bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第25节
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I scarcely doubted； he was so very clear about it himself。
“I covet nothing；” said Mr Skimpole； in the same light way。
“Possession is nothing to me。 Here is my friend Jarndyce’s
excellent house。 I feel obliged to him for possessing it。 I can sketch
it； and alter it。 I can set it to music。 When I am here； I have
sufficient possession of it； and have neither trouble； cost； nor
responsibility。 My steward’s name； in short； is Jarndyce； and he
can’t cheat me。 We have been mentioning Mrs Jellyby。 There is a
bright…eyed woman； of a strong will and immense power of
business…detail； who throws herself into objects with surprising
ardour！ I don’t regret that I have not a strong will and an immense
power of business…detail； to throw myself into objects with
surprising ardour。 I can admire her without envy。 I can
sympathise with the objects。 I can dream of them。 I can lie down
on the grass—in fine weather—and float along an African river；
embracing all the natives I meet； as sensible of the deep silence；
and sketching the dense overhanging tropical growth as
accurately； as if I were there。 I don’t know that it’s of any direct
use my doing so； but it’s all I can do； and I do it thoroughly。 Then；
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for Heaven’s sake； having Harold Skimpole； a confiding child；
petitioning you； the world； an agglomeration of practical people of
business habits； to let him live and admire the human family； do it
somehow or other； like good souls； and suffer him to ride his
rocking…horse！”
It was plain enough that Mr Jarndyce had not been neglectful
of the adjuration。 Mr Skimpole’s general position there would
have rendered it so； without the addition of what he presently
said。
“It’s only you； the generous creatures； whom I envy；” said Mr
Skimpole； addressing us； his new friends； in an impersonal
manner。 “I envy you your power of doing what you do。 It is what I
should revel in； myself。 I don’t feel any vulgar gratitude to you。 I
almost feel as if you ought to be grateful to me； for giving you the
opportunity of enjoying the luxury of generosity。 I know you like it。
For anything I can tell； I may have come into the world expressly
for the purpose of increasing your stock of happiness。 I may have
been born to be a benefactor to you； by sometimes giving you an
opportunity of assisting me in my little perplexities。 Why should I
regret my incapacity for details and worldly affairs； when it leads
to such pleasant consequences？ I don’t regret it therefore。”
Of all his playful speeches （playful； yet always fully meaning
what they expressed） none seemed to be more to the taste of Mr
Jarndyce than this。 I had often new temptations； afterwards； to
wonder whether it was really singular； or only singular to me； that
he； who was probably the most grateful of mankind upon the least
occasion； should so desire to escape the gratitude of others。
We were all enchanted。 I felt it a merited tribute to the
engaging qualities of Ada and Richard； that Mr Skimpole； seeing
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them for the first time； should be so unreserved； and should lay
himself out to be exquisitely agreeable。 They （and especially
Richard） were naturally pleased for similar reasons； and
considered it no common privilege to be so freely confided in by
such an attractive man。 The more we listened； the more gaily Mr
Skimpole talked。 And what with his fine hilarious manner； and his
engaging candour； and his genial way of lightly tossing his own
weaknesses about； as if he had said； “I am a child； you know！ You
are designing people compared with me；” （he really made me
consider myself in that light）； “but I’m gay and innocent； forget
your worldly arts and play with me！”—the effect was absolutely
dazzling。
He was so full of feeling too； and had such a delicate sentiment
for what was beautiful or tender； that he could have won a heart
by that alone。 In the evening； when I was preparing to make tea；
and Ada was touching the piano in the adjoining room； and softly
humming a tune to her cousin Richard； which they had happened
to mention； he came and sat down on the sofa near me； and so
spoke of Ada that I almost loved him。
“She is like the morning；” he said。 “With that golden hair； those
blue eyes； and that fresh bloom on her cheeks she is like the
summer morning。 The birds here will mistake her for it。 We will
not call such a lovely young creature as that； who is a joy to all
mankind； an orphan。 She is the child of the universe。”
Mr Jarndyce； I found； was standing near us； with his hands
behind him； and an attentive smile upon his face。
“The universe；” he observed； “makes rather an indifferent
parent； I am afraid。”
“O！ I don’t know！” cried Mr Skimpole； buoyantly。
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“I think I do know！” said Mr Jarndyce。
“Well！” cried Mr Skimpole； “you know the world （which in your
sense is the universe）； and I know nothing of it； so you shall have
your way。 But if I had mine；” glancing at the cousins； “there
should be no brambles of sordid realities in such a path as that。 It
should be strewn with roses； it should lie through bowers； where
there was no spring； autumn； nor winter； but perpetual summer。
Age or change should never wither it。 The base word money
should never be breathed near it！”
Mr Jarndyce patted him on the head with a smile； as if he had
been really a child； and passing a step or two on； and stopping a
moment； glanced at the young cousins。 His look was thoughtful；
but had a benignant expression in it which I often （how often！） saw
again： which has been long engraven on my heart。 The room in
which they were； communicating with that in which he stood； was
only lighted by the fire。 Ada sat at the piano； Richard stood beside
her； bending down。 Upon the wall their shadows blended together；
surrounded by strange forms； not without a ghostly motion caught
from the unsteady fire； though reflected from motionless objects。
Ada touched the notes so softly； and sang so low； that the wind；
sighing away to the distant hills； was as audible as the music。 The
mystery of the future； and the little clue afforded to it by the voice
of the present； seemed expressed in the whole picture。
But it is not to recall this fancy； well as I remember it； that I
recall the scene。 First； I was not quite unconscious of the contrast；
in respect of meaning and intention； between the silent look
directed that way； and the flow of words that had preceded it。
Secondly； though Mr Jarndyce’s glance； as he withdrew it； rested
for but a moment on me； I felt as if； in that moment； he confided to
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me—and knew that he confided to me； and that I received the
confidence—his hope that Ada and Richard might one day enter
on a dearer relationship。
Mr Skimpole could play on the piano； and the violoncello； and
he was a composer—had composed half an opera once； but got
tired of it—and played what he composed； with taste。 After tea we
had quite a little concert； in which Richard—w
