adam bede(亚当[1].比德)-第54章
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good； it was part of that decent burial which she would have
thought it a greater wrong to withhold from him than to have
caused him many unhappy days while he was living。 The more
there was said about her husband； the more there was done for
him； surely the safer he would be。 It was poor Lisbeth’s blind way
of feeling that human love and pity are a ground of faith in some
other love。 Seth； who was easily touched； shed tears； and tried to
recall； as he had done continually since his father’s death； all that
he had heard of the possibility that a single moment of
consciousness at the last might be a moment of pardon and
reconcilement； for was it not written in the very psalm they were
singing that the Divine dealings were not measured and
circumscribed by time？ Adam had never been unable to join in a
psalm before。 He had known plenty of trouble and vexation since
he had been a lad； but this was the first sorrow that had hemmed
in his voice； and strangely enough it was sorrow because the chief
source of his past trouble and vexation was for ever gone out of his
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reach。 He had not been able to press his father’s hand before their
parting； and say； “Father； you know it was all right between us； I
never forgot what I owed you when I was a lad； you forgive me if I
have been too hot and hasty now and then！” Adam thought but
little to…day of the hard work and the earnings he had spent on his
father： his thoughts ran constantly on what the old man’s feelings
had been in moments of humiliation； when he had held down his
head before the rebukes of his son。 When our indignation is borne
in submissive silence； we are apt to feel twinges of doubt
afterwards as to our own generosity； if not justice； how much more
when the object of our anger has gone into everlasting silence； and
we have seen his face for the last time in the meekness of death！
“Ah！ I was always too hard；” Adam said to himself。 “It’s a sore
fault in me as I’m so hot and out o’ patience with people when they
do wrong； and my heart gets shut up against ’em； so as I can’t
bring myself to forgive ’em。 I see clear enough there’s more pride
nor love in my soul； for I could sooner make a thousand strokes
with th’ hammer for my father than bring myself to say a kind
word to him。 And there went plenty o’ pride and temper to the
strokes； as the devil will be having his finger in what we call our
duties as well as our sins。 Mayhap the best thing I ever did in my
life was only doing what was easiest for myself。 It’s allays been
easier for me to work nor to sit still； but the real tough job for me
’ud be to master my own will and temper and go right against my
own pride。 It seems to me now； if I was to find Father at home to…
night； I should behave different； but there’s no knowing—perhaps
nothing ’ud be a lesson to us if it didn’t come too late。 It’s well we
should feel as life’s a reckoning we can’t make twice over； there’s
no real making amends in this world； any more nor you can mend
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a wrong subtraction by doing your addition right。”
This was the key…note to which Adam’s thoughts had
perpetually returned since his father’s death； and the solemn wail
of the funeral psalm was only an influence that brought back the
old thoughts with stronger emphasis。 So was the sermon； which
Mr。 Irwine had chosen with reference to Thias’s funeral。 It spoke
briefly and simply of the words； “In the midst of life we are in
death”—how the present moment is all we can call our own for
works of mercy； of righteous dealing； and of family tenderness。 All
very old truths—but what we thought the oldest truth becomes the
most startling to us in the week when we have looked on the dead
face of one who has made a part of our own lives。 For when men
want to impress us with the effect of a new and wonderfully vivid
light； do they not let it fall on the most familiar objects； that we
may measure its intensity by remembering the former dimness？
Then came the moment of the final blessing； when the forever
sublime words； “The peace of God； which passeth all
understanding；” seemed to blend with the calm afternoon
sunshine that fell on the bowed heads of the congregation； and
then the quiet rising； the mothers tying on the bonnets of the little
maidens who had slept through the sermon； the fathers collecting
the prayer…books； until all streamed out through the old archway
into the green churchyard and began their neighbourly talk； their
simple civilities； and their invitations to tea； for on a Sunday every
one was ready to receive a guest—it was the day when all must be
in their best clothes and their best humour。
Mr。 and Mrs。 Poyser paused a minute at the church gate： they
were waiting for Adam to come up； not being contented to go away
without saying a kind word to the widow and her sons。
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“Well； Mrs。 Bede；” said Mrs。 Poyser； as they walked on
together； “you must keep up your heart； husbands and wives must
be content when they’ve lived to rear their children and see one
another’s hair grey。”
“Aye； aye；” said Mr。 Poyser； “they wonna have long to wait for
one another then； anyhow。 And ye’ve got two o’ the strapping’st
sons i’ th’ country； and well you may； for I remember poor Thias
as fine a broad…shouldered fellow as need to be； and as for you；
Mrs。 Bede； why you’re straighter i’ the back nor half the young
women now。”
“Eh；” said Lisbeth； “it’s poor luck for the platter to wear well
when it’s broke i’ two。 The sooner I’m laid under the thorn the
better。 I’m no good to nobody now。”
Adam never took notice of his mother’s little unjust plaints； but
Seth said； “Nay； Mother； thee mustna say so。 Thy sons ’ull never
get another mother。”
“That’s true； lad； that’s true；” said Mr。 Poyser； “and it’s wrong
on us to give way to grief； Mrs。 Bede； for it’s like the children
cryin’ when the fathers and mothers take things from ’em。 There’s
One above knows better nor us。”
“Ah；” said Mrs。 Poyser； “an’ it’s poor work allays settin’ the
dead above the livin’。 We shall all on us be dead some time； I
reckon—it ’ud be better if folks ’ud make much on us beforehand；
i’stid o’ beginnin’ when we’re gone。 It’s but little good you’ll do a…
watering the last year’s crop。”
“Well； Adam；” said Mr。 Poyser； feeling that his wife’s words
were； as usual； rather incisive than soothing； and that it would be
well to change the subject； “you’ll come and see us again now； I
hope。 I hanna had a talk with you this long while； and the missis
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here wants you to see what can be done with her best spinning…
wheel； for it’s got broke； and it’ll be a nice job to mend it—there’ll
want a bit o’ turning。 You’ll come as soon as you can now； will
you？”
Mr。 Poyser paused and looked round while he was speaking； as
if to see where Hetty was； for the children were running on before。
Hetty was not without a companion； and she had； besides； more
pink and white about her than ever； for she held in her hand the
wonderful pink…and…white hot…house plant； with a very long
name—a Scotch name； she supposed； since people said Mr。 Craig
the gardener was Scotch。 Adam took the opportunity of looking
round too； and I am sure you will not require of him that he should
feel any vexation in observing a pouting expression on Hetty’s face
as she listened to the gardener’s small talk。 Yet in her secret heart
she was glad to have him by her side； for she would perhaps learn
from him how it was Arthur had not come to church。 Not that she
cared to ask him the question； but she hoped the information
would be given spontaneously； for Mr。 Craig； like a superior man；
was very fond of giving information。
Mr。 Craig was never aware that his conversation and advances
were received coldly； for to shift one’s point of view beyond certain
limits is impossible to the most liberal and expansive mind； we are
none of us aware of the impression we produce on Brazilian
monkeys of feeble understanding—it is possible they see hardly
anything in us。 Moreover； Mr。 Craig was a man of sober passions；
and was already in his tenth year of hesitation as to the relative
advantages of matrimony and bachelorhood。 It is true that； now
and then； when he had been a little heated by an extra glass of
grog； he had been heard to say of Hetty that the “lass was well
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enough；” and that “a man might do worse”； but on convivial
occasions men are apt to express themselves strongly。
Martin Poyser held Mr。 Craig in honour； as a man who “knew
his business” and who had great lights concerning soils and
compost； but he was less of a favourite with Mrs。 Poyser； wh
