hard times(艰难时世)-第27章
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in this fantastic action there was a something neither out of time
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nor place： a something which it seemed as if nobody else could
have made as serious； or done with such a natural and touching
air。
He had been at his loom full half an hour； thinking about this
old woman； when； having occasion to move round the loom for its
adjustment； he glanced through a window which was in his
corner； and saw her still looking up at the pile of building； lost in
admiration。 Heedless of the smoke and mud and wet； and of her
two long journeys； she was gazing at it； as if the heavy thrum that
issued from its many stories were proud music to her。
She was gone by…and…by； and the day went after her； and the
lights sprung up again； and the Express whirled in full sight of the
Fairy Palace over the arches near： little felt amid the jarring of the
machinery； and scarcely heard above its crash and battle。 Long
before then his thoughts had gone back to the dreary room above
the little shop； and to the shameful figure heavy on the bed； but
heavier on his heart。
Machinery slackened； throbbing feebly like a fainting pulse；
stopped。 The bell again； the glare of light and heat dispelled； the
factories； looming heavy in the black wet night—their tall
chimneys rising up into the air like competing Towers of Babel。
He had spoken to Rachael only last night； it was true； and had
walked with her a little way； but he had his new misfortune on him
in which no one else could give him a moment’s relief； and； for the
sake of it； and because he knew himself to want that softening of
his anger which no voice but hers could effect； he felt he might so
far disregard what she had said as to wait for her again。 He waited；
but she had eluded him。 She was gone。 On no other night in the
year could he so ill have spared her patient face。
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Oh！ better to have no home in which to lay his head； than to
have a home and dread to go to it； through such a cause。 He ate
and drank； for he was exhausted—but he little knew or cared
what； and he wandered about in the chill rain； thinking and
thinking； and brooding and brooding。
No word of a new marriage had ever passed between them； but
Rachael had taken great pity on him years ago； and to her alone he
had opened his closed heart all this time； on the subject of his
miseries； and he knew very well that if he were free to ask her； she
would take him。 He thought of the home he might at that moment
have been seeking with pleasure and pride： of the different man
he might have been that night； of the lightness then in his now
heavy…laden breast； of the then restored honour； self …respect； and
tranquillity all torn to pieces。 He thought of the waste of the best
part of his life； of the change it made in his character for the worse
every day； of the dreadful nature of his existence； bound hand and
foot； to a dead woman； and tormented by a demon in her shape。
He thought of Rachael； how young when they were first brought
together in these circumstances； how mature now； how soon to
grow old。 He thought of the number of girls and women she had
seen marry； how many homes with children in them she had seen
grow up around her； how she had contentedly pursued her own
lone quiet path—for him—and how he had seen sometimes a
shade of melancholy on her blessed face； that smote him with
remorse and despair。 He set the picture of her up； beside the
infamous image of last night； and thought； Could it be； that the
whole earthly course of one so gentle； good； and self…denying； was
subjugate to such a wretch as that！
Filled with these thoughts—so filled that he had an
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unwholesome sense of growing larger； of being placed in some
new and diseased relation towards the objects among which he
passed； of seeing the iris round every misty light turn red—he
went home for shelter。
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Chapter 13
Rachael
candle faintly burned in the window； to which the black
Aladder had often been raised for the sliding away of all
that was most precious in this world to a striving wife and
a brood of hungry babies； and Stephen added to his other
thoughts the stern reflection； that of all the casualties of this
existence upon earth； not one was dealt out with so unequal a
hand as Death。 The inequality of Birth was nothing to it。 For； say
that the child of a King and the child of a Weaver were born
tonight in the same moment； what was that disparity； to the death
of any human creature who was serviceable to； or beloved by
another； while this abandoned woman lived on！
From the outside of his home he gloomily passed to the inside；
with suspended breath and with slow footstep。 He went up to his
door and opened it； and so into the room。 Quiet and peace were
there。 Rachael was there； sitting by the bed。
She turned her head； and the light of her face； shone in upon
the midnight of his mind。 She sat by the bed； watching and
tending his wife。 That is to say； he saw that some one lay there；
and he knew too well it must be she； but Rachael’s hands had put
a curtain up； so that she was screened from his eyes。 Her
disgraceful garments were removed； and some of Rachael’s were
in the room。 Everything was in its place and order as he had
always kept it； the little fire was newly trimmed； and the hearth
was freshly swept。 It appeared to him that he saw all this in
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Rachael’s face； and looked at nothing besides。 While looking at it；
it was shut out from his view by the softened tears that filled his
eyes； but not before he had seen how earnestly she looked at him；
and how her own eyes were filled too。
She turned again towards the bed； and satisfying herself that all
was quiet there； spoke in a low； calm； cheerful voice。
“I am glad you have come at last； Stephen。 You are very late。”
“I ha’ been walking up an’ down。”
“I thought so。 But ’tis too bad a night for
