bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第27节
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blushed less than I might have done； and settled with the stranger
in the white coat； without making any mistakes。 He put the money
in his pocket； and shortly said； “Well； then； I’ll wish you a good
evening； miss。”
“My friend；” said Mr Skimpole； standing with his back to the
fire； after giving up the sketch when it was half finished； “I should
like to ask you something； without offence。”
I think the reply was； “Cut away； then！”
“Did you know this morning； now； that you were coming out on
this errand？” said Mr Skimpole。
“Know’d it yes’day aft’noon at tea time。” said Coavinses。
“It didn’t affect your appetite？ Didn’t make you at all uneasy？”
“Not a bit；” said Coavinses。 “I know’d if you wos missed today；
you wouldn’t be missed tomorrow。 A day makes no such odds。”
“But when you came down here；” proceeded Mr Skimpole； “it
was a fine day。 The sun was shining； the wind was blowing； the
lights and shadows were passing across the fields； the birds were
singing。”
“Nobody said they warn’t； in my hearing；” returned Coavinses。
“No；” observed Mr Skimpole。 “But what did you think upon the
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road？”
“Wot do you mean？” growled Coavinses； with an appearance of
strong resentment。 “Think！ I’ve got enough to do； and little
enough to get for it； without thinking。 Thinking！” （with profound
contempt）。
“Then you didn’t think； at all events；” proceeded Mr Skimpole；
“to this effect。 ‘Harold Skimpole loves to see the sun shine； loves to
hear the wind blow； loves to watch the changing lights and
shadows； loves to hear the birds； those choristers in Nature’s great
cathedral。 And does it seem to me that I am about to deprive
Harold Skimpole of his share in such possessions； which are his
only birthright！’ You thought nothing to that effect？”
“I—certainly—did—NOT；” said Coavinses； whose doggedness
in utterly renouncing the idea was of that intense kind； that he
could only give adequate expression to it by putting a long interval
between each word； and accompanying the last with a jerk that
might have dislocated his neck。
“Very odd and very curious； the mental process is； in you men
of business！” said Mr Skimpole； thoughtfully。 “Thank you； my
friend； Good night。”
As our absence had been long enough already to seem strange
downstairs； I returned at once； and found Ada sitting at work by
the fireside talking to her cousin John。 Mr Skimpole presently
appeared； and Richard shortly after him。 I was sufficiently
engaged； during the remainder of the evening； in taking my first
lesson in backgammon from Mr Jarndyce； who was very fond of
the game； and from whom I wished of course to learn it as quickly
as I could； in order that I might be of the very small use of being
able to play when he had no better adversary。 But I thought；
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occasionally when Mr Skimpole played some fragments of his own
compositions； or when； both at the piano and violoncello； and at
our table； he preserved； with an absence of all effort； his delightful
spirits and his easy flow of conversation； that Richard and I
seemed to retain the transferred impression of having been
arrested since dinner； and that it was very curious altogether。
It was late before we separated： for when Ada was going at
eleven o’clock； Mr Skimpole went to the piano； and rattled；
hilariously； that the best of all ways； to lengthen our days； was to
steal a few hours from Night； my dear！ It was past twelve before he
took his candle and his radiant face out of the room； and I think he
might have kept us there； if he had seen fit； until daybreak。 Ada
and Richard were lingering for a few moments by the fire；
wondering whether Mrs Jellyby had yet finished her dictation for
the day； when Mr Jarndyce； who had been out of the room；
returned。
“Oh； dear me； what’s this； what’s this！” he said； rubbing his
head and walking about with his good…humoured vexation。
“What’s this they tell me？ Rick； my boy； Esther； my dear； what
have you been doing？ Why did you do it？ How could you do it？
How much apiece was it？—The wind’s round again。 I feel it all
over me！”
We neither of us quite knew what to answer。
“Come； Rick； come！ I must settle this before I sleep。 How much
are you out of pocket？ You two made the money up； you know！
Why did you？ How could you？—O Lord； yes； it’s due east—must
be！”
“Really； sir；” said Richard； “I don’t think it would be
honourable in me to tell you。 Mr Skimpole relied upon us—”
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“Lord bless you； my dear boy！ He relies upon everybody！” said
Mr Jarndyce； giving his head a great rub； and stopping short。
“Indeed； sir？”
“Everybody！ And he’ll be in the same scrape again； next week！”
said Mr Jarndyce； walking again at a great pace； with a candle in
his hand that had gone out。 “He’s always in the same scrape。 He
was born in the same scrape。 I verily believe that the
announcement in the newspapers when his mother was confined；
was ‘On Tuesday last； at her residence in Botheration Buildings；
Mrs Skimpole of a son in difficulties。’”
Richard laughed heartily； but added； “Still； sir； I don’t want to
shake his confidence； or to break his confidence； and if I submit to
your better knowledge again； that I ought to keep his secret； I
hope you will consider before you press me any more。 Of course； if
you do press me； sir； I shall know I am wrong； and will tell you。”
“Well！” cried Mr Jarndyce； stopping again； and making several
absent endeavours to put his candlestick in his pocket。 “I—here！
Take it away； my dear。 I don’t know what I am about with it； it’s all
the wind—invariably has that effect—I won’t press you； Rick； you
may be right。 But； really—to get hold of you and Esther—and to
squeeze you like a couple of tender young Saint Michael’s
oranges！—It’ll blow a gale in the course of the night！”
He was now alternately putting his hands into his pockets； as if
he were going to keep them there a long time； and taking them out
again； and vehemently rubbing them all over his head。
I ventured to take this opportunity of hinting that Mr Skimpole；
being in all such matters； quite a child—
“Eh； my dear？” said Mr Jarndyce； catching at the word。
“—Being quite a child； sir；” said I； “and so different from other
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people—“
“You are right！” said Mr Jarndyce； brightening。
“Your woman’s wit hits the mark。 He is a child—an absolute
child。 I told you he was a child； you know； when I first mentioned
him。”
Certainly！ certainly！ we said。
“And he is a child。 Now； isn’t he？” asked Mr Jarndyce；
brightening more and more。
He was indeed； we said。
“When you come to think of it； it’s the height of childishness in
you—I mean me—” said Mr Jarndyce； “to regard him for a
moment as a man。 You can’t make him responsible。 The idea of
Harold Skimpole with designs or plans； or knowledge of
consequences！ Ha； ha； ha！”
It was so delicious to see the clouds about his bright face
clearing； and to see him so heartily pleased； and t
