老妇人的故事 英文版The Old Wives' Tale
阿诺德.本涅特 Arnold Bennett
II Page 2
She rang the bell and gave instructions to Amy about food--fruitcakes, coffee and hot milk, on a tray; and Sophia also spoke toAmy murmuring a request as to Fossette.
"Yes, Mrs. Scales," said Amy, with eager deference.
Mrs. Critchlow smiled vaguely from a low chair near the curtainedwindow. Then Constance lit another burner of the chandelier. Indoing so, she gave a little sigh; it was a sigh of relief. Mr.Critchlow had behaved himself. Now that he and Sophia had met, theworst was over. Had Constance known beforehand that he would pay acall, she would have been agonized by apprehensions, but now thathe had actually come she was glad he had come.
When he had silently sipped some hot milk, he drew a thick bunchof papers, white and blue, from his bulging breast-pocket.
"Now, Maria Critchlow," he called, edging round his chairslightly. "Ye'd best go back home."
Maria Critchlow was biting at a bit of walnut cake, while in herright hand, all seamed with black lines, she held a cup of coffee.
"But, Mr. Critchlow----!" Constance protested.
"I've got business with Sophia, and I must get it done. I've gotfor to render an account of my stewardship to Sophia, under herfather's will, and her mother's will, and her aunt's will, andit's nobody's business but mine and Sophia's, I reckon. Now then,"he glanced at his wife, "off with ye!"
Maria rose, half-kittenish and half-ashamed.
"Surely you don't want to go into all that to-night," said Sophia.She spoke softly, for she had already fully perceived that Mr.Critchlow must be managed with the tact which the capriciousobstinacies of advanced age demanded. "Surely you can wait a dayor two. I'm in no hurry."
"HAVEN'T I WAITED LONG ENOUGH?" he retorted fiercely.
There was a pause. Maria Critchlow moved.
"As for you being in no hurry, Sophia," the old man went on,"nobody can say as you've been in a hurry."
Sophia had suffered a check. She glanced hesitatingly atConstance.
Well," said Constance. ?
"Mrs. Critchlow and I will go down into the parlour," saidConstance, quickly. "There is a bit of fire there."
"Oh no. I won't hear of such a thing!"
"Yes, we will, won't we, Mrs. Critchlow?" Constance insisted,cheerfully but firmly. She was determined that in her house Sophiashould have all the freedom and conveniences that she could havehad in her own. If a private room was needed for discussionsbetween Sophia and her trustee, Constance's pride was piqued tosupply that room. Further, Constance was glad to get Maria out ofSophia's sight. She was accustomed to Maria; with her it did notmatter; but she did not care that the teeth of Sophia should beset on edge by the ridiculous demeanour of Maria. So those twoleft the drawing-room, and the old man began to open the paperswhich he had been preparing for weeks.
There was very little fire in the parlour, and Constance, inaddition to being bored by Mrs. Critchlow's inane and inquisitiveremarks, felt chilly, which was bad for her sciatica. She wonderedwhether Sophia would have to confess to Mr. Critchlow that she wasnot certainly a widow. She thought that steps ought to be taken toascertain, through Birkinshaws, if anything was known of GeraldScales. But even that course was set with perils. Supposing thathe still lived, an unspeakable villain (Constance could only thinkof him as an unspeakable villain), and supposing that he molestedSophia,--what scenes! What shame in the town! Such frightfulthoughts ran endlessly through Constance's mind as she bent overthe fire endeavouring to keep alive a silly conversation withMaria Critchlow.
Amy passed through the parlour to go to bed. There was no otherway of reaching the upper part of the house.
"Are you going to bed, Amy?"
"Yes'm."
"Where is Fossette?"
"In the kitchen, m'm," said Amy, defending herself. "Mrs. Scalestold me the dog might sleep in the kitchen with Spot, as they wassuch good friends. I've opened the bottom drawer, and Fossit islying in that."
"Mrs. Scales has brought a dog with her!" exclaimed Maria.
"Yes'm!" said Amy, drily, before Constance could answer. Sheimplied everything in that affirmative.
"You are a family for dogs," said Maria. "What sort of dog is it?"
"Well," said Constance. "I don't know exactly what they call it.It's a French dog, one of those French dogs." Amy was lingering atthe stairfoot. "Good night, Amy, thank you."
Amy ascended, shutting the door.
"Oh! I see!" Maria muttered. "Well, I never!"
It was ten o'clock before sounds above indicated that the firstinterview between trustee and beneficiary was finished.
"I'll be going on to open our side-door," said Maria. "Say goodnight to Mrs. Scales for me." She was not sure whether CharlesCritchlow had really meant her to go home, or whether her mereabsence from the drawing-room had contented him. So she departed.He came down the stairs with the most tiresome slowness, wentthrough the parlour in silence, ignoring Constance, and alsoSophia, who was at his heels, and vanished.
As Constance shut and bolted the front-door, the sisters looked ateach other, Sophia faintly smiling. It seemed to them that theyunderstood each other better when they did not speak. With aglance, they exchanged their ideas on the subject of CharlesCritchlow and Maria, and learnt that their ideas were similar.Constance said nothing as to the private interview. Nor didSophia. At present, on this the first day, they could only achieveintimacy by intermittent flashes.
"What about bed?" asked Sophia.
"You must be tired," said Constance.
Sophia got to the stairs, which received a little light from thecorridor gas, before Constance, having tested the window-fastening, turned out the gas in the parlour. They climbed thelower flight of stairs together.
"I must just see that your room is all right," Constance said.
"Must you?" Sophia smiled.
They climbed the second flight, slowly. Constance was out ofbreath.
"Oh, a fire! How nice!" cried Sophia. "But why did you go to allthat trouble? I told you not to."
"It's no trouble at all," said Constance, raising the gas in thebedroom. Her tone implied that bedroom fires were a quite ordinaryincident of daily life in a place like Bursley.
"Well, my dear, I hope you'll find everything comfortable," saidConstance.
"I'm sure I shall. Good night, dear."
"Good night, then."
About half an hour later a dreadful hullaballoo smote the ear ofConstance. She was just getting into bed. She listened intently,in great alarm. It was undoubtedly those dogs fighting, andfighting to the death. She pictured the kitchen as a battlefield,and Spot slain. Opening the door, she stepped out into thecorridor,
"Constance," said a low voice above her. She jumped. "Is thatyou?"
"Yes."
"Well, don't bother to go down to the dogs; they'll stop in amoment. Fossette won't bite. I'm so sorry she's upsetting thehouse."
Constance stared upwards, and discerned a pale shadow. The dogsdid soon cease their altercation. This short colloquy in the darkaffected Constance strangely.