bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第70节
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It quite shocked me to hear it； for； I had already recalled； with
anything but a serious association； the image of the man sitting on
the sofa that night； wiping his head。
“His successor informed me of it yesterday；” said Mr Skimpole。
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“His successor is in my house now—in possession； I think he calls
it。 He came yesterday； on my blue…eyed daughter’s birthday。 I put
it to him； ‘This is unreasonable and inconvenient。 If you had a
blue…eyed daughter you wouldn’t like me to come； uninvited； on
her birthday？’ But； he stayed。”
Mr Skimpole laughed at the pleasant absurdity； and lightly
touched the piano by which he was seated。
“And he told me；” he said； playing little chords where I shall
put full stops； “That Coavinses had left。 Three children。 No
mother。 And that Coavinses’ profession。 Being unpopular。 The
rising Coavinses。 Were at a considerable disadvantage。”
Mr Jarndyce got up； rubbing his head； and began to walk about。
Mr Skimpole played the melody of one of Ada’s favourite songs。
Ada and I both looked at Mr Jarndyce； thinking that we knew
what was passing in his mind。
After walking； and stopping； and several times leaving off
rubbing his head； and beginning again； my Guardian put his hand
upon the keys and stopped Mr Skimpole’s playing。 “I don’t like
this； Skimpole；” he said thoughtfully。
Mr Skimpole； who had quite forgotten the subject； looked up
surprised。
“The man was necessary；” pursued my Guardian； walking
backward and forward in the very short space between the piano
and the end of the room； and rubbing his hair up from the back of
his head as if a high east wind had blown it into that form。 “If we
make such men necessary by our faults and follies； or by our want
of worldly knowledge； or by our misfortunes； we must not revenge
ourselves upon them。 There was no harm in his trade。 He
maintained his children。 One would like to know more about this。”
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“O！ Coavinses？” cried Mr Skimpole； at length perceiving what
he meant。 “Nothing easier。 A walk to Coavinses’ headquarters；
and you can know what you will。”
Mr Jarndyce nodded to us； who were only waiting for the
signal。 “Come！ We will walk that way； my dears。 Why not that way；
as soon as another！” We were quickly ready； and went out。 Mr
Skimpole went with us； and quite enjoyed the expedition。 It was so
new and so refreshing； he said； for him to want Coavinses； instead
of Coavinses wanting him！
He took us； first； to Cursitor Street； Chancery Lane； where
there was a house with barred windows； which he called
Coavinses’ Castle。 On our going into the entry and ringing a bell； a
very hideous boy came out of a sort of office； and looked at us over
a spiked wicket。
“Who did you want？” said the boy； fitting two of the spikes into
his chin。
“There was a follower； or an officer； or something； here；” said
Mr Jarndyce； “who is dead。”
“Yes？” said the boy。 “Well？”
“I want to know his name； if you please？”
“Name of Neckett；” said the boy。
“And his address？”
“Bell Yard；” said the boy。 “Chandler’s shop； left hand side；
name of Blinder。”
“Was he—I don’t know how to shape the question；” murmured
my Guardian—“industrious？”
“Was Neckett？” said the boy。 “Yes； wery much so。 He was
never tired of watching。 He’d set upon a post at a street corner；
eight or ten hours at a stretch； if he undertook to do it。”
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“He might have done worse；” I heard my Guardian soliloquise。
“He might have undertaken to do it； and not done it。 Thank you。
That’s all I want。”
We left the boy； with his head on one side； and his arms on the
gate； fondling and sucking the spikes； and went back to Lincoln’s
Inn； where Mr Skimpole； who had not cared to remain nearer
Coavinses； awaited us。 Then； we all went to Bell Yard； a narrow
alley； at a very short distance。 We soon found the chandler’s shop。
In it； was a good…natured…looking old woman； with a dropsy； or an
asthma； or perhaps both。
“Neckett’s children？” said she； in reply to my inquiry。 “Yes；
surely； miss。 Three pair； if you please。 Door right opposite the top
of the stairs。” And she handed me a key across the counter。
I glanced at the key； and glanced at her； but she took it for
granted that I knew what to do with it。 As it could only be
intended for the children’s door； I came out； without asking
anymore questions； and led the way up the dark stairs。 We went as
quietly as we could； but； four of us made some noise on the aged
boards； and； when we came to the second story； we found we had
disturbed a man who was standing there； looking out of his room。
“Is it Gridley that’s wanted？” he said； fixing his eyes on me with
an angry stare。
“No； sir；” said I； “I am going higher up。”
He looked at Ada； and at Mr Jarndyce； and at Mr Skimpole：
fixing the same angry stare on each in succession； as they passed
and followed me。 Mr Jarndyce gave him good day。 “Good day！” he
said； abruptly and fiercely。 He was a tall sallow man with a
careworn head； on which but little hair remained； a deeply lined
face； and prominent eyes。 He had a combative look； and a chafing；
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irritable manner； which； associated with his figure—still large and
powerful； though evidently in its decline—rather alarmed me。 He
had a pen in his hand； and； in the glimpse I caught of his room in
passing； I saw that it was covered with a litter of papers。
Leaving him standing there； we went up to the top room。 I
tapped at the door； and a little shrill voice inside said； “We are
locked in。 Mrs Blinder’s got the key！”
I applied the key on hearing this； and opened the door。 In a
poor room； with a sloping ceiling； and containing very little
furniture； was a mite of a boy； some five or six years old； nursing
and hushing a heavy child of eighteen months。 There was no fire；
though the weather was cold； both children were wrapped in some
poor shawls and tippets； as a substitute。 Their clothing was not so
warm； however； but that their noses looked red and pinched； and
their small figures shrunken； as the boy walked up and down；
nursing and hushing the child with its head on his shoulder。
“Who has locked you up her alone？” we naturally asked。
“Charley；” said the boy； standing still to gaze at us。
“Is Charley your brother？”
“No。 She’s my sister Charlotte。 Father called her Charley。”
“Are there any more of you besides Charley？”
“Me；” said the boy； “and Emma；” patting the limp bonnet of the
child he was nursing。 “And Charley。”
“Where is Charley now？”
“Out a…washing；” said the boy； beginning to walk up and down
again； and taking the nankeen bonnet much too near the
bedstead； by trying to gaze at us at the same time。
We were looking at one another； and at these two children；
when there came into the room a very little girl； childish in figure
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but shrewd and older…looking in the face—pretty…faced too—
