先讀課文﹕
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall
by Anne Bronte
Chapter 1
You must go back with me to the autumn of 1827.
My father, as you know, was a sort of gentleman farmer in -shire; and I,
by his express desire, succeeded him in the same quiet occupation, not very
willingly, for ambition urged me to higher aims, and self-conceit assured
me that, in disregarding its voice, I was burying my talent in the earth,
and hiding my light under a bushel. My mother had done her utmost to persuade
me that I was capable of great achievements; but my father, who thought
ambition was the surest road to ruin, and change but another word for destruction,
would listen to no scheme for bettering either my own condition, or that
of my fellow mortals. He assured me it was all rubbish, and exhorted me,
with his dying breath, to continue in the good old way, to follow his steps,
and those of his father before him, and let my highest ambition be to walk
honestly through the world, looking neither to the right hand nor to the
left, and to transmit the paternal acres to my children in, at least, as
flourishing a condition as he left them to me.
'Well! - an honest and industrious farmer is one of the most useful members
of society; and if I devote my talents to the cultivation of my farm, and
the improvement of agriculture in general, I shall thereby benefit, not
only my own immediate connections and dependants, but, in some degree, mankind
at large:- hence I shall not have lived in vain.' With such reflections as
these I was endeavouring to console myself, as I plodded home from the fields,
one cold, damp, cloudy evening towards the close of October. But the gleam
of a bright red fire through the parlour window had more effect in cheering
my spirits, and rebuking my thankless repinings, than all the sage reflections
and good resolutions I had forced my mind to frame; - for I was young then,
remember - only four-and-twenty - and had not acquired half the rule over
my own spirit that I now possess - trifling as that may be.
However, that haven of bliss must not be entered till I had exchanged my
miry boots for a clean pair of shoes, and my rough surtout for a respectable
coat, and made myself generally presentable before decent society; for my
mother, with all her kindness, was vastly particular on certain points.
In ascending to my room I was met upon the stairs by a smart, pretty girl
of nineteen, with a tidy, dumpy figure, a round face, bright, blooming cheeks,
glossy, clustering curls, and little merry brown eyes. I need not tell
you this was my sister Rose. She is, I know, a comely matron still, and,
doubtless, no less lovely - in your eyes - than on the happy day you first
beheld her. Nothing told me then that she, a few years hence, would be the
wife of one entirely unknown to me as yet, but destined hereafter to become
a closer friend than even herself, more intimate than that unmannerly lad
of seventeen, by whom I was collared in the passage, on coming down, and
well-nigh jerked off my equilibrium, and who, in correction for his impudence,
received a resounding whack over the sconce, which, however, sustained
no serious injury from the infliction; as, besides being more than commonly
thick, it was protected by a redundant shock of short, reddish curls, that
my mother called auburn.
On entering the parlour we found that honoured lady seated in her arm-chair
at the fireside, working away at her knitting, according to her usual custom,
when she had nothing else to do. She had swept the hearth, and made a bright
blazing fire for our reception; the servant had just brought in the tea-tray;
and Rose was producing the sugar-basin and tea-caddy from the cupboard in
the black oak side-board, that shone like polished ebony, in the cheerful
parlour twilight.
'Well! here they both are,' cried my mother, looking round upon us without
retarding the motion of her nimble fingers and glittering needles. 'Now
shut the door, and come to the fire, while Rose gets the tea ready; I'm
sure you must be starved; - and tell me what you've been about all day;
- I like to know what my children have been about.'
'I've been breaking in the grey colt - no easy business that - directing
the ploughing of the last wheat stubble - for the ploughboy has not the
sense to direct himself - and carrying out a plan for the extensive and
efficient draining of the low meadowlands.'
'That's my brave boy! - and Fergus, what have you been doing?'
'Badger-baiting.'
And here he proceeded to give a particular account of his sport, and the
respective traits of prowess evinced by the badger and the dogs; my mother
pretending to listen with deep attention, and watching his animated countenance
with a degree of maternal admiration I thought highly disproportioned to
its object.
'It's time you should be doing something else, Fergus,' said I, as soon
as a momentary pause in his narration allowed me to get in a word.
'What can I do?' replied he; 'my mother won't let me go to sea or enter
the army; and I'm determined to do nothing else - except make myself such
a nuisance to you all, that you will be thankful to get rid of me on any
terms.'
Our parent soothingly stroked his stiff, short curls. He growled, and tried
to look sulky, and then we all took our seats at the table, in obedience
to the thrice-repeated summons of Rose.
'Now take your tea,' said she; 'and I'll tell you what I've been doing.
I've been to call on the Wilsons; and it's a thousand pities you didn't
go with me, Gilbert, for Eliza Millward was there!'
'Well! what of her?'
'Oh, nothing! - I'm not going to tell you about her; - only that she's a
nice, amusing little thing, when she is in a merry humour, and I shouldn't
mind calling her - '
'Hush, hush, my dear! your brother has no such idea!' whispered my mother
earnestly, holding up her finger.
'Well,' resumed Rose; 'I was going to tell you an important piece of news
I heard there - I have been bursting with it ever since. You know it was
reported a month ago, that somebody was going to take Wildfell Hall - and
- what do you think? It has actually been inhabited above a week! - and
we never knew!'
'Impossible!' cried my mother.
'Preposterous!!!' shrieked Fergus.
'It has indeed! - and by a single lady!'
'Good gracious, my dear! The place is in ruins!'
'She has had two or three rooms made habitable; and there she lives, all
alone - except an old woman for a servant!'
'Oh, dear! that spoils it - I'd hoped she was a witch,' observed Fergus,
while carving his inch-thick slice of bread and butter.
'Nonsense, Fergus! But isn't it strange, mamma?'
'Strange! I can hardly believe it.'
'But you may believe it; for Jane Wilson has seen her. She went with her
mother, who, of course, when she heard of a stranger being in the neighbourhood,
would be on pins and needles till she had seen her and got all she could
out of her. She is called Mrs. Graham, and she is in mourning - not widow's
weeds, but slightish mourning - and she is quite young, they say, - not
above five or six and twenty, - but so reserved! They tried all they could
to find out who she was and where she came from, and, all about her, but
neither Mrs. Wilson, with her pertinacious and impertinent home-thrusts,
nor Miss Wilson, with her skilful manoeuvring, could manage to elicit a
single satisfactory answer, or even a casual remark, or chance expression
calculated to allay their curiosity, or throw the faintest ray of light upon
her history, circumstances, or connections. Moreover, she was barely civil
to them, and evidently better pleased to say 'good-by,' than 'how do you
do.' But Eliza Millward says her father intends to call upon her soon, to
offer some pastoral advice, which he fears she needs, as, though she is known
to have entered the neighbourhood early last week. She did not make her appearance
at church on Sunday; and she - Eliza, that is - will beg to accompany him,
and is sure she can succeed in wheedling something out of her - you know,
Gilbert, she can do anything. And we should call some time, mamma; it's
only proper, you know.'
'Of course, my dear. Poor thing! How lonely she must feel!'
'And pray, be quick about it; and mind you bring me word how much sugar
she puts in her tea, and what sort of caps and aprons she wears, and all
about it; for I don't know how I can live till I know,' said Fergus, very
gravely.
But if he intended the speech to be hailed as a master-stroke of wit, he
signally failed, for nobody laughed. However, he was not much disconcerted
at that; for when he had taken a mouthful of bread and butter and was about
to swallow a gulp of tea, the humour of the thing burst upon him with such
irresistible force, that he was obliged to jump up from the table, and rush
snorting and choking from the room; and a minute after, was heard screaming
in fearful agony in the garden.
As for me, I was hungry, and contented myself with silently demolishing
the tea, ham, and toast, while my mother and sister went on talking, and
continued to discuss the apparent or non-apparent circumstances, and probable
or improbable history of the mysterious lady; but I must confess that, after
my brother's misadventure, I once or twice raised the cup to my lips, and
put it down again without daring to taste the contents, lest I should injure
my dignity by a similar explosion.
The next day my mother and Rose hastened to pay their compliments to the
fair recluse; and came back but little wiser than they went; though my mother
declared she did not regret the journey, for if she had not gained much
good, she flattered herself she had imparted some, and that was better:
she had given some useful advice, which, she hoped, would not be thrown away;
for Mrs. Graham, though she said little to any purpose, and appeared somewhat
self-opinionated, seemed not incapable of reflection, - though she did not
know where she had been all her life, poor thing, for she betrayed a lamentable
ignorance on certain points, and had not even the sense to be ashamed of
it.
'On what points, mother?' asked I.
'On household matters, and all the little niceties of cookery, and such
things, that every lady ought to be familiar with, whether she be required
to make a practical use of her knowledge or not. I gave her some useful
pieces of information, however, and several excellent receipts, the value
of which she evidently could not appreciate, for she begged I would not trouble
myself, as she lived in such a plain, quiet way, that she was sure she should
never make use of them. "No matter, my dear," said I; "it is what every
respectable female ought to know; - and besides, though you are alone now,
you will not be always so; you have been married, and probably - I might
say almost certainly - will be again." "You are mistaken there, ma'am," said
she, almost haughtily; "I am certain I never shall." - But I told her I
knew better.'
'Some romantic young widow, I suppose,' said I, 'come there to end her days
in solitude, and mourn in secret for the dear departed - but it won't last
long.'
'No, I think not,' observed Rose; 'for she didn't seem very disconsolate
after all; and she's excessively pretty - handsome rather - you must see
her, Gilbert; you will call her a perfect beauty, though you could hardly
pretend to discover a resemblance between her and Eliza Millward.'
'Well, I can imagine many faces more beautiful than Eliza's, though not
more charming. I allow she has small claims to perfection; but then, I maintain
that, if she were more perfect, she would be less interesting.'
'And so you prefer her faults to other people's perfections?'
'Just so - saving my mother's presence.'
'Oh, my dear Gilbert, what nonsense you talk! - I know you don't mean it;
it's quite out of the question,' said my mother, getting up, and bustling
out of the room, under pretence of household business, in order to escape
the contradiction that was trembling on my tongue.
After that Rose favoured me with further particulars respecting Mrs. Graham.
Her appearance, manners, and dress, and the very furniture of the room she
inhabited, were all set before me, with rather more clearness and precision
than I cared to see them; but, as I was not a very attentive listener, I
could not repeat the description if I would.
The next day was Saturday; and, on Sunday, everybody wondered whether or
not the fair unknown would profit by the vicar's remonstrance, and come
to church. I confess I looked with some interest myself towards the old
family pew, appertaining to Wildfell Hall, where the faded crimson cushions
and lining had been unpressed and unrenewed so many years, and the grim escutcheons,
with their lugubrious borders of rusty black cloth, frowned so sternly from
the wall above.
And there I beheld a tall, lady-like figure, clad in black. Her face was
towards me, and there was something in it which, once seen, invited me to
look again. Her hair was raven black, and disposed in long glossy ringlets,
a style of coiffure rather unusual in those days, but always graceful and
becoming; her complexion was clear and pale; her eyes I could not see, for,
being bent upon her prayer-book, they were concealed by their drooping lids
and long black lashes, but the brows above were expressive and well defined;
the forehead was lofty and intellectual, the nose, a perfect aquiline and
the features, in general, unexceptionable - only there was a slight hollowness
about the cheeks and eyes, and the lips, though finely formed, were a little
too thin, a little too firmly compressed, and had something about them that
betokened, I thought, no very soft or amiable temper; and I said in my heart
- 'I would rather admire you from this distance, fair lady, than be the
partner of your home.'
Just then she happened to raise her eyes, and they met mine; I did not choose
to withdraw my gaze, and she turned again to her book, but with a momentary,
indefinable expression of quiet scorn, that was inexpressibly provoking
to me.
'She thinks me an impudent puppy,' thought I. 'Humph! - she shall change
her mind before long, if I think it worth while.'
But then it flashed upon me that these were very improper thoughts for a
place of worship, and that my behaviour, on the present occasion, was anything
but what it ought to be. Previous, however, to directing my mind to the
service, I glanced round the church to see if any one had been observing
me; - but no, - all, who were not attending to their prayer-books, were attending
to the strange lady, - my good mother and sister among the rest, and Mrs.
Wilson and her daughter; and even Eliza Millward was slily glancing from
the corners of her eyes towards the object of general attraction. Then she
glanced at me, simpered a little, and blushed, modestly looked at her prayer-
book, and endeavoured to compose her features.
Here I was transgressing again; and this time I was made sensible of it
by a sudden dig in the ribs, from the elbow of my pert brother. For the
present, I could only resent the insult by pressing my foot upon his toes,
deferring further vengeance till we got out of church.
Now, Halford, before I close this letter, I'll tell you who Eliza Millward
was: she was the vicar's younger daughter, and a very engaging little creature,
for whom I felt no small degree of partiality; - and she knew it, though
I had never come to any direct explanation, and had no definite intention
of so doing, for my mother, who maintained there was no one good enough for
me within twenty miles round, could not bear the thoughts of my marrying
that insignificant little thing, who, in addition to her numerous other
disqualifications, had not twenty pounds to call her own. Eliza's figure
was at once slight and plump, her face small, and nearly as round as my
sister's, - complexion, something similar to hers, but more delicate and
less decidedly blooming, - nose, retrousse, - features, generally irregular;
and, altogether, she was rather charming than pretty. But her eyes - I must
not forget those remarkable features, for therein her chief attraction lay
- in outward aspect at least; - they were long and narrow in shape, the irids
black, or very dark brown, the expression various, and ever changing, but
always either preternaturally - I had almost said diabolically - wicked,
or irresistibly bewitching - often both. Her voice was gentle and childish,
her tread light and soft as that of a cat:- but her manners more frequently
resembled those of a pretty playful kitten, that is now pert and roguish,
now timid and demure, according to its own sweet will.
Her sister, Mary, was several years older, several inches taller, and of
a larger, coarser build - a plain, quiet, sensible girl, who had patiently
nursed their mother, through her last long, tedious illness, and been the
housekeeper, and family drudge, from thence to the present time. She was
trusted and valued by her father, loved and courted by all dogs, cats, children,
and poor people, and slighted and neglected by everybody else.
The Reverend Michael Millward himself was a tall, ponderous elderly gentleman,
who placed a shovel hat above his large, square, massive-featured face,
carried a stout walking-stick in his hand, and incased his still powerful
limbs in knee-breeches and gaiters, - or black silk stockings on state occasions.
He was a man of fixed principles, strong prejudices, and regular habits,
intolerant of dissent in any shape, acting under a firm conviction that his
opinions were always right, and whoever differed from them must be either
most deplorably ignorant, or wilfully blind.
In childhood, I had always been accustomed to regard him with a feeling
of reverential awe - but lately, even now, surmounted, for, though he had
a fatherly kindness for the well-behaved, he was a strict disciplinarian,
and had often sternly reproved our juvenile failings and peccadilloes; and
moreover, in those days, whenever he called upon our parents, we had to stand
up before him, and say our catechism, or repeat, 'How doth the little busy
bee,' or some other hymn, or - worse than all - be questioned about his
last text, and the heads of the discourse, which we never could remember.
Sometimes, the worthy gentleman would reprove my mother for being over-indulgent
to her sons, with a reference to old Eli, or David and Absalom, which was
particularly galling to her feelings; and, very highly as she respected him,
and all his sayings, I once heard her exclaim, 'I wish to goodness he had
a son himself! He wouldn't be so ready with his advice to other people then;
- he'd see what it is to have a couple of boys to keep in order.'
He had a laudable care for his own bodily health - kept very early hours,
regularly took a walk before breakfast, was vastly particular about warm
and dry clothing, had never been known to preach a sermon without previously
swallowing a raw egg - albeit he was gifted with good lungs and a powerful
voice, - and was, generally, extremely particular about what he ate and drank,
though by no means abstemious, and having a mode of dietary peculiar to
himself, - being a great despiser of tea and such slops, and a patron of
malt liquors, bacon and eggs, ham, hung beef, and other strong meats, which
agreed well enough with his digestive organs, and therefore were maintained
by him to be good and wholesome for everybody, and confidently recommended
to the most delicate convalescents or dyspeptics, who, if they failed to
derive the promised benefit from his prescriptions, were told it was because
they had not persevered, and if they complained of inconvenient results
therefrom, were assured it was all fancy.
I will just touch upon two other persons whom I have mentioned, and then
bring this long letter to a close. These are Mrs. Wilson and her daughter.
The former was the widow of a substantial farmer, a narrow-minded, tattling
old gossip, whose character is not worth describing. She had two sons, Robert,
a rough countrified farmer, and Richard, a retiring, studious young man,
who was studying the classics with the vicar's assistance, preparing for
college, with a view to enter the church.
Their sister Jane was a young lady of some talents, and more ambition. She
had, at her own desire, received a regular boarding-school education, superior
to what any member of the family had obtained before. She had taken the
polish well, acquired considerable elegance of manners, quite lost her provincial
accent, and could boast of more accomplishments than the vicar's daughters.
She was considered a beauty besides; but never for a moment could she number
me amongst her admirers. She was about six and twenty, rather tall and very
slender, her hair was neither chestnut nor auburn, but a most decided bright,
light red; her complexion was remarkably fair and brilliant, her head small,
neck long, chin well turned, but very short, lips thin and red, eyes clear
hazel, quick, and penetrating, but entirely destitute of poetry or feeling.
She had, or might have had, many suitors in her own rank of life, but scornfully
repulsed or rejected them all; for none but a gentleman could please her
refined taste, and none but a rich one could satisfy her soaring ambition.
One gentleman there was, from whom she had lately received some rather pointed
attentions, and upon whose heart, name, and fortune, it was whispered, she
had serious designs. This was Mr. Lawrence, the young squire, whose family
had formerly occupied Wildfell Hall, but had deserted it, some fifteen years
ago, for a more modern and commodious mansion in the neighbouring parish.
Now, Halford, I bid you adieu for the present. This is the first instalment
of my debt. If the coin suits you, tell me so, and I'll send you the rest
at my leisure: if you would rather remain my creditor than stuff your purse
with such ungainly, heavy pieces, - tell me still, and I'll pardon your
bad taste, and willingly keep the treasure to myself.
Yours immutably,
GILBERT MARKHAM.
1) 自查生詞。
2) 作者介紹﹕Anne Bronte (17 January 1820 -- 28 May 1849) was a British
novelist and poet, the youngest member of the Bronte literary family. The
Tenant of Wildfell Hall is the second and final novel by Anne Bronte, published
in 1848 under the pseudonym Acton Bell. Probably the most shocking of the
Brontes' novels, this novel had an instant phenomenal success, but after
Anne's death, her sister Charlotte prevented re-publication of it.
The novel is framed as a letter from Gilbert Markham to his friend and brother-
in-law about the events leading to his meeting his wife.
3) Bronte sisters的作品可以作泛讀材料。偶有不懂的地方﹐可以置之不顧﹐讀下
去即可。泛讀一方面可以擴大知識面﹐另一方面可以逐步培養語感。語感是要不斷
與某種語言接觸而得到的。
选择“Disable on www.wenxuecity.com”
选择“don't run on pages on this domain”
