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第86章

hard times(艰难时世)-第86章

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pedigree; he cut a most ridiculous figure。 With the people filing off 

at the door he held; who he knew would carry what had passed to 

the whole town; to be given to the four winds; he could not  have 

looked   a   Bully   more   shorn   and   forlorn;   if   he   had   had   his   ears 

cropped。   Even   that   unlucky   female;   Mrs   Sparsit;   fallen   from   her 

pinnacle   of  exultation into  the   Slough  of  Despond;   was not  in   so 

bad    a  plight    as  that   remarkable      man    and    self…made     Humbug; 

Josiah Bounderby of Coketown。 

    Rachael and   Sissy; leaving  Mrs   Pegler  to  occupy   a   bed   at   her 

son’s   for   that   night;   walked   together   to   the   gate   of   Stone   Lodge 

and there parted。 Mr Gradgrind joined them before they had gone 

very far; and spoke with much interest of Stephen Blackpool; for 

whom he thought this signal failure of the suspicions against Mrs 

Pegler was likely to work well。 

    As   to   the  whelp;    throughout      this  scene    as  on   all  other   late 

occasions; he had stuck close to Bounderby。 He seemed to feel that 

as    long   as   Bounderby       could    make     no   discovery     without     his 

knowledge; he was so far safe。 He never visited his sister; and had 



Charles Dickens                                                     ElecBook Classics 


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                                    Hard Times                                       333 



only   seen   her   once   since   she   went   home:   that   is   to   say;   on   the 

night when he still stuck close to Bounderby; as already related。 

    There   was   one   dim   unformed   fear   lingering  about   his   sister’s 

mind;   to   which   she   never   gave   utterance;   which   surrounded   the 

graceless   and   ungrateful boy  with  a   dreadful   mystery。   The   same 

dark possibility had presented   itself  in   the   same   shapeless   guise; 

this   very   day;    to   Sissy;  when   Rachael   spoke        of  some    one   who 

would be confounded by Stephen’s return; having put him out of 

the way。 Louisa had never spoken of harbouring any suspicion of 

her   brother   in   connection   with   the   robbery;   she   and   Sissy   had 

held no confidence on the subject; save in that one interchange of 

looks   when   the   unconscious   father   rested   his   grey   head   on   his 

hand; but it was understood between them; and they both knew it。 

This other fear was so  awful;   that  it  hovered   about  each  of  them 

like   a   ghostly   shadow;   neither   daring   to   think   of   its   being   near 

herself; far less of its being near the other。 

    And   still   the   forced   spirit   which   the    whelp    had    plucked     up; 

throve   with  him。   If  Stephen  Blackpool   was   not  the   thief;   let   him 

show himself。 Why didn’t he? 

    Another night。 Another day and night。 No Stephen   Blackpool。 

Where was the man; and why did he not come back? 



Charles Dickens                                                       ElecBook Classics 


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                                 Hard Times                                   334 



                                 Chapter 6 



                              The Starlight 



          he Sunday was a bright Sunday in autumn; clear and cool; 

          when early in the morning Sissy and Rachael met; to walk 

T 

          in the country。 

   As   Coketown   cast   ashes   not   only   on   its   own   head   but   on   the 

neighbourhood’s        too—after    the   manner     of  those  pious   persons 

who   do   penance   for   their   own   sins   by   putting   other   people   into 

sackcloth—it was customary for those who now and then thirsted 

for a draught of pure air; which is not absolutely the most wicked 

among the vanities of life; to get a few miles away by the railroad; 

and then begin their walk; or their lounge in the fields。 Sissy and 

Rachael helped themselves out of the smoke by the usual means; 

and were put down at a station   about  midway  between  the   town 

and Mr Bounderby’s retreat。 

   Though   the   green   landscape   was   blotted   here   and   there   with 

heaps of coal; it was green elsewhere; and there were trees to see; 

and   there   were   larks   singing   (though   it   was   Sunday);   and   there 

were pleasant scents in the air; and all was overarched by a bright 

blue  sky。   In   the   distance   one   way;   Coketown   showed   as   a   black 

mist; in another distance; hills began to rise; in a third; there was a 

faint change in the light  of  the   horizon;   where   it  shone   upon  the 

far…off sea。 Under their feet; the grass was fresh; beautiful shadows 

of   branches   flickered   upon   it;   and   speckled   it;   hedgerows   were 

luxuriant;   everything  was at  peace。   Engines   at  pits’   mouths;   and 

lean old horses that had worn the circle of their daily labour into 



Charles Dickens                                                 ElecBook Classics 


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                                   Hard Times                                    335 



the ground; were alike quiet; wheels had ceased for a short space 

to turn; and the great wheel of earth seemed to revolve without the 

shocks and noises of another time。 

    They   walked   on   across   the   fields   and   down   the   shady   lanes; 

sometimes   getting   over   a   fragment   of   a     fence   so   rotten   that   it 

dropped at a touch of the foot; sometimes passing near a wreck of 

bricks    and    beams     overgrown      with   grass;   marking      the  site   of 

deserted   works。   They   followed   paths   and   tracks;   however   slight。 

Mounds where the grass was rank and high; and where brambles; 

dock…weed;       and    such…like    vegetation;    were    confusedly      heaped 

together; they always avoided; for dismal stories were told in that 

country of the old pits hidden beneath such indications。 

    The sun was high when they sat down to rest。 They had seen no 

one;   near   or   distant;   for   a   long   time;   and   the   solitude   remained 

unbroken。       “It  is   so  still  here;   Rachael;     and    the   way    is  so 

untrodden; that I think we must be the first who have been here 

all the summer。” 

   As   Sissy   said   it   her   eyes   were   attracted   by   another   of   those 

rotten fragments of fence upon the ground。 She got up to look at it。 

“And yet I   don’t  know。   This  has not  been broken   very  long。   The 

wood is quite fresh where it gave way。 Here are footsteps too。—O 

Rachael!” 

    She    ran   back   and   caught   her   round     the  neck。    Rachael    had 

already started up。 

    “What is the matter?” 

    “I don’t know。 There is a hat lying in the grass。” 

    They went forward together。 Rachael took it up;   shaking  from 

head to foot。 She broke into a passion of  tears and   lamentations: 

Stephen Blackpool was written in his own hand on the inside。 



Charles Dickens                                                    ElecBook Classics 


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                                    Hard Times                                     336 



    “O the poor lad; the poor lad! He had been made away with。 He 

is lying murdered here!” 

    “Is there—has the hat any blood upon it?” Sissy faltered。 

    They were afraid to look; but they did examine it; and found no 

mark   of  violence;   inside   or  out。   It  had been lying  there  for   some 

days;   for  rain   and  dew  had   stained   it;   and   the   mark   of   its   shape 

was on the grass where it had fallen。 They looked fearfully about 

them;   without   moving;   but   could        see   nothing   more。     “Rachael;” 

Sissy whispered; “I will go on a little by myself。” 

    She   had   unclasped   her   hand;   and   was   in 

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