老妇人的故事 英文版The Old Wives' Tale
阿诺德.本涅特 Arnold Bennett
IV
"If anybody thinks I'm going to stand the cold in this showroomany longer, they're mistaken," said Sophia the next morningloudly, and in her mother's hearing. And she went down into theshop carrying bonnets.
She pretended to be angry, but she was not. She felt, on thecontrary, extremely joyous, and charitable to all the world.Usually she would take pains to keep out of the shop; usually shewas preoccupied and stern. Hence her presence on the ground-floor,and her demeanour, excited interest among the three young ladyassistants who sat sewing round the stove in the middle of theshop, sheltered by the great pile of shirtings and linseys thatfronted the entrance.
Sophia shared Constance's corner. They had hot bricks under theirfeet, and fine-knitted wraps on their shoulders. They would havebeen more comfortable near the stove, but greatness has itspenalties. The weather was exceptionally severe. The windows werethickly frosted over, so that Mr. Povey's art in dressing them wasquite wasted. And--rare phenomenon!--the doors of the shop wereshut. In the ordinary way they were not merely open, but hidden bya display of 'cheap lines.' Mr. Povey, after consulting Mrs.Baines, had decided to close them, foregoing the customarydisplay. Mr. Povey had also, in order to get a little warmth intohis limbs, personally assisted two casual labourers to scrape thethick frozen snow off the pavement; and he wore his kid mittens.All these things together proved better than the evidence ofbarometers how the weather nipped.
Mr. Scales came about ten o'clock. Instead of going to Mr. Povey'scounter, he walked boldly to Constance's corner, and looked overthe boxes, smiling and saluting. Both the girls candidly delightedin his visit. Both blushed; both laughed--without knowing why theylaughed. Mr. Scales said he was just departing and had slipped infor a moment to thank all of them for their kindness of lastnight--'or rather this morning.' The girls laughed again at thiswitticism. Nothing could have been more simple than his speech.Yet it appeared to them magically attractive. A customer entered,a lady; one of the assistants rose from the neighbourhood of thestove, but the daughters of the house ignored the customer; it waspart of the etiquette of the shop that customers, at any ratechance customers, should not exist for the daughters of the house,until an assistant had formally drawn attention to them. Otherwiseevery one who wanted a pennyworth of tape would be expecting to beserved by Miss Baines, or Miss Sophia, if Miss Sophia were there.Which would have been ridiculous.
Sophia, glancing sidelong, saw the assistant parleying with thecustomer; and then the assistant came softly behind the counterand approached the corner.
"Miss Constance, can you spare a minute?" the assistant whispereddiscreetly.
Constance extinguished her smile for Mr. Scales, and, turningaway, lighted an entirely different and inferior smile for thecustomer.
"Good morning, Miss Baines. Very cold, isn't it?"
"Good morning, Mrs. Chatterley. Yes, it is. I suppose you'regetting anxious about those--" Constance stopped.
Sophia was now alone with Mr. Scales, for in order to discuss theunnameable freely with Mrs. Chatterley her sister was edging upthe counter. Sophia had dreamed of a private conversation assomething delicious and impossible. But chance had favoured her.She was alone with him. And his neat fair hair and his blue eyesand his delicate mouth were as wonderful to her as ever. He wasgentlemanly to a degree that impressed her more than anything hadimpressed her in her life. And all the proud and aristocraticinstinct that was at the base of her character sprang up andseized on his gentlemanliness like a famished animal seizing onfood.
"The last time I saw you," said Mr. Scales, in a new tone, "yousaid you were never in the shop."
"What? Yesterday? Did I?"
"No, I mean the last time I saw you alone," said he.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "It's just an accident."
"That's exactly what you said last time."
"Is it?"
"I suppose you don't often go out?" he went on.
"What? In this weather?"
"Any time."
"I go to chapel," said she, "and marketing with mother." There wasa little pause. "And to the Free Library."
"Oh yes. You've got a Free Library here now, haven't you?"
"Yes. We've had it over a year."
"And you belong to it? What do you read?"
"Oh, stories, you know. I get a fresh book out once a week."
"Saturdays, I suppose?"
"No," she said. "Wednesdays." And she smiled. "Usually."
"It's Wednesday to-day," said he. "Not been already?"
She shook her head. "I don't think I shall go to-day. It's toocold. I don't think I shall venture out to-day."
"You must be very fond of reading," said he.
Then Mr. Povey appeared, rubbing his mittened hands. And Mrs.Chatterley went.
"I'll run and fetch mother," said Constance.
Mrs. Baines was very polite to the young man. He related hisinterview with the police, whose opinion was that he had beenattacked by stray members of a gang from Hanbridge. The young ladyassistants, with ears cocked, gathered the nature of Mr. Scales'sadventure, and were thrilled to the point of questioning Mr. Poveyabout it after Mr. Scales had gone. His farewell was marked bymuch handshaking, and finally Mr. Povey ran after him into theSquare to mention something about dogs.
At half-past one, while Mrs. Baines was dozing after dinner,Sophia wrapped herself up, and with a book under her arm wentforth into the world, through the shop. She returned in less thantwenty minutes. But her mother had already awakened, and washovering about the back of the shop. Mothers have supernaturalgifts.
Sophia nonchalantly passed her and hurried into the parlour whereshe threw down her muff and a book and knelt before the fire towarm herself.
Mrs. Baines followed her. "Been to the Library?" questioned Mrs.Baines.
"Yes, mother. And it's simply perishing."
"I wonder at your going on a day like to-day. I thought you alwayswent on Thursdays?"
"So I do. But I'd finished my book."
She picked it up with a hostile air. For her attitude towards theFree Library was obscurely inimical. She never read anythingherself except The Sunday at Home, and Constance never readanything except The Sunday at Home. There were scripturalcommentaries, Dugdale's Gazetteer, Culpepper's Herbal, and worksby Bunyan and Flavius Josephus in the drawing-room bookcase; alsoUncle Tom's Cabin. And Mrs. Baines, in considering the welfare ofher daughters, looked askance at the whole remainder of printedliterature. If the Free Library had not formed part of the FamousWedgwood Institution, which had been opened with immense eclat bythe semi-divine Gladstone; if the first book had not beenceremoniously 'taken out' of the Free Library by the Chief Bailiffin person--a grandfather of stainless renown--Mrs. Baines wouldprobably have risked her authority in forbidding the Free Library.
"You needn't be afraid," said Sophia, laughing. "It's MissSewell's Experience of Life."
"A novel, I see," observed Mrs. Baines, dropping the book.
Gold and jewels would probably not tempt a Sophia of these days toread Experience of Life; but to Sophia Baines the bland story hadthe piquancy of the disapproved.
The next day Mrs. Baines summoned Sophia into her bedroom.
"Sophia," said she, trembling, "I shall be glad if you will notwalk about the streets with young men until you have mypermission."
The girl blushed violently. "I--I--"
"You were seen in Wedgwood Street," said Mrs. Baines.
"Who's been gossiping--Mr. Critchlow, I suppose?" Sophia exclaimedscornfully.
"No one has been 'gossiping,'" said Mrs Baines. "Well, if I meetsome one by accident in the street I can't help it, can I?"Sophia's voice shook.
"You know what I mean, my child," said Mrs. Baines, with carefulcalm.
Sophia dashed angrily from the room.
"I like the idea of him having 'a heavy day'!" Mrs. Bainesreflected ironically, recalling a phrase which had lodged in hermind. And very vaguely, with an uneasiness scarcely perceptible,she remembered that 'he,' and no other, had been in the shop onthe day her husband died.