老妇人的故事 英文版The Old Wives' Tale
阿诺德.本涅特 Arnold Bennett
IV
So that Mrs. Baines was duly apprised of the signboard before herarrival. The letter written by her to Constance after receivingSamuel's letter, which was merely the amiable epistle of a son-in-law anxious to be a little more than correct, contained noreference to the signboard. This silence, however, did not in theleast allay Constance's apprehensions as to what might occur whenher mother and Samuel met beneath the signboard itself. It wastherefore with a fearful as well as an eager, loving heart thatConstance opened her side-door and ran down the steps when thewaggonette stopped in King Street on the Thursday morning of thegreat visit of the sisters. But a surprise awaited her. AuntHarriet had not come. Mrs. Baines explained, as she soundly kissedher daughter, that at the last moment Aunt Harriet had not feltwell enough to undertake the journey. She sent her fondest love,and cake. Her pains had recurred. It was these mysterious painswhich had prevented the sisters from coming to Bursley earlier.The word "cancer"--the continual terror of stout women--had beenon their lips, without having been actually uttered; then therewas a surcease, and each was glad that she had refrained from thedread syllables. In view of the recurrence, it was not unnaturalthat Mrs. Baines's vigorous cheerfulness should be somewhatforced.
"What is it, do you think?" Constance inquired.
Mrs. Baines pushed her lips out and raised her eyebrows--a gesturewhich meant that the pains might mean God knew what.
"I hope she'll be all right alone," observed Constance. "Ofcourse," said Mrs. Baines, quickly. "But you don't suppose I wasgoing to disappoint you, do you?" she added, looking round as ifto defy the fates in general.
This speech, and its tone, gave intense pleasure to Constance;and, laden with parcels, they mounted the stairs together, verycontent with each other, very happy in the discovery that theywere still mother and daughter, very intimate in an inarticulateway.
Constance had imagined long, detailed, absorbing, and highly novelconversations between herself and her mother upon this their firstmeeting after her marriage. But alone in the bedroom, and with aclear half-hour to dinner, they neither of them seemed to have agreat deal to impart.
Mrs. Baines slowly removed her light mantle and laid it withprecautions on the white damask counterpane. Then, fingering herweeds, she glanced about the chamber. Nothing was changed. ThoughConstance had, previous to her marriage, envisaged certainalterations, she had determined to postpone them, feeling that onerevolutionist in a house was enough.
"Well, my chick, you all right?" said Mrs. Baines, with hearty anddirect energy, gazing straight into her daughter's eyes.
Constance perceived that the question was universal in itscomprehensiveness, the one unique expression that the mother wouldgive to her maternal concern and curiosity, and that it condensedinto six words as much interest as would have overflowed into awhole day of the chatter of some mothers. She met the candidglance, flushing.
"Oh YES!" she answered with ecstatic fervour. "Perfectly!"
And Mrs. Baines nodded, as if dismissing THAT. "You're stouter,"said she, curtly. "If you aren't careful you'll be as big as anyof us."
"Oh, mother!"
The interview fell to a lower plane of emotion. It even fell asfar as Maggie. What chiefly preoccupied Constance was a subtlechange in her mother. She found her mother fussy in trifles. Hermanner of laying down her mantle, of smoothing out her gloves, andher anxiety that her bonnet should not come to harm, were rathertrying, were perhaps, in the very slightest degree, pitiable. Itwas nothing; it was barely perceptible, and yet it was enough toalter Constance's mental attitude to her mother. "Poor dear!"thought Constance. "I'm afraid she's not what she was." Incrediblethat her mother could have age in less than six weeks! Constancedid not allow for the chemistry that had been going on in herself.
The encounter between Mrs. Baines and her son-in-law was of themost satisfactory nature. He was waiting in the parlour for her todescend. He made himself exceedingly agreeable, kissing her, andflattering her by his evidently sincere desire to please. Heexplained that he had kept an eye open for the waggonette, but hadbeen called away. His "Dear me!" on learning about Aunt Harrietlacked nothing in conviction, though both women knew that hisaffection for Aunt Harriet would never get the better of hisreason. To Constance, her husband's behaviour was marvellouslyperfect. She had not suspected him to be such a man of the world.And her eyes said to her mother, quite unconsciously: "You see,after all, you didn't rate Sam as high as you ought to have done.Now you see your mistake."
As they sat waiting for dinner, Constance and Mrs. Baines on thesofa, and Samuel on the edge of the nearest rocking-chair, a smallscuffling noise was heard outside the door which gave on thekitchen steps, the door yielded to pressure, and Fan rushedimportantly in, deranging mats. Fan's nose had been hinting to herthat she was behind the times, not up-to-date in the affairs ofthe household, and she had hurried from the kitchen to makeinquiries. It occurred to her en route that she had been washedthat morning. The spectacle of Mrs. Baines stopped her. She stood,with her legs slightly out-stretched, her nose lifted, her earsraking forward, her bright eyes blinking, and her tail undecided."I was sure I'd never smelt anything like that before," she wassaying to herself, as she stared at Mrs. Baines.
And Mrs. Baines, staring at Fan, had a similar though not the samesentiment. The silence was terrible. Constance took on the mien ofa culprit, and Sam had obviously lost his easy bearing of a man ofthe world. Mrs. Baines was merely thunderstruck.
A dog!
Suddenly Fan's tail began to wag more quickly; and then, havinglooked in vain for encouragement to her master and mistress, shegave one mighty spring and alighted in Mrs. Baines's lap. It wasan aim she could not have missed. Constance emitted an "Oh, FAN!"of shocked terror, and Samuel betrayed his nervous tension by aninvoluntary movement. But Fan had settled down into that titaniclap as into heaven. It was a greater flattery than Mr. Povey's.
"So your name's Fan!" murmured Mrs. Baines, stroking the animal."You are a dear!"
"Yes, isn't she?" said Constance, with inconceivable rapidity.
The danger was past. Thus, without any explanation, Fan became anaccepted fact.
The next moment Maggie served the Yorkshire pudding.
"Well, Maggie," said Mrs. Baines. "So you are going to get marriedthis time? When is it?"
"Sunday, ma'am."
"And you leave here on Saturday?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Well, I must have a talk with you before I go."
During the dinner, not a word as to the signboard! Several timesthe conversation curved towards that signboard in the mostalarming fashion, but invariably it curved away again, like atrain from another train when two trains are simultaneouslyleaving a station. Constance had frights, so serious as to destroyher anxiety about the cookery. In the end she comprehended thather mother had adopted a silently disapproving attitude. Fan wassocially very useful throughout the repast.
After dinner Constance was on pins lest Samuel should light acigar. She had not requested him not to do so, for though she wasentirely sure of his affection, she had already learned that ahusband is possessed by a demon of contrariety which often forceshim to violate his higher feelings. However, Samuel did not lighta cigar. He went off to superintend the shutting-up of the shop,while Mrs. Baines chatted with Maggie and gave her L5 for awedding present. Then Mr. Critchlow called to offer hissalutations.
A little before tea Mrs. Baines announced that she would go outfor a short walk by herself.
"Where has she gone to?" smiled Samuel, superiorly, as withConstance at the window he watched her turn down King Streettowards the church.
"I expect she has gone to look at father's grave," said Constance.
"Oh!" muttered Samuel, apologetically.
Constance was mistaken. Before reaching the church, Mrs. Bainesdeviated to the right, got into Brougham Street and thence, byAcre Lane, into Oldcastle Street, whose steep she climbed. Now,Oldcastle Street ends at the top of St. Luke's Square, and fromthe corner Mrs. Baines had an excellent view of the signboard. Itbeing Thursday afternoon, scarce a soul was about. She returned toher daughter's by the same extraordinary route, and said not aword on entering. But she was markedly cheerful.
The waggonette came after tea, and Mrs. Baines made her finalpreparations to depart. The visit had proved a wonderful success;it would have been utterly perfect if Samuel had not marred it atthe very door of the waggonette. Somehow, he contrived to betalking of Christmas. Only a person of Samuel's native clumsinesswould have mentioned Christmas in July.
"You know you'll spend Christmas with us!" said he into thewaggonette.
"Indeed I shan't!" replied Mrs. Baines. "Aunt Harriet and I willexpect you at Axe. We've already settled that."
Mr. Povey bridled. "Oh no!" he protested, hurt by thissummariness.
Having had no relatives, except his cousin the confectioner, formany years, he had dreamt of at last establishing a familyChristmas under his own roof, and the dream was dear to him.
Mrs. Baines said nothing. "We couldn't possibly leave the shop,"said Mr. Povey.
"Nonsense!" Mrs. Baines retorted, putting her lips together."Christmas Day is on a Monday."
The waggonette in starting jerked her head towards the door andset all her curls shaking. No white in those curls yet, scarcely atouch of grey!
"I shall take good care we don't go there anyway," Mr. Poveymumbled, in his heat, half to himself and half to Constance.
He had stained the brightness of the day.