怀尔德菲尔府的房客 英文版 The Tenant of Wildfell Hall
安妮.勃朗特 Anne Bronte
CHAPTER XLVII Page 2
'Oh, yes, you're wondrous gentle and obliging! But you've drivenme mad with it all!' responded he, with an impatient toss.
'I'll leave you, then,' said I; and I withdrew, and did not troublehim with my presence again that day, except for a minute or two ata time, just to see how he was and what he wanted.
Next morning the doctor ordered him to be bled; and after that hewas more subdued and tranquil. I passed half the day in his roomat different intervals. My presence did not appear to agitate orirritate him as before, and he accepted my services quietly,without any bitter remarks: indeed, he scarcely spoke at all,except to make known his wants, and hardly then. But on themorrow, that is to say, in proportion as he recovered from thestate of exhaustion and stupefaction, his ill-nature appeared torevive.
'Oh, this sweet revenge!' cried he, when I had been doing all Icould to make him comfortable and to remedy the carelessness of hisnurse. 'And you can enjoy it with such a quiet conscience too,because it's all in the way of duty.'
'It is well for me that I am doing my duty,' said I, with abitterness I could not repress, 'for it is the only comfort I have;and the satisfaction of my own conscience, it seems, is the onlyreward I need look for!'
prescriptions.' Markham.'endeavours.
He looked rather surprised at the earnestness of my manner.
'What reward did you look for?' he asked.
'You will think me a liar if I tell you; but I did hope to benefityou: as well to better your mind as to alleviate your presentsufferings; but it appears I am to do neither; your own bad spiritwill not let me. As far as you are concerned, I have sacrificed myown feelings, and all the little earthly comfort that was left me,to no purpose; and every little thing I do for you is ascribed toself-righteous malice and refined revenge!'
'It's all very fine, I daresay,' said he, eyeing me with stupidamazement; 'and of course I ought to be melted to tears ofpenitence and admiration at the sight of so much generosity andsuperhuman goodness; but you see I can't manage it. However, praydo me all the good you can, if you do really find any pleasure init; for you perceive I am almost as miserable just now as you needwish to see me. Since you came, I confess, I have had betterattendance than before, for these wretches neglected me shamefully,and all my old friends seem to have fairly forsaken me. I've had adreadful time of it, I assure you: I sometimes thought I shouldhave died: do you think there's any chance?'
'There's always a chance of death; and it is always well to livewith such a chance in view.'
'Yes, yes! but do you think there's any likelihood that thisillness will have a fatal termination?'
'I cannot tell; but, supposing it should, how are you prepared tomeet the event?'
'Why, the doctor told me I wasn't to think about it, for I was sureto get better if I stuck to his regimen and prescriptions.'
'I hope you may, Arthur; but neither the doctor nor I can speakwith certainty in such a case; there is internal injury, and it isdifficult to know to what extent.'
'There now! you want to scare me to death.'
'No; but I don't want to lull you to false security. If aconsciousness of the uncertainty of life can dispose you to seriousand useful thoughts, I would not deprive you of the benefit of suchreflections, whether you do eventually recover or not. Does theidea of death appal you very much?'
'It's just the only thing I can't bear to think of; so if you'veany - '
'But it must come some time,' interrupted I, 'and if it be yearshence, it will as certainly overtake you as if it came to-day, -and no doubt be as unwelcome then as now, unless you - '
'Oh, hang it! don't torment me with your preachments now, unlessyou want to kill me outright. I can't stand it, I tell you. I'vesufferings enough without that. If you think there's danger, saveme from it; and then, in gratitude, I'll hear whatever you like tosay.'
I accordingly dropped the unwelcome topic. And now, Frederick, Ithink I may bring my letter to a close. From these details you mayform your own judgment of the state of my patient, and of my ownposition and future prospects. Let me hear from you soon, and Iwill write again to tell you how we get on; but now that mypresence is tolerated, and even required, in the sick-room, I shallhave but little time to spare between my husband and my son, - forI must not entirely neglect the latter: it would not do to keephim always with Rachel, and I dare not leave him for a moment withany of the other servants, or suffer him to be alone, lest heshould meet them. If his father get worse, I shall ask EstherHargrave to take charge of him for a time, till I have reorganisedthe household at least; but I greatly prefer keeping him under myown eye.
I find myself in rather a singular position: I am exerting myutmost endeavours to promote the recovery and reformation of myhusband, and if I succeed, what shall I do? My duty, of course, -but how? No matter; I can perform the task that is before me now,and God will give me strength to do whatever He requires hereafter.Good-by, dear Frederick.
HELEN HUNTINGDON.
'What do you think of it?' said Lawrence, as I silently refoldedthe letter.
'It seems to me,' returned I, 'that she is casting her pearlsbefore swine. May they be satisfied with trampling them undertheir feet, and not turn again and rend her! But I shall say nomore against her: I see that she was actuated by the best andnoblest motives in what she has done; and if the act is not a wiseone, may heaven protect her from its consequences! May I keep thisletter, Lawrence? - you see she has never once mentioned methroughout - or made the most distant allusion to me; therefore,there can be no impropriety or harm in it.'
'And, therefore, why should you wish to keep it?'
'Were not these characters written by her hand? and were not thesewords conceived in her mind, and many of them spoken by her lips?'
'Well,' said he. And so I kept it; otherwise, Halford, you couldnever have become so thoroughly acquainted with its contents.
'And when you write,' said I, 'will you have the goodness to askher if I may be permitted to enlighten my mother and sister on herreal history and circumstance, just so far as is necessary to makethe neighbourhood sensible of the shameful injustice they have doneher? I want no tender messages, but just ask her that, and tellher it is the greatest favour she could do me; and tell her - no,nothing more. You see I know the address, and I might write to hermyself, but I am so virtuous as to refrain.'
'Well, I'll do this for you, Markham.'
'And as soon as you receive an answer, you'll let me know?'
'If all be well, I'll come myself and tell you immediately.'