乐文小说网

第69部分（第2页）

“But　I　must　do　something。　Let　me　have　them。”

She　consented；　and　she　even　brought　me　a　clean　towel　to　spread　over　my　dress；　“lest；”　as　she　said；　“I　should　mucky　it。”

“Ye’ve　not　been　used　to　sarvant’s　wark；　I　see　by　your　hands；”　she　remarked。　“Happen　ye’ve　been　a　dressmaker？”

“No；　you　are　wrong。　And　now；　never　mind　what　I　have　been：　don’t　trouble　your　head　further　about　me；　but　tell　me　the　name　of　the　house　where　we　are。”

“Some　calls　it　Marsh　End；　and　some　calls　it　Moor　House。”

“And　the　gentleman　who　lives　here　is　called　Mr。　St。　John？”

“Nay；　he　doesn’t　live　here：　he　is　only　staying　a　while。　When　he　is　at　home；　he　is　in　his　own　parish　at　Morton。”

“That　village　a　few　miles　off？

“Aye。”

“And　what　is　he？”

“He　is　a　parson。”

I　remembered　the　answer　of　the　old　housekeeper　at　the　parsonage；　when　I　had　asked　to　see　the　clergyman。　“This；　then；　was　his　father’s　residence？”

“Aye；　old　Mr。　Rivers　lived　here；　and　his　father；　and　grandfather；　and　gurt　（great）　grandfather　afore　him。”

“The　name；　then；　of　that　gentleman；　is　Mr。　St。　John　Rivers？”

“Aye；　St。　John　is　like　his　kirstened　name。”

“And　his　sisters　are　called　Diana　and　Mary　Rivers？”

“Yes。”

“Their　father　is　dead？”

“Dead　three　weeks　sin’　of　a　stroke。”

“They　have　no　mother？”

“The　mistress　has　been　dead　this　mony　a　year。”

“Have　you　lived　with　the　family　long？”

“I’ve　lived　here　thirty　year。　I　nursed　them　all　three。”

“That　proves　you　must　have　been　an　honest　and　faithful　servant。　I　will　say　so　much　for　you；　though　you　have　had　the　incivility　to　call　me　a　beggar。”

She　again　regarded　me　with　a　surprised　stare。　“I　believe；”　she　said；　“I　y　thoughts　of　you：　but　there　is　so　mony　cheats　goes　about；　you　mun　forgie　me。”

“And　though；”　I　continued；　rather　severely；　“you　wished　to　turn　me　from　the　door；　on　a　night　when　you　should　not　have　shut　out　a　dog。”

“Well；　it　was　hard：　but　what　can　a　body　do？　I　thought　more　o’　th’　childer　nor　of　mysel：　poor　things！　They’ve　like　nobody　to　tak’　care　on　‘em　but　me。　I’m　like　to　look　sharpish。”

I　maintained　a　grave　silence　for　some　minutes。

“You　munnut　think　too　hardly　of　me；”　she　again　remarked。

“But　I　do　think　hardly　of　you；”　I　said；　“and　I’ll　tell　you　why—not　so　much　because　you　refused　to　give　me　shelter；　or　regarded　me　as　an　impostor；　as　because　you　just　now　made　it　a　species　of　reproach　that　I　had　no　‘brass’　and　no　house。　Some　of　the　best　people　that　ever　lived　have　been　as　destitute　as　I　am；　and　if　you　are　a　Christian；　you　ought　not　to　consider　poverty　a　crime。”

“No　more　I　ought；”　said　she：　“Mr。　St。　John　tells　me　so　too；　and　I　see　I　wor　wrang—but　I’ve　clear　a　different　notion　on　you　now　to　what　I　had。　You　look　a　raight　down　dacent　little　crater。”

“That　will　do—I　forgive　you　now。　Shake　hands。”

She　put　her　floury　and　horny　hand　into　mine；　another　and　heartier　smile　illumined　her　rough　face；　and　from　that　moment　we　were　friends。

Hannah　was　evidently　fond　of　talking。　While　I　picked　the　fruit；　and　she　made　the　paste　for　the　pies；　she　proceeded　to　give　me　sundry　details　about　her　deceased　master　and　mistress；　and　“the　childer；”　as　she　called　the　young　people。

Old　Mr。　Rivers；　she　said；　was　a　plain　man　enough；　but　a　gentleman；　and　of　as　ancient　a　family　as　could　be　found。　Marsh　End　had　belonged　to　the　Rivers　ever　since　it　was　a　house：　and　it　was；　she　affirmed；　“aboon　two　hundred　year　old—for　all　it　looked　but　a　small；　humble　place；　naught　to　pare　wi’　Mr。　Oliver’s　grand　hall　down　i’　Morton　Vale。　But　she　could　remember　Bill　Oliver’s　father　a　journeyman　needlemaker；　and　th’　Rivers　wor　gentry　i’　th’　owd　days　o’　th’　Henrys；　as　onybody　might　see　by　looking　into　th’　registers　i’　Morton　Church　vestry。”　Still；　she　allowed；　“the　owd　maister　was　like　other　folk—naught　mich　out　o’　t’　mon　way：　stark　mad　o’　shooting；　and　farming；　and　sich　like。”　The　mistress　was　different。　She　was　a　great　reader；　and　studied　a　deal；　and　the　“bairns”　had　taken

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