adam bede(亚当[1].比德)-第73章
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with his pale sister Anne。 No other friend of the family； besides
Mr。 Gawaine； was invited to…day； there was to be a grand dinner
for the neighbouring gentry on the morrow； but to…day all the
forces were required for the entertainment of the tenants。
There was a sunk fence in front of the marquee； dividing the
lawn from the park； but a temporary bridge had been made for the
passage of the victors； and the groups of people standing； or seated
here and there on benches； stretched on each side of the open
space from the white marquees up to the sunk fence。
“Upon my word it’s a pretty sight；” said the old lady； in her
deep voice； when she was seated； and looked round on the bright
scene with its dark…green background； “and it’s the last fete…day
I’m likely to see； unless you make haste and get married； Arthur。
But take care you get a charming bride； else I would rather die
without seeing her。”
“You’re so terribly fastidious； godmother；” said Arthur； “I’m
afraid I should never satisfy you with my choice。”
“Well； I won’t forgive you if she’s not handsome。 I can’t be put
off with amiability； which is always the excuse people are making
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for the existence of plain people。 And she must not be silly； that
will never do； because you’ll want managing； and a silly woman
can’t manage you。 Who is that tall young man； Dauphin； with the
mild face？ There； standing without his hat； and taking such care of
that tall old woman by the side of him—his mother； of course。 I
like to see that。”
“What； don’t you know him； Mother？” said Mr。 Irwine。 “That is
Seth Bede； Adam’s brother—a Methodist； but a very good fellow。
Poor Seth has looked rather down…hearted of late； I thought it was
because of his father’s dying in that sad way； but Joshua Rann
tells me he wanted to marry that sweet little Methodist preacher
who was here about a month ago； and I suppose she refused him。”
“Ah； I remember hearing about her。 But there are no end of
people here that I don’t know； for they’re grown up and altered so
since I used to go about。”
“What excellent sight you have！” said old Mr。 Donnithorne； who
was holding a double glass up to his eyes； “to see the expression of
that young man’s face so far off。 His face is nothing but a pale
blurred spot to me。 But I fancy I have the advantage of you when
we come to look close。 I can read small print without spectacles。”
“Ah； my dear sir； you began with being very near…sighted； and
those near…sighted eyes always wear the best。 I want very strong
spectacles to read with； but then I think my eyes get better and
better for things at a distance。 I suppose if I could live another fifty
years； I should be blind to everything that wasn’t out of other
people’s sight； like a man who stands in a well and sees nothing
but the stars。”
“See；” said Arthur； “the old women are ready to set out on their
race now。 Which do you bet on； Gawaine？”
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“The long…legged one； unless they’re going to have several
heats； and then the little wiry one may win。”
“There are the Poysers； Mother； not far off on the right hand；”
said Miss Irwine。 “Mrs。 Poyser is looking at you。 Do take notice of
her。”
“To be sure I will；” said the old lady； giving a gracious bow to
Mrs。 Poyser。 “A woman who sends me such excellent cream…
cheese is not to be neglected。 Bless me！ What a fat child that is she
is holding on her knee！ But who is that pretty girl with dark eyes？”
“That is Hetty Sorrel；” said Miss Lydia Donnithorne； “Martin
Poyser’s niece—a very likely young person； and well…looking too。
My maid has taught her fine needlework； and she has mended
some lace of mine very respectably indeed—very respectably。”
“Why； she has lived with the Poysers six or seven years；
Mother； you must have seen her；” said Miss Irwine。
“No； I’ve never seen her； child—at least not as she is now；” said
Mrs。 Irwine； continuing to look at Hetty。 “Well…looking； indeed！
She’s a perfect beauty！ I’ve never seen anything so pretty since my
young days。 What a pity such beauty as that should be thrown
away among the farmers； when it’s wanted so terribly among the
good families without fortune！ I daresay； now； she’ll marry a man
who would have thought her just as pretty if she had had round
eyes and red hair。”
Arthur dared not turn his eyes towards Hetty while Mrs。 Irwine
was speaking of her。 He feigned not to hear； and to be occupied
with something on the opposite side。 But he saw her plainly
enough without looking； saw her in heightened beauty； because he
heard her beauty praised—for other men’s opinion； you know； was
like a native climate to Arthur’s feelings： it was the air on which
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they thrived the best； and grew strong。 Yes！ she was enough to
turn any man’s head： any man in his place would have done and
felt the same。 And to give her up after all； as he was determined to
do； would be an act that he should always look back upon with
pride。
“No； Mother；” and Mr。 Irwine； replying to her last words； “I
can’t agree with you there。 The common people are not quite so
stupid as you imagine。 The commonest man； who has his ounce of
sense and feeling； is conscious of the difference between a lovely；
delicate woman and a coarse one。 Even a dog feels a difference in
their presence。 The man may be no better able than the dog to
explain the influence the more refined beauty has on him； but he
feels it。”
“Bless me； Dauphin； what does an old bachelor like you know
about it？”
“Oh； that is one of the matters in which old bachelors are wiser
than married men； because they have time for more general
contemplation。 Your fine critic of woman must never shackle his
judgment by calling one woman his own。 But； as an example of
what I was saying； that pretty Methodist preacher I mentioned just
now told me that she had preached to the roughest miners and
had never been treated with anything but the utmost respect and
kindness by them。 The reason is—though she doesn’t know it—
that there’s so much tenderness； refinement； and purity about her。
Such a woman as that brings with her ‘airs from heaven’ that the
coarsest fellow is not insensible to。”
“Here’s a delicate bit of womanhood； or girlhood； coming to
receive a prize； I suppose；” said Mr。 Gawaine。 “She must be one of
the racers in the sacks； who had set off before we came。”
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The “bit of womanhood” was our old acquaintance Bessy
Cranage； otherwise Chad’s Bess； whose large red cheeks and
blowsy person had undergone an exaggeration of colour； which； if
she had happened to be a heavenly body； would have made her
sublime。 Bessy； I am sorry to say； had taken to her ear…rings again
since Dinah’s departure； and was otherwise decked out in such
small finery as she could muster。 Any one who could have looked
into poor Bessy’s heart would have seen a striking resemblance
between her little hopes and anxieties and Hetty’s。 The advantage；
perhaps； would have been on Bessy’s side in the matter of feeling。
But then； you see； they were so very different outside！ You would
have been inclined to box Bessy’s ears； and you would have longed
to kiss Hetty。
Bessy had been tempted to run the arduous race； partly from
mere hedonish gaiety； partly because of the prize。 Some one had
said there were to be cloaks and other nice clothes for prizes； and
she approached the marquee； fanning herself with her
handkerchief； but with exultation sparkling in her round eyes。
“Here is the prize for the first sack…race；” said Miss Lydia；
taking a large parcel from the table where the prizes were laid and
giving it to Mrs。 Irwine before Bessy came up； “an excellent
grogram gown and a piece of flannel。”
“You didn’t think the winner was to be so young； I suppose；
Aunt？” said Arthur。 “Couldn’t you find something else for this girl；
and save that grim…looking gown for one of the older women？”
“I have bought nothing but what is useful and substantial；” said
Miss Lydia； adjusting her own lace； “I should not think of
encouraging a love of finery in young women of that class。 I have a
scarlet cloak； but that is for the old woman who wins。”
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This speech of Miss Lydia’s produced rather a mocking
expression in Mrs。 Irwine’s face as she looked at Arthur； while
Bessy came up and dropped a series of curtsies。
“This is Bessy Cranage； mother；” said Mr。 Irwine； kindly；
“Chad Cranage’s daughter。 You remember Chad Cranage； the
blacksmith？”
“Yes； to be sure；” said Mrs。 Irwine。 “Well； Bessy； here i
