barnaby rudge(巴纳比·卢杰)-第39章
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‘That’s all；’ said Barnaby。
‘More！’ cried Grip。 ‘More！’
But it appearing for a certainty that no more was to be had； he
retreated with his store； and disgorging the morsels one by one
from his pouch； hid them in various corners—taking particular
care； however； to avoid the closet； as being doubtful of the hidden
man’s propensities and power of resisting temptation。 When he
had concluded these arrangements； he took a turn or two across
the room with an elaborate assumption of having nothing on his
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mind （but with one eye hard upon his treasure all the time）； and
then； and not till then； began to drag it out； piece by piece； and eat
it with the utmost relish。
Barnaby； for his part； having pressed his mother to eat in vain；
made a hearty supper too。 Once during the progress of his meal；
he wanted more bread from the closet and rose to get it。 She
hurriedly interposed to prevent him； and summoning her utmost
fortitude； passed into the recess； and brought it out herself。
‘Mother；’ said Barnaby； looking at her steadfastly as she sat
down beside him after doing so； ‘is to…day my birthday？’
‘To…day！’ she answered。 ‘Don’t you recollect it was but a week
or so ago； and that summer； autumn； and winter have to pass
before it comes again？’
‘I remember that it has been so till now；’ said Barnaby。 ‘But I
think to…day must be my birthday too； for all that。’
She asked him why？ ‘I’ll tell you why；’ he said。 ‘I have always
seen you—I didn’t let you know it； but I have—on the evening of
that day grow very sad。 I have seen you cry when Grip and I were
most glad； and look frightened with no reason； and I have touched
your hand； and felt that it was cold—as it is now。 Once； mother （on
a birthday that was； also）； Grip and I thought of this after we went
upstairs to bed； and when it was midnight； striking one o’clock； we
came down to your door to see if you were well。 You were on your
knees。 I forget what it was you said。 Grip； what was it we heard
her say that night？’
‘I’m a devil！’ rejoined the raven promptly。
‘No； no；’ said Barnaby。 ‘But you said something in a prayer； and
when you rose and walked about； you looked （as you have done
ever since； mother； towards night on my birthday） just as you do
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now。 I have found that out； you see； though I am silly。 So I say
you’re wrong； and this must be my birthday—my birthday； Grip！’
The bird received this information with a crow of such duration
as a cock； gifted with intelligence beyond all others of his kind；
might usher in the longest day with。 Then； as if he had well
considered the sentiment； and regarded it as apposite to birthdays；
he cried； ‘Never say die！’ a great many times； and flapped his
wings for emphasis。
The widow tried to make light of Barnaby’s remark； and
endeavoured to divert his attention to some new subject； too easy
a task at all times； as she knew。 His supper done； Barnaby；
regardless of her entreaties； stretched himself on the mat before
the fire； Grip perched upon his leg； and divided his time between
dozing in the grateful warmth； and endeavouring （as it presently
appeared） to recall a new accomplishment he had been studying
all day。
A long and profound silence ensued； broken only by some
change of position on the part of Barnaby； whose eyes were still
wide open and intently fixed upon the fire； or by an effort of
recollection on the part of Grip； who would cry in a low voice from
time to time； ‘Polly put the ket—’ and there stop short； forgetting
the remainder； and go off in a doze again。
After a long interval； Barnaby’s breathing grew more deep and
regular； and his eyes were closed。 But even then the unquiet spirit
of the raven interposed。 ‘Polly put the ket—’ cried Grip； and his
master was broad awake again。
At length Barnaby slept soundly； and the bird with his bill sunk
upon his breast； his breast itself puffed out into a comfortable
alderman…like form； and his bright eye growing smaller and
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smaller； really seemed to be subsiding into a state of repose。 Now
and then he muttered in a sepulchral voice； ‘Polly put the ket—’
but very drowsily； and more like a drunken man than a reflecting
raven。
The widow； scarcely venturing to breathe； rose from her seat。
The man glided from the closet； and extinguished the candle。
‘—tle on；’ cried Grip； suddenly struck with an idea and very
much excited。 ‘—tle on。 Hurrah！ Polly put the ket…tle on； we’ll all
have tea； Polly put the ket…tle on； we’ll all have tea。 Hurrah；
hurrah； hurrah！ I’m a devil； I’m a devil； I’m a ket…tle on； Keep up
your spirits； Never say die； Bow； wow； wow； I’m a devil； I’m a ket…
tle； I’m a—Polly put the ket…tle on； we’ll all have tea。’
They stood rooted to the ground； as though it had been a voice
from the grave。
But even this failed to awaken the sleeper。 He turned over
towards the fire； his arm fell to the ground； and his head drooped
heavily upon it。 The widow and her unwelcome visitor gazed at
him and at each other for a moment； and then she motioned him
towards the door。
‘Stay；’ he whispered。 ‘You teach your son well。’
‘I have taught him nothing that you heard to…night。 Depart
instantly； or I will rouse him。’
‘You are free to do so。 Shall I rouse him？’
‘You dare not do that。’
‘I dare do anything； I have told you。 He knows me well； it
seems。 At least I will know him。’
‘Would you kill him in his sleep？’ cried the widow； throwing
herself between them。
‘Woman；’ he returned between his teeth； as he motioned her
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aside； ‘I would see him nearer； and I will。 If you want one of us to
kill the other； wake him。’
With that he advanced； and bending down over the prostrate
form； softly turned back the head and looked into the face。 The
light of the fire was upon it； and its every lineament was revealed
distinctly。 He contemplated it for a brief space； and hastily uprose。
‘Observe；’ he whispered in the widow’s ear： ‘In him； of whose
existence I was ignorant until to…night； I have you in my power。 Be
careful how you use me。 Be careful how you use me。 I am destitute
and starving； and a wanderer upon the earth。 I may take a sure
and slow revenge。’
‘There is some dreadful meaning in your words。 I do not fathom
it。’
‘There is a meaning in them； and I see you fathom it to its very
depth。 You have anticipated it for years； you have told me as
much。 I leave you to digest it。 Do not forget my warning。’
He pointed； as he left her； to the slumbering form； and stealthily
withdrawing； made his way into the street。 She fell on her knees
beside the sleeper； and remained like one stricken into stone； until
the tears which fear had frozen so long； came tenderly to her
relief。
‘Oh Thou；’ she cried； ‘who hast taught me such deep love for
this one remnant of the promise of a happy life； out of whose
affliction； even； perhaps the comfort springs that he is ever a
relying； loving child to me—never growing old or cold at heart； but
needing my care and duty in his manly strength as in his cradle…
time—help him； in his darkened walk through this sad world； or
he is doomed； and my poor heart is broken！’
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Chapter 18
liding along the silent streets； and holding his course
where they were darkest and most gloomy； the man who
G
had left the widow’s house crossed London Bridge； and
arriving in the City； plunged into the backways； lanes； and courts；
between Cornhill and Smithfield； with no more fixedness of
purpose than to lose himself among their windings； and baffle
pursuit； if any one were dogging his steps。
It was the dead time of the night； and all was quiet。 Now and
then a drowsy watchman’s footsteps sounded on the pavement； or
the lamplighter on his rounds went flashing past； leaving behind a
little track of smoke mingled with glowing morsels of his hot red
link。 He hid himself even from these partakers of his lonely walk；
and； shrinking in some arch or doorway while they passed； issued
forth again when they were gone and so pursued his solitary way。
To be shelterless and alone in the open country； hearing the
wind moan and watching for day through the whole long weary
night； to listen to the falling rain； and crouch for warmth beneath
the lee of some old barn or rick； or in the hollow of a tree； are
dismal things—but not so dismal as the wandering up and down
where shelter is； and beds and sleepers are by thousands； a
houseless rejected creature。 To pace the echoi
