bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第168节
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long letters to Ada every day； I had scarcely any time to think
about that little loss of mine； and was almost always cheerful。 If I
did think of it at odd moments now and then； I had only to be busy
and forget it。 I felt it more than I had hoped I should； once； when a
child said； “Mother； why is the lady not a pretty lady now； like she
used to be？” But when I found the child was not less fond of me；
and drew its soft hand over my face with a kind of pitying
protection in its touch； that soon set me up again。 There were
many little occurrences which suggested to me； with great
consolation； how natural it is to gentle hearts to be considerate
and delicate towards any inferiority。 One of these particularly
touched me。 I happened to stroll into the little church when a
marriage was just concluded； and the young couple had to sign the
register。 The bridegroom； to whom the pen was handed first；
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made a rude cross for his mark； the bride； who came next； did the
same。 Now； I had known the bride when I was last there； not only
as the prettiest girl in the place； but as having quite distinguished
herself in the school； and I could not help looking at her with some
surprise。 She came aside and whispered to me； while tears of
honest love and admiration stood in her bright eyes； “He’s a dear
good fellow； miss； but he can’t write； yet—he’s going to learn of
me—and I wouldn’t shame him for the world！” Why； what had I to
fear； I thought； when there was this nobility in the soul of a
labouring man’s daughter！
The air blew as freshly and revivingly upon me as it had ever
blown； and the healthy colour came into my new face as it had
come into my old one。 Charley was wonderful to see； she was so
radiant and so rosy； and we both enjoyed the whole day； and slept
soundly the whole night。
There was a favourite spot of mine in the park…woods of
Chesney Wold； where a seat had been erected commanding a
lovely view。 The wood had been cleared and opened； to improve
this point of sight； and the bright sunny landscape beyond； was so
beautiful that I rested there at least once every day。 A picturesque
part of the Hall； called the Ghost’s Walk； was seen to advantage
from this higher ground； and the startling name； and the old
legend in the Dedlock family which I had heard from Mr
Boythorn； accounting for it； mingled with the view and gave it
something of a mysterious interest； in addition to its real charms。
There was a bank here； too； which was a famous one for violets；
and as it was a daily delight of Charley’s to gather wild flowers； she
took as much to the spot as I did。
It would be idle to inquire now why I never went close to the
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house； or never went inside it。 The family were not there； I had
heard on my arrival； and were not expected。 I was far from being
incurious or uninterested about the building； on the contrary； I
often sat in this place； wondering how the rooms ranged； and
whether any echo like a footstep really did resound at times； as the
story said； upon the lonely Ghost’s Walk。 The indefinable feeling
with which Lady Dedlock had impressed me； may have had some
influence in keeping me from the house even when she was
absent。 I am not sure。 Her face and figure were associated with it；
naturally； but I cannot say that they repelled me from it； though
something did。 For whatever reason or no reason； I had never
once gone near it； down to the day at which my story now arrives。
I was resting at my favourite point； after a long ramble； and
Charley was gathering violets at a little distance from me。 I had
been looking at the Ghost’s Walk lying in a deep shade of masonry
afar off； and picturing to myself the female shape that was said to
haunt it； when I became aware of a figure approaching through
the wood。 The perspective was so long； and so darkened by leaves；
and the shadows of the branches on the ground made it so much
more intricate to the eye； that at first I could not discern what
figure it was。 By little and little； it revealed itself to be a woman’s—
a lady’s—Lady Dedlock’s。 She was alone； and coming to where I
sat with a much quicker step； I observed to my surprise； than was
usual with her。
I was fluttered by her being unexpectedly so near （she was
almost within speaking distance before I knew her）； and would
have risen to continue my walk。 But I could not。 I was rendered
motionless。 Not so much by her hurried gesture of entreaty； not so
much by her quick advance and outstretched hands； not so much
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by the great change in her manner； and the absence of her
haughty self…restraint； as by a something in her face that I had
pined for and dreamed of when I was a little child； something I
had never seen in any face； something I had never seen in hers
before。
A dread and faintness fell upon me； and I called to Charley。
Lady Dedlock stopped； upon the instant； and changed back almost
to what I had known her。
“Miss Summerson； I am afraid I have startled you；” she said；
now advancing slowly。 “You can scarcely be strong yet。 You have
been very ill； I know。 I have been much concerned to hear it。”
I could no more have removed my eyes from her pale face； than
I could have stirred from the bench on which I sat。 She gave me
her hand； and its deadly coldness； so at variance with the enforced
composure of her features； deepened the fascination that
overpowered me。 I cannot say what was in my whirling thoughts。
“You are recovering again？” she asked kindly。
“I was quite well but a moment ago； Lady Dedlock。”
“Is this your young attendant？”
“Yes。”
“Will you send her on before； and walk towards your house
with me？”
“Charley；” said I； “take your flowers home； and I will follow you
directly。”
Charley； with her best curtsey； blushingly tied on her bonnet；
and went her way。 When she was gone； Lady Dedlock sat down on
the seat beside me。
I cannot tell in any words what the state of my mind was； when
I saw in her hand my handkerchief； with which I had covered the
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dead baby。
I looked at her； but I could not see her； I could not hear her； I
could not draw my breath。 The beating of my heart was so violent
and wild； that I felt as if my life were breaking from me。 But when
she caught me to her breast； kissed me； wept over me；
compassionated me； and called me back to myself； when she fell
down on her knees and cried to me； “O my child； my child； I am
your wicked and unhappy mother！ O try to forgive me！”—when I
saw her at my feet on the bare earth in her great agony of mind； I
felt； through all my tumult of emotion； a burst of gratitude to the
providence of God that I was so changed as that I never could
disgrace her by any trace of likeness； as that nobody could ever
now look at me； and look at her； and remotely think of any near tie
between us。
I raised my mother up； praying and beseeching her not to stoop
before
