波波小说

第70部分（第1页）

he　mistress　was　different。　She　was　a　great　reader；　and　studied　a　deal；　and　the　“bairns”　had　taken　after　her。　There　was　nothing　like　them　in　these　parts；　nor　ever　had　been；　they　had　liked　learning；　all　three；　almost　from　the　time　they　could　speak；　and　they　had　always　been　“of　a　mak’　of　their　own。”　Mr。　St。　John；　when　he　grew　up；　would　go　to　college　and　be　a　parson；　and　the　girls；　as　soon　as　they　left　school；　would　seek　places　as　governesses：　for　they　had　told　her　their　father　had　some　years　ago　lost　a　great　deal　of　money　by　a　man　he　had　trusted　turning　bankrupt；　and　as　he　was　now　not　rich　enough　to　give　them　fortunes；　they　must　provide　for　themselves。　They　had　lived　very　little　at　home　for　a　long　while；　and　were　only　e　now　to　stay　a　few　weeks　on　account　of　their　father’s　death；　but　they　did　so　like　Marsh　End　and　Morton；　and　all　these　moors　and　hills　about。　They　had　been　in　London；　and　many　other　grand　towns；　but　they　always　said　there　was　no　place　like　home；　and　then　they　were　so　agreeable　with　each　other—never　fell　out　nor　“threaped。”　She　did　not　know　where　there　was　such　a　family　for　being　united。

Having　finished　my　task　of　gooseberry　picking；　I　asked　where　the　two　ladies　and　their　brother　were　now。

“Gone　over　to　Morton　for　a　walk；　but　they　would　be　back　in　half…an…　hour　to　tea。”

They　returned　within　the　time　Hannah　had　allotted　them：　they　entered　by　the　kitchen　door。　Mr。　St。　John；　when　he　saw　me；　merely　bowed　and　passed　through；　the　two　ladies　stopped：　Mary；　in　a　few　words；　kindly　and　calmly　expressed　the　pleasure　she　felt　in　seeing　me　well　enough　to　be　able　to　e　down；　Diana　took　my　hand：　she　shook　her　head　at　me。

“You　should　have　waited　for　my　leave　to　descend；”　she　said。　“You　still　look　very　pale—and　so　thin！　Poor　child！—poor　girl！”

Diana　had　a　voice　toned；　to　my　ear；　like　the　cooing　of　a　dove。　She　possessed　eyes　whose　gaze　I　delighted　to　encounter。　Her　whole　face　seemed　to　me　fill　of　charm。　Mary’s　countenance　was　equally　intelligent—her　features　equally　pretty；　but　her　expression　was　more　reserved；　and　her　manners；　though　gentle；　more　distant。　Diana　looked　and　spoke　with　a　certain　authority：　she　had　a　will；　evidently。　It　was　my　nature　to　feel　pleasure　in　yielding　to　an　authority　supported　like　hers；　and　to　bend；　where　my　conscience　and　self…respect　permitted；　to　an　active　will。

“And　what　business　have　you　here？”　she　continued。　“It　is　not　your　place。　Mary　and　I　sit　in　the　kitchen　sometimes；　because　at　home　we　like　to　be　free；　even　to　license—but　you　are　a　visitor；　and　must　go　into　the　parlour。”

“I　am　very　well　here。”

“Not　at　all；　with　Hannah　bustling　about　and　covering　you　with　flour。”

“Besides；　the　fire　is　too　hot　for　you；”　interposed　Mary。

“To　be　sure；”　added　her　sister。　“e；　you　must　be　obedient。”　And　still　holding　my　hand　she　made　me　rise；　and　led　me　into　the　inner　room。

“Sit　there；”　she　said；　placing　me　on　the　sofa；　“while　we　take　our　things　off　and　get　the　tea　ready；　it　is　another　privilege　we　exercise　in　our　little　moorland　home—to　prepare　our　own　meals　when　we　are　so　inclined；　or　when　Hannah　is　baking；　brewing；　washing；　or　ironing。”

She　closed　the　door；　leaving　me　solus　with　Mr。　St。　John；　who　sat　opposite；　a　book　or　newspaper　in　his　hand。　I　examined　first；　the　parlour；　and　then　its　occupant。

The　parlour　was　rather　a　small　room；　very　plainly　furnished；　yet　fortable；　because　clean　and　neat。　The　old…fashioned　chairs　were　very　bright；　and　the　walnut…wood　table　was　like　a　looking…glass。　A　feen　and　women　of　other　days　decorated　the　stained　walls；　a　cupboard　with　glass　doors　contained　some　books　and　an　ancient　set　of　china。　There　was　no　superfluous　ornament　in　the　room—not　one　modern　piece　of　furniture；　save　a　brace　of　workboxes　and　a　lady’s　desk　in　rosewood；　which　stood　on　a　side…table：　everything—including　the　carpet　and　curtains—looked　at　once　well　worn　and　well　saved。

Mr。　St。　John—sitting　as　still　as　one　of　the　dusty　pictures　on　the　walls；　keeping　his　eyes　fixed　on　the　page　he　perused；　and　his　lips　mutely　sealed—was　easy　enough　to　examine。　Had　he　been　a　statue　instead　of　a　man；　he　could　not　have　been　easier。　He　was　young—　perhaps　from　twenty…eight　to　thirty—tall；　slender；　his　face　riveted　the　eye；　it　was　like　a　Greek　face；　very　pure　in　outline：　quite　a　straight；　classic　nose；　quite　an　Athenian　mouth　and　chin。　It　is　seldom；　indeed；　an　English　face　es　so　near　the　antique　models　as　did　his。　He　might　well　be　a　little　shocked　at　the　irregularity　of　my　lineaments；　his　own　being　so　harmonious。　His　eyes　were　large　and　blue；　with　brown　lashes；　his　high　forehead；　colourless　as　ivory；　was　partially　streaked　over　by　careless　locks　of　fair　hair。

This　is　a　gentle　delineation；　is　it　not；　reader？　Yet　he　whom　it　describes　scarcely　impressed　one　with　the　idea　of　a　gentle；　a　yielding；　an　impressible；　or　even　of　a　placid　nature。　Quiescent　as　he　now　sat；　there　was　something　about　his　nostril；　his　mouth；　his　brow；　which；　to　my　perceptions；　indicated　elements　within　either　restless；　or　hard；　or　eager。　He　did　not　speak　to　me　one　word；　nor　even　direct　to　me　one　glance；　till　his　sisters　returned。　Diana；　as　she　passed　in　and　out；　in　the　course　of　preparing　tea；　brought　me　a　little　cake；　baked　on　the　top　of　the　oven。

“Eat　that　now；”　she　said：　“you　must　be　hungry。　Hannah　says　you　have　had　nothing　but　some　gruel　since　breakfast。”

I　did　not　refuse　it；　for　my　appetite　was　awakened　and　keen。　Mr。　Rivers　now　closed　his　book；　approached　the　table；　and；　as　he　took　a　seat；　fixed　his　blue　pictorial…looking　eyes　full　on　me。　There　was　an　unceremonious　directness；　a　searching；　decided　steadfastness　in　his　gaze　now；　which　told　that　intention；　and　not　diffidence；　had　hitherto　kept　it　averted　from　the　stranger。

“You　are　very　hungry；”　he　said。

“I　am；　sir。”　It　is　my　way—it　always　was　my　way；　by　instinct—ever　to　meet　the　brief　with　brevity；　the　direct　with　plainness。

“It　is　well　for　you　that　a　low　fever　has　forced　you　to　abstain　for　the　last　three　days：　there　would　have　been　danger　in　yielding　to　the　cravings　of　your　appetite　at　first。　Now　you　may　eat；　though　still　not　immoderately。”

“I　trust　I　shall　not　eat　long　at　your　expense；　sir；”　was　my　very　clumsily…contrived；　unpolished　answer。

“No；”　he　said　coolly：　“when　you　have　indicated　to　us　the　residence　of　your　friends；　we　can　write　to　them；　and　you　may　be　restored　to　home。”

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