英语天堂-第45部分

快捷操作: 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! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


“Well！”　said　Miss　Ophelia；　“you　southern　children　can　do　something　that　I　couldn’t。”
“What；　now；　pray？”　said　St。　Clare。
“Well；　I　want　to　be　kind　to　everybody；　and　I　wouldn’t　have　anything　hurt；　but　as　to　kissing—”
“Niggers；”　said　St。　Clare；　“that　you’re　not　up　to；—hey？”
“Yes；　that’s　it。　How　can　she？”
St。　Clare　laughed；　as　he　went　into　the　passage。　“Halloa；　here；　what’s　to　pay　out　here？　Here；　you　all—Mammy；　Jimmy；　Polly；　Sukey—glad　to　see　Mas’r？”　he　said；　as　he　went　shaking　hands　from　one　to　another。　“Look　out　for　the　babies！”　he　added；　as　he　stumbled　over　a　sooty　little　urchin；　who　was　crawling　upon　all　fours。　“If　I　step　upon　anybody；　let　’em　mention　it。”
There　was　an　abundance　of　laughing　and　blessing　Mas’r；　as　St。　Clare　distributed　small　pieces　of　change　among　them。
“Come；　now；　take　yourselves　off；　like　good　boys　and　girls；”　he　said；　and　the　whole　assemblage；　dark　and　light；　disappeared　through　a　door　into　a　large　verandah；　followed　by　Eva；　who　carried　a　large　satchel；　which　she　had　been　filling　with　apples；　nuts；　candy；　ribbons；　laces；　and　toys　of　every　description；　during　her　whole　homeward　journey。
As　St。　Clare　turned　to　go　back　his　eye　fell　upon　Tom；　who　was　standing　uneasily；　shifting　from　one　foot　to　the　other；　while　Adolph　stood　negligently　leaning　against　the　banisters；　examining　Tom　through　an　opera…glass；　with　an　air　that　would　have　done　credit　to　any　dandy　living。
“Puh！　you　puppy；”　said　his　master；　striking　down　the　opera　glass；　“is　that　the　way　you　treat　your　company？　Seems　to　me；　Dolph；”　he　added；　laying　his　finger　on　the　elegant　figured　satin　vest　that　Adolph　was　sporting；　“seems　to　me　that’s　my　vest。”
“O！　Master；　this　vest　all　stained　with　wine；　of　course；　a　gentleman　in　Master’s　standing　never　wears　a　vest　like　this。　I　understood　I　was　to　take　it。　It　does　for　a　poor　nigger…fellow；　like　me。”
And　Adolph　tossed　his　head；　and　passed　his　fingers　through　his　scented　hair；　with　a　grace。
“So；　that’s　it；　is　it？”　said　St。　Clare；　carelessly。　“Well；　here；　I’m　going　to　show　this　Tom　to　his　mistress；　and　then　you　take　him　to　the　kitchen；　and　mind　you　don’t　put　on　any　of　your　airs　to　him。　He’s　worth　two　such　puppies　as　you。”
“Master　always　will　have　his　joke；”　said　Adolph；　laughing。　“I’m　delighted　to　see　Master　in　such　spirits。”
“Here；　Tom；”　said　St。　Clare；　beckoning。
Tom　entered　the　room。　He　looked　wistfully　on　the　velvet　carpets；　and　the　before　unimagined　splendors　of　mirrors；　pictures；　statues；　and　curtains；　and；　like　the　Queen　of　Sheba　before　Solomon；　there　was　no　more　spirit　in　him。　He　looked　afraid　even　to　set　his　feet　down。
“See　here；　Marie；”　said　St。　Clare　to　his　wife；　“I’ve　bought　you　a　coachman；　at　last；　to　order。　I　tell　you；　he’s　a　regular　hearse　for　blackness　and　sobriety；　and　will　drive　you　like　a　funeral；　if　you　want。　Open　your　eyes；　now；　and　look　at　him。　Now；　don’t　say　I　never　think　about　you　when　I’m　gone。”
Marie　opened　her　eyes；　and　fixed　them　on　Tom；　without　rising。
“I　know　he’ll　get　drunk；”　she　said。
“No；　he’s　warranted　a　pious　and　sober　article。”
“Well；　I　hope　he　may　turn　out　well；”　said　the　lady；　“it’s　more　than　I　expect；　though。”
“Dolph；”　said　St。　Clare；　“show　Tom　down　stairs；　and；　mind　yourself；”　he　added；　“remember　what　I　told　you。”
Adolph　tripped　gracefully　forward；　and　Tom；　with　lumbering　tread；　went　after。
“He’s　a　perfect　behemoth！”　said　Marie。
“Come；　now；　Marie；”　said　St。　Clare；　seating　himself　on　a　stool　beside　her　sofa；　“be　gracious；　and　say　something　pretty　to　a　fellow。”
“You’ve　been　gone　a　fortnight　beyond　the　time；”　said　the　lady；　pouting。
“Well；　you　know　I　wrote　you　the　reason。”
“Such　a　short；　cold　letter！”　said　the　lady。
“Dear　me！　the　mail　was　just　going；　and　it　had　to　be　that　or　nothing。”
“That’s　just　the　way；　always；”　said　the　lady；　“always　something　to　make　your　journeys　long；　and　letters　short。”
“See　here；　now；”　he　added；　drawing　an　elegant　velvet　case　out　of　his　pocket；　and　opening　it；　“here’s　a　present　I　got　for　you　in　New　York。”
It　was　a　daguerreotype；　clear　and　soft　as　an　engraving；　representing　Eva　and　her　father　sitting　hand　in　hand。
Marie　looked　at　it　with　a　dissatisfied　air。
“What　made　you　sit　in　such　an　awkward　position？”　she　said。
“Well；　the　position　may　be　a　matter　of　opinion；　but　what　do　you　think　of　the　likeness？”
“If　you　don’t　think　anything　of　my　opinion　in　one　case；　I　suppose　you　wouldn’t　in　another；”　said　the　lady；　shutting　the　daguerreotype。
“Hang　the　woman！”　said　St。　Clare；　mentally；　but　aloud　he　added；　“Come；　now；　Marie；　what　do　you　think　of　the　likeness？　Don’t　be　nonsensical；　now。”
“It’s　very　inconsiderate　of　you；　St。　Clare；”　said　the　lady；　“to　insist　on　my　talking　and　looking　at　things。　You　know　I’ve　been　lying　all　day　with　the　sick…headache；　and　there’s　been　such　a　tumult　made　ever　since　you　came；　I’m　half　dead。”
“You’re　subject　to　the　sick…headache；　ma’am！”　said　Miss　Ophelia；　suddenly　rising　from　the　depths　of　the　large　arm…chair；　where　she　had　sat　quietly；　taking　an　inventory　of　the　furniture；　and　calculating　its　expense。
“Yes；　I’m　a　perfect　martyr　to　it；”　said　the　lady。
“Juniper…berry　tea　is　good　for　sick…headache；”　said　Miss　Ophelia；　“at　least；　Auguste；　Deacon　Abraham　Perry’s　wife；　used　to　say　so；　and　she　was　a　great　nurse。”
“I’ll　have　the　first　juniper…berries　that　get　ripe　in　our　garden　by　the　lake　brought　in　for　that　special　purpose；”　said　St。　Clare；　gravely　pulling　the　bell　as　he　did　so；　“meanwhile；　cousin；　you　must　be　wanting　to　retire　to　your　apartment；　and　refresh　yourself　a　little；　after　your　journey。　Dolph；”　he　added；　“tell　Mammy　to　come　here。”　The　decent　mulatto　woman　whom　Eva　had　caressed　so　rapturously　soon　entered；　she　was　dressed　neatly；　with　a　high　red　and　yellow　turban　on　her　head；　the　recent　gift　of　Eva；　and　which　the　child　had　been　arranging　on　her　head。　“Mammy；”　said　St。　Clare；　“I　put　this　lady　under　your　care；　she　is　tired；　and　wants　rest；　take　her　to　her　chamber；　and　be　sure　she　is　made　comfortable；”　and　Miss　Ophelia　disappeared　in　the　rear　of　Mammy。
1　The　Ancient　History；　ten　volumes　（1730…1738）；　by　the　French　historian　Charles　Rollin　（1661…1741）。
2　Scott’s　Family　Bible　（1788…1792）；　edited　with　notes　by　the　English　Biblical　commentator；　Thomas　Scott　（1747…1821）。
3　The　Cerographic　Atlas　of　the　United　States　（1842…1845）；　by　Sidney　Edwards　Morse　（1794…1871）；　son　of　the　geographer；　Jedidiah　Morse；　and　brother　of　the　painter…inventor；　Samuel　F。　B。　Morse。
4　Recollections　of　the　　Ten　Years　（1826）　by　Timothy　Flint　（1780…1840）；　missionary　of　Presbyterianism　to　the　trans…Allegheny　West。
Chapter　16
Tom’s　Mistress　and　Her　Opinions
“And　now；　Marie；”　said　St。　Clare；　“your　golden　days　are　dawning。　Here　is　our　practical；　business…like　New　England　cousin；　who　will　take　the　whole　budget　of　cares　off　your　shoulders；　and　give　you　time　to　refresh　yourself；　and　grow　young　and　handsome。　The　ceremony　of　delivering　the　keys　had　better　come　off　forthwith。”
This　remark　was　made　at　the　breakfast…table；　a　few　mornings　after　Miss　Ophelia　had　arrived。
“I’m　sure　she’s　welcome；”　said　Marie；　leaning　her　head　languidly　on　her　hand。　“I　think　she’ll　find　one　thing；　if　she　does；　and　that　is；　that　it’s　we　mistresses　that　are　the　slaves；　down　here。”
“O；　certainly；　she　will　discover　that；　and　a　world　of　wholesome　truths　besides；　no　doubt；”　said　St。　Clare。
“Talk　about　our　keeping　slaves；　as　if　we　did　it　for　our　convenience；”　said　Marie。　“I’m　sure；　if　we　consulted　that；　we　might　let　them　all　go　at　once。”
Evangeline　fixed　her　large；　serious　eyes　on　her　mother’s　face；　with　an　earnest　and　perplexed　expression；　and　said；　simply；　“What　do　you　keep　them　for；　mamma？”
“I　don’t　know；　I’m　sure；　except　for　a　plague；　they　are　the　plague　of　my　life。　I　believe　that　more　of　my　ill　health　is　caused　by　them　than　by　any　one　thing；　and　ours；　I　know；　are　the　very　worst　that　ever　anybody　was　plagued　with。”
“O；　come；　Marie；　you’ve　got　the　blues；　this　morning；”　said　St。　Clare。　“You　know　’t　isn’t　so。　There’s　Mammy；　the　best　creature　living；—what　could　you　do　without　her？”
“Mammy　is　the　best　I　ever　knew；”　said　Marie；　“and　yet　Mammy；　now；　is　selfish—dreadfully　selfish；　it’s　the　fault　of　the　whole　race。”
“Selfishness　is　a　dreadful　fault；”　said　St。　Clare；　gravely。
“Well；　now；　there’s　Mammy；”　said　Marie；　“I　think　it’s　selfish　of　her　to　sleep　so　sound　nights；　she　knows　I　need　little　attentions　almost　every　hour；　when　my　worst　turns　are　on；　and　yet　she’s　so　hard　to　wake。　I　absolutely　am　worse；　this　very　morning；　for　the　efforts　I　had　to　make　to　wake　her　last　night。”
“Hasn’t　she　sat　up　with　you　a　good　many　nights；　lately；　mamma？”　said　Eva。
“How　should　you　know　that？”　said　Marie；　sharply；　“she’s　been　complaining；　I　suppose。”
“She　didn’t　complain；　she　only　told　me　what　bad　nights　you’d　had；—so　many　in　sucomession。”
“Why　don’t　you　let　Jane　or　Rosa　take　her　place；　a　night　or　two；”　said　St。　Clare；　“and　let　her　rest？”
“How　can　you　propose　it？”　said　Marie。　“St。　Clare；　you　really　are　inconsiderate。　So　nervous　as　I　am；　the　least　breath　disturbs　me；　and　a　strange　hand　about　me　would　drive　me　absolutely　frantic。　If　Mammy　felt　the　interest　in　me　she　ought　to；　she’d　wake　easier；—of　course；　she　would。　I’ve　heard　of　people　who　had　such　devoted　servants；　but　it　never　was　my　luck；”　and　Marie　sighed。
Miss　Ophelia　had　listened　to　this　conversation　with　an　air　of　shrewd；　observant　gravity；　and　she　still　kept　her　lips　tightly　compressed；　as　if　determined　fully　to　ascertain　her　longitude　and　position；　before　she　committed　herself。
“Now；　Mammy　has　a　sort　of　goodness；”　said　Marie；　“she’s　smooth　and　respectful；　but　she’s　selfish　at　heart。　Now；　she　never　will　be　done　fidgeting　and　worrying　about　that　husband　of　hers。　You　see；　when　I　was　married　and　came　to　live　here；　of　course；　I　had　to　bring　her　with　me；　and　her　husband　my　father　couldn’t　spare。　He　was　a　blacksmith；　and；　of　course；　very　necessary；　and　I　thought　and　said；　at　the　time；　that　Mammy　and　he　had　better　give　each　other　up；　as　it　wasn’t　likely　to　be　convenient　for　them　ever　to　live　together　again。　I　wish；　now；　I’d　insisted　on　it；　and　married　Mammy　to　somebody　else；　but　I　was　foolish　and　indulgent；　and　didn’t　want　to　insist。　I　told　Mammy；　at　the　time；　that　she　mustn’t　ever　expect　to　see　him　more　than　once　or　twice　in　her　life　again；　for　the　air　of　father’s　place　doesn’t　agree　with　my　health；　and　I　can’t　go　there；　and　I　advised　her　to　take　up　with　somebody　else；　but　no—she　wouldn’t。　Mammy　has　a　kind　of　obstinacy　about　her；　in　spots；　that　everybody　don’t　see　as　I　do。”
“Has　she　children？”　said　Miss　Ophelia。
“Yes；　she　has　two。”
“I　suppose　she　feels　the　separation　from　them？”
“Well；　of　course；　I　couldn’t　bring　them。　They　were　little　dirty　things—I　couldn’t　have　them　about；　and；　besides；　they　took　up　too　much　of　her　time；　but　I　believe　that　Mammy　has　always　kept　up　a　sort　of　sulkiness　about　this。　She　won’t　marry　anybody　else；　and　I　do　believe；　now；　though　she　knows　how　necessary　she　is　to　me；　and　how　feeble　my　health　is；　she　would　go　back　to　her　husband　tomorrow；　if　she　only　could。　I　do；　indeed；”　said　Marie；　“they　are　just　so　selfish；　now；　the　best　of　them。”
“It’s　distressing　to　reflect　upon；”　said　St。　Clare；　dryly。
Miss　Ophelia　looked　keenly　at　him；　and　saw　the　flush　of　mortification　and　repressed　vexation；　and　the　sarcastic　curl　of　the　lip；　as　he　spoke。
“Now；　Mammy　has　always　been　a　pet　with　me；”　said　Marie。　“I　wish　some　of　your　northern　servants　could　look　at　her　closets　of　dresses；—silks　and　muslins；　and　one　real　linen　cambric；　she　has　hanging　there。　I’ve　worked　sometimes　whole　afternoons；　trimming　her　caps；　and　getting　her　ready　to　go　to　a　party。　As　to　abuse；　she　don’t　know　what　it　is。　She　never　was　whipped　more　than　once　or　twice　in　her　whole　life。　She　has　her　strong　coffee　or　her　tea　every　day；　with　white　sugar　in　it。　It’s　abominable；　to　be　sure；　but　St。　Clare　will　have　high　life　below…stairs；　and　they　every　one　of　them　live　just　as　they　please。　The　fact　is；　our　servants　are　over…indulged。　I　suppose　it　is　partly　our　fault　that　they　are　selfish；　and　act　like　spoiled　children；　but　I’ve　talked　to　St。　Clare　till　I　am　tired。”
“And　I；　too；”　said　St。　Clare；　taking　up　the　morning　paper。
Eva；　the　beautiful　Eva；　had　stood　listening　to　her　mother；　with　that　expression　of　deep　and　mystic　earnestness　which　was　peculiar　to　her。　She　walked　softly　round　to　her　mother’s　chair；　and　put　her　arms　round　her　neck。
“Well；　Eva；　what　now？”　said　Marie。
“Mamma；　couldn’t　I　take　care　of　you　one　night—just　one？　I　know　I　shouldn’t　make　you　nervous；　and　I　shouldn’t　sleep。　I　often　lie　awake　nights；　thinking—”
“O；　nonsense；　child—nonsense！”　said　Marie；　“you　are　such　a　strange　child！”
“But　may　I；　mamma？　I　think；”　she　said；　timidly；　“that　Mammy　isn’t　well。　She　told　me　her　head　ached　all　the　time；　lately。”
“O；　that’s　just　one　of　Mammy’s　fidgets！　Mammy　is　just　like　all　the　rest　of　them—makes　such　a　fuss　about　every　little　headache　or　finger…ache；　it’ll　never　do　to　encourage　it—never！　I’m　principled　about　this　matter；”　said　she；　turning　to　Miss　Ophelia；　“you’ll　find　the　necessity　of　it。　If　you　encourage　servants　in　giving　way　to　every　little　disagreeable　feeling；　and　complaining　of　every　little　ailment；　you’ll　have　your　hands　full。　I　never　complain　myself—nobody　knows　what　I　endure。　I　feel　it　a　duty　to　bear　it　quietly；　and　I　do。”
Miss　Ophelia’s　round　eyes　expressed　an　undisguised　amazement　at　this　peroration；　which　struck　St。　Clare　as　so　supremely　ludicrous；　that　he　burst　into　a　loud　laugh。
“St。　Clare　always　laughs　when　I　make　the　least　allusion　to　my　ill　health；”　said　Marie；　with　the　voice　of　a　suffering　martyr。　“I　only　hope　the　day　won’t　come　when　he’ll　remember　it！”　and　Marie　put　her　handkerchief　to　her　eyes。
Of　course；　there　was　rather　a　foolish　silence。　Finally；　St。　Clare　got　up；　looked　at　his　watch；　and　said　he　had　an　engagement　down　street。　Eva　tripped　away　after　him；　and　Miss　Ophelia　and　Marie　remained　at　the　table　alone。
“Now；　that’s　just　like　St。　Clare！”　said　the　latter；　withdrawing　her　handkerchief　with　somewhat　of　a　spirited　flourish　when　the　criminal　to　be　affected　by　it　was　no　longer　in　sight。　“He　never　realizes；　never　can；　never　will；　what　I　suffer；　and　have；　for　years。　If　I　was　one　of　the　complaining　sort；　or　ever　made　any　fuss　about　my　ailments；　there　would　be　some　reason　for　it。　Men　do　get　tired；　naturally；　of　a　complaining　wife。　But　I’ve　kept　things　to　myself；　and　borne；　and　borne；　till　St。　Clare　has　got　in　the　way　of　thinking　I　can　bear　anything。”
Miss　Ophelia　did　not　exactly　know　what　she　was　expected　to　answer　to　this。
While　she　was　thinking　what　to　say；　Marie　gradually　wiped　away　her　tears；　and　smoothed　her　plumage　in　a　general　sort　of　way；　as　a　dove　might　be　supposed　to　make　toilet　after　a　shower；　and　began　a　housewifely　chat　with　Miss　Ophelia；　concerning　cupboards；　closets；　linen…presses；　store…rooms；　and　other　matters；　of　which　the　latter　was；　by　common　understanding；　to　assume　the　direction；—giving　her　so　many　cautious　directions　and　charges；　that　a　head　less　systematic　and　business…like　than　Miss　Ophelia’s　would　have　been　utterly　dizzied　and　confounded。
“And　now；”　said　Marie；　“I　believe　I’ve　told　you　everything；　so　th