adam bede(亚当[1].比德)-第156节
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we’ll talk of it to…night。 I shall stay with you to…night。”
Lisbeth was pacified by this prospect。 And she had the whole
evening to talk with Dinah alone； for there was a new room in the
cottage； you remember； built nearly two years ago； in the
expectation of a new inmate； and here Adam always sat when he
had writing to do or plans to make。 Seth sat there too this evening；
for he knew his mother would like to have Dinah all to herself。
There were two pretty pictures on the two sides of the wall in
the cottage。 On one side there was the broad…shouldered； large…
featured； hardy old woman； in her blue jacket and buff kerchief；
with her dim…eyed anxious looks turned continually on the lily face
and the slight form in the black dress that were either moving
lightly about in helpful activity； or seated close by the old woman’s
arm…chair； holding her withered hand； with eyes lifted up towards
her to speak a language which Lisbeth understood far better than
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the Bible or the hymn…book。 She would scarcely listen to reading
at all to…night。 “Nay； nay； shut the book；” she said。 “We mun talk。 I
want t’ know what thee was cryin’ about。 Hast got troubles o’ thy
own； like other folks？”
On the other side of the wall there were the two brothers so like
each other in the midst of their unlikeness： Adam with knit brows；
shaggy hair； and dark vigorous colour； absorbed in his “figuring”；
Seth； with large rugged features； the close copy of his brother’s；
but with thin； wavy； brown hair and blue dreamy eyes； as often as
not looking vaguely out of the window instead of at his book；
although it was a newly bought book—Wesley’s abridgment of
Madame Guyon’s life； which was full of wonder and interest for
him。 Seth had said to Adam； “Can I help thee with anything in
here to…night？ I don’t want to make a noise in the shop。”
“No； lad；” Adam answered； “there’s nothing but what I must do
myself。 Thee’st got thy new book to read。”
And often； when Seth was quite unconscious； Adam； as he
paused after drawing a line with his ruler； looked at his brother
with a kind smile dawning in his eyes。 He knew “th’ lad liked to sit
full o’ thoughts he could give no account of； they’d never come t’
anything； but they made him happy；” and in the last year or so；
Adam had been getting more and more indulgent to Seth。 It was
part of that growing tenderness which came from the sorrow at
work within him。
For Adam； though you see him quite master of himself； working
hard and delighting in his work after his inborn inalienable
nature； had not outlived his sorrow—had not felt it slip from him
as a temporary burden； and leave him the same man again。 Do any
of us？ God forbid。 It would be a poor result of all our anguish and
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our wrestling if we won nothing but our old selves at the end of
it—if we could return to the same blind loves； the same self…
confident blame； the same light thoughts of human suffering； the
same frivolous gossip over blighted human lives； the same feeble
sense of that Unknown towards which we have sent forth
irrepressible cries in our loneliness。 Let us rather be thankful that
our sorrow lives in us as an indestructible force； only changing its
form； as forces do； and passing from pain into sympathy—the one
poor word which includes all our best insight and our best love。
Not that this transformation of pain into sympathy had completely
taken place in Adam yet。 There was still a great remnant of pain；
and this he felt would subsist as long as her pain was not a
memory； but an existing thing； which he must think of as renewed
with the light of every new morning。 But we get accustomed to
mental as well as bodily pain； without； for all that； losing our
sensibility to it。 It becomes a habit of our lives； and we cease to
imagine a condition of perfect ease as possible for us。 Desire is
chastened into submission； and we are contented with our day
when we have been able to bear our grief in silence and act as if
we were not suffering。 For it is at such periods that the sense of
our lives having visible and invisible relations； beyond any of
which either our present or prospective self is the centre； grows
like a muscle that we are obliged to lean on and exert。
That was Adam’s state of mind in this second autumn of his
sorrow。 His work； as you know； had always been part of his
religion； and from very early days he saw clearly that good
carpentry was God’s will—was that form of God’s will that most
immediately concerned him。 But now there was no margin of
dreams for him beyond this daylight reality； no holiday…time in the
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working…day world； no moment in the distance when duty would
take off her iron glove and breast…plate and clasp him gently into
rest。 He conceived no picture of the future but one made up of
hard…working days such as he lived through； with growing
contentment and intensity of interest； every fresh week。 Love； he
thought； could never be anything to him but a living memory—a
limb lopped off； but not gone from consciousness。 He did not know
that the power of loving was all the while gaining new force within
him； that the new sensibilities bought by a deep experience were
so many new fibres by which it was possible； nay； necessary to
him； that his nature should intertwine with another。 Yet he was
aware that common affection and friendship were more precious
to him than they used to be—that he clung more to his mother and
Seth； and had an unspeakable satisfaction in the sight or
imagination of any small addition to their happiness。 The Poysers；
too—hardly three or four days passed but he felt the need of
seeing them and interchanging words and looks of friendliness
with them。 He would have felt this； probably； even if Dinah had
not been with them； but he had only said the simplest truth in
telling Dinah that he put her above all other friends in the world。
Could anything be more natural？ For in the darkest moments of
memory the thought of her always came as the first ray of
returning comfort。 The early days of gloom at the Hall Farm had
been gradually turned into soft moonlight by her presence； and in
the cottage； too； for she had come at every spare moment to soothe
and cheer poor Lisbeth； who had been stricken with a fear that
subdued even her querulousness at the sight of her darling
Adam’s grief…worn face。 He had become used to watching her light
quiet movements； her pretty loving ways to the children； when he
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went to the Hall Farm； to listen for her voice as for a recurrent
music； to think everything she said and did was just right； and
could not have been better。 In spite of his wisdom； he could not
find fault with her for her overindulgence of the children； who had
managed to convert Dinah the preacher； before whom a circle of
rough men had often trembled a little； into a convenient
household slave—thou
