english stories-london-第17章

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his　bed　this　morning。



〃I　seem　cut　up　about　it？　Well；　not　exactly。　Ah；　you　noticed　that　I

refused　my　chop　to…day。　Bless　your　soul；　that's　not　on　Gabriel's

account。　I　am　well　on　in　years；　and　I　suppose　it　would　be　natural　of

me　to　pity　old　men；　and　expect　pity。　But　I　can't；　no；　/it's　only　the

young　that　I　pity/。　If　you　/must/　know；　I　didn't　take　the　chop　to…day

because　I　haven't　the　money　in　my　pocket　to　pay　for　it。　You　see；　there

was　this　black　tie　that　I　gave　eighteenpence　for；　but　something　else

happened　this　morning　that　I'll　tell　you　about。



〃I　came　down　in　a　'bus；　as　usual。　You　remember　what　muggy　weather　it

was　up　to　ten　o'clockthough　you　wouldn't　think　it；　to　feel　the　heat

now。　Well；　the　'bus　was　packed；　inside　and　out。　At　least；　there　was

just　room　for　one　more　inside　when　we　pulled　up　by　Charing　Cross；　and

there　he　got　ina　boy　with　a　stick　and　a　bundle　in　a　blue

handkerchief。



〃He　wasn't　more　than　thirteen；　bound　for　the　docks；　you　could　tell　at

a　glance；　and　by　the　way　he　looked　about　you　could　tell　as　easily　that

in　stepping　outside　Charing　Cross　station　he'd　set　foot　on　London

stones　for　the　first　time。　God　knows　how　it　struck　himthe　slush　and

drizzle；　the　ugly　shop…fronts；　the　horses　slipping　in　the　brown　mud；

the　crowd　on　the　pavement　pushing　him　this　side　and　that。　The　poor

little　chap　was　standing　in　the　middle　of　it　with　dazed　eyes；　like　a

hare's；　when　the　'bus　pulled　up。　His　eyelids　were　pink　and　swollen；

but　he　wasn't　crying；　though　he　wanted　to。　Instead；　he　gave　a　gulp　as

he　came　on　board　with　stick　and　bundle；　and　tried　to　look　brave　as　a

lion。



〃I'd　have　given　worlds　to　speak　to　him；　but　I　couldn't。　On　my　word；

sir；　I　should　have　cried。　It　wasn't　so　much　the　little　chap's　look。

But　to　the　knot　of　his　bundle　there　was　tied　a　bunch　of　cottage

flowers；sweet…williams；　boy's…love；　and　a　rose　or　two；and　the

sight　and　smell　of　them　in　that　stuffy　omnibus　were　like　tears　on

thirsty　eyelids。　It's　the　young　that　I　pity；　sir。　For　Gabriel；　in　his

bed　up　at　Shepherd's　Bush；　there's　no　more　to　be　said；　as　far　as　I　can

see；　and　as　for　me；　I'm　the　oldest　clerk　in　Tweedy's；　which　is　very

satisfactory。　It's　the　young　faces；　set　toward　the　road　along　which　we

have　travelled；　that　trouble　me。　Sometimes；　sir；　I　lie　awake　in　my

lodgings　and　listen；　and　the　whole　of　this　London　seems　filled　with

the　sound　of　children's　feet　running；　and　I　can　sob　aloud。　You　may　say

that　it　is　only　selfishness；　and　what　I　really　pity　is　my　own　boyhood。

I　dare　say　you're　right。　It's　certain　that；　as　I　kept　glancing　at　the

boy　and　his　sea　kit　and　his　bunch　of　flowers；　my　mind　went　back　to　the

January　morning；　sixty…five　years　back；　when　the　coach　took　me　off　for

the　first　time　from　the　village　where　I　was　born　to　a　London　charity…

school。　I　was　worse　off　than　the　boy　in　the　omnibus；　for　I　had　just

lost　father　and　mother。　Yet　it　was　the　sticks　and　stones　and　flower…

beds　that　I　mostly　thought　of。　I　went　round　and　said　good…bye　to　the

lilacs；　and　told　them　to　be　in　flower　by　the　time　I　came　back。　I　said

to　the　rose…bush；　'You　must　be　as　high　as　my　window　next　May；　you　know

you　only　missed　it　by　three　inches　last　summer。'　Then　I　went　to　the

cow…house；　and　kissed　the　cows；　one　by　one。　They　were　to　be　sold　by

auction　the　very　next　week；　but　I　guessed　nothing　of　it；　and　ordered

them　not　to　forget　me。　And　last　I　looked　at　the　swallows'　nests　under

the　thatch；the　last　year's　nests；and　told　myself　that　they　would

be　filled　again　when　I　returned。　I　remembered　this；　and　how　I

stretched　out　my　hands　to　the　place　from　the　coach…top；　and　how　at

Reading；　where　we　stopped；　I　spent　the　two　shillings　that　I　possessed

in　a　cocoanut　and　a　bright　clasp…knife；　and　how；　when　I　opened　it；　the

nut　was　sour；　and　how　I　cried　myself　to　sleep；　and　woke　in　London。



〃The　young　men　in　Tweedy's；　though　they　respect　my　long　standing

there；　make　fun　of　me　at　times　because　I　never　take　a　holiday　in　the

country。　Why；　sir；　/I　dare　not/。　I　should　wander　back　to　my　old

village；　and　Well；　I　know　how　it　would　be　then。　I　should　find　it

smaller　and　meaner；　I　should　search　about　for　the　flowers　and　nests；

and　listen　for　the　music　that　I　knew　sixty…five　years　ago；　and

remember；　and　they　would　not　be　discoverable。　Also　every　face　would

stare　at　me；　for　all　the　faces　I　know　are　dead。　Then　I　should　think　I

had　missed　my　way　and　come　to　the　wrong　place；　or　（worse）　that　no　such

spot　ever　existed；　and　I　have　been　cheating　myself　all　these　years；

that；　in　fact；　I　was　mad　all　the　while；　and　have　no　stable　reason　for

existingI；　the　oldest　clerk　in　Tweedy's！　To　be　sure；　there　would　be

my　parents'　headstones　in　the　churchyard。　But　what　are　they；　if　the

churchyard　itself　is　changed？



〃As　it　is；　with　three　hundred　pounds　per　annum；　and　enough　laid　by　to

keep　him；　if　I　fail；　an　old　bachelor　has　no　reason　to　grumble。　But　the

sight　of　that　little　chap's　nosegay；　and　the　thought　of　the　mother　who

tied　it　there；　made　my　heart　swell　as　I　fancy　the　earth　must　swell

when　rain　is　coming。　His　eyes　filled　once；　and　he　brushed　them　under

the　pretence　of　pulling　his　cap　forward；　and　stole　a　glance　round　to

see　if　any　one　had　noticed　him。　The　other　passengers　were　busy　with

their　own　thoughts；　and　I　pretended　to　stare　out　of　the　window

opposite；　but　there　was　the　drop；　sure　enough；　on　his　hand　as　he　laid

it　on　his　lap　again。



〃He　was　bound　for　the　docks；　and　thence　for　the　open　sea；　and　I；　that

was　bound　for　Tweedy's　only；　had　to　get　out　at　the　top　of　Cheapside。　I

know　the　'bus　conductor；a　very　honest　man；and；　in　getting　out；　I

slipped　half　a　crown　into　his　hand　to　give　to　the　boy；　with　my

blessing；　at　his　journey's　end。　When　I　picture　his　face；　sir；　I　wish　I

had　made　it　five　shillings；　and　gone　without　a　new　tie　and　dinner

altogether。〃







THE　HIRED　BABY



BY



MARIE　CORELLI







A　dark；　desolate　December　night；　a　night　that　clung　to　the　metropolis

like　a　wet　black　shroud；　a　night　in　which　the　heavy；　low…hanging

vapours　melted　every　now　and　then　into　a　slow；　reluctant　rain；　cold　as

icicle…drops　in　a　rock　cavern。　People　passed　and　repassed　in　the

streets　like　ghosts　in　a　bad　dream；　the　twinkling　gas…light　showed

them　at　one　moment　rising　out　of　the　fog；　and　then　disappearing　from

view　as　though　suddenly　engulfed　in　a　vaporous　ebon　sea。　With　muffled；

angry　shrieks；　the　metropolitan　trains　deposited　their　shoals　of

shivering；　coughing　travelers　at　the　several　stations；　where　sleepy

officials；　rendered　vicious　by　the　weather；　snatched　the　tickets　from

their　hands　with　offensive　haste　and　roughness。　Omnibus　conductors

grew　ill…tempered　and　abusive　without　any　seemingly　adequate　reason；

shopkeepers　became　flippant；　disobliging；　and　careless　of　custom；

cabmen　shouted　derisive　or　denunciatory　language　after　their　rapidly

retreating　fares；　in　short；　everybody　was　in　a　discontented；　almost

spiteful　humour；　with　the　exception　of　those　few　aggressively　cheerful

persons　who　are　in　the　habit　of　always　making　the　best　of　everything；

even　bad　weather。　Down　the　long　wide　vista　of　the　Cromwell　Road；

Kensington；　the　fog　had　it　all　its　own　way；　it　swept　on　steadily；　like

thick　smoke　from　a　huge　fire；　choking　the　throats　and　blinding　the

eyes　of　foot…passengers；　stealing　through　the　crannies　of　the　houses；

and　chilling　the　blood　of　even　those　luxurious　individuals　who；　seated

in　elegant　drawing…rooms　before　blazing　fires；　easily　forgot　that

there　were　such　bitter　things　as　cold　and　poverty　in　that　outside

world　against　which　they　had　barred　their　windows。　At　one　house　in

particulara　house　with　gaudy　glass　doors　and　somewhat　spoiled　yellow

silk　curtains　at　the　windows；　a　house　that　plainly　said　to　itself；

〃Done　up　for　show！〃　to　all　who　cared　to　examine　its　exteriorthere

stood　a　closed　brougham；　drawn　by　a　prancing　pair　of　fat　horses。　A

coachman　of　distinguished　appearance　sat　on　the　box；　a　footman　of

irreproachable　figure　stood　waiting　on　the　pavement；　his　yellow…gloved

hand　resting　elegantly　on　the　polished　silver　knob　of　the　carriage

door。　Both　these　gentlemen　were　resolute　and　inflexible　of　face；　they

looked　as　if　they　had　determined　on　some　great　deed　that　should　move

the　world　to　wild　applause；　but；　truth　to　tell；　they　had　only　just

finished　a　highly　satisfactory　〃meat…tea；〃　and　before　this　grave

silence　had　fallen　upon　them；　they　had　been　discussing　the

advisability　of　broiled　steak　and　onions　for　supper。　The　coachman　had

inclined　to　plain　mutton…chops　as　being　easier　of　digestion；　the

footman　had　earnestly　asseverated　his　belief　in　the　superior

succulence　and　sweetness　of　the　steak　and　onions；　and　in　the　end　he

had　gained　his　point。　This　weighty　question　being　settled；　they　had

gradually　grown　reflective　on　the　past；　present；　and　future　joys　of

eating　at　some　one　else's　expense；　and　in　this　bland　and　pleasing

state　of　meditation　they　were　still　absorbed。　The　horses　were

impatient；　and　pawed　the　muddy　ground　with　many　a　toss　of　their　long

manes　and　tails；　the　steam　from　their　glossy　coats　mingling　with　the

ever…thickening　density　of　the　fog。　On　the　white　stone　steps　of　the

residence　before　which　they　waited　was　an　almost　invisible　bundle；

apparently　shapeless　and　immovable。　Neither　of　the　two　gorgeous

personages　in　livery　observed　it；　it　was　too　far　back　in　a　dim　corner；

too　unobtrusive；　for　the　casual　regard　of　their　lofty　eyes。　Suddenly

the　glass　doors　before　mentioned　were　thrown　apart　with　a　clattering

noise；　a　warmth　and　radiance　from　the　entrance…hall　thus　displayed

streamed　into　the　foggy　street；　and　at　the　same　instant　the　footman；

still　with　grave　and　imperturbable　countenance；　opened　the　brougham。

An　elderly　lady；　richly　dressed；　with　diamonds　sparkling　in　her　gray

hair；　came　rustling　down　the　steps；　bringing　with　her　faint　odours　of

patchouly　and　violet…powder。　She　was　followed　by　a　girl　of　doll…like

prettiness；　with　a　snub　nose　and　petulant　little　mouth；　who　held　up

her　satin…and…lace　skirts　with　a　sort　of　fastidious　disdain；　as　though

she　scorned　to　set　foot　on　earth　that　was　not　carpeted　with　the　best

velvet　pile。　As　they　approached　their　carriage　the　inert　dark　bundle；

crouched　in　the　corner；　started　into　lifea　woman；　with　wild　hair　and

wilder　eyes；　whose　pale　lips　quivered　with　suppressed　weeping　as　her

piteous　voice　broke　into　sudden　clamour：



〃Oh；　lady！〃　she　cried；　〃for　the　love　of　God；　a　trifle！　Oh；　lady；

lady！〃



But　the　〃lady；〃　with　a　contemptuous　sniff　and　a　shake　of　her　scented

garments；　passed　her　before　she　could　continue　her　appeal；　and　she

turned　with　a　sort　of　faint　hope　to　the　softer　face　of　the　girl。



〃Oh；　my　dear；　do　have　pity！　Just　the　smallest　little　thing；　and　God

will　bless　you！　You　are　rich　and　happyand　I　am　starving！　Only　a

penny！　For　the　babythe　poor　little　baby！〃　And　she　made　as　though　she

would　open　her　tattered　shawl　and　reveal　some　treasure　hidden　therein；

but　shrunk　back