bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第232章
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good…humouredly to each other and to the people around； and
glancing about them as if they were glad to be in England again。
“Charley； Charley！” said I； “come away！” and I hurried on so
swiftly that my little maid was surprised。
It was not until we were shut up in our cabin…room； and I had
had time to take breath； that I began to think why I had made such
haste。 In one of the sunburnt faces I had recognised Mr Allan
Woodcourt； and I had been afraid of his recognizing me。 I had
been unwilling that he should see my altered looks。 I had been
taken by surprise； and my courage had quite failed me。
But I knew this would not do； and I now said to myself； “My
dear； there is no reason—there is and there can be no reason at
all—why it should be worse for you now； than it ever has been。
What you were last month； you are today； you are no worse； you
are no better。 This is not your resolution； call it up； Esther； call it
up！” I was in a great tremble—with running—and at first was
quite unable to calm myself； but I got better； and I was very glad to
know it。
The party came to the hotel。 I heard them speaking on the
staircase。 I was sure it was the same gentlemen because I knew
their voices again—I mean I knew Mr Woodcourt’s。 It would still
have been a great relief to me to have gone away without making
myself known； but I was determined not to do so。 “No； my dear；
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no。 No； no； no！”
I untied my bonnet； and put my veil half up—I think I mean
half down； but it matters very little—and wrote on one of my cards
that I happened to be there with Mr Richard Carstone； and I sent
it in to Mr Woodcourt。 He came immediately。 I told him I was
rejoiced to be by chance among the first to welcome him home to
England。 And I saw that he was very sorry for me。
“You have been in shipwreck and peril since you left us； Mr
Woodcourt；” said I； “but we can hardly call that a misfortune
which enabled you to be so useful and so brave。 We read of it with
the truest interest。 It first came to my knowledge through your old
patient； poor Miss Flite； when I was recovering from my severe
illness。”
“Ah！ little Miss Flite！” he said。 “She lives the same life yet？”
“Just the same。”
I was so comfortable with myself now； as not to mind the veil；
and to be able to put it aside。
“Her gratitude to you； Mr Woodcourt； is delightful。 She is a
most affectionate creature； as I have reason to say。”
“You—you have found her so？” he returned。 “I—I am glad of
that。” He was so very sorry for me that he could scarcely speak。
“I assure you；” said I； “that I was deeply touched by her
sympathy and pleasure at the time I have referred to。”
“I was grieved to hear that you had been very ill。”
“I was very ill。”
“But you have quite recovered？”
“I have quite recovered my health and my cheerfulness；” said I。
“You know how good my Guardian is； and what a happy life we
lead； and I have everything to be thankful for； and nothing in the
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world to desire。”
I felt as if he had greater commiseration for me than I had ever
had for myself。 It inspired me with new fortitude； and new
calmness； to find that it was I who was under the necessity of
reassuring him。 I spoke to him of his voyage out and home； and of
his future plans； and of his probable return to India。 He said that
was very doubtful。 He had not found himself more favoured by
fortune there； than here。 He had gone out a poor ship’s surgeon；
and had come home nothing better。 While we were talking； and
when I was glad to believe that I had alleviated （if I may use such a
term） the shock he had had in seeing me； Richard came in。 He had
heard downstairs who was with me； and they met with cordial
pleasure。
I saw that after their first greetings were over； and when they
spoke of Richard’s career； Mr Woodcourt had a perception that all
was not going well with him。 He frequently glanced at his face； as
if there were something in it that gave him pain； and more than
once he looked towards me； as though he sought to ascertain
whether I knew what the truth was。 Yet Richard was in one of his
sanguine states； and in good spirits； and was thoroughly pleased to
see Mr Woodcourt again； whom he had always liked。
Richard proposed that we all should go to London together； but
Mr Woodcourt having to remain by his ship a little longer； could
not join us。 He dined with us； however； at an early hour； and
became so much more like what he used to be； that I was still
more at peace to think I had been able to soften his regrets。 Yet his
mind was not relieved of Richard。 When the coach was almost
ready； and Richard ran down to look after his luggage； he spoke to
me about him。
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I was not sure that I had a right to lay his whole story open； but
I referred in a few words to his estrangement from Mr Jarndyce；
and to his being entangled in the ill…fated Chancery suit。 Mr
Woodcourt listened with interest and expressed his regret。
“I saw you observe him rather closely；” said I。 “Do you think
him so changed？”
“He is changed；” he returned； shaking his head。
I felt the blood rush into my face for the first time； but it was
only an instantaneous emotion。 I turned my head aside； and it was
gone。
“It is not；” said Mr Woodcourt； “his being so much younger or
older； or thinner or fatter； or paler or ruddier； as there being upon
his face such a singular expression。 I never saw so remarkable a
look in a young person。 One cannot say that it is all anxiety； or all
weariness； yet it is both； and like ungrown despair。”
“You do not think he is ill？” said I。
No。 He looked robust in body。
“That he cannot be at peace in mind； we have too much reason
to know；” I proceeded。 “Mr Woodcourt； you are going to London？”
“Tomorrow or the next day。”
“There is nothing Richard wants so much； as a friend。 He
always liked you。 Pray see him when you get there。 Pray help him
sometimes with your companionship； if you can。 You do not know
of what service it might be。 You cannot think how Ada； and Mr
Jarndyce； and even I—how we should all thank you； Mr
Woodcourt！”
“Miss Summerson；” he said； more moved than he had been
from the first； “before Heaven； I will be a true friend to him！ I will
accept him as a trust； and it shall be a sacred one！”
Charles Dickens
