bitterness long years ago。 The father to whom we owe our
best heritage—the mechanical instinct； the keen sensibility to
harmony； the unconscious skill of the modelling hand—galls us
and puts us to shame by his daily errors； the long…lost mother；
whose face we begin to see in the glass as our own wrinkles come；
once fretted our young souls with her anxious humours and
irrational persistence。
It is such a fond anxious mother’s voice that you hear； as
Lisbeth says； “Well； my lad； it’s gone seven by th’ clock。 Thee ’t
allays stay till the last child’s born。 Thee wants thy supper； I’ll
warrand。 Where’s Seth？ Gone arter some o’s chapellin’； I reckon？”
“Aye； aye； Seth’s at no harm； mother； thee mayst be sure。
But where’s father？” said Adam quickly； as he entered the
house and glanced into the room on the left hand； which was used
as a workshop。 “Hasn’t he done the coffin for Tholer？ There’s the
stuff standing just as I left it this morning。”
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“Done the coffin？” said Lisbeth； following him； and knitting
uninterruptedly； though she looked at her son very anxiously。 “Eh；
my lad； he went aff to Treddles’on this forenoon； an’s niver come
back。 I doubt he’s got to th’ ‘Waggin Overthrow’ again。”
A deep flush of anger passed rapidly over Adam’s face。 He said
nothing； but threw off his jacket and began to roll up his shirt…
sleeves again。
“What art goin’ to do； Adam？” said the mother； with a tone and
look of alarm。 “Thee wouldstna go to work again； wi’out ha’in thy
bit o’ supper？”
Adam； too angry to speak； walked into the workshop。 But his
mother threw down her knitting； and； hurrying after him； took
hold of his arm； and said； in a tone of plaintive remonstrance；
“Nay； my lad； my lad； thee munna go wi’out thy supper； there’s the
taters wi’ the gravy in ’em； just as thee lik’st ’em。 I saved ’em o’
purpose for thee。 Come an’ ha’ thy supper； come。”
“Let be！” said Adam impetuously； shaking her off and seizing
one of the planks that stood against the wall。 “It’s fine talking
about having supper when here’s a coffin promised to be ready at
Brox’on by seven o’clock to…morrow morning； and ought to ha’
been there now； and not a nail struck yet。 My throat’s too full to
swallow victuals。”
“Why； thee canstna get the coffin ready；” said Lisbeth。 “Thee ’t
work thyself to death。 It ’ud take thee all night to do ’t。”
“What signifies how long it takes me？ Isn’t the coffin promised？
Can they bury the man without a coffin？ I’d work my right hand
off sooner than deceive people with lies i’ that way。 It makes me
mad to think on ’t。 I shall overrun these doings before long。 I’ve
stood enough of ’em。”
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Poor Lisbeth did not hear this threat for the first time； and if
she had been wise she would have gone away quietly and said
nothing for the next hour。 But one of the lessons a woman most
rarely learns is never to talk to an angry or a drunken man。
Lisbeth sat down on the chopping bench and began to cry； and by
the time she had cried enough to make her voice very piteous； she
burst out into words。
“Nay； my lad； my lad； thee wouldstna go away an’ break thy
mother’s heart； an’ leave thy feyther to ruin。 Thee wouldstna ha’
’em carry me to th’ churchyard； an’ thee not to follow me。 I shanna
rest i’ my grave if I donna see thee at th’ last； an’ how’s they to let
thee know as I’m a…dyin’； if thee ’t gone a…workin’ i’ distant parts；
an’ Seth belike gone arter thee； and thy feyther not able to hold a
pen for’s hand shakin’； besides not knowin’ where thee art？ Thee
mun forgie thy feyther—thee munna be so bitter again’ him。 He
war a good feyther to thee afore he took to th’ drink。 He’s a clever
workman； an’ taught thee thy trade； remember； an’s niver gen me
a blow nor so much as an ill word—no； not even in ’s drink。 Thee
wouldstna ha’ ’m go to the workhus—thy own feyther—an’ him as
was a fine…growed man an’ handy at everythin’ amost as thee art
thysen； five…an’…twenty ’ear ago； when thee wast a baby at the
breast。”
Lisbeth’s voice became louder； and choked with sobs—a sort of
wail； the most irritating of all sounds where real sorrows are to be
borne and real work to be done。 Adam broke in impatiently。
“Now； Mother； don’t cry and talk so。 Haven’t I got enough to
vex me without that？ What’s th’ use o’ telling me things as I only
think too much on every day？ If I didna think on ’em； why should I
do as I do； for the sake o’ keeping things together here？ But I hate
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to be talking where it’s no use： I like to keep my breath for doing
i’stead o’ talking。”
“I know thee dost things as nobody else ’ud do； my lad。 But thee
’t allays so hard upo’ thy feyther； Adam。 Thee think’st nothing too
much to do for Seth： thee snapp’st me up if iver I find faut wi’ th’
lad。 But thee ’t so angered wi’ thy feyther； more nor wi’ anybody
else。”
“That’s better than speaking soft and letting things go the
wrong way； I reckon； isn’t it？ If I wasn’t sharp with him he’d sell
every bit o’ stuff i’ th’ yard and spend it on drink。 I know there’s a
duty to be done by my father； but it isn’t my duty to encourage
him in running headlong to ruin。 And what has Seth got to do with
it？ The lad does no harm as I know of。 But leave me alone；
Mother； and let me get on with the work。”
Lisbeth dared not say any more； but she got up and called Gyp；
thinking to console herself somewhat for Adam’s refusal of the
supper she had spread out in the loving expectation of looking at
him while he ate it； by feeding Adam’s dog with extra liberality。
But Gyp was watching his master with wrinkled brow and ears
erect； puzzled at this unusual course of things； and though he
glanced at Lisbeth when she called him； and moved his fore…paws
uneasily； well knowing that she was inviting him to supper； he was
in a divided state of mind； and remained seated on his haunches；
again fixing his eyes anxiously on his master。 Adam noticed Gyp’s
mental conflict； and though his anger had made him less tender
than usual to his mother； it did not prevent him from caring as
much as usual for
