bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第138章
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whether any echo like a footstep really did resound at times； as the
story said； upon the lonely Ghost’s Walk。 The indefinable feeling
with which Lady Dedlock had impressed me； may have had some
influence in keeping me from the house even when she was
absent。 I am not sure。 Her face and figure were associated with it；
naturally； but I cannot say that they repelled me from it； though
something did。 For whatever reason or no reason； I had never
once gone near it； down to the day at which my story now arrives。
I was resting at my favourite point； after a long ramble； and
Charley was gathering violets at a little distance from me。 I had
been looking at the Ghost’s Walk lying in a deep shade of masonry
afar off； and picturing to myself the female shape that was said to
haunt it； when I became aware of a figure approaching through
the wood。 The perspective was so long； and so darkened by leaves；
and the shadows of the branches on the ground made it so much
more intricate to the eye； that at first I could not discern what
figure it was。 By little and little； it revealed itself to be a woman’s—
a lady’s—Lady Dedlock’s。 She was alone； and coming to where I
sat with a much quicker step； I observed to my surprise； than was
usual with her。
I was fluttered by her being unexpectedly so near （she was
almost within speaking distance before I knew her）； and would
have risen to continue my walk。 But I could not。 I was rendered
motionless。 Not so much by her hurried gesture of entreaty； not so
much by her quick advance and outstretched hands； not so much
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by the great change in her manner； and the absence of her
haughty self…restraint； as by a something in her face that I had
pined for and dreamed of when I was a little child； something I
had never seen in any face； something I had never seen in hers
before。
A dread and faintness fell upon me； and I called to Charley。
Lady Dedlock stopped； upon the instant； and changed back almost
to what I had known her。
“Miss Summerson； I am afraid I have startled you；” she said；
now advancing slowly。 “You can scarcely be strong yet。 You have
been very ill； I know。 I have been much concerned to hear it。”
I could no more have removed my eyes from her pale face； than
I could have stirred from the bench on which I sat。 She gave me
her hand； and its deadly coldness； so at variance with the enforced
composure of her features； deepened the fascination that
overpowered me。 I cannot say what was in my whirling thoughts。
“You are recovering again？” she asked kindly。
“I was quite well but a moment ago； Lady Dedlock。”
“Is this your young attendant？”
“Yes。”
“Will you send her on before； and walk towards your house
with me？”
“Charley；” said I； “take your flowers home； and I will follow you
directly。”
Charley； with her best curtsey； blushingly tied on her bonnet；
and went her way。 When she was gone； Lady Dedlock sat down on
the seat beside me。
I cannot tell in any words what the state of my mind was； when
I saw in her hand my handkerchief； with which I had covered the
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dead baby。
I looked at her； but I could not see her； I could not hear her； I
could not draw my breath。 The beating of my heart was so violent
and wild； that I felt as if my life were breaking from me。 But when
she caught me to her breast； kissed me； wept over me；
compassionated me； and called me back to myself； when she fell
down on her knees and cried to me； “O my child； my child； I am
your wicked and unhappy mother！ O try to forgive me！”—when I
saw her at my feet on the bare earth in her great agony of mind； I
felt； through all my tumult of emotion； a burst of gratitude to the
providence of God that I was so changed as that I never could
disgrace her by any trace of likeness； as that nobody could ever
now look at me； and look at her； and remotely think of any near tie
between us。
I raised my mother up； praying and beseeching her not to stoop
before me in such affliction and humiliation。 I did so； in broken
incoherent words； for； besides the trouble I was in； it frightened
me to see her at my feet。 I told her—or I tried to tell her—that if it
were for me； her child； under any circumstances to take upon me
to forgive her； I did it； and had done it； many； many years。 I told
her that my heart overflowed with love for her； that it was natural
love； which nothing in the past had changed； or could change。
That it was not for me； then resting for the first time on my
mother’s bosom； to take her to account for having given me life；
but that my duty was to bless her and receive her； though the
whole world turned from her； and that I only asked her leave to do
it。 I held my mother in my embrace； and she held me in hers； and
among the still woods in the silence of the summer day； there
seemed to be nothing but our two troubled minds that was not at
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peace。
“To bless and receive me；” groaned my mother； “it is far too
late。 I must travel my dark road alone； and it will lead me where it
will。 From day to day； sometimes from hour to hour； I do not see
the way before my guilty feet。 This is the earthly punishment I
have brought upon myself。 I bear it and I hide it。”
Even in the thinking of her endurance； she drew her habitual
air of proud indifference about her like a veil； though she soon cast
it off again。
“I must keep this secret； if by any means it can be kept； not
wholly for myself。 I have a husband； wretched and dishonouring
creature that I am！”
These words she uttered with a suppressed cry of despair； more
terrible in its sound than any shriek。 Covering her face with her
hands； she shrunk down in my embrace as if she were unwilling
that I should touch her； nor could I； by my utmost persuasions； or
by any endearments I could use； prevail upon her to rise。 She said；
No； no； no； she could only speak to me so； she must be proud and
disdainful everywhere else； she would be humbled and ashamed
there； in the only natural moments of her life。
My unhappy mother told me that in my illness she had been
nearly frantic。 She had but then known that her child was living。
She could not have suspected me to be that child before。 She had
followed me down here； to speak to me but once in all her life。 We
never could associate； never could communicate； never probably
from that time forth could interchange another word； on earth。
She put into my hands a letter she had written for my reading
only； and said； when I had read it； and destroyed it—but not so
much for her sake； since she asked nothing； as for her husband’s
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and my own—I must evermore consider her as dead。 If I could
believe that she loved me； in this agony in which I saw her； with a
mother’s love； she asked me to do that； for then I might think of
her with a greater pity； imagining what she suffered。 She had put
herself beyond all hope； and beyond all help。 Whether she
preserved her secret until death； or it came to be discovered and
she brought dishonour and disgrace upon the name she had taken；
it was her solitary struggle always； and no affection could come
near her； and no human creature could render her any aid。
“But is the secret safe so far？” I asked。 “Is it safe now； dearest
mother？”
“No；” replied my mother。 “It has been very near discovery。 It
was saved by an accident。 It may be lost by another accident—
tomorrow； any day。”
“Do you dread a particular person？”
“Hush！ Do not tremble and cry so much for me。 I am not
worthy of these tears；” said my mother； kissing my hands。 “I dread
one person very much。”
“An enemy？”
“Not a friend。 One who is too passionless to be either。 He is Sir
Leicester Dedlock’s lawyer； mechanically faithful without
attachment； and very jealous of the profit； privilege； and
reputation of being master of the mysteries of great houses。”
“Has he any suspicions？”
“Many。”
“Not of you？” I said alarmed。
“Yes！ He is always vigilant； and always near me。 I may keep
him at a stand still； but I can never shake him off。”
“Has he so little pity or compunction？”
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“He has none； and no anger。 He is indifferent to everything but
his calling。 His calling is the acquisition of secrets； and the holding
possession of such power as they give him； with no sharer or
opponent in it。”
“Could you trust in him？”
“I shall never try。 The dark road I have trodden for so many
years will end where it will。 I follow it alone to the end； whatever
the end be。 It may be near； it may be distant； while the road lasts；
nothing turns me。”
