hard times(艰难时世)-第49章
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Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
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Hard Times 259
Sparsit； straining her hawk’s eyes to the utmost。 Mrs Sparsit was
too distant to hear a word of their discourse； or even to know that
they were speaking softly； otherwise than from the expression of
their figures； but what they said was this：
“You recollect the man； Mr Harthouse？”
“Oh； perfectly！”
“His face； and his manner； and what he said？”
“Perfectly。 And an infinitely dreary person he appeared to me
to be。 Lengthy and prosy in the extreme。 It was knowing to hold
forth； in the humble…virtue school of eloquence； but； I assure you I
thought at the time； ‘My good fellow； you are over…doing this！’”
“It has been very difficult to me to think ill of that man。”
“My dear Louisa—as Tom says。” Which he never did say。 “You
know no good of the fellow？”
“No； certainly。”
“Nor of any other such person？”
“How can I；” she returned； with more of her first manner on
her than he had lately seen； “when I know nothing of them； men
or women？”
“My dear Louisa； then consent to receive the submissive
representation of your devoted friend； who knows something of
several varieties of his excellent fellow…creatures—for excellent
they are； I am quite ready to believe； in spite of such little foibles
as always helping themselves to what they can get hold of。 This
fellow talks。 Well； every fellow talks。 He professes morality。 Well；
all sorts of humbugs profess morality。 From the House of
Commons to the House of Correction； there is a general profession
of morality； except among our people； it really is that exception
which makes our people quite reviving。 You saw and heard the
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
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Hard Times 260
case。 Here was one of the fluffy classes pulled up extremely short
by my esteemed friend Mr Bounderby—who； as we know； is not
possessed of that delicacy which would soften so tight a hand。 The
member of the fluffy classes was injured； exasperated； left the
house grumbling； met somebody who proposed to him to go in for
some share in this Bank business； went in； put something in his
pocket which had nothing in it before； and relieved his mind
extremely。 Really he would have been an uncommon； instead of a
common； fellow； if he had not availed himself of such an
opportunity。 Or he may have originated it altogether； if he had the
cleverness。”
“I almost feel as though it must be bad in me；” returned Louisa；
after sitting thoughtful awhile； to be so ready to agree with you；
and to be so lightened in my heart by what you say。”
“I only say what is reasonable； nothing worse。 I have talked it
over with my friend Tom more than once—of course I remain on
terms of perfect confidence with Tom—and he is quite of my
opinion； and I am quite of his。 Will you walk？”
They strolled away； among the lanes beginning to be indistinct
in the twilight—she leaning on his arm—and she little thought
how she was going down； down； down； Mrs Sparsit’s staircase。
Night and day； Mrs Sparsit kept it standing。 When Louisa had
arrived at the bottom and disappeared in the gulf； it might fall in
upon her if it would； but； until then； there it was to be a Building；
before Mrs Sparsit’s eyes。 And there Louisa always was； upon it。
And always gliding down； down； down！
Mrs Sparsit saw James Harthouse come and go； she heard of
him here and there； she saw the changes of the face he had
studied； she； too； remarked to a nicety how and when it clouded；
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
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Hard Times 261
how and when it cleared； she kept her black eyes wide open； with
no touch of pity； with no touch of compunction； all absorbed in
interest。 In the interest of seeing her； ever drawing； with no hand
to stay her； nearer and nearer to the bottom of this new Giant’s
Staircase。
With all her deference for Mr Bounderby as contra…
distinguished from his portrait； Mrs Sparsit had not the smallest
intention of interrupting the descent。 Eager to see it accomplished；
and yet patient； she waited for the last fall； as for the ripeness and
fulness of the harvest of her ropes。 Hushed in expectancy； she kept
her wary gaze upon the stairs； and seldom so much as darkly
shook her right mitten （with her fist in it）； at the figure coming
down。
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
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Hard Times 262
Chapter 11
Lower And Lower
he figure descended the great stairs steadily； steadily；
always verging； like a weight in deep water； to the black
T
gulf at the bottom。
Mr Gradgrind； apprised of his wife’s decease； made an
expedition from London； and buried her in a businesslike manner。
He then returned with promptitude to the national cinder…heap；
and resumed his sifting for the odds and ends he wanted； and his
throwing of the dust about into the eyes of other people who
wanted other odds and ends—in fact resumed his parliamentary
duties。
In the mean time； Mrs Sparsit kept unwinking watch and ward。
Separated from her staircase； all the week； by the length of iron
road dividing Coketown from the country…house； she yet
maintained her cat…like observation of Louisa； through her
husband； through her brother； through James Harthouse； through
the outsides of letters and packets； through everything animate
and inanimate that at any time went near the stairs。 “Your foot is
on the last step； my lady；” said Mrs Sparsit； apostrophising the
descending figure； with the aid of her threatening mitten； “and all
your art shall never blind me。”
Art or nature though； the original stock of Louisa’s character or
the graft of circumstances upon it；—her curious reserve did baffle；
while it stimulated； one as sagacious as Mrs Sparsit。 There were
times when Mr James Harthouse was not sure of her。 There were
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
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Hard Times 263
times when he could not read the face he had studied so long； and
when this lonely girl was a greater mystery to him； than any
woman of the world with a ring of satellites to help her。
So the time went on； until it happened that Mr Bounderby was
called away from home by business which required his presence
elsewhere； for three or four days。 It was on a Friday that he
intimated this to Mrs Sparsit at the Bank； adding： “But you’ll go
down tomorrow； ma’am； all the same。 You’ll go down just as if I
was there。 It will make no difference to you。”
“Pray； sir；” returned Mrs Sparsit； reproachfully； “let me beg
you not to say that。 Your absence will make a vast difference to
me； sir； as I think you very well know。”
“Well； ma’am； then you must get on in my absence as well as
you can；” said Bounderby； not displeased。
“Mr Bounderby；” retorted Mrs Sparsit； “your will is to me a
law； sir； otherwise； it might be my inclination to dispute your kind
commands； not feeling sure that it will be quite so agreeable to
Miss Gradgrind to receive me； as it ever is to your own munificent
hospitality。 But you shall say no more； sir。 I will go； upon your
invitation。”
“Why； when I invite you to my house； ma’am；” said Bounderby；
opening his eyes； “I should hope you want no other invitation。”
“No； indeed； sir；” returned Mrs Sparsit； “I should hope not。 Say
no more； sir； I would； sir； I could see you gay again。”
“What do you mean； ma’am？” blustered Bounderby。
“Sir；” rejoined Mrs Sparsit； “there was wont to be an elasticity
in you which I sadly miss。 Be buoyant； sir！”
Mr Bounderby； under the influence of this difficult adjuration；
backed up by her compassionate eye； could only scratch his head
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Hard Times 264
in a feeble and ridiculous manner； and afterwards assert himself
at a distance； by being heard to bully the small fry of business all
the morning。
“Bitzer；” said Mrs Sparsit that afternoon； when her patron was
gone on his journey； and the Bank was closing； “present my
compliments to young Mr Thomas； and ask him if he would step
up and partake of a lamb chop and walnut ketchup； with a glass of
India ale？” Young Mr Thomas being usually ready for anything in
that way； returned a gracious answer； and followed on its heels。
“Mr Thomas；” said Mrs Sparsit； “these plain viands being on
table； I thought you might be tempted。”
“Thank’ee； Mrs Sparsit；” said the whelp。 And gloomily fell to。
“How is Mr Harthouse； Mr Tom？” asked Mrs Sparsit。
“Oh； he’s all right；” said Tom。
“Where may he be at present？” Mrs Sparsit asked in a light
conversational manner； after mentally devoting the whelp to the
Furies for being so uncommunicative。
“He is shooting in Yorkshire；” said Tom。 “Sent Loo a basket
