老妇人的故事 英文版The Old Wives' Tale
阿诺德.本涅特 Arnold Bennett
II
The next afternoon the sisters, in the drawing-room, saw Dr.Stirling's motor-car speeding down the Square. The doctor'spartner, young Harrop, had died a few years before at the age ofover seventy, and the practice was much larger than it had everbeen, even in the time of old Harrop. Instead of two or threehorses, Stirling kept a car, which was a constant spectacle in thestreets of the district.
"I do hope he'll call in," said Mrs. Povey, and sighed.
Sophia smiled to herself with a little scorn. She knew thatConstance's desire for Dr. Stirling was due simply to the needwhich she felt of telling some one about the great calamity thathad happened to them that morning. Constance was utterly absorbedby it, in the most provincial way. Sophia had said to herself atthe beginning of her sojourn in Bursley, and long afterwards, thatshe should never get accustomed to the exasperating provincialityof the town, exemplified by the childish preoccupation of theinhabitants with their own two-penny affairs. No characteristic oflife in Bursley annoyed her more than this. None had oftenercaused her to yearn in a brief madness for the desert-like freedomof great cities. But she had got accustomed to it. Indeed, she hadalmost ceased to notice it. Only occasionally, when her nerveswere more upset than usual, did it strike her.
asked. Constance was weeping.floor. He?
She went into Constance's bedroom to see whether the doctor's carhalted in King Street. It did.
"He's here," she called out to Constance.
"I wish you'd go down, Sophia," said Constance. "I can't trustthat minx----"
So Sophia went downstairs to superintend the opening of the doorby the minx.
The doctor was radiant, according to custom.
"I thought I'd just see how that dizziness was going on," said heas he came up the steps.
"I'm glad you've come," said Sophia, confidentially. Since thefirst days of their acquaintanceship they had always beenconfidential. "You'll do my sister good to-day."
Just as Maud was closing the door a telegraph-boy arrived, with atelegram addressed to Mrs. Scales. Sophia read it and thencrumpled it in her hand.
"What's wrong with Mrs. Povey to-day?" the doctor asked, when theservant had withdrawn.
"She only wants a bit of your society," said Sophia. "Will you goup? You know the way to the drawing-room. I'll follow."
As soon as he had gone she sat down on the sofa, staring out ofthe window. Then with a grunt: "Well, that's no use, anyway!" shewent upstairs after the doctor. Already Constance had begun uponher recital.
"Yes," Constance was saying. "And when I went down this morning tokeep an eye on the breakfast, I thought Spot was very quiet--" Shepaused. "He was dead in the drawer. She pretended she didn't know,but I'm sure she did. Nothing will convince me that she didn'tpoison that dog with the mice-poison we had last year. She wasvexed because Sophia took her up sharply about Fossette lastnight, and she revenged herself on the other dog. It would just belike her. Don't tell me! I know. I should have packed her off atonce, but Sophia thought better not. We couldn't prove anything,as Sophia says. Now, what do you think of it, doctor?"
Constance's eyes suddenly filled with tears.
"Ye'd had Spot a long time, hadn't ye?" he said sympathetically.
She nodded. "When I was married," said she, "the first thing myhusband did was to buy a fox-terrier, and ever since we've alwayshad a fox-terrier in the house." This was not true, but Constancewas firmly convinced of its truth.
"It's very trying," said the doctor. "I know when my Airedaledied, I said to my wife I'd never have another dog--unless shecould find me one that would live for ever. Ye remember myAiredale?"
"Oh, quite well!"
"Well, my wife said I should be bound to have another one sooneror later, and the sooner the better. She went straight off toOldcastle and bought me a spaniel pup, and there was such a to-dotraining it that we hadn't too much time to think about Piper."
Constance regarded this procedure as somewhat callous, and shesaid so, tartly. Then she recommenced the tale of Spot's deathfrom the beginning, and took it as far as his burial, thatafternoon, by Mr. Critchlow's manager, in the yard. It had beennecessary to remove and replace paving-stones.
"Of course," said Dr. Stirling, "ten years is a long time. He wasan old dog. Well, you've still got the celebrated Fossette." Heturned to Sophia.
"Oh yes," said Constance, perfunctorily. "Fossette's ill. The factis that if Fossette hadn't been ill, Spot would probably have beenalive and well now."
Her tone exhibited a grievance. She could not forget that Sophiahad harshly dismissed Spot to the kitchen, thus practicallysending him to his death. It seemed very hard to her thatFossette, whose life had once been despaired of, should continueto exist, while Spot, always healthy and unspoilt, should dieuntended, and by treachery. For the rest, she had never likedFossette. On Spot's behalf she had always been jealous ofFossette.
"Probably alive and well now!" she repeated, with a peculiaraccent.
Observing that Sophia maintained a strange silence, Dr. Stirlingsuspected a slight tension in the relations of the sisters, and hechanged the subject. One of his great qualities was that herefrained from changing a subject introduced by a patient unlessthere was a professional reason for changing it.
"I've just met Richard Povey in the town," said he. "He told me totell ye that he'll be round in about an hour or so to take you fora spin. He was in a new car, which he did his best to sell to me,but he didn't succeed."
"It's very kind of Dick," said Constance. "But this afternoonreally we're not--"
"I'll thank ye to take it as a prescription, then," replied thedoctor. "I told Dick I'd see that ye went. Splendid June weather.No dust after all that rain. It'll do ye all the good in theworld. I must exercise my authority. The truth is, I've graduallybeen losing all control over ye. Ye do just as ye like."
"Oh, doctor, how you do run on!" murmured Constance, not quitewell pleased to-day by his tone.
After the scene between Sophia and herself at Buxton, Constancehad always, to a certain extent, in the doctor's own phrase, 'gother knife into him.' Sophia had, then, in a manner betrayed him.Constance and the doctor discussed that matter with frankness, thedoctor humorously accusing her of being 'hard' on him.Nevertheless the little cloud between them was real, and theresult was often a faint captiousness on Constance's part injudging the doctor's behaviour.
"He's got a surprise for ye, has Dick!" the doctor added.
Dick Povey, after his father's death and his own partial recovery,had set up in Hanbridge as a bicycle agent. He was permanentlylamed, and he hopped about with a thick stick. He had succeededwith bicycles and had taken to automobiles, and he was succeedingwith automobiles. People were at first startled that he shouldadvertise himself in the Five Towns. There was an obscure generalfeeling that because his mother had been a drunkard and his fathera murderer, Dick Povey had no right to exist. However, when it hadrecovered from the shock of seeing Dick Povey's announcement ofbargains in the Signal, the district most sensibly decided thatthere was no reason why Dick Povey should not sell bicycles aswell as a man with normal parents. He was now supposed to beacquiring wealth rapidly. It was said that he was a marvellouschauffeur, at once daring and prudent. He had one day, severalyears previously, overtaken the sisters in the rural neighbourhoodof Sneyd, where they had been making an afternoon excursion.Constance had presented him to Sophia, and he had insisted ondriving the ladies home. They had been much impressed by hiscautious care of them, and their natural prejudice againstanything so new as a motorcar had been conquered instantly.Afterwards he had taken them out for occasional runs. He had agreat admiration for Constance, founded on gratitude to SamuelPovey; and as for Sophia, he always said to her that she would bean ornament to any car.
"You haven't heard his latest, I suppose?" said the doctor,smiling.
"He wants to take to ballooning. It seems he's been up once."
Constance made a deprecating noise with her lips.
"However, that's not his surprise," the doctor added, smilingagain at the floor. He was sitting on the music-stool, and sayingto himself, behind his mask of effulgent good-nature: "It getsmore and more uphill work, cheering up these two women. I'll trythem on Federation."
Federation was the name given to the scheme for blending the FiveTowns into one town, which would be the twelfth largest town inthe kingdom. It aroused fury in Bursley, which saw in thesuggestion nothing but the extinction of its ancient glory to theaggrandizement of Hanbridge. Hanbridge had already, with theassistance of electric cars that whizzed to and fro every fiveminutes, robbed Bursley of two-thirds of its retail trade--aswitness the steady decadence of the Square!--and Bursley had nomind to swallow the insult and become a mere ward of Hanbridge.Bursley would die fighting. Both Constance and Sophia were bitteropponents of Federation. They would have been capable of puttingFederationists to the torture. Sophia in particular, though solong absent from her native town, had adopted its cause withcharacteristic vigour. And when Dr. Stirling wished to practisehis curative treatment of taking the sisters 'out of themselves,'he had only to start the hare of Federation and the hunt would beup in a moment. But this afternoon he did not succeed with Sophia,and only partially with Constance. When he stated that there wasto be a public meeting that very night, and that Constance as aratepayer ought to go to it and vote, if her convictions weregenuine, she received his chaff with a mere murmur to the effectthat she did not think she should go. Had the man forgotten thatSpot was dead? At length he became grave, and examined them bothas to their ailments, and nodded his head, and looked into vacancywhile meditating upon each case. And then, when he had inquiredwhere they meant to go for their summer holidays, he departed.
"Aren't you going to see him out?" Constance whispered to Sophia,who had shaken hands with him at the drawingroom door. It wasSophia who did the running about, owing to the state ofConstance's sciatic nerve. Constance had, indeed, becomeextraordinarily inert, leaving everything to Sophia.
Sophia shook her head. She hesitated; then approached Constance,holding out her hand and disclosing the crumpled telegram.
"Look at that!" said she.
Her face frightened Constance, who was always expectant of newanxieties and troubles. Constance straightened out the paper withdifficulty, and read--
"Mr. Gerald Scales is dangerously ill here. Boldero, 49,Deansgate, Manchester."
Of course the event had been bound to happen. People do not vanishnever to be heard of again. The time surely arrives when thesecret is revealed. So Sophia said to herself--now!
She had always refused to consider the effect of Gerald'sreappearance. She had put the idea of it away from her, determinedto convince herself that she had done with him finally and forever. She had forgotten him. It was years since he had ceased todisturb her thoughts--many years. "He MUST be dead," she hadpersuaded herself. "It is inconceivable that he should have livedon and never come across me. If he had been alive and learnt thatI had made money, he would assuredly have come to me. No, he mustbe dead!"
And he was not dead! The brief telegram overwhelmingly shockedher. Her life had been calm, regular, monotonous. And now it wasthrown into an indescribable turmoil by five words of a telegram,suddenly, with no warning whatever. Sophia had the right to say toherself: "I have had my share of trouble, and more than my share!"The end of her life promised to be as awful as the beginning. Themere existence of Gerald Scales was a menace to her. But it wasthe simple impact of the blow that affected her supremely, beyondulterior things. One might have pictured fate as a cowardly brutewho had struck this ageing woman full in the face, a felling blow,which however had not felled her. She staggered, but she stuck onher legs. It seemed a shame--one of those crude, spectacularshames which make the blood boil--that the gallant, defencelesscreature should be so maltreated by the bully, destiny.
"Oh, Sophia!" Constance moaned. "What trouble is this?"
She had not seen him for thirty-six years. He must be over seventyyears of age, and he had turned up again like a bad penny,doubtless a disgrace! What had he been doing in those thirty-sixyears? He was an old, enfeebled man now! He must be a prettysight! And he lay at Manchester, not two hours away!
Whatever feelings were in Sophia's heart, tenderness was not amongthem. As she collected her wits from the stroke, she wasprincipally aware of the sentiment of fear. She recoiled from thefuture.
"What shall you do?" Constance asked. Constance was weeping.
Sophia tapped her foot, glancing out of the window.
"Shall you go to see him?" Constance continued.
"Of course," said Sophia. "I must!"
She hated the thought of going to see him. She flinched from it.She felt herself under no moral obligation to go. Why should shego? Gerald was nothing to her, and had no claim on her of anykind. This she honestly believed. And yet she knew that she mustgo to him. She knew it to be impossible that she should not go.
"Now?" demanded Constance.
Sophia nodded.
"What about the trains? ... Oh, you poor dear!" The mere idea ofthe journey to Manchester put Constance out of her wits, seeming abusiness of unparalleled complexity and difficulty.
"Would you like me to come with you?"
"Oh no! I must go by myself."
Constance was relieved by this. They could not have left theservant in the house alone, and the idea of shutting up the housewithout notice or preparation presented itself to Constance as toofantastic.
By a common instinct they both descended to the parlour.
"Now, what about a time-table? What about a time-table?" Constancemumbled on the stairs. She wiped her eyes resolutely. "I wonderwhatever in this world has brought him at last to that Mr.Boldero's in Deansgate?" she asked the walls.
As they came into the parlour, a great motor-car drove up beforethe door, and when the pulsations of its engine had died away,Dick Povey hobbled from the driver's seat to the pavement. In aninstant he was hammering at the door in his lively style. Therewas no avoiding him. The door had to be opened. Sophia opened it.Dick Povey was over forty, but he looked considerably younger.Despite his lameness, and the fact that his lameness tended toinduce corpulence, he had a dashing air, and his face, with itsshort, light moustache, was boyish. He seemed to be always uponsome joyous adventure.
"Well, aunties," he greeted the sisters, having perceivedConstance behind Sophia; he often so addressed them. "Has Dr.Stirling warned you that I was coming? Why haven't you got yourthings on?"
Sophia observed a young woman in the car.
"Yes," said he, following her gaze, "you may as well look. Comedown, miss. Come down, Lily. You've got to go through with it."The young woman, delicately confused and blushing, obeyed. "Thisis Miss Lily Holl," he went on. "I don't know whether you wouldremember her. I don't think you do. It's not often she comes tothe Square. But, of course, she knows you by sight. Granddaughterof your old neighbour, Alderman Holl! We are engaged to bemarried, if you please."
Constance and Sophia could not decently pour out their griefs onthe top of such news. The betrothed pair had to come in and becongratulated upon their entry into the large realms of mutuallove. But the sisters, even in their painful quandary, could nothelp noticing what a nice, quiet, ladylike girl Lily Holl was. Herone fault appeared to be that she was too quiet. Dick Povey wasnot the man to pass time in formalities, and he was soon urgingdeparture.
"I'm sorry we can't come," said Sophia. "I've got to go toManchester now. We are in great trouble."
"Yes, in great trouble," Constance weakly echoed.
Dick's face clouded sympathetically. And both the affianced beganto see that to which the egotism of their happiness had blindedthem. They felt that long, long years had elapsed since theseageing ladies had experienced the delights which they werefeeling.
"Trouble? I'm sorry to hear that!" said Dick.
"Can you tell me the trains to Manchester?" asked Sophia.
"No," said Dick, quickly, "But I can drive you there quicker thanany train, if it's urgent. Where do you want to go to?"
"Deansgate," Sophia faltered.
"Look here," said Dick, "it's half-past three. Put yourself in myhands; I'll guarantee at Deansgate you shall be before half-pastfive. I'll look after you."
"But----"
"There isn't any 'but.' I'm quite free for the afternoon andevening."
At first the suggestion seemed absurd, especially to Constance.But really it was too tempting to be declined. While Sophia madeready for the journey, Dick and Lily Holl and Constance conversedin low, solemn tones. The pair were waiting to be enlightened asto the nature of the trouble; Constance, however, did notenlighten them. How could Constance say to them: "Sophia has ahusband that she hasn't seen for thirty-six years, and he'sdangerously ill, and they've telegraphed for her to go?" Constancecould not. It did not even occur to Constance to order a cup oftea.