Chapter Twelve (第1/2页)
there es a kind of chaos.
ts bla gives a cry; anot I noticed—it lies in a tin box, beable—begins to cry also. Ricakes off and , sets doret.
It aint Sue, he says.
Miss Lilly, says tly. Aint you just tired, dear? You e a journey
It aint Sue, says ttle louder.
C catcays °ake care of a fe points.—Mr Ibbs, how are you, sir?
S, son, taken off ing to us has
gole brazier is cooling and tig and grotle and a spoon, but is still stealing looks at me.
t get it. You will, answers Rics h, and winks.
till before me, still describing my face elling off my features as if tring. Broers. Nid dainty at teete as c, I dare say? Oh!
I ood, as if in a trance, aer against my face, I start away from her.
o me? me, any of you? And you— I go to Riccoat. is t me to? do they know of Sue, here?
he woman looks rueful.
Got a voice, dont she girl.
Like t .
Rics my gaze, t I say? he shrugs. I am a villain.
Damn your attitudes noell me yours?
Is it .
Jo, or Ill t mind !
I feel do not look at ell me, I say.
Not mine, last.
Not ours? hen?
ired. It is to the Bh.
tand for a moment in silehinking back across his
drops. Sues hieves.
to t know us!
I t! I spit at cc. It seems darker, too, and close. I still coat. ries to pull a as me o be rid of me. o keep my money five trifling s of my s drops again, as I t—Sue t all.
You s do it! I say, my voice rising. You t knoo do? All of you? trick?
You dont ko dra let , tainly kill me. For a sed ruggle. titcc ead.
take me back, I say. I say it, t let t my voice make it firm. take me back, at oo treets and haeys.
do it.
take me noudied it, a—a poli!
the dog barks.
Noroking ac be careful alk, dear, in a his.
It is you o anot is it you t is you is all of you! And you, Ric be most careful of all, so talk.
But Rig. Do you hear me? I cry.
ts o o clear it of o everyone. Aint it?
Damn you! I say. I look me for a moment, t my bag. Ric first, across t playfully. takes it up, and in o pick at the blade flashes.
Ric leave, Maud, go, hing.
o to stand before it. t lead, pero a street, pero ot one. I am sorry, he says.
t itself is like a blade, and astonis I Briar? I felt it rising from me, and been glad? Noo kill me; and I am more afraid t possible to be, of anyt all.
You fool, I say to myself. But to t. You s! I run one , not for t Ric for t, and s, and put my o its neck. You s! I say again. Damn you, do you t t!—I t.—See, ifle it!
terested. t t no six, if you . Make it—ure to tin box beable—make it five. It is all to me. I fancy I am about to give the business up, anyway.
ture in my arms slumbers on, but gives a kick. I feel tation of its behere is a
fluttering at top of its scs ^er o for a cigarette. , Put t you?
mildly; and I bee a. I set table, among tes and ce, takes over its head.
do it. John Vroom shall have him—lips, nose and ears!
tickled. ts enougs to be of to t y, see to little Sidney before ed girl. I expected not you dont imagine o you? So me again. S stand toucs rokes my sleeve. You dont imagine you aint more wele han anyone?
I still stle. I t imagine, I say, pulling myself a in keeping me o leave.
Silts , Mr Ibbs? srokes me again. Sit do t from a very grand place, it miging for you. ont you take off your cloak, and your bo? You ser, c you slip off yloves?—ell, you kno.
I cly, is raticular about to feed way— by her uncle.
the woman looks sage.
Your uncle, s a lot of filtouch you, dear,
to no, ter your er, I al a shame?
I , to disguise trembling of my legs; but o t, it is , it is terribly , my c I must not move, I must till picks at till at my side. t of t s it.
I turn my not my gaze. Risens tring of my bo and dra from my s my akes up a lock of it and rubs it between her fingers.
Quite fair, s of e fair, like gold almost.
Do you mean to sell it? I say take it! I snatc t up and rip it from its pins. You see, I say, me go.
Sty I said? e doo y: you sime. And Mr ing for you— you, Mr Ibbs? And ing for you, of all. Dear me, has been.
S o me. Aint s to be— ongue, lets ward?
ts cly at me: Miss Lilly is tunes h ours. Miss Lilly
dont kno—as , t empt you? Sogetton cc a stall on ty s, bring it back, fry it up, quick as ces, look, fit for royalty. e got silver forks— Mr Ibbs, pass me one of ttle roug t it? Dont mind it, darling. ts off. Feel t of it, t t t be fishe
chop?
Sands, bending to me, o my face. I push
it aside.
Do you suppose, I say, I mean to sit a a supper o call you servants! tunes her die!
t a dander, says t she?
But t admiring. Daintys got a dander, s one myself. Any ordinary girl a lady do t, Gentleman? So Riciredly to tug upon the slavering dog.
eur, looking up.
eur, ss.
Mersee, says te, after all, to ook it for on bad manners, and punched her.
urns to tc you learned yet, prise it, boy, and mass s little about to bust it.
tab time I he word used as
a curse. akes t of ts it to t and stop , sly, in one long gash.
ell, ts like you, says tly.
aken out a pipe, and lig. ts o t in td, till burning from t of tting of to tremble.
Please, I say. Please give me back my t trouble about t is mine, a me go.
I suppose my voice eous o it; for nourn tudy me, and trokes my hair.
Nill? s frig being playful.—Jo your knife a, dear? s a creased old t looks like it aint been used in fifty years. e s you a proper one. S hough!
t gives up t to me I take it and . tears, rising in my t.
Boo-, ter, he says, when you was a chair.
I am sure . t to look at Ric it enougo ricked me? and so coolly me?
roking o t you a quieter place, for o sit in?
A quieter place? so warm down o e up, dear, now? Make your ? ash your hands?
I so be so treet, and a , only t.
ell, treet from t me take t old bag.— ant to keep it? All rig yrip a strong one! Gentleman, you e along, too, ake your old room, at top?
I will, .
t ands close. I soo, a menace a so a pen—tcoaircase. is darker and cooler, and I feel t perreet-door, and sloeps; but I too, of t call from it, or drop from it—or fling myself from it—sry to me. taircase is narro; eps, are cer, ing ing shadows.
Lift your skirts, dear, above the woman, going up before me. Richard es, very close, behind.
At top t: t, and s to a small square room. A bed, a ly cross. It is narroogetreet, a ment-coloured sters -s in yellow chalks.
I stand and study it all, my bag still clute, but my arms groairs; t to tand and pours a little er from to take, in ing so quickly to tands betout, and
puso surprise her.
Per tand, ilted, but sche same close, eager, half-awed, half-admiring way as before.
ed soap, sotle and to me, bared and made you care, she says, for lavender?
I epped acart! I dont care, I say, taking ao be tricked. Seps, too. trickery, darling?
Do you t to e o stay?
I tartled. I t quite yourself. Not quite myself? s myself to you? o say be?
At t, , returns to tand, toucoairs, a cairs, Ricters. If I am to run, I must do it notom, t t? I am not sure. Never mind, I t I do not. ts cate; and in t of t ation Riceps airs. o tte beo er.
. take your cloak off, Maud, le me.
t keep my cloak quite fastened, and move backhe window. I will
as . I reet. Ricches me and sighs. he makes his eyes wide. You need
t . Do you to you?
And do you trust you not to? You told me vourself, at Briar, o, for moneys sake. I mean to c me of all my fortuell me you s get it, tcer some slig tracts. Clever Sue. Good girl.
S up, Maud.
. the deed upon your sce. I suppose you have one?
Not one, ly, t roubled by to like it.
till gazing at t speaking. You do everyt her word?
Everyt meaningfully; and e, not uandio me, Maud. t. From start to finis I am, I am not so great a s I would swindle .
—but t to me before. You are lying, I say.
No. truth.
believe it. S sent you to Briar, to my uncle? And before t, to Paris? to Mr rey?
S seo you. No matter all ting patook to reac aken t kno t eps.
I glauer a moment. So anyone mig of the house?
S anyone.
ts o mine again at last, and nods. I kneher, she says.
My moto my t—a curious trait lies s ribbon fraying, I in years. My moto London to escape once, I t Briar—untended, untrimmed, its one creeping h grey.
till c my hand drop.
I dont believe you, I say. My mot was her name?__
tell me t.
So look sly. I kno, s say it just yet. Ill tell you tter t started it, t arts your name. Ill tell you tter. t oo! t letter, t. t was aR . . .
S, I kno? ho is she?
A nurse, I say. You were a nurse—
But s smiles. Now, w?
You dont kno kno I was born in a madhouse!
as you? she answers quickly. hy do you say so?
You t remember my own home?
I stle. mean here.
I , I say.
You old it, I expect.
Every one of my uncles servants kno!
told it, too, per make it true? Maybe, j Maybe not.
As sand to ts upon it, sloness
s, Gentleman?—I last t t? me again. e keeps t room, s, friendly, dangerous tone, fentleman to kip in of room it is, I tell you. Seen all manner of business up ts of tricks. People been knoo e —sends surprise— t be found—do you see?—whey e here. Chaps, girls, kids, ladies
After t you sit, dear girl? Dont care to? e, t upon it—a quilt of coloured squares, rougted, and rougogeto pluck at one of its seams, as if in distra. Noas I speaking of? she says, her eyes on mine.
Of ladies, says Richard.
Ss s rigrue ladies, you find ticks in ticular, t came—oeen years? Seventeen? Eigcime to you, s, I dare say. Seems a lifetime, dont it? Only , dear girl, till you are my age. togetogetears . . . Ss. But I ill, and cold, and cautious, and say nothen she goes on.
ell, ticular lady, s muc s my name from a did girls and ts. You knoopped? S. t of my line. My idea going to kill you on its , then have
it, and sell it; or ter, give it to me a me sell it for you!—I mean, to people t infants, for servants or apprentices, or fular sons and daug t?—and people like me, providing ts? No? Again, I make no aill so me. Poor tried to soo far on, s sick. "; I said, before I took ; follo about kill o t. As for tleman t arted roubles all off, by saying lemen, of course, will do.
ook airs. Pernt to . Mr Ibbs did say I oug to. For I and fretful—more fretful, t borne a little infant of my o talk of t, talk of t.
S , as if in searcory. to find tcures up t is a dirty yellohe smoke of lamps.
Up t lemans room. And all day long I beside I would urning in her bed, and g. Nearly broke your
. S die. Mr Ibbs supposed it. I t, for s to go anot s rengto go time. But maybe t, too—times. For s and it starts ing. takes a day and a nigo e, all rigs a s te made rags of. t;s t, Mrs Sucksby?" s;ts your baby, my dear!" I tell ;My baby?" says s;Is my baby a boy, irl?" "Its a girl," I say. And ;to girls. I wis;
Ss s t t: aken up t of t across tle lohose backwards, rueful sighs.
ty, g again . . . S I, Miss Lilly? Not findiiresome, dear? Aint muco erest, perales ..."
Go on, I say. My mouticks. Go on, about the woman.
t tle girl? Suc little scrap of a girl, s blue, of course; and broer . . .
So my o my voice I make flat. Go on, I say again. I knoo tell me. tell me noer dead. then?
isimes. And sometimes t. Not co her, and when I said she had much
better give o me, te ;, you doo raise ; I said. "You, a lady, a ; S to go abroad, ;Ill see my daugo a poor man before s; s;Im ty life." t no amount of sensible talking from me could s s , to t to start for France so soon as rengtell you t s I o simple and good.
S its t are meant to suffer in t it, t very ime, of Fra il one nigting o cs t first put o me: I see rouble. t do you tracked er all. "t; says t;Lord to tell t t; Ss black. "t; s;and a bully to your lady out nory to !"
ell! t all, and started s;O; s;O only to France!"—but trip doairs ;take my baby!" s;take as omb! take urn against me—o even named even named ; ts all s;I even named ;—"Name ; I said, just to make . "Name ill got t; "I ; she said.
"But, ;ell," I said, "to be a lady after all, t no s your o; t;My names a eful one, Id sooner curse anyone call ;
Sops, seeing my face. It ed—t tory must read ood, feeling my breater, my stomacale proceeds. I dras not true, I say. My mot a her was a soldier. I have his ring. Look here, look here!
I o my bag, and I stoop to it, and pull at torle square of li t up. My udies it and shrugs.
Rings may be got, s about anywhere.
From him, I say.
From anyen like t, amped V.R.—ould t make the Queens?
I ot ans a her— My
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there es a kind of chaos.
ts bla gives a cry; anot I noticed—it lies in a tin box, beable—begins to cry also. Ricakes off and , sets doret.
It aint Sue, he says.
Miss Lilly, says tly. Aint you just tired, dear? You e a journey
It aint Sue, says ttle louder.
C catcays °ake care of a fe points.—Mr Ibbs, how are you, sir?
S, son, taken off ing to us has
gole brazier is cooling and tig and grotle and a spoon, but is still stealing looks at me.
t get it. You will, answers Rics h, and winks.
till before me, still describing my face elling off my features as if tring. Broers. Nid dainty at teete as c, I dare say? Oh!
I ood, as if in a trance, aer against my face, I start away from her.
o me? me, any of you? And you— I go to Riccoat. is t me to? do they know of Sue, here?
he woman looks rueful.
Got a voice, dont she girl.
Like t .
Rics my gaze, t I say? he shrugs. I am a villain.
Damn your attitudes noell me yours?
Is it .
Jo, or Ill t mind !
I feel do not look at ell me, I say.
Not mine, last.
Not ours? hen?
ired. It is to the Bh.
tand for a moment in silehinking back across his
drops. Sues hieves.
to t know us!
I t! I spit at cc. It seems darker, too, and close. I still coat. ries to pull a as me o be rid of me. o keep my money five trifling s of my s drops again, as I t—Sue t all.
You s do it! I say, my voice rising. You t knoo do? All of you? trick?
You dont ko dra let , tainly kill me. For a sed ruggle. titcc ead.
take me back, I say. I say it, t let t my voice make it firm. take me back, at oo treets and haeys.
do it.
take me noudied it, a—a poli!
the dog barks.
Noroking ac be careful alk, dear, in a his.
It is you o anot is it you t is you is all of you! And you, Ric be most careful of all, so talk.
But Rig. Do you hear me? I cry.
ts o o clear it of o everyone. Aint it?
Damn you! I say. I look me for a moment, t my bag. Ric first, across t playfully. takes it up, and in o pick at the blade flashes.
Ric leave, Maud, go, hing.
o to stand before it. t lead, pero a street, pero ot one. I am sorry, he says.
t itself is like a blade, and astonis I Briar? I felt it rising from me, and been glad? Noo kill me; and I am more afraid t possible to be, of anyt all.
You fool, I say to myself. But to t. You s! I run one , not for t Ric for t, and s, and put my o its neck. You s! I say again. Damn you, do you t t!—I t.—See, ifle it!
terested. t t no six, if you . Make it—ure to tin box beable—make it five. It is all to me. I fancy I am about to give the business up, anyway.
ture in my arms slumbers on, but gives a kick. I feel tation of its behere is a
fluttering at top of its scs ^er o for a cigarette. , Put t you?
mildly; and I bee a. I set table, among tes and ce, takes over its head.
do it. John Vroom shall have him—lips, nose and ears!
tickled. ts enougs to be of to t y, see to little Sidney before ed girl. I expected not you dont imagine o you? So me again. S stand toucs rokes my sleeve. You dont imagine you aint more wele han anyone?
I still stle. I t imagine, I say, pulling myself a in keeping me o leave.
Silts , Mr Ibbs? srokes me again. Sit do t from a very grand place, it miging for you. ont you take off your cloak, and your bo? You ser, c you slip off yloves?—ell, you kno.
I cly, is raticular about to feed way— by her uncle.
the woman looks sage.
Your uncle, s a lot of filtouch you, dear,
to no, ter your er, I al a shame?
I , to disguise trembling of my legs; but o t, it is , it is terribly , my c I must not move, I must till picks at till at my side. t of t s it.
I turn my not my gaze. Risens tring of my bo and dra from my s my akes up a lock of it and rubs it between her fingers.
Quite fair, s of e fair, like gold almost.
Do you mean to sell it? I say take it! I snatc t up and rip it from its pins. You see, I say, me go.
Sty I said? e doo y: you sime. And Mr ing for you— you, Mr Ibbs? And ing for you, of all. Dear me, has been.
S o me. Aint s to be— ongue, lets ward?
ts cly at me: Miss Lilly is tunes h ours. Miss Lilly
dont kno—as , t empt you? Sogetton cc a stall on ty s, bring it back, fry it up, quick as ces, look, fit for royalty. e got silver forks— Mr Ibbs, pass me one of ttle roug t it? Dont mind it, darling. ts off. Feel t of it, t t t be fishe
chop?
Sands, bending to me, o my face. I push
it aside.
Do you suppose, I say, I mean to sit a a supper o call you servants! tunes her die!
t a dander, says t she?
But t admiring. Daintys got a dander, s one myself. Any ordinary girl a lady do t, Gentleman? So Riciredly to tug upon the slavering dog.
eur, looking up.
eur, ss.
Mersee, says te, after all, to ook it for on bad manners, and punched her.
urns to tc you learned yet, prise it, boy, and mass s little about to bust it.
tab time I he word used as
a curse. akes t of ts it to t and stop , sly, in one long gash.
ell, ts like you, says tly.
aken out a pipe, and lig. ts o t in td, till burning from t of tting of to tremble.
Please, I say. Please give me back my t trouble about t is mine, a me go.
I suppose my voice eous o it; for nourn tudy me, and trokes my hair.
Nill? s frig being playful.—Jo your knife a, dear? s a creased old t looks like it aint been used in fifty years. e s you a proper one. S hough!
t gives up t to me I take it and . tears, rising in my t.
Boo-, ter, he says, when you was a chair.
I am sure . t to look at Ric it enougo ricked me? and so coolly me?
roking o t you a quieter place, for o sit in?
A quieter place? so warm down o e up, dear, now? Make your ? ash your hands?
I so be so treet, and a , only t.
ell, treet from t me take t old bag.— ant to keep it? All rig yrip a strong one! Gentleman, you e along, too, ake your old room, at top?
I will, .
t ands close. I soo, a menace a so a pen—tcoaircase. is darker and cooler, and I feel t perreet-door, and sloeps; but I too, of t call from it, or drop from it—or fling myself from it—sry to me. taircase is narro; eps, are cer, ing ing shadows.
Lift your skirts, dear, above the woman, going up before me. Richard es, very close, behind.
At top t: t, and s to a small square room. A bed, a ly cross. It is narroogetreet, a ment-coloured sters -s in yellow chalks.
I stand and study it all, my bag still clute, but my arms groairs; t to tand and pours a little er from to take, in ing so quickly to tands betout, and
puso surprise her.
Per tand, ilted, but sche same close, eager, half-awed, half-admiring way as before.
ed soap, sotle and to me, bared and made you care, she says, for lavender?
I epped acart! I dont care, I say, taking ao be tricked. Seps, too. trickery, darling?
Do you t to e o stay?
I tartled. I t quite yourself. Not quite myself? s myself to you? o say be?
At t, , returns to tand, toucoairs, a cairs, Ricters. If I am to run, I must do it notom, t t? I am not sure. Never mind, I t I do not. ts cate; and in t of t ation Riceps airs. o tte beo er.
. take your cloak off, Maud, le me.
t keep my cloak quite fastened, and move backhe window. I will
as . I reet. Ricches me and sighs. he makes his eyes wide. You need
t . Do you to you?
And do you trust you not to? You told me vourself, at Briar, o, for moneys sake. I mean to c me of all my fortuell me you s get it, tcer some slig tracts. Clever Sue. Good girl.
S up, Maud.
. the deed upon your sce. I suppose you have one?
Not one, ly, t roubled by to like it.
till gazing at t speaking. You do everyt her word?
Everyt meaningfully; and e, not uandio me, Maud. t. From start to finis I am, I am not so great a s I would swindle .
—but t to me before. You are lying, I say.
No. truth.
believe it. S sent you to Briar, to my uncle? And before t, to Paris? to Mr rey?
S seo you. No matter all ting patook to reac aken t kno t eps.
I glauer a moment. So anyone mig of the house?
S anyone.
ts o mine again at last, and nods. I kneher, she says.
My moto my t—a curious trait lies s ribbon fraying, I in years. My moto London to escape once, I t Briar—untended, untrimmed, its one creeping h grey.
till c my hand drop.
I dont believe you, I say. My mot was her name?__
tell me t.
So look sly. I kno, s say it just yet. Ill tell you tter t started it, t arts your name. Ill tell you tter. t oo! t letter, t. t was aR . . .
S, I kno? ho is she?
A nurse, I say. You were a nurse—
But s smiles. Now, w?
You dont kno kno I was born in a madhouse!
as you? she answers quickly. hy do you say so?
You t remember my own home?
I stle. mean here.
I , I say.
You old it, I expect.
Every one of my uncles servants kno!
told it, too, per make it true? Maybe, j Maybe not.
As sand to ts upon it, sloness
s, Gentleman?—I last t t? me again. e keeps t room, s, friendly, dangerous tone, fentleman to kip in of room it is, I tell you. Seen all manner of business up ts of tricks. People been knoo e —sends surprise— t be found—do you see?—whey e here. Chaps, girls, kids, ladies
After t you sit, dear girl? Dont care to? e, t upon it—a quilt of coloured squares, rougted, and rougogeto pluck at one of its seams, as if in distra. Noas I speaking of? she says, her eyes on mine.
Of ladies, says Richard.
Ss s rigrue ladies, you find ticks in ticular, t came—oeen years? Seventeen? Eigcime to you, s, I dare say. Seems a lifetime, dont it? Only , dear girl, till you are my age. togetogetears . . . Ss. But I ill, and cold, and cautious, and say nothen she goes on.
ell, ticular lady, s muc s my name from a did girls and ts. You knoopped? S. t of my line. My idea going to kill you on its , then have
it, and sell it; or ter, give it to me a me sell it for you!—I mean, to people t infants, for servants or apprentices, or fular sons and daug t?—and people like me, providing ts? No? Again, I make no aill so me. Poor tried to soo far on, s sick. "; I said, before I took ; follo about kill o t. As for tleman t arted roubles all off, by saying lemen, of course, will do.
ook airs. Pernt to . Mr Ibbs did say I oug to. For I and fretful—more fretful, t borne a little infant of my o talk of t, talk of t.
S , as if in searcory. to find tcures up t is a dirty yellohe smoke of lamps.
Up t lemans room. And all day long I beside I would urning in her bed, and g. Nearly broke your
. S die. Mr Ibbs supposed it. I t, for s to go anot s rengto go time. But maybe t, too—times. For s and it starts ing. takes a day and a nigo e, all rigs a s te made rags of. t;s t, Mrs Sucksby?" s;ts your baby, my dear!" I tell ;My baby?" says s;Is my baby a boy, irl?" "Its a girl," I say. And ;to girls. I wis;
Ss s t t: aken up t of t across tle lohose backwards, rueful sighs.
ty, g again . . . S I, Miss Lilly? Not findiiresome, dear? Aint muco erest, perales ..."
Go on, I say. My mouticks. Go on, about the woman.
t tle girl? Suc little scrap of a girl, s blue, of course; and broer . . .
So my o my voice I make flat. Go on, I say again. I knoo tell me. tell me noer dead. then?
isimes. And sometimes t. Not co her, and when I said she had much
better give o me, te ;, you doo raise ; I said. "You, a lady, a ; S to go abroad, ;Ill see my daugo a poor man before s; s;Im ty life." t no amount of sensible talking from me could s s , to t to start for France so soon as rengtell you t s I o simple and good.
S its t are meant to suffer in t it, t very ime, of Fra il one nigting o cs t first put o me: I see rouble. t do you tracked er all. "t; says t;Lord to tell t t; Ss black. "t; s;and a bully to your lady out nory to !"
ell! t all, and started s;O; s;O only to France!"—but trip doairs ;take my baby!" s;take as omb! take urn against me—o even named even named ; ts all s;I even named ;—"Name ; I said, just to make . "Name ill got t; "I ; she said.
"But, ;ell," I said, "to be a lady after all, t no s your o; t;My names a eful one, Id sooner curse anyone call ;
Sops, seeing my face. It ed—t tory must read ood, feeling my breater, my stomacale proceeds. I dras not true, I say. My mot a her was a soldier. I have his ring. Look here, look here!
I o my bag, and I stoop to it, and pull at torle square of li t up. My udies it and shrugs.
Rings may be got, s about anywhere.
From him, I say.
From anyen like t, amped V.R.—ould t make the Queens?
I ot ans a her— My
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