兰贝斯的丽莎 英文版 Liza of Lambeth
毛姆 W. Somerset Maugham
2
Liza and her mother were having supper. Mrs. Kemp was an elderly woman,short, and rather stout, with a red face, and grey hair brushed tightback over her forehead. She had been a widow for many years, and sinceher husband's death had lived with Liza in the ground-floor front roomin which they were now sitting. Her husband had been a soldier, andfrom a grateful country she received a pension large enough to keepher from starvation, and by charring and doing such odd jobs as shecould get she earned a little extra to supply herself with liquor.Liza was able to make her own living by working at a factory.
Mrs. Kemp was rather sulky this evening.
'Wot was yer doin' this afternoon, Liza?' she asked.
'I was in the street.'
'You're always in the street when I want yer.'
'I didn't know as 'ow yer wanted me, mother,' answered Liza.
'Well, yer might 'ave come ter see! I might 'ave been dead, for allyou knew.'
Liza said nothing.
'My rheumatics was thet bad to-dy, thet I didn't know wot ter do withmyself. The doctor said I was to be rubbed with that stuff 'e give me,but yer won't never do nothin' for me.'
'Well, mother,' said Liza, 'your rheumatics was all right yesterday.'
'I know wot you was doin'; you was showin' off thet new dress ofyours. Pretty waste of money thet is, instead of givin' it me ter siveup. An' for the matter of thet, I wanted a new dress far worse thanyou did. But, of course, I don't matter.'
Liza did not answer, and Mrs. Kemp, having nothing more to say,continued her supper in silence.
It was Liza who spoke next.
'There's some new people moved in the street. 'Ave you seen 'em?' sheasked.
'No, wot are they?'
'I dunno; I've seen a chap, a big chap with a beard. I think 'e livesup at the other end.'
She felt herself blushing a little.
'No one any good you be sure,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'I can't swaller thesenew people as are comin' in; the street ain't wot it was when I fustcome.'
When they had done, Mrs. Kemp got up, and having finished her half-pintof beer, said to her daughter:
'Put the things awy, Liza. I'm just goin' round to see Mrs. Clayton;she's just 'ad twins, and she 'ad nine before these come. It's a pitythe Lord don't see fit ter tike some on 'em--thet's wot I say.'
After which pious remark Mrs. Kemp went out of the house and turnedinto another a few doors up.
Liza did not clear the supper things away as she was told, but openedthe window and drew her chair to it. She leant on the sill, lookingout into the street. The sun had set, and it was twilight, the sky wasgrowing dark, bringing to view the twinkling stars; there was nobreeze, but it was pleasantly and restfully cool. The good folk stillsat at their doorsteps, talking as before on the same inexhaustiblesubjects, but a little subdued with the approach of night. The boyswere still playing cricket, but they were mostly at the other end ofthe street, and their shouts were muffled before they reached Liza'sears.
She sat, leaning her head on her hands, breathing in the fresh air andfeeling a certain exquisite sense of peacefulness which she was notused to. It was Saturday evening, and she thankfully remembered thatthere would be no factory on the morrow; she was glad to rest.Somehow she felt a little tired, perhaps it was through the excitementof the afternoon, and she enjoyed the quietness of the evening. Itseemed so tranquil and still; the silence filled her with a strangedelight, she felt as if she could sit there all through the nightlooking out into the cool, dark street, and up heavenwards at thestars. She was very happy, but yet at the same time experienced astrange new sensation of melancholy, and she almost wished to cry.
Suddenly a dark form stepped in front of the open window. She gave alittle shriek.
''Oo's thet?' she asked, for it was quite dark, and she did notrecognize the man standing in front of her.
'Me, Liza,' was the answer.
'Tom?'
'Yus!'
Oh, I can't, Tom!
It was a young man with light yellow hair and a little fair moustache,which made him appear almost boyish; he was light-complexioned andblue-eyed, and had a frank and pleasant look mingled with a curiousbashfulness that made him blush when people spoke to him.
'Wot's up?' asked Liza.
'Come aht for a walk, Liza, will yer?'
'No!' she answered decisively.
'You promised ter yesterday, Liza.'
'Yesterday an' ter-day's two different things,' was her wise reply.
'Yus, come on, Liza.'
'Na, I tell yer, I won't.'
'I want ter talk ter yer, Liza.' Her hand was resting on thewindow-sill, and he put his upon it. She quickly drew it back.
'Well, I don't want yer ter talk ter me.'
But she did, for it was she who broke the silence.
'Say, Tom, 'oo are them new folk as 'as come into the street? It's abig chap with a brown beard.'
'D'you mean the bloke as kissed yer this afternoon?'
Liza blushed again.
'Well, why shouldn't 'e kiss me?' she said, with some inconsequence.
'I never said as 'ow 'e shouldn't; I only arst yer if it was thesime.'
'Yea, thet's 'oo I mean.'
''Is nime is Blakeston--Jim Blakeston. I've only spoke to 'im once;he's took the two top rooms at No. 19 'ouse.'
'Wot's 'e want two top rooms for?'
''Im? Oh, 'e's got a big family--five kids. Ain't yer seen 'is wifeabaht the street? She's a big, fat woman, as does 'er 'air funny.'
'I didn't know 'e 'ad a wife.'
There was another silence; Liza sat thinking, and Tom stood at thewindow, looking at her.
'Won't yer come aht with me, Liza?' he asked, at last.
'Na, Tom,' she said, a little more gently, 'it's too lite.'
'Well?'
'Liza'--he couldn't go on, and stuttered in his shyness--'Liza,I--I--I loves yer, Liza.'
'Garn awy!'
He was quite brave now, and took hold of her hand.
'Yer know, Liza, I'm earnin' twenty-three shillin's at the works now,an' I've got some furniture as mother left me when she was took.'
The girl said nothing.
'Liza, will you 'ave me? I'll make yer a good 'usband, Liza, swop mebob, I will; an' yer know I'm not a drinkin' sort. Liza, will yermarry me?'
'Na, Tom,' she answered quietly.
'Oh, Liza, won't you 'ave me?'
'Na, Tom, I can't.'
'Why not? You've come aht walkin' with me ever since Whitsun.'
had a frank.
'Ah, things is different now.'
'You're not walkin' aht with anybody else, are you, Liza?' he askedquickly.
'Na, not that.'
'Well, why won't yer, Liza? Oh Liza, I do love yer, I've never lovedanybody as I love you!'
'Oh, I can't, Tom!'
'There ain't no one else?'
'Na.'
'Then why not?'
'I'm very sorry, Tom, but I don't love yer so as ter marry yer.'
'Oh, Liza!'
She could not see the look upon his face, but she heard the agony inhis voice; and, moved with sudden pity, she bent out, threw her armsround his neck, and kissed him on both cheeks.
'Never mind old chap!' she said. 'I'm not worth troublin' abaht.'
And quickly drawing back, she slammed the window to, and moved intothe further part of the room.