a dark night’s work(一晚的工作)

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A DARK NIGHT'S WORK

A DARK NIGHT'S

WORK

By Elizabeth Gaskell

A DARK NIGHT'S WORK

CHAPTER I.

In the county town of a certain shire there lived (about forty years

ago) one Mr. Wilkins, a conveyancing attorney of considerable standing.

The certain shire was but a small county, and the principal town in it

contained only about four thousand inhabitants; so in saying that Mr.

Wilkins was the principal lawyer in Hamley, I say very little, unless I add

that he transacted all the legal business of the gentry for twenty miles

round. His grandfather had established the connection; his father had

consolidated and strengthened it, and, indeed, by his wise and upright

conduct, as well as by his professional skill, had obtained for himself the

position of confidential friend to many of the surrounding families of

distinction. He visited among them in a way which no mere lawyer had

ever done before; dined at their tables--he alone, not accompanied by his

wife, be it observed; rode to the meet occasionally as if by accident,

although he was as well mounted as any squire among them, and was

often persuaded (after a little coquetting about "professional

engagements," and "being wanted at the office") to have a run with his

clients; nay, once or twice he forgot his usual caution, was first in at the

death, and rode home with the brush. But in general he knew his place; as

his place was held to be in that aristocratic county, and in those days.

Nor let be supposed that he was in any way a toadeater. He respected

himself too much for that. He would give the most unpalatable advice, if

need were; would counsel an unsparing reduction of expenditure to an

extravagant man; would recommend such an abatement of family pride as

paved the way for one or two happy marriages in some instances; nay,

what was the most likely piece of conduct of all to give offence forty years

ago, he would speak up for an unjustly-used tenant; and that with so much

temperate and well-timed wisdom and good feeling, that he more than

once gained his point. He had one son, Edward. This boy was the

secret joy and pride of his father's heart. For himself he was not in the

least ambitious, but it did cost him a hard struggle to acknowledge that his

A DARK NIGHT'S WORK

own business was too lucrative, and brought in too large an income, to

pass away into the hands of a stranger, as it would do if he indulged his

ambition for his son by giving him a college education and making him

into a barrister. This determination on the more prudent side of the

argument took place while Edward was at Eton. The lad had, perhaps,

the largest allowance of pocket-money of any boy at school; and he had

always looked forward to going to Christ Church along with his fellows,

the sons of the squires, his father's employers. It was a severe

mortification to him to find that his destiny was changed, and that he had

to return to Hamley to be articled to his father, and to assume the

hereditary subservient position to lads whom he had licked in the play-

ground, and beaten at learning.

His father tried to compensate him for the disappointment by every

indulgence which money could purchase. Edward's horses were even

finer than those of his father; his literary tastes were kept up and fostered,

by his father's permission to form an extensive library, for which purpose a

noble room was added to Mr. Wilkins's already extensive house in the

suburbs of Hamley. And after his year of legal study in London his

father sent him to make the grand tour, with something very like carte

blanche as to expenditure, to judge from the packages which were sent

home from various parts of the Continent.

At last he came home--came back to settle as his father's partner at

Hamley. He was a son to be proud of, and right down proud was old Mr.

Wilkins of his handsome, accomplished, gentlemanly lad. For Edward

was not one to be spoilt by the course of indulgence he had passed through;

at least, if it had done him an injury, the effects were at present hidden

from view. He had no vulgar vices; he was, indeed, rather too refined for

the society he was likely to be thrown into, even supposing that society to

consist of the highest of his father's employers. He was well read, and an

artist of no mean pretensions. Above all, "his heart was in the right

place," as his father used to observe. Nothing could exceed the deference

he always showed to him. His mother had long been dead.

I do not know whether it was Edward's own ambition or his proud

father's wishes that had led him to attend the Hamley assemblies. I

A DARK NIGHT'S WORK

should conjecture the latter, for Edward had of himself too much good

taste to wish to intrude into any society. In the opinion of all the shire, no

society had more reason to consider itself select than that which met at

every full moon in the Hamley assembly-room, an excrescence built on to

the principal inn in the town by the joint subscription of all the county

families. Into those choice and mysterious precincts no towns person

was ever allowed to enter; no professional man might set his foot therein;

no infantry officer saw the interior of that ball, or that card-room. The

old original subscribers would fain have had a man prove his sixteen

quarterings before he might make his bow to the queen of the night; but

the old original founders of the Hamley assemblies were dropping off;

minuets had vanished with them, country dances had died away; quadrilles

were in high vogue--nay, one or two of the high magnates of --shire were

trying to introduce waltzing, as they had seen it in London, where it had

come in with the visit of the allied sovereigns, when Edward Wilkins

made his debut on these boards. He had been at many splendid

assemblies abroad, but still the little old ballroom attached to the George

Inn in his native town was to him a place grander and more awful than the

most magnificent saloons he had seen in Paris or Rome. He laughed at

himself for this unreasonable feeling of awe; but there it was

notwithstanding. He had been dining at the house of one of the lesser

gentry, who was under considerable obligations to his father, and who was

the parent of eight "muckle-mou'ed" daughters, so hardly likely to oppose

much aristocratic resistance to the elder Mr. Wilkins's clearly implied wish

that Edward should be presented at the Hamley assembly-rooms. But

many a squire glowered and looked black at the introduction of Wilkins

the attorney's son into the sacred precincts; and perhaps there would have

been much more mortification than pleasure in this assembly to the young

man, had it not been for an incident that occurred pretty late in the evening.

The lord- lieutenant of the county usually came with a large party to the

Hamley assemblies once in a season; and this night he was expected, and

with him a fashionable duchess and her daughters. But time wore on,

and they did not make their appearance. At last there was a rustling and a

bustling, and in sailed the superb party. For a few minutes dancing was

A DARK NIGHT'S WORK

stopped; the earl led the duchess to a sofa; some of their acquaintances

came up to speak to them; and then the quadrilles were finished in rather a

flat manner. A country dance followed, in which none of the lord-

lieutenant's party joined; then there was a consultation, a request, an

inspection of the dancers, a message to the orchestra, and the band struck

up a waltz; the duchess's daughters flew off to the music, and some more

young ladies seemed ready to follow, but, alas! there was a lack of

gentlemen acquainted with the new-fashioned dance. One of the

stewards bethought him of young Wilkins, only just returned from the

Continent. Edward was a beautiful dancer, and waltzed to admiration.

For his next partner he had one of the Lady --s; for the duchess, to whom

the--shire squires and their little county politics and contempts were alike

unknown, saw no reason why her lovely Lady Sophy should not have a

good partner, whatever his pedigree might be, and begged the stewards to

introduce Mr. Wilkins to her. After this night his fortune was made with

the young ladies of the Hamley assemblies. He was not unpopular with

the mammas; but the heavy squires still looked at him askance, and the

heirs (whom he had licked at Eton) called him an upstart behind his back.

A DARK NIGHT'S WORK

CHAPTER II.

It was not a satisfactory situation. Mr. Wilkins had given his son an

education and tastes beyond his position. He could not associate with

either profit or pleasure with the doctor or the brewer of Hamley; the vicar

was old and deaf, the curate a raw young man, half frightened at the sound

of his own voice. Then, as to matrimony--for the idea of his marriage

was hardly more present in Edward's mind than in that of his father--he

could scarcely fancy bringing home any one of the young ladies of

Hamley to the elegant mansion, so full of suggestion and association to an

educated person, so inappropriate a dwelling for an ignorant, uncouth, ill-

brought-up girl. Yet Edward was fully aware, if his fond father was not,

that of all the young ladies who were glad enough of him as a partner at

the Hamley assemblies, there was not of them but would have considered

herself affronted by an offer of marriage from an attorney, the son and

grandson of attorneys. The young man had perhaps received many a

slight and mortification pretty quietly during these years, which yet told

upon his character in after life. Even at this very time they were having

their effect. He was of too sweet a disposition to show resentment, as

many men would have done. But nevertheless he took a secret pleasure

in the power which his father's money gave him. He would buy an

expensive horse after five minutes' conversation as to the price, about

which a needy heir of one of the proud county families had been haggling

for three weeks. His dogs were from the best kennels in England, no

matter at what cost; his guns were the newest and most improved make;

and all these were expenses on objects which were among those of daily

envy to the squires and squires' sons around. They did not much care for

the treasures of art, which report said were being accumulated in Mr.

Wilkins's house. But they did covet the horses and hounds he possessed,

and the young man knew that they coveted, and rejoiced in it.

By-and-by he formed a marriage, which went as near as marriages

ever do towards pleasing everybody. He was desperately in love with

A DARK NIGHT'S WORK

Miss Lamotte, so he was delighted when she consented to be his wife.

His father was delighted in his delight, and, besides, was charmed to

remember that Miss Lamotte's mother had been Sir Frank Holster's

younger sister, and that, although her marriage had been disowned by her

family, as beneath her in rank, yet no one could efface her name out of the

Baronetage, where Lettice, youngest daughter of Sir Mark Holster, born

1772, married H. Lamotte, 1799, died 1810, was duly chronicled. She

had left two children, a boy and a girl, of whom their uncle, Sir Frank,

took charge, as their father was worse than dead--an outlaw whose name

was never mentioned. Mark Lamotte was in the army; Lettice had a

dependent position in her uncle's family; not intentionally made more

dependent than was rendered necessary by circumstances, but still

dependent enough to grate on the feelings of a sensitive girl, whose natural

susceptibilty to slights was redoubled by the constant recollection of her

father's disgrace. As Mr. Wilkins well knew, Sir Frank was considerably

involved; but it was with very mixed feelings that he listened to the suit

which would provide his penniless niece with a comfortable, not to say

luxurious, home, and with a handsome, accomplished young man of

unblemished character for a husband. He said one or two bitter and

insolent things to Mr. Wilkins, even while he was giving his consent to the

match; that was his temper, his proud, evil temper; but he really and

permanently was satisfied with the connection, though he would

occasionally turn round on his nephew-in-law, and sting him with a covert

insult, as to his want of birth, and the inferior position which he held,

forgetting, apparently, that his own brother-in-law and Lettice's father

might be at any moment brought to the bar of justice if he attempted to re-

enter his native country.

Edward was annoyed at all this; Lettice resented it. She loved her

husband dearly, and was proud of him, for she had discernment enough to

see how superior he was in every way to her cousins, the young Holsters,

who borrowed his horses, drank his wines, and yet had caught their

father's habit of sneering at his profession. Lettice wished that Edward

would content himself with a purely domestic life, would let himself drop

out of the company of the --shire squirearchy, and find his relaxation with

A DARK NIGHT'S WORK

her, in their luxurious library, or lovely drawing-room, so full of white

gleaming statues, and gems of pictures. But, perhaps, this was too much

to expect of any man, especially of one who felt himself fitted in many

ways to shine in society, and who was social by nature. Sociality in that

county at that time meant conviviality. Edward did not care for wine,

and yet he was obliged to drink--and by-and-by he grew to pique himself

on his character as a judge of wine. His father by this time was dead;

dead, happy old man, with a contented heart--his affairs flourishing, his

poorer neighbours loving him, his richer respecting him, his son and

daughter-in-law, the most affectionate and devoted that ever man had, and

his healthy conscience at peace with his God.

Lettice could have lived to herself and her husband and children.

Edward daily required more and more the stimulus of society. His wife

wondered how he could care to accept dinner invitations from people who

treated him as "Wilkins the attorney, a very good sort of fellow," as they

introduced him to strangers who might be staying in the country, but who

had no power to appreciate the taste, the talents, the impulsive artistic

nature which she held so dear. She forgot that by accepting such

invitations Edward was occasionally brought into contact with people not

merely of high conventional, but of high intellectual rank; that when a

certain amount of wine had dissipated his sense of inferiority of rank and

position, he was a brilliant talker, a man to be listened to and admired even

by wandering London statesmen, professional diners-out, or any great

authors who might find themselves visitors in a --shire country- house.

What she would have had him share from the pride of her heart, she

should have warned him to avoid from the temptations to sinful

extravagance which it led him into. He had begun to spend more than he

ought, not in intellectual--though that would have been wrong--but in

purely sensual things. His wines, his table, should be such as no squire's

purse or palate could command. His dinner- parties--small in number,

the viands rare and delicate in quality, and sent up to table by an Italian

cook--should be such as even the London stars should notice with

admiration. He would have Lettice dressed in the richest materials, the

most delicate lace; jewellery, he said, was beyond their means; glancing

A DARK NIGHT'S WORK

with proud humility at the diamonds of the elder ladies, and the alloyed

gold of the younger. But he managed to spend as much on his wife's lace

as would have bought many a set of inferior jewellery. Lettice well

became it all. If as people said, her father had been nothing but a French

adventurer, she bore traces of her nature in her grace, her delicacy, her

fascinating and elegant ways of doing all things. She was made for

society; and yet she hated it. And one day she went out of it altogether

and for evermore. She had been well in the morning when Edward went

down to his office in Hamley. At noon he was sent for by hurried

trembling messengers. When he got home breathless and

uncomprehending, she was past speech. One glance from her lovely

loving black eyes showed that she recognised him with the passionate

yearning that had been one of the characteristics of her love through life.

There was no word passed between them. He could not speak, any more

than could she. He knelt down by her. She was dying; she was dead;

and he knelt on immovable. They brought him his eldest child, Ellinor,

in utter despair what to do in order to rouse him. They had no thought as

to the effect on her, hitherto shut up in the nursery during this busy day of

confusion and alarm. The child had no idea of death, and her father,

kneeling and tearless, was far less an object of surprise or interest to her

than her mother, lying still and white, and not turning her head to smile at

her darling.

"Mamma! mamma!" cried the child, in shapeless terror. But the

mother never stirred; and the father hid his face yet deeper in the

bedclothes, to stifle a cry as if a sharp knife had pierced his heart. The

child forced her impetuous way from her attendants, and rushed to the bed.

Undeterred by deadly cold or stony immobility, she kissed the lips and

stroked the glossy raven hair, murmuring sweet words of wild love, such

as had passed between the mother and child often and often when no

witnesses were by; and altogether seemed so nearly beside herself in an

agony of love and terror, that Edward arose, and softly taking her in his

arms, bore her away, lying back like one dead (so exhausted was she by

the terrible emotion they had forced on her childish heart), into his study, a

little room opening out of the grand library, where on happy evenings,

A DARK NIGHT'S WORK

never to come again, he and his wife were wont to retire to have coffee

together, and then perhaps stroll out of the glass-door into the open air, the

shrubbery, the fields--never more to be trodden by those dear feet. What

passed between father and child in this seclusion none could tell. Late in

the evening Ellinor's supper was sent for, and the servant who brought it in

saw the child lying as one dead in her father's arms, and before he left the

room watched his master feeding her, the girl of six years of age, with as

tender care as if she had been a baby of six months.

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摘要：

ADARKNIGHT'SWORK1ADARKNIGHT'SWORKByElizabethGaskellADARKNIGHT'SWORK2CHAPTERI.Inthecountytownofacertainshiretherelived(aboutfortyyearsago)oneMr.Wilkins,aconveyancingattorneyofconsiderablestanding.Thecertainshirewasbutasmallcounty,andtheprincipaltowninitcontainedonlyaboutfourthousandinhabitants;soinsa...

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