bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第238节
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ones； you ain’t。 Was you ever modelled now？” Mr Bucket asks；
conveying the expression of an artist into the turn of his eye and
head。
Mercury never was modelled。
“Then you ought to be； you know；” says Mr Bucket； “and a
friend of mine that you’ll hear of one day as a Royal Academy
Sculptor； would stand something handsome to make a drawing of
your proportions for the marble。 My Lady’s out； ain’t she？”
“Out to dinner。”
“Goes out pretty well every day； don’t she？”
“Yes。”
“Not to be wondered at！” says Mr Bucket。 “Such a fine woman
as her； so handsome and so graceful and so elegant； is like a fresh
lemon on a dinner…table； ornamental wherever she goes。 Was your
father in the same way of life as yourself？”
Answer in the negative。
“Mine was；” says Mr Bucket。 “My father was first a page； then a
footman； then a butler； then a steward； then an inn…keeper。 Lived
universally respected； and died lamented。 Said with his last breath
that he considered service the most honourable part of his career；
and so it was。 I’ve a brother in service； and a brother…in…law。 My
Lady a good temper？”
Mercury replies； “As good as you can expect。”
“Ah！” says Mr Bucket； “a little spoilt？ A little capricious？ Lord！
What can you anticipate when they’re so handsome as that？ And
we like ’em all the better for it； don’t we？”
Mercury； with his hands in the pockets of his bright peach…
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blossom small…clothes； stretches his symmetrical silk legs with the
air of a man of gallantry； and can’t deny it。 Come the roll of wheels
and a violent ringing at the bell。 “Talk of the angels；” says Mr
Bucket。 “Here she is！”
The doors are thrown open； and she passes through the hall。
Still very pale； she is dressed in slight mourning； and wears two
beautiful bracelets。 Either their beauty； or the beauty of her arms；
is particularly attractive to Mr Bucket。 He looks at them with an
eager eye； and rattles something in his pocket—halfpence
perhaps。
Noticing him at his distance； she turns an inquiring look on the
other Mercury who has brought her home。
“Mr Bucket； my Lady。”
Mr Bucket makes a leg； and comes forward； passing his familiar
demon over the region of his mouth。
“Are you waiting to see Sir Leicester？”
“No； my Lady； I’ve seen him！”
“Have you anything to say to me？”
“Not just at present； my Lady。”
“Have you made any new discoveries？”
“A few； my Lady。”
This is merely in passing。 She scarcely makes a stop； and
sweeps upstairs alone。 Mr Bucket； moving towards the staircase…
foot； watches her as she goes up the steps the old man came down
to his grave； past murderous groups of statuary； repeated with
their shadowy weapons on the wall； past the printed bill； which
she looks at going by； out of view。
“She’s a lovely woman； too； she really is；” says Mr Bucket；
coming back to Mercury。 “Don’t look quite healthy； though。”
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Is not quite healthy； Mercury informs him。 Suffers much from
headaches。
Really？ That’s a pity！ Walking； Mr Bucket would recommend
for that。 Well； she tries walking； Mercury rejoins。 Walks sometimes
for two hours； when she has them bad。 By night； too。
“Are you sure you’re quite so much as six foot three？” asks Mr
Bucket； “begging your pardon for interrupting you a moment？”
Not a doubt about it。
“You’re so well put together that I shouldn’t have thought it。
But the household troops； though considered fine men； are built
so straggling。—Walks by night； does she？ When it’s moonlight；
though？”
O yes。 When it’s moonlight！ Of course。 O； of course！
Conversational and acquiescent on both sides。
“I suppose you ain’t in the habit of walking； yourself？” says Mr
Bucket。 “Not much time for it； I should say？”
Besides which； Mercury don’t like it。 Prefers carriage exercise。
“To be sure；” says Mr Bucket。 “That makes a difference。 Now I
think of it；” says Mr Bucket； warming his hands； and looking
pleasantly at the blaze； “she went out walking； the very night of
this business。”
“To be sure she did！ I let her into the garden over the way。”
“And left her there。 Certainly you did。 I saw you doing it。”
“I didn’t see you；” says Mercury。
“I was rather in a hurry；” returns Mr Bucket； “for I was going to
visit a aunt of mine that lives at Chelsea—next door but two to the
old original Bun House—ninety year old the old lady is； a single
woman； and got a little property。 Yes； I chanced to be passing at
the time。 Let’s see。 What time might it be？ It wasn’t ten。”
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“Half…past nine。”
“You’re right。 So it was。 And if I don’t deceive myself； my Lady
was muffled in a loose black mantle； with a deep fringe to it？”
“Of course she was。”
Of course she was。 Mr Bucket must return to a little work he
has to get on with upstairs； but he must shake hands with Mercury
in acknowledgment of his agreeable conversation； and will he—
this is all he asks—will he； when he has a leisure half…hour； think
of bestowing it on that Royal Academy Sculptor； for the advantage
of both parties？
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Chapter 54
Springing A Mine
efreshed by sleep； Mr Bucket rises betimes in the
Rmorning； and prepares for a field…day。 Smartened up by
the aid of a clean shirt and a wet hairbrush； with which
instrument； on occasions of ceremony； he lubricates such thin
locks as remain to him after his life of severe study； Mr Bucket lays
in a breakfast of two mutton chops as a foundation to work upon；
together with tea； eggs； toast； and marmalade； on a corresponding
scale。 Having much enjoyed these strengthening matters； and
having held subtle conference with his familiar demon； he
confidently instructs Mercury “just to mention quietly to Sir
Leicester Dedlock； Baronet； that whenever he’s ready for me； I’m
ready for him。” A gracious message being returned； that Sir
Leicester will expedite his dressing and join Mr Bucket in the
library within ten minutes； Mr Bucket repairs to that apartment；
and stands before the fire； with his finger on his chin； looking at
the blazing coals。
Thoughtful Mr Bucket is； as a man may be； with weighty work
to do； but composed； sure； confident。 From the expression of his
face； he might be a famous whist…player for a large stake—say a
hundred guineas certain—with the game in his hand； but with a
high reputation involved in his playing his hand out to the last
card； in a masterly way。 Not in the least anxious or disturbed is Mr
Bucket when Sir Leicester appears； but he eyes the baronet aside
as he comes slowly to his easy chair； with that observant gravity of
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yesterday； in which there might have been yesterday； but for the
audacity of the idea； a touch of compassion。
“I am sorry to have kept you waiting； officer； but I am rather
later than my usual hour this morning。 I am not well。 The
agitation； and the
