hard times(艰难时世)-第63章
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this very day； to Sissy； when Rachael spoke of some one who
would be confounded by Stephen’s return； having put him out of
the way。 Louisa had never spoken of harbouring any suspicion of
her brother in connection with the robbery； she and Sissy had
held no confidence on the subject； save in that one interchange of
looks when the unconscious father rested his grey head on his
hand； but it was understood between them； and they both knew it。
This other fear was so awful； that it hovered about each of them
like a ghostly shadow； neither daring to think of its being near
herself； far less of its being near the other。
And still the forced spirit which the whelp had plucked up；
throve with him。 If Stephen Blackpool was not the thief； let him
show himself。 Why didn’t he？
Another night。 Another day and night。 No Stephen Blackpool。
Where was the man； and why did he not come back？
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Chapter 6
The Starlight
he Sunday was a bright Sunday in autumn； clear and cool；
when early in the morning Sissy and Rachael met； to walk
T
in the country。
As Coketown cast ashes not only on its own head but on the
neighbourhood’s too—after the manner of those pious persons
who do penance for their own sins by putting other people into
sackcloth—it was customary for those who now and then thirsted
for a draught of pure air； which is not absolutely the most wicked
among the vanities of life； to get a few miles away by the railroad；
and then begin their walk； or their lounge in the fields。 Sissy and
Rachael helped themselves out of the smoke by the usual means；
and were put down at a station about midway between the town
and Mr Bounderby’s retreat。
Though the green landscape was blotted here and there with
heaps of coal； it was green elsewhere； and there were trees to see；
and there were larks singing （though it was Sunday）； and there
were pleasant scents in the air； and all was overarched by a bright
blue sky。 In the distance one way； Coketown showed as a black
mist； in another distance； hills began to rise； in a third； there was a
faint change in the light of the horizon； where it shone upon the
far…off sea。 Under their feet； the grass was fresh； beautiful shadows
of branches flickered upon it； and speckled it； hedgerows were
luxuriant； everything was at peace。 Engines at pits’ mouths； and
lean old horses that had worn the circle of their daily labour into
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the ground； were alike quiet； wheels had ceased for a short space
to turn； and the great wheel of earth seemed to revolve without the
shocks and noises of another time。
They walked on across the fields and down the shady lanes；
sometimes getting over a fragment of a fence so rotten that it
dropped at a touch of the foot； sometimes passing near a wreck of
bricks and beams overgrown with grass； marking the site of
deserted works。 They followed paths and tracks； however slight。
Mounds where the grass was rank and high； and where brambles；
dock…weed； and such…like vegetation； were confusedly heaped
together； they always avoided； for dismal stories were told in that
country of the old pits hidden beneath such indications。
The sun was high when they sat down to rest。 They had seen no
one； near or distant； for a long time； and the solitude remained
unbroken。 “It is so still here； Rachael； and the way is so
untrodden； that I think we must be the first who have been here
all the summer。”
As Sissy said it her eyes were attracted by another of those
rotten fragments of fence upon the ground。 She got up to look at it。
“And yet I don’t know。 This has not been broken very long。 The
wood is quite fresh where it gave way。 Here are footsteps too。—O
Rachael！”
She ran back and caught her round the neck。 Rachael had
already started up。
“What is the matter？”
“I don’t know。 There is a hat lying in the grass。”
They went forward together。 Rachael took it up； shaking from
head to foot。 She broke into a passion of tears and lamentations：
Stephen Blackpool was written in his own hand on the inside。
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“O the poor lad； the poor lad！ He had been made away with。 He
is lying murdered here！”
“Is there—has the hat any blood upon it？” Sissy faltered。
They were afraid to look； but they did examine it； and found no
mark of violence； inside or out。 It had been lying there for some
days； for rain and dew had stained it； and the mark of its shape
was on the grass where it had fallen。 They looked fearfully about
them； without moving； but could see nothing more。 “Rachael；”
Sissy whispered； “I will go on a little by myself。”
She had unclasped her hand； and was in the act of stepping
forward； when Rachael caught her in both arms with a scream
that resounded over the wide landscape。 Before them； at their
very feet； was the brink of a black ragged chasm hidden by the
thick grass。 They sprang back； and fell upon their knees； each
hiding her face upon the other’s neck。
“O； my good Lord！ He’s down there！ Down there！” At first this；
and her terrific screams； were all that could be got from Rachael；
by any tears； by any prayers； by any representations； by any
means。 It was impossible to hush her； and it was deadly necessary
to hold her； or she would have flung herself down the shaft。
“Rachael； dear Rachael； good Rachael； for the love of Heaven
not these dreadful cries！ Think of Stephen； think of Stephen； think
of Stephen！”
By an earnest repetition of this entreaty； poured out in all the
agony of such a moment； Sissy at last brought her to be silent； and
to look at her with a tearless face of stone。
“Rachael； Stephen may be living。 You wouldn’t leave him lying
maimed at the bottom of this dreadful place； a moment； if you
could bring help to him！”
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“No； no； no！”
“Don’t stir from here； for his sake！ Let me go and listen。”
She shuddered to approach the pit； but she crept towards it on
her hands and knees； and called to him as loud as she could call。
She listened； but no sound replied。 She called again and listened；
still no answering sound。 She did this； twenty； thirty times。 She
took a little clod of earth from the broken ground where he had
stumbled and threw it in。 She could not hear it fall。
The wide prospect； so beautiful in its stillness but a few minutes
ago； almost carried despair to her brave heart； as she rose and
looked all round her； seeing no help。 “Rachael； we must lose not a
moment。 We must go in different directions； seeking aid。 You shall
go by the way we have come； and I will go forward by the path。
Tell any one you see； and every one what has happened。 Think of
Stephen； think of Stephen！”
She knew by Rachael’s face that she might trust her now。 And
after standing for a moment to see her running； wringing her
hands as she ran； she turned and went upon her own search； she
stopped at the hedge to tie her shawl there as a guide to the place；
then threw her bonnet aside； and ran as she had never run before。
Run； Sissy； run； in Heaven’s name！ Don’t stop for breath。 Run；
run！ Quickening herself by carrying such entreaties in her
thoughts； she ran from field to field； and lane to lane； and place to
place； as she had never run before； until she came to a shed by an
engine…house； where two men lay in the shade； asleep on straw。
First to wake them； and next to tell them； all so wild and
breathless as she was； what had brought her there； were
difficulties； but they no sooner understood her than their spirits
were on fire like hers。 One of the men was in a drunken slumber；
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but on his comrade’s shouting to him that a man had fallen down
the Old Hell Shaft； he started out to a pool of dirty water； put his
head in it； and came back sober。
With these two men she ran to another half…a…mile further； and
with that one to another； while they ran elsewhere。 Then a horse
was found； and she got another man to ride for life or death to the
railroad； and send a message to Louisa； which she wrote and gave
him。 By this time a whole village was up； and windlasses； poles；
candles； lanterns； all things necessary； were fast collecting and
being brought into one place； to be carried to the Old Hell Shaft。
It seemed now hours and hours since she had left the lost man
lying in the grave where he had been buried alive。 She could not
bear to remain away from it any longer—it was like deserting
him—and she hurried swiftly back； accompanied by half…a…dozen
labourers； including the drunken man whom the news had
sobered； and who was the best man of all。 When they came to the
Old Hell Shaft； they found it as lonely as she had
