bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第175章
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persons。 Why； this is a private asylum！ Why； not to put too fine a
point upon it； this is Bedlam； sir！” says Mr Snagsby。
But it is better than he expected； after all； being no explosion of
the mine below him； or deepening of the pit into which he has
fallen。 And being tender…hearted； and affected by the account he
hears of Jo’s condition； he readily engages to “look round；” as
early in the evening as he can manage it quietly。 He looks round
very quietly； when the evening comes； but it may turn out that Mrs
Snagsby is as quiet a manager as he。
Jo is very glad to see his old friend； and says； when they are left
alone； that he takes it uncommon kind as Mr Sangsby should
come so far out of his way on accounts of sich as him。 Mr Snagsby；
touched by the spectacle before him； immediately lays upon the
table half…a…crown： that magic balsam of his for all kinds of
wounds。
“And how do you find yourself； my poor lad？” inquires the
stationer； with his cough of sympathy。
“I am in luck； Mr Sangsby； I am；” returns Jo； “and don’t want
for nothink。 I’m more cumfbler nor you can’t think。 Mr Sangsby！
I’m wery sorry that I done it； but I didn’t go fur to do it； sir。”
The stationer softly lays down another half…crown； and asks him
what it is that he is sorry for having done？
“Mr Sangsby；” says Jo； “I went and giv a illness to the lady as
wos and yit as warn’t the t’other lady； and none of ’em never says
nothink to me for having done it； on accounts of their being ser
good and my having been s’ unfortnet。 The lady come herself and
see me yesday； and she ses； ‘Ah Jo！’ she ses。 ‘We thought we’d lost
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you； Jo！’ she ses。 And she sits down a…smilin so quiet； and don’t
pass a word nor yit a look upon me for having done it； she don’t；
and I turns agin the wall； I doos； Mr Sangsby。 And Mr Jarnders； I
see him a…forced to turn away his own self。 And Mr Woodcot； he
come fur to give me somethink fur to ease me； wot he’s allus a…
doin on day and night； and wen he come a…bendin over me and a…
speakin up so bold； I see his tears a…fallin； Mr Sangsby。”
The softened stationer deposits another half…crown on the
table。 Nothing less than a repetition of that infallible remedy will
relieve his feelings。
“Wot I wos a…thinkin on； Mr Sangsby；” proceeds Jo； “wos； as
you was able to write wery large； p’raps？”
“Yes； Jo； please God；” returns the stationer。
“Uncommon precious large； p’raps？” says Jo； with eagerness。
“Yes； my poor boy。”
Jo laughs with pleasure。 “Wot I wos a…thinkin on then； Mr
Sangsby； wos； that when I was moved on as fur as ever I could go
and couldn’t be moved no furder； whether you might be so good
p’raps； as to write out； wery large so that any one could see it
anywheres； as that I wos wery truly hearty sorry that I done it and
that I never went fur to do it； and that though I didn’t know
nothink at all； I knowd as Mr Woodcot once cried over it and wos
allus grieved over it； and that I hoped as he’d be able to forgive me
in his mind。 If the writin could be made to say it wery large； he
might。”
“It shall say it； Jo。 Very large。”
Jo laughs again。 “Thankee； Mr Sangsby。 Its wery kind of you；
sir； and it makes me more cumfbler nor I was afore。”
The meek little stationer； with a broken and unfinished cough；
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slips down his fourth half…crown—he has never been so close to a
case requiring so many—and is fain to depart。 And Jo； and he；
upon this little earth； shall meet no more。 No more。
For the cart so hard to draw； is near its journey’s end； and drags
over stony ground。 All round the clock； it labours up the broken
steeps； shattered and worn。 Not many times can the sun rise； and
behold it still upon its weary road。
Phil Squod； with his smoky gunpowder visage； at once acts as
nurse and works as armourer at his little table in a corner； often
looking round； and saying with a nod of his green baize cap； and
an encouraging elevation of his one eyebrow； “Hold up； my boy！
Hold up！” There； too； is Mr Jarndyce many a time； and Allan
Woodcourt almost always； both thinking； much； how strangely
Fate has entangled this rough outcast in the web of very different
lives。 There too； the trooper is a frequent visitor： filling the
doorway with his athletic figure； and； from his superfluity of life
and strength； seeming to shed down temporary vigour upon Jo；
who never fails to speak more robustly in answer to his cheerful
words。
Jo is in a sleep or in a stupor today； and Allan Woodcourt；
newly arrived； stands by him； looking down upon his wasted form。
After a while； he softly seats himself upon the bedside with his face
towards him—just as he sat in the law…writer’s room—and touches
his chest and heart。 The cart had very nearly given up； but labours
on a little more。
The trooper stands in the doorway； still and silent。 Phil has
stopped in a low clinking noise； with his little hammer in his hand。
Mr Woodcourt looks round with that grave professional interest
and attention on his face； and； glancing significantly at the
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trooper； signs to Phil to carry his table out。 When the little
hammer is next used； there will be a speck of rust upon it。
“Well； Joe！ What is the matter？ Don’t be frightened。”
“I thought；” says Jo； who has started； and is looking round； “I
thought I was in Tom…all…Alone’s agin。 Ain’t there nobody here but
you； Mr Woodcot？”
“Nobody。”
“And I ain’t took back to Tom…all…Alone’s。 Am I； sir？”
“No。” Jo closes his eyes； muttering； “I’m wery thankful。”
After watching him closely a little while； Allan puts his mouth
very near his ear； and says to him in a low； distinct voice：
“Jo！ Did you ever know a prayer？”
“Never knowd nothink； sir。”
“Not so much as one short prayer？”
“No； sir。 Nothink at all。 Mr Chadbands he wos a…prayin wunst
at Mr Sangsby’s and I heerd him； but he sounded as if he wos a…
speakin’ to hisself； and not to me。 He prayed a lot； but I couldn’t
make out nothink on it。 Different times； there was other genlmen
come down Tom…all…Alone’s a…prayin； but they all mostly sed as
the t’other wuns prayed wrong； and all mostly sounded to be a…
talking to theirselves； or a…passing blame on the t’others； and not
a…talkin to us。 We never knowd nothink。 I never knowd what it wos
all about。”
It takes him a long time to say this； and few but an experienced
and attentive listener could hear； or； hearing； understand him。
After a short relapse into sleep or stupor； he makes； of a sudden； a
strong effort to get out of bed。
“Stay； Jo？ What now？”
“It’s time for me to go to that there berryin ground； sir；” he
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returns with a wild look。
“Lie down； and tell me。 What burying ground； Jo！”
“Where they laid him as wos wery good to me； wery good to me
indeed； he wos。 It’s time fur me to go down to that there berryin
ground sir； and ask to be put along with him。 I wants to go there
and be berried。 He used fur to say to me； ‘I am as poor as you
today； Jo；’ he ses。 I wants to tell him that I am as poor as him now；
and have come there to be laid along with him。”
“By and by； Jo。 By and by。”
“Ah！ P’raps they wouldn’t do it if I wos to go myself。 But will
you promise to have me took there； sir； and laid along with him？”
“I will； indeed。”
“Thank’ee； sir。 Thank’ee； sir。 They’ll have to get the key of the
gate afore they can take me in； for it’s allus locked。 And there’s a
step there； as I used fur to clean with my broom。—It’s turned wery
dark； sir。 Is there any light a…comin？”
“It is coming fast； Jo。”
Fast。 The cart is shaken all to pieces； and the rugged road is
very near its end。
“Jo； my poor fellow！”
“I hear you； sir； in the dark； but I’m a…gropin—a…gropin—let me
catch hold of your hand。”
“Jo； can you say what I say？”
“I’ll say anythink as you say； sir； for I knows it’s good。”
“OUR FATHER。”
“Our Father！—yes； that’s wery good； sir。”
“WHICH ART IN HEAVEN。”
“Art in Heaven—is the light a…comin； sir？”
“It is close at hand。 HALLOWED BE THY NAME。”
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“Hallowed be—thy—”
The light is come upon the dark benighted way。 Dead！
Dead； your Majesty。 Dead； my lords and gentlemen。 Dead；
Right Reverends and Wrong Reverends of every order。 Dead； men
and women； born with Heavenly compassion； in your hearts。 And
dying thus around us every day。
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Chapter 48
Closing In
he place in Lincolnshire has shut its many eyes again； and
the house in town is awake。 In Lincolnshire； the Dedlocks
