友情提示:如果本网页打开太慢或显示不完整,请尝试鼠标右键“刷新”本网页!阅读过程发现任何错误请告诉我们,谢谢!! 报告错误
麒麟书城 返回本书目录 我的书架 我的书签 TXT全本下载 进入书吧 加入书签

little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第21部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页,按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页,按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部!
————未阅读完?加入书签已便下次继续阅读!



placently answer。

'But look here;' quoth the turnkey。 'Supposing she had; say a brother;
say a father; say a husband; who would be likely to make a grab at that
property when she came into it……how about that?'

'It would be settled on herself; and they would have no more legal claim
on it than you;' would be the professional answer。

'Stop a bit;' said the turnkey。 'Supposing she was tender…hearted; and
they came over her。 Where's your law for tying it up then?'

The deepest character whom the turnkey sounded; was unable to produce
his law for tying such a knot as that。 So; the turnkey thought about it
all his life; and died intestate after all。

But that was long afterwards; when his god…daughter was past sixteen。
The first half of that space of her life was only just acplished;
when her pitiful and plaintive look saw her father a widower。 From that
time the protection that her wondering eyes had expressed towards him;
became embodied in action; and the Child of the Marshalsea took upon
herself a new relation towards the Father。

At first; such a baby could do little more than sit with him; deserting
her livelier place by the high fender; and quietly watching him。 But
this made her so far necessary to him that he became accustomed to her;
and began to be sensible of missing her when she was not there。 Through
this little gate; she passed out of childhood into the care…laden world。

What her pitiful look saw; at that early time; in her father; in her
sister; in her brother; in the jail; how much; or how little of the
wretched truth it pleased God to make visible to her; lies hidden with
many mysteries。 It is enough that she was inspired to be something which
was not what the rest were; and to be that something; different and
laborious; for the sake of the rest。 Inspired? Yes。 Shall we speak of
the inspiration of a poet or a priest; and not of the heart impelled by
love and self…devotion to the lowliest work in the lowliest way of life!

With no earthly friend to help her; or so much as to see her; but the
one so strangely assorted; with no knowledge even of the mon daily
tone and habits of the mon members of the free munity who are not
shut up in prisons; born and bred in a social condition; false even with
a reference to the falsest condition outside the walls; drinking from
infancy of a well whose waters had their own peculiar stain; their own
unwholesome and unnatural taste; the Child of the Marshalsea began her
womanly life。

No matter through what mistakes and discouragements; what ridicule (not
unkindly meant; but deeply felt) of her youth and little figure; what
humble consciousness of her own babyhood and want of strength; even
in the matter of lifting and carrying; through how much weariness
and hopelessness; and how many secret tears; she drudged on; until
recognised as useful; even indispensable。 That time came。 She took the
place of eldest of the three; in all things but precedence; was the
head of the fallen family; and bore; in her own heart; its anxieties and
shames。

At thirteen; she could read and keep accounts; that is; could put down
in words and figures how much the bare necessaries that they wanted
would cost; and how much less they had to buy them with。 She had been;
by snatches of a few weeks at a time; to an evening school outside;
and got her sister and brother sent to day…schools by desultory starts;
during three or four years。 There was no instruction for any of them at
home; but she knew well……no one better……that a man so broken as to be
the Father of the Marshalsea; could be no father to his own children。

To these scanty means of improvement; she added another of her own
contriving。 Once; among the heterogeneous crowd of inmates there
appeared a dancing…master。 Her sister had a great desire to learn the
dancing…master's art; and seemed to have a taste that way。 At thirteen
years old; the Child of the Marshalsea presented herself to the
dancing…master; with a little bag in her hand; and preferred her humble
petition。

'If you please; I was born here; sir。'

'Oh! You are the young lady; are you?' said the dancing…master;
surveying the small figure and uplifted face。

'Yes; sir。'

'And what can I do for you?' said the dancing…master。

'Nothing for me; sir; thank you;' anxiously undrawing the strings of
the little bag; 'but if; while you stay here; you could be so kind as to
teach my sister cheap……'

'My child; I'll teach her for nothing;' said the dancing…master;
shutting up the bag。 He was as good…natured a dancing…master as ever
danced to the Insolvent Court; and he kept his word。 The sister was so
apt a pupil; and the dancing…master had such abundant leisure to bestow
upon her (for it took him a matter of ten weeks to set to his creditors;
lead off; turn the missioners; and right and left back to his
professional pursuits); that wonderful progress was made。 Indeed the
dancing…master was so proud of it; and so wishful to display it before
he left to a few select friends among the collegians; that at six
o'clock on a certain fine morning; a minuet de la cour came off in
the yard……the college…rooms being of too confined proportions for the
purpose……in which so much ground was covered; and the steps were so
conscientiously executed; that the dancing…master; having to play the
kit besides; was thoroughly blown。

The success of this beginning; which led to the dancing…master's
continuing his instruction after his release; emboldened the poor child
to try again。 She watched and waited months for a seamstress。 In the
fulness of time a milliner came in; and to her she repaired on her own
behalf。

'I beg your pardon; ma'am;' she said; looking timidly round the door of
the milliner; whom she found in tears and in bed: 'but I was born here。'

Everybody seemed to hear of her as soon as they arrived; for the
milliner sat up in bed; drying her eyes; and said; just as the
dancing…master had said:

'Oh! You are the child; are you?'

'Yes; ma'am。'

'I am sorry I haven't got anything for you;' said the milliner; shaking
her head。

'It's not that; ma'am。 If you please I want to learn needle…work。'

'Why should you do that;' returned the milliner; 'with me before you? It
has not done me much good。'

'Nothing……whatever it is……seems to have done anybody much good who es
here;' she returned in all simplicity; 'but I want to learn just the
same。'

'I am afraid you are so weak; you see;' the milliner objected。

'I don't think I am weak; ma'am。'

'And you are so very; very little; you see;' the milliner objected。

'Yes; I am afraid I am very little indeed;' returned the Child of the
Marshalsea; and so began to sob over that unfortunate defect of hers;
which came so often in her way。 The milliner……who was not morose or
hard…hearted; only newly insolvent……was touched; took her in hand with
goodwill; found her the most patient and earnest of pupils; and made her
a cunning work…woman in course of time。

In course of time; and in the very self…same course of time; the Father
of the Marshalsea gradually developed a new flower of character。 The
more Fatherly he grew as to the Marshalsea; and the more dependent he
became on the contributions of his changing family; the greater stand
he made by his forlorn gentility。 With the same hand that he pocketed
a collegian's half…crown half an hour ago; he would wipe away the
tears that streamed over his cheeks if any reference were made to his
daughters' earning their bread。 So; over and above other daily cares;
the Child of the Marshalsea had always upon her the care of preserving
the genteel fiction that they were all idle beggars together。

The sister became a dancer。 There was a ruined uncle in the family
group……ruined by his brother; the Father of the Marshalsea; and knowing
no more how than his ruiner did; but accepting the fact as an inevitable
certainty……on whom her protection devolved。 Naturally a retired and
simple man; he had shown no particular sense of being ruined at the time
when that calamity fell upon him; further than that he left off washing
himself when the shock was announced; and never took to that luxury any
more。 H
返回目录 上一页 下一页 回到顶部 0 0
未阅读完?加入书签已便下次继续阅读!
温馨提示: 温看小说的同时发表评论,说出自己的看法和其它小伙伴们分享也不错哦!发表书评还可以获得积分和经验奖励,认真写原创书评 被采纳为精评可以获得大量金币、积分和经验奖励哦!