bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第157节
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been an understanding that this bill was to be what they call
Renewed。 And it has been renewed； no end of times。 What do you
say now？”
“I say that I think the times is come to a end at last。”
“You do？ Humph！ I am much of the same mind myself。”
“Joshua Smallweed is him that was brought here in a chair？”
“The same。”
“Guv’ner；” says Phil； with exceeding gravity； “he’s a leech in his
dispositions； he’s a screw and a wice in his actions； a snake in his
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twistings； and a lobster in his claws。”
Having thus expressively uttered his sentiments； Mr Squod；
after waiting a little to ascertain if any further remark be expected
of him； gets back； by his usual series of movements； to the target
he has in hand； and vigorously signifies； through his former
musical medium； that he must and he will return to that ideal
young lady。 George having folded the letter； walks in that
direction。
“There is a way； commander；” says Phil； looking cunningly at
him； “of settling this。”
“Paying the money； I suppose？ I wish I could。”
Phil shakes his head。 “No； guv’ner； no； not so bad as that。 There
is a way；” says Phil； with a highly artistic turn of his brush—“what
I’m a doing at present。”
“Whitewashing。”
Phil nods。
“A pretty way that would be！ Do you know what would become
of the Bagnets in that case？ Do you know they would be ruined to
pay off my old scores？ You’re a moral character；” says the trooper；
eyeing him in his large way with no small indignation； “upon my
life you are； Phil！”
Phil； on one knee at the target； is in course of protesting
earnestly； though not without many allegorical scoops of his
brush； and smoothings of the white surface round the rim with his
thumb； that he had forgotten the Bagnet responsibility； and would
not so much as injure a hair of the head of any member of that
worthy family； when steps are audible in the long passage without；
and a cheerful voice is heard to wonder whether George is at
home。 Phil； with a look at his master； hobbles up； saying； “Here’s
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the guv’ner； Mrs Bagnet！ Here he is！” and the old girl herself；
accompanied by Mr Bagnet； appears。
The old girl never appears in walking trim； in any season of the
year； without a grey cloth cloak； coarse and much worn but very
clean； which is； undoubtedly； the identical garment rendered so
interesting to Mr Bagnet by having made its way home to Europe
from another quarter of the globe； in company with Mrs Bagnet
and an umbrella。 The latter faithful appendage is also invariably a
part of the old girl’s presence out of doors。 It is of no colour known
in this life； and has a corrugated wooden crook for a handle； with a
metallic object let into its prow or beak； resembling a little model
of a fan…light over a street door； or one of the oval glasses out of a
pair of spectacles： which ornamental object has not that tenacious
capacity of sticking to its post that might be desired in an article
long associated with the British army。 The old girl’s umbrella is of
a flabby habit of waist； and seems to be in need of stays—an
appearance that is possibly referable to its having served； through
a series of years； at home as a cupboard； and on journeys as a
carpet bag。 She never puts it up； having the greatest reliance on
her well…proved cloak with its capacious hood； but generally uses
the instrument as a wand with which to point out joints of meat or
bunches of greens in marketing； or to arrest the attention of
tradesmen by a friendly poke。 Without her market…basket； which
is a sort of wicker well with two flapping lids； she never stirs
abroad。 Attended by these her trusty companions； therefore； her
honest sunburnt face looking cheerily out of a rough straw bonnet；
Mrs Bagnet now arrives； fresh…coloured and bright； in George’s
Shooting Gallery。
“Well； George； old fellow；” says she； “and how do you do； this
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sunshiny morning？”
Giving him a friendly shake of the hand； Mrs Bagnet draws a
long breath after her walk； and sits down to enjoy a rest。 Having a
faculty； matured on the tops of baggage…wagons； and in other such
positions； of resting easily anywhere； she perches on a rough
bench； unties her bonnet strings； pushes back her bonnet； crosses
her arms； and looks perfectly comfortable。
Mr Bagnet； in the mean time； has shaken hands with his old
comrade； and with Phil： on whom Mrs Bagnet likewise bestows a
good…humoured nod and smile。
“Now； George；” says Mrs Bagnet； briskly； “here we are； Lignum
and myself；” she often speaks of her husband by this appellation；
on account； as it is supposed； of Lignum Vitae having been his old
regimental nickname when they first became acquainted； in
compliment to the extreme hardness and toughness of his
physiognomy； “just looked in； we have； to make it all correct as
usual about that security。 Give him the new bill to sign； George；
and he’ll sign it like a man。”
“I was coming to you this morning；” observes the trooper；
reluctantly。
“Yes； we thought you’d come to us this morning； but we turned
out early； and left Woolwich； the best of boys； to mind his sisters；
and came to you instead—as you see！ For Lignum； he’s tied so
close now； and gets so little exercise； that a walk does him good。
But what’s the matter； George？” asks Mrs Bagnet； stopping in her
cheerful talk。 “You don’t look yourself。”
“I am not quite myself；” returns the trooper； “I have been a
little put out； Mrs Bagnet。”
Her bright quick eye catches the truth directly。 “George！”
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holding up her forefinger。 “Don’t tell me there’s anything wrong
about that security of Lignum’s！ Don’t do it； George； on account of
the children！”
The trooper looks at her with a troubled visage。
“George；” says Mrs Bagnet； using both her arms for emphasis；
and occasionally bringing down her open hands upon her knees。
“If you have allowed anything wrong to come to that security of
Lignum’s； and if you have let him in for it； and if you have put us
in danger of being sold up—and I see sold up in your face； George；
as plain as print—you have done a shameful action； and deceived
us cruelly。 I tell you； cruelly； George。 There！”
Mr Bagnet； otherwise as immovable as a pump or a lamp…post；
puts his large right hand on the top of his bald head； as if to defend
it from a shower…bath； and looks with great uneasiness at Mrs
Bagnet。
“George！” says that old girl。 “I wonder at you！ George； I am
ashamed of you！ George； I couldn’t have believed you would have
done it！ I always knew you to be a rolling stone that gathered no
moss； but I never thought you would have taken away what little
moss there was for Bagnet and the children to lie upon。 You know
what a hard…working steady…going chap he is。 You know that
Quebec and Malta and Woolwich are—and I never did think you
would； or could； have had the heart to serve us so。 O George！” Mrs
Bagnet gathers up her cloak to wipe her eyes on； in a very genuine
manner； “How could you do it？”
Mrs Bagnet ceasing； Mr Bagnet removes his hand from his
head as if the shower…bath were over； and looks disconsolately at
Mr Geor
