barnaby rudge(巴纳比·卢杰)-第208节
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matches than soldiers； though； to be sure； when people were past
choosing they must take the best they could get； and think
themselves well off too； but her vexation and chagrin being of that
internally bitter sort which finds no relief in words； and is
aggravated to madness by want of contradiction； she could hold
out no longer； and burst into a storm of sobs and tears。
In this extremity she fell on the unlucky nephew； tooth and nail；
and plucking a handful of hair from his head； demanded to know
how long she was to stand there to be insulted； and whether or no
he meant to help her to carry out the box again； and if he took a
pleasure in hearing his family reviled： with other inquiries of that
nature； at which disgrace and provocation； the small boy； who had
been all this time gradually lashed into rebellion by the sight of
unattainable pastry； walked off indignant； leaving his aunt and the
box to follow at their leisure。 Somehow or other； by dint of
pushing and pulling； they did attain the street at last； where Miss
Miggs； all blowzed with the exertion of getting there； and with her
sobs and tears； sat down upon her property to rest and grieve；
until she could ensnare some other youth to help her home。
‘It’s a thing to laugh at； Martha； not to care for；’ whispered the
locksmith； as he followed his wife to the window； and good…
humouredly dried her eyes。 ‘What does it matter？ You had seen
your fault before。 Come！ Bring up Toby again； my dear； Dolly shall
sing us a song； and we’ll be all the merrier for this interruption！’
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Chapter 81
nother month had passed； and the end of August had
Anearly come； when Mr Haredale stood alone in the mail…
coach office at Bristol。 Although but a few weeks had
intervened since his conversation with Edward Chester and his
niece； in the locksmith’s house； and he had made no change； in the
mean time； in his accustomed style of dress； his appearance was
greatly altered。 He looked much older； and more care…worn。
Agitation and anxiety of mind scatter wrinkles and grey hairs with
no unsparing hand； but deeper traces follow on the silent
uprooting of old habits； and severing of dear； familiar ties。 The
affections may not be so easily wounded as the passions； but their
hurts are deeper； and more lasting。 He was now a solitary man；
and the heart within him was dreary and lonesome。
He was not the less alone for having spent so many years in
seclusion and retirement。 This was no better preparation than a
round of social cheerfulness： perhaps it even increased the
keenness of his sensibility。 He had been so dependent upon her
for companionship and love； she had come to be so much a part
and parcel of his existence； they had had so many cares and
thoughts in common； which no one else had shared； that losing
her was beginning life anew； and being required to summon up
the hope and elasticity of youth； amid the doubts； distrusts； and
weakened energies of age。
The effort he had made to part from her with seeming
cheerfulness and hope—and they had parted only yesterday—left
him the more depressed。 With these feelings； he was about to
revisit London for the last time； and look once more upon the
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Barnaby Rudge 867
walls of their old home； before turning his back upon it； for ever。
The journey was a very different one； in those days； from what
the present generation find it； but it came to an end； as the longest
journey will； and he stood again in the streets of the metropolis。
He lay at the inn where the coach stopped； and resolved； before he
went to bed； that he would make his arrival known to no one；
would spend but another night in London； and would spare
himself the pang of parting； even with the honest locksmith。
Such conditions of the mind as that to which he was a prey
when he lay down to rest； are favourable to the growth of
disordered fancies； and uneasy visions。 He knew this； even in the
horror with which he started from his first sleep； and threw up the
window to dispel it by the presence of some object； beyond the
room； which had not been； as it were； the witness of his dream。
But it was not a new terror of the night； it had been present to him
before； in many shapes； it had haunted him in bygone times； and
visited his pillow again and again。 If it had been but an ugly object；
a childish spectre； haunting his sleep； its return； in its old form；
might have awakened a momentary sensation of fear； which；
almost in the act of waking； would have passed away。 This
disquiet； however； lingered about him； and would yield to nothing。
When he closed his eyes again； he felt it hovering near； as he
slowly sunk into a slumber； he was conscious of its gathering
strength and purpose； and gradually assuming its recent shape；
when he sprang up from his bed； the same phantom vanished
from his heated brain； and left him filled with a dread against
which reason and waking thought were powerless。
The sun was up； before he could shake it off。 He rose late； but
not refreshed； and remained within doors all that day。 He had a
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fancy for paying his last visit to the old spot in the evening； for he
had been accustomed to walk there at that season； and desired to
see it under the aspect that was most familiar to him。 At such an
hour as would afford him time to reach it a little before sunset； he
left the inn； and turned into the busy street。
He had not gone far； and was thoughtfully making his way
among the noisy crowd； when he felt a hand upon his shoulder；
and； turning； recognised one of the waiters from the inn； who
begged his pardon； but he had left his sword behind him。
‘Why have you brought it to me？’ he asked； stretching out his
hand； and yet not taking it from the man； but looking at him in a
disturbed and agitated manner。
The man was sorry to have disobliged him； and would carry it
back again。 The gentleman had said that he was going a little way
into the country； and that he might not return until late。 The roads
were not very safe for single travellers after dark； and； since the
riots； gentlemen had been more careful than ever； not to trust
themselves unarmed in lonely places。 ‘We thought you were a
stranger； sir；’ he added； ‘and that you might believe our roads to
be better than they are； but perhaps you know them well； and
carry fire…arms—’
He took the sword； and putting it up at his side； thanked the
man； and resumed his walk。
It was long remembered that he did this in a manner so
strange； and with such a trembling hand； that the messenger stood
looking after his retreating figure； doubtful whether he ought not
to follow； and watch him。 It was long remembered that he had
been heard pacing his bedroom in the dead of the night； that the
attendants had mentioned to each other in the morning； how
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