adam bede(亚当[1].比德)-第62章
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we should make； besides what we could get orders for round
about。”
Mr。 Poyser entered with interest into a project which seemed a
step towards Adam’s becoming a “master…man；” and Mrs。 Poyser
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gave her approbation to the scheme of the movable kitchen
cupboard； which was to be capable of containing grocery； pickles；
crockery； and house…linen in the utmost compactness without
confusion。 Hetty； once more in her own dress； with her
neckerchief pushed a little backwards on this warm evening； was
seated picking currants near the window； where Adam could see
her quite well。 And so the time passed pleasantly till Adam got up
to go。 He was pressed to come again soon； but not to stay longer；
for at this busy time sensible people would not run the risk of
being sleepy at five o’clock in the morning。
“I shall take a step farther；” said Adam； “and go on to see
Mester Massey； for he wasn’t at church yesterday； and I’ve not
seen him for a week past。 I’ve never hardly known him to miss
church before。”
“Aye；” said Mr。 Poyser； “we’ve heared nothing about him； for
it’s the boys’ hollodays now； so we can give you no account。”
“But you’ll niver think o’ going there at this hour o’ the night？”
said Mrs。 Poyser； folding up her knitting。
“Oh； Mester Massey sits up late；” said Adam。 “An’ the night…
school’s not over yet。 Some o’ the men don’t come till late—they’ve
got so far to walk。 And Bartle himself’s never in bed till it’s gone
eleven。”
“I wouldna have him to live wi’ me； then；” said Mrs。 Poyser； “a…
dropping candle…grease about； as you’re like to tumble down o’ the
floor the first thing i’ the morning。”
“Aye； eleven o’clock’s late—it’s late；” said old Martin。 “I ne’er
sot up so i’ my life； not to say as it warna a marr’in’； or a
christenin’； or a wake； or th’ harvest supper。 Eleven o’clock’s late。”
“Why； I sit up till after twelve often；” said Adam； laughing； “but
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it isn’t t’ eat and drink extry； it’s to work extry。 Good…night； Mrs。
Poyser； good…night； Hetty。”
Hetty could only smile and not shake hands； for hers were dyed
and damp with currant…juice； but all the rest gave a hearty shake
to the large palm that was held out to them； and said； “Come
again； come again！”
“Aye； think o’ that now；” said Mr。 Poyser； when Adam was out
of on the causeway。 “Sitting up till past twelve to do extry work！
Ye’ll not find many men o’ six…an’ twenty as ’ull do to put i’ the
shafts wi’ him。 If you can catch Adam for a husband； Hetty； you’ll
ride i’ your own spring…cart some day； I’ll be your warrant。”
Hetty was moving across the kitchen with the currants； so her
uncle did not see the little toss of the head with which she
answered him。 To ride in a spring…cart seemed a very miserable lot
indeed to her now。
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Chapter XXI
The Night…School and the Schoolmaster
artle Massey’s was one of a few scattered houses on the
Bedge of a common； which was divided by the road to
Treddleston。 Adam reached it in a quarter of an hour
after leaving the Hall Farm； and when he had his hand on the
door…latch； he could see； through the curtainless window； that
there were eight or nine heads bending over the desks； lighted by
thin dips。
When he entered； a reading lesson was going forward and
Bartle Massey merely nodded； leaving him to take his place where
he pleased。 He had not come for the sake of a lesson to…night； and
his mind was too full of personal matters； too full of the last two
hours he had passed in Hetty’s presence； for him to amuse himself
with a book till school was over； so he sat down in a corner and
looked on with an absent mind。 It was a sort of scene which Adam
had beheld almost weekly for years； he knew by heart every
arabesque flourish in the framed specimen of Bartle Massey’s
handwriting which hung over the schoolmaster’s head； by way of
keeping a lofty ideal before the minds of his pupils； he knew the
backs of all the books on the shelf running along the whitewashed
wall above the pegs for the slates； he knew exactly how many
grains were gone out of the ear of Indian corn that hung from one
of the rafters； he had long ago exhausted the resources of his
imagination in trying to think how the bunch of leathery seaweed
had looked and grown in its native element； and from the place
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where he sat； he could make nothing of the old map of England
that hung against the opposite wall； for age had turned it of a fine
yellow brown； something like that of a well…seasoned meerschaum。
The drama that was going on was almost as familiar as the scene；
nevertheless habit had not made him indifferent to it； and even in
his present self…absorbed mood； Adam felt a momentary stirring of
the old fellow…feeling； as he looked at the rough men painfully
holding pen or pencil with their cramped hands； or humbly
labouring through their reading lesson。
The reading class now seated on the form in front of the
schoolmaster’s desk consisted of the three most backward pupils。
Adam would have known it only by seeing Bartle Massey’s face as
he looked over his spectacles； which he had shifted to the ridge of
his nose； not requiring them for present purposes。 The face wore
its mildest expression： the grizzled bushy eyebrows had taken
their more acute angle of compassionate kindness； and the mouth；
habitually compressed with a pout of the lower lip； was relaxed so
as to be ready to speak a helpful word or syllable in a moment。
This gentle expression was the more interesting because the
schoolmaster’s nose； an irregular aquiline twisted a little on one
side； had rather a formidable character； and his brow； moreover；
had that peculiar tension which always impresses one as a sign of
a keen impatient temperament： the blue veins stood out like cords
under the transparent yellow skin； and this intimidating brow was
softened by no tendency to baldness； for the grey bristly hair； cut
down to about an inch in length； stood round it in as close ranks as
ever。
“Nay； Bill； nay；” Bartle was saying in a kind tone； as he nodded
to Adam； “begin that again； and then perhaps； it’ll come to you
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what d； r； y spells。 It’s the same lesson you read last week； you
know。”
“Bill” was a sturdy fellow； aged four…and…twenty； an excellent
stone…sawyer； who could get as good wages as any man in the
trade of his years； but he found a reading lesson in words of one
syllable a harder matter to deal with than the hardest stone he had
ever had to saw。 The letters； he complained； were so “uncommon
alike； there was no tellin’ ’em one from another；” the sawyer’s
business not being concerned with minute differences such as
exist between a letter with its tail turned up and a letter with its
tail turned down。 But Bill had a firm determination that he would
learn to read； founded chiefly on two reasons： first； that Tom
Hazelow； his cousin； could read anything “right off；” whether it
was print or writing； and Tom had sent him a letter from twenty
miles off； saying how he was prospering in the world and had got
an overlooker’s place； secondly； that Sam Phillips； who sawed with
him； had learned to read when he was turned twenty； and what
could be done by a little fellow like Sam Phillips； Bill considered；
could be done by himself； seeing that he could pound Sam into
wet clay if circumstances required it。 So here he was； pointing his
big finger towards three words at once； and turning his head on
one side that he might keep better hold with his eye of the one
word which was to be discriminated out of the group。 The amount
of knowledge Bartle Massey must possess was something so dim
and vast that Bill’s imagination recoiled before it： he would hardly
have ventured to deny that the schoolmaster might have
something to do in bringing about the regular return of daylight
and the changes in the weather。
The man seated next to Bill was of a very different type： he was
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a Methodist brickmaker who； after spending thirty years of his life
in perfect satisfaction with his ignorance； had lately “got religion；”
and along with it the desire to read the Bible。 But with him； too；
learning was a heavy business； and on his way out to…night he had
offered as usual a special prayer for help； seeing that he had
undertaken this hard task wit
