david copperfield(大卫.科波维尔)-第70部分
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she gave me a stately welcome。
It was a genteel old…fashioned house； very quiet and orderly。
From the windows of my room I saw all London lying in the
distance like a great vapour； with here and there some lights
twinkling through it。 I had only time； in dressing； to glance at the
solid furniture； the framed pieces of work （done； I supposed； by
Steerforth’s mother when she was a girl）； and some pictures in
crayons of ladies with powdered hair and bodices； coming and
going on the walls； as the newly…kindled fire crackled and
sputtered； when I was called to dinner。
There was a second lady in the dining…room； of a slight short
figure； dark； and not agreeable to look at； but with some
appearance of good looks too； who attracted my attention： perhaps
because I had not expected to see her； perhaps because I found
myself sitting opposite to her； perhaps because of something really
remarkable in her。 She had black hair and eager black eyes； and
was thin； and had a scar upon her lip。 It was an old scar—I should
rather call it seam； for it was not discoloured； and had healed
years ago—which had once cut through her mouth； downward
towards the chin； but was now barely visible across the table；
except above and on her upper lip； the shape of which it had
altered。 I concluded in my own mind that she was about thirty
years of age； and that she wished to be married。 She was a little
dilapidated—like a house—with having been so long to let； yet
had； as I have said； an appearance of good looks。 Her thinness
seemed to be the effect of some wasting fire within her； which
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David Copperfield
found a vent in her gaunt eyes。
She was introduced as Miss Dartle； and both Steerforth and his
mother called her Rosa。 I found that she lived there； and had been
for a long time Mrs。 Steerforth’s companion。 It appeared to me
that she never said anything she wanted to say； outright； but
hinted it； and made a great deal more of it by this practice。 For
example； when Mrs。 Steerforth observed； more in jest than
earnest； that she feared her son led but a wild life at college； Miss
Dartle put in thus：
‘Oh； really？ You know how ignorant I am； and that I only ask
for information； but isn’t it always so？ I thought that kind of life
was on all hands understood to be—eh？’
‘It is education for a very grave profession； if you mean that；
Rosa；’ Mrs。 Steerforth answered with some coldness。
‘Oh！ Yes！ That’s very true；’ returned Miss Dartle。 ‘But isn’t it；
though？—I want to be put right； if I am wrong—isn’t it； really？’
‘Really what？’ said Mrs。 Steerforth。
‘Oh！ You mean it’s not！’ returned Miss Dartle。 ‘Well； I’m very
glad to hear it！ Now； I know what to do！ That’s the advantage of
asking。 I shall never allow people to talk before me about
wastefulness and profligacy； and so forth； in connexion with that
life； any more。’
‘And you will be right；’ said Mrs。 Steerforth。 ‘My son’s tutor is a
conscientious gentleman； and if I had not implicit reliance on my
son； I should have reliance on him。’
‘Should you？’ said Miss Dartle。 ‘Dear me！ Conscientious； is he？
Really conscientious； now？’
‘Yes； I am convinced of it；’ said Mrs。 Steerforth。
‘How very nice！’ exclaimed Miss Dartle。 ‘What a comfort！ Really
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David Copperfield
conscientious？ Then he’s not—but of course he can’t be； if he’s
really conscientious。 Well； I shall be quite happy in my opinion of
him； from this time。 You can’t think how it elevates him in my
opinion； to know for certain that he’s really conscientious！’
Her own views of every question； and her correction of
everything that was said to which she was opposed； Miss Dartle
insinuated in the same way： sometimes； I could not conceal from
myself； with great power； though in contradiction even of
Steerforth。 An instance happened before dinner was done。 Mrs。
Steerforth speaking to me about my intention of going down into
Suffolk； I said at hazard how glad I should be； if Steerforth would
only go there with me； and explaining to him that I was going to
see my old nurse； and Mr。 Peggotty’s family； I reminded him of the
boatman whom he had seen at school。
‘Oh！ That bluff fellow！’ said Steerforth。 ‘He had a son with him；
hadn’t he？’
‘No。 That was his nephew；’ I replied； ‘whom he adopted；
though； as a son。 He has a very pretty little niece too； whom he
adopted as a daughter。 In short； his house—or rather his boat； for
he lives in one； on dry land—is full of people who are objects of his
generosity and kindness。 You would be delighted to see that
household。’
‘Should I？’ said Steerforth。 ‘Well； I think I should。 I must see
what can be done。 It would be worth a journey （not to mention the
pleasure of a journey with you； Daisy）； to see that sort of people
together； and to make one of ’em。’
My heart leaped with a new hope of pleasure。 But it was in
reference to the tone in which he had spoken of ‘that sort of
people’； that Miss Dartle； whose sparkling eyes had been watchful
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of us； now broke in again。
‘Oh； but； really？ Do tell me。 Are they； though？’ she said。
‘Are they what？ And are who what？’ said Steerforth。
‘That sort of people。—Are they really animals and clods； and
beings of another order？ I want to know so much。’
‘Why； there’s a pretty wide separation between them and us；’
said Steerforth； with indifference。 ‘They are not to be expected to
be as sensitive as we are。 Their delicacy is not to be shocked； or
hurt easily。 They are wonderfully virtuous； I dare say—some
people contend for that； at least； and I am sure I don’t want to
contradict them—but they have not very fine natures； and they
may be thankful that； like their coarse rough skins； they are not
easily wounded。’
‘Really！’ said Miss Dartle。 ‘Well； I don’t know； now； when I have
been better pleased than to hear that。 It’s so consoling！ It’s such a
delight to know that； when they suffer； they don’t feel！ Sometimes
I have been quite uneasy for that sort of people； but now I shall
just dismiss the idea of them； altogether。 Live and learn。 I had my
doubts； I confess； but now they’re cleared up。 I didn’t know； and
now I do know； and that shows the advantage of asking—don’t it？’
I believed that Steerforth had said what he had； in jest； or to
draw Miss Dartle out； and I expected him to say as much when she
was gone； and we two were sitting before the fire。 But he merely
asked me what I thought of her。
‘She is very clever； is she not？’ I asked。
‘Clever！ She brings everything to a grindstone；’ said Steerforth；
and sharpens it； as she has sharpened her own face and figure
these years past。 She has worn herself away by constant
sharpening。 She is all edge。’
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David Copperfield
‘What a remarkable scar that is upon her lip！’ I said。
Steerforth’s face fell； and he paused a moment。
‘Why； the fact is；’ he returned； ‘I did that。’
‘By an unfortunate accident！’
‘No。 I was a young boy； and she exasperated me； and I threw a
hammer at her。 A promising young angel I must have been！’ I was
deeply sorry to have touched on such a painful theme； but that
was useless now。
‘She has borne the mark ever since； as you see；’ said Steerforth；
‘and she’ll bear it to her grave； if she ever rests in one—though I
can hardly believe she will ever rest anywhere。 She was the
motherless child of a sort of cousin of my father’s。 He died one day。
My mother； who was then a widow； brought her here to be
company to her。 She has a couple of thousand pounds of her own；
and saves the interest of it every year； to add to the principal。
There’s the history of Miss Rosa Dartle for you。’
‘And I have no doubt she loves you like a brother？’ said I。
‘Humph！’ retorted Steerforth； looking at the fire。 ‘Some
brothers are not loved over much； and some love—but help
yourself； Copperfield！ We’ll drink the daisies of the field； in
compliment to you； and the lilies of the valley that toil not； neither
do they spin； in compliment to me—the more shame for me！’ A
moody smile that had overspread his features cleared off as he
said this merrily； and he was his own frank； winning self again。
I could not help glancing at the scar with a painful interest
when we went in to tea。 It was not long before I observed that it
was the most susceptible part of her face； and that； when she
turned pale； that mark altered first； and became a dull； leadcoloured streak； lengthening out to its full extent； like a mark in
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David Copperfield
invisible ink brought to the fire。 There was a little altercation
between her and Steerforth about a cast of the dice at back
gammon—when I thought her； for one moment； in a storm of rage；
and then I saw it start forth like the old writing on the wall。
It was no matter of wonder to me to find Mrs。 Steerforth
devoted to her son。 She seemed to be able to speak or think about
nothing else。 She showed me his picture as an infant； in a locket；
with some of his baby…hair in it； she showed me his picture as he
had been when I first knew him； and she wore at her breast his
picture as he was now。 All the letters he had ever written to her；
she kept in a cabinet near her own chair by the fire； and she would
have read me some of them； and I should have been very glad to
hear them too； if he had not interposed； and coaxed her out of the
design。
‘It was at Mr。 Creakle’s； my son tells me； that you first became
acquainted；’ said Mrs。 Steerforth； as she and I were talking at one
table； while they played backgammon at another。 ‘Indeed； I
recollect his speaking； at that time； of a pupil younger than himself
who had taken his fancy there； but your name； as you may
suppose； has not lived in my memory。’
‘He was very generous and noble to me in those
