stories by english authors in london(英国作家在伦敦的故事)-第23节
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stooped down to stroke it； and was just touching its sleek coat when he
suddenly withdrew his hand and groaned deeply。 He struggled to the
recess； and sank back。 The stick fell on the stone with a clatter； and the
battered hat rolled down beside it； and the white cat fled away in terror；
but realising that there was no cause for alarm； it came back and crouched
near the silent figure of the old man； watching him intently。 Then it
stretched out its paw and played with his hand； doing its utmost to coax
him into a little fun； but he would not be coaxed； and the cat lost all
patience with him； and left him to himself。
Meanwhile Helen Stanley was looking for the lost Lucretius in the
Poets' Corner。 She found it laying near Chaucer's tomb； and was just going
to take it to her friend when she saw the workman to whom they had
spoken in Trafalgar Square。 He recognised her at once； and came toward
her。
〃I've been having a quiet half…hour here；〃 he said。 〃It does me a sight
of good to sit in the abbey。〃
〃You should go into the cloisters；〃 she said； kindly。 〃I have been sitting
there with my friend。 He will be interested to hear that you love this
beautiful abbey。〃
〃I should like to see him again；〃 said the workman。 〃He had a kind
way about him； and that pipe he gave me is an uncommon good one。 Still；
I am sorry I smashed the little clay pipe。 I'd grown used to it。 I'd smoked it
ever since my little girl died and left me alone in the world。 I used to bring
my little girl here； and now I come alone。 But it isn't the same thing。〃
〃No； it could not be the same thing；〃 said Helen； gently。 〃But you find
some comfort here？〃
〃Some little comfort；〃 he answered。 〃One can't expect much。〃
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They went together into the cloisters； and as they came near the recess
where the old man rested Helen said：
〃Why； he has fallen asleep！ He must have been very tired。 And he has
dropped his hat and stick。 Thank you。 If you will put them down there； I
will watch by his side until he wakes up。 I don't suppose he will sleep for
long。〃
The workman stooped down to pick up the hat and stick； and glanced
at the sleeper。 Something in the sleeper's countenance arrested his
attention。 He turned to the girl； and saw that she was watching him。
〃What is it？〃 she asked anxiously。 〃What is the matter with you？〃
He tried to speak； but his voice failed him； and all he could do was to
point with trembling hand to the old man。
Helen looked； and a loud cry broke from her lips。 The old man was
dead。
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THE OMNIBUS
BY QUILLER…COUCH
All that follows was spoken in a small tavern； a stone's throw from
Cheapside； the day before I left London。 It was spoken in a dull voice；
across a greasy table…cloth； and amid an atmosphere so thick with the reek
of cooking that one longed to change it for the torrid street again； to broil
in an ampler furnace。 Old Tom Pickford spoke it； who has been a clerk for
fifty…two years in Tweedy's East India warehouse； and in all that time has
never been out of London； but when he takes a holiday spends it in
hanging about Tweedy's； and observing that unlovely place of business
from the outside。 The dust； if not the iron； of Tweedy's has entered into his
soul； and Tweedy's young men know him as 〃the Mastodon。〃 He is a thin；
bald septuagenarian； with sloping shoulders； and a habit of regarding the
pavement when he walks； so that he seems to steer his way by instinct
rather than sight。 In general he keeps silence while eating his chop； and on
this occasion there was something unnatural in his utterance； a divorce of
manner between the speaker and his words； such as one would expect in a
sibyl disclaiming under stress of the god。 I fancied it had something to do
with a black necktie that he wore instead of the blue bird's…eye cravat
familiar to Tweedy's； and with his extraordinary conduct in refusing to…day
the chop that the waiter brought； and limiting his lunch to cheese and
lettuce。
Having pulled the lettuce to pieces； he pushed himself back a little
from the table； looked over his spectacles at me； then at the table… cloth；
and began in a dreamy voice：
〃Old Gabriel is dead。 I heard the news at the office this morning； and
went out and bought a black tie。 I am the oldest man in Tweedy's now
older by six years than Sam Collins； who comes next； so there is no
mistake about it。 Sam is looking for the place； I saw it in his eye when he
told me； and I expect he'll get it。 But I'm the oldest clerk in Tweedy's。 Only
God Almighty can alter that； and it's very satisfactory to me。 I don't care
about the money。 Sam Collins will be stuck up over it； like enough； but
he'll never write a hand like Gabriel's； not if he lives to be a hundred； and
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he knows it； and knows I'll be there to remind him of it。 Gabriel's was a
beautiful fistso small； too； if he chose。 Why； once； in his spare hours； he
wrote out all the Psalms； with the headings； on one side of a folio sheet；
and had it framed and hung up in his parlour； out at Shepherd's Bush。 He
died in the nightoh yes； quite easily。 He was down at the office all
yesterday； and spoke to me as brisk as a bird。 They found him dead in his
bed this morning。
〃I seem cut up about it？ Well； not exactly。 Ah； you noticed that I
refused my chop to…day。 Bless your soul； that's not on Gabriel's account。 I
am well on in years； and I suppose it would be natural of me to pity old
men； and expect pity。 But I can't； no； /it's only the young that I pity/。 If you
/must/ know； I didn't take the chop to…day because I haven't the money in
my pocket to pay for it。 You see； there was this black tie that I gave
eighteenpence for； but something else happened this morning that I'll tell
you about。
〃I came down in a 'bus； as usual。 You remember what muggy weather
it was up to ten o'clockthough you wouldn't think it； to feel the heat now。
Well； the 'bus was packed； inside and out。 At least； there was just room for
one more inside when we pulled up by Charing Cross； and there he got in…
…a boy with a stick and a bundle in a blue handkerchief。
〃He wasn't more than thirteen； bound for the docks； you could tell at a
glance； and by the way he looked about you could tell as easily that in
stepping outside Charing Cross station he'd set foot on London stones for
the first time。 God knows how it struck himthe slush and drizzle； the
ugly shop…fronts； the horses slipping in the brown mud； the crowd on the
pavement pushing him this side and that。 The poor little chap was standing
in the middle of it with dazed eyes； like a hare's； when the 'bus pulled up。
His eyelids were pink and swollen； but he wasn't crying； though he wanted
to。 Instead； he gave a gulp as he came on board with stick and bundle； and
tried to look brave as a lion。
〃I'd have given worlds to speak to him； but I couldn't。 On my word； sir；
I should have cried。 It wasn't so much the little chap's look。 But to the knot
of his bundle there was tied a bunch of cottage flowers；sweet…williams；
boy's…love； and a rose or two；and the sight and smell of them in that
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stuffy omnibus were like tears on thirsty eyelids。 It's the young that I pity；
sir。 For Gabriel； in his bed up at Shepherd's Bush； there's no more to be
said； as far as I can see； and as for me； I'm the oldest clerk in Tweedy's；
which is very satisfactory。 It's the young faces； set toward the road along
which we have travelled； that trouble me。 Sometimes； sir； I lie awake in
my lodgings and listen； and the whole of this London seems filled with the
sound of children's feet running； and I can sob aloud。 You may say that it
is only selfishness； and what I
