登陆注册
5406200000115

第115章

No one could know so well as herself how desperate from her own point of view the case was.She had long known that her mother would not hesitate for a moment before any chance of a second marriage which would totally exclude her daughter from her existence.Why should she, after all, Joan thought? They had always been antagonists.The moment of chance had been looming on the horizon for months.Sir Moses Monaldini had hovered about fitfully and evidently doubtfully at first, more certainly and frequently of late, but always with a clearly objecting eye cast askance upon herself.With determination and desire to establish a social certainty, astute enough not to care specially for young beauty and exactions he did not purpose to submit to, and keen enough to see the advantage of a handsome woman with bitter reason to value what was offered to her in the form of a luxurious future, Sir Moses was moving toward action, though with proper caution.He would have no penniless daughters hanging about scowling and sneering.None of that for him.And the ripest apple upon the topmost bow in the highest wind would not drop more readily to his feet than her mother would, Joan knew with sharp and shamed burnings.

As the rain fell, she walked in her purple cloak, unpaid for, and her purple hat, for which they had been dunned with threatening insults, and knew that she did not own and could not earn a penny.She could not dig, and to beg she was ashamed, and all the more horribly because she had been a beggar of the meaner order all her life.It made her sick to think of the perpetual visits they had made where they were not wanted, of the times when they had been politely bundled out of places, of the methods which had been used to induce shop-keepers to let them run up bills.For years her mother and she had been walking advertisements of smart shops because both were handsome, wore clothes well, and carried them where they would be seen and talked about.Now this would be all over, since it had been Lady Mallowe who had managed all details.Thrown upon her own resources, Joan would have none of them, even though she must walk in rags.Her education had prepared her for only one thing--to marry well, if luck were on her side.It had never been on her side.If she had never met Jem, she would have married somebody, since that would have been better than the inevitable last slide into an aging life spent in cheap lodgings with her mother.But Jem had been the beginning and the end.

She bit her lips as she walked, and suddenly tears swept down her cheeks and dripped on to the purple cloth folded over her breast.

"And he sits in Jem's place! And every day that common, foolish stare will follow me!" she said.

He sat, it was true, in the place Jem Temple Barholm would have occupied if he had been a living man, and he looked at her a good deal.Perhaps he sometimes unconsciously stared because she made him think of many things.But if she had been in a state of mind admitting of judicial fairness, she would have been obliged to own that it was not quite a foolish stare.Absorbed, abstracted, perhaps, but it was not foolish.Sometimes, on the contrary, it was searching and keen.

Of course he was doing his best to please her.Of all the "Ladies," it seemed evident that he was most attracted by her.He tried to talk to her despite her unending rebuffs, he followed her about and endeavored to interest her, he presented a hide-bound unsensitiveness when she did her worst.Perhaps he did not even know that she was being icily rude.He was plainly "making up to her" after the manner of his class.

He was perhaps playing the part of the patient adorer who melted by noble long-suffering in novels distinguished by heroes of humble origin.

She had reached the village when the rain changed its mind, and without warning began to pour down as if the black cloud passing overhead had suddenly opened.She was wondering if she would not turn in somewhere for shelter until the worst was over when a door opened and Tembarom ran out with an umbrella.

"Come in to the Hibblethwaites cottage, Lady Joan," he said."This will be over directly."He did not affectionately hustle her in by the arm as he would have hustled in Miss Alicia, but he closely guarded her with the umbrella until he guided her inside.

"Thank you," she said.

The first object she became aware of was a thin face with pointed chin and ferret eyes peering at her round the end of a sofa, then a sharp voice.

"Tak' off her cloak an' shake th' rain off it in th' wash 'us'," it said."Mother an' Aunt Susan's out.Let him unbutton it fer thee.""I can unbutton it myself, thank you," said Lady Joan.Tembarom took it when she had unbuttoned it.He took it from her shoulders before she had time to stop him.Then he walked into the tiny "wash 'us" and shook it thoroughly.He came back and hung it on a chair before the fire.

Tummas was leaning back in his pillows and gazing at her.

"I know tha name," he said."He towd me," with a jerk of the head toward Tembarom.

"Did he?" replied Lady Joan without interest.

A flaringly illustrated New York paper was spread out upon his sofa.

He pushed it aside and pulled the shabby atlas toward him.It fell open at a map of North America as if through long habit.

"Sit thee down," he ordered.

Tembarom had stood watching them both.

"I guess you'd better not do that," he suggested to Tummas.

"Why not? " said the boy, sharply."She's th' wench he was goin' to marry.It's th' same as if he'd married her.If she wur his widder, she'd want to talk about him.Widders allus wants to talk.Why shouldn't she? Women's women.He'd ha' wanted to talk about her.""Who is `he'?" asked Joan with stiff lips.

"The Temple Barholm as' 'd be here if he was na."Joan turned to Tembarom.

"Do you come here to talk to this boy about HIM?" she said."How dare you!"Tummas's eyes snapped; his voice snapped also.

"He knew next to nowt about him till I towd him," he said."Then he came to ax me things an' foind out more.He knows as much as I do now.

Us sits here an' talks him over."

同类推荐
  • 地藏菩萨经

    地藏菩萨经

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 黄箓五老悼亡仪

    黄箓五老悼亡仪

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 大宝积经论

    大宝积经论

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 查东山先生年谱

    查东山先生年谱

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 佛说菩萨投身饴饿虎起塔因缘经

    佛说菩萨投身饴饿虎起塔因缘经

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
热门推荐
  • 马克·吐温自传(中小学生必读丛书)

    马克·吐温自传(中小学生必读丛书)

    马克·吐温他经历了美国从“自由”资本主义到帝国主义的转变,其思想和作品风格也呈现出从轻快调笑,到辛辣讽刺,再到悲观厌世的改变。马克·吐温不受欧洲传统的束缚,以新大陆人的眼光看待事物,提倡并开辟了“运用口语进行创作”的独特文体。
  • 外科十三方考

    外科十三方考

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 灵魂也有一席之地(英文爱藏双语系列)

    灵魂也有一席之地(英文爱藏双语系列)

    拥有信心,所有的事情才有可能成功。缺乏信心,即便是最微小的挑战,都会显得无法逾越,难以克服。本书收录的百则经典哲理美文,其内容涉及人生的方方面面,它们有的睿智凝练,让心灵为之震撼;有的灵气十足,宛如一线罅隙中奔涌而出的清泉,悄然渗入心田。
  • 独家密爱:男神老公拐回家

    独家密爱:男神老公拐回家

    多多支持新文文:狼性老公,求放过!恋上监护人?那又如何,反正没血缘!他拿着闪的晃眼的鸽子蛋跪地问,看在我这么英俊潇洒,带出去能给你长面子带回来给你暖被窝,一心一意只爱你一人的份上,做我的女人如何?她答曰:太帅被人抢危机太大,被窝有暖宝宝,为何我要答应?他略带深意的笑了,“没有安浅的明天何来锦翊的未来?”好吧,把这份一生一世只爱安浅一个的协议签了,咱俩就成了!
  • 萌到深处自然嗨:神医宠妃

    萌到深处自然嗨:神医宠妃

    秋璃月,21世纪圣手神医,在医术界遭人嫉恨,被人谋杀,意外穿越到一个不知名的朝代。好吧,穿越了就穿越了,但素爹不疼娘不爱是怎么回事?爹不疼娘不爱也算了,被各位兄弟姐妹欺负又是怎么回事?算了吧,秋璃月已经认命了,既然已经认命了,但素这个种马未婚夫又是怎么回事?谁能够告诉她啊?好吧好吧!大不了就离家出走吧!大不了一封休书就休了这个种马吧!自己医术超群,还怕在这个时代活不了吗?就在秋璃月满天大嚎的时候,某男突然就抱住了她,邪邪一笑:“小月儿,你是本王的,不许想其他人!”“才不是!我是我自己的!”某女的否定最后换来了却是某男的一吻:“有了这个,你就是本王的了!”秋璃月:“……”变态!
  • 悠远沉海无期

    悠远沉海无期

    人生不如意之事十有八九,剩下的一二,我希望是身边有你,一生是你。林修哲:我放走你,还是你放走了我,现在都已经不重要了。我现在回来了,我给你一切能给的,只要你幸福,身边是谁都无所谓。即使我最希望你身边的是我。季宸:我们一同跌落云端,一同走向明天。如果黎明的时候我身边不是你,那么整个世界都将黯淡无光。你不想平凡,我就牵你去最闪耀的镁光灯下;你想普通,我就褪去一身的负重去陪你。光芒过,也落魄过,任何事都比不上你更有意义。
  • 爱心故事(影响青少年一生的中华典故)

    爱心故事(影响青少年一生的中华典故)

    《爱心故事》中每个典故包括诠释、出处和故事等内容,简单明了,短小精炼,具有很强的启迪性、智慧性和内涵性,非常适合青少年用于话题作文的论据,也对青少年的人生成长以及知识增长具有重要的作用,是青少年阅读和收藏的良好版本。
  • 四月间事

    四月间事

    落拓不羁的王牌私人保镖卫来,被沙特船东雇佣,保护知名社评人岑今前往索马里海域谈判,试图赎回一艘被海盗劫持的超级油轮。从冰原到沙漠,红海到埃高,看似平静的行程一路危机四伏。岑今究竟是光环笼罩下被授予总统勋章的志愿者,还是卡隆屠杀中和暴徒沆瀣一气的帮凶?审判前夜,绞刑台前,命运的舟船终得以穿过骇浪,泊于温柔浅滩。
  • 擎天圣皇

    擎天圣皇

    少年偶得机缘,一鸣惊人!风卷残云,破除一切!妖魔鬼怪,为之颤抖!承天之命,统治诸天!
  • Spire

    Spire

    Dean Jocelin has a vision: that God has chosen him to erect a great spire on his cathedral. His mason anxiously advises against it, for the old cathedral was built without foundations. Nevertheless, the spire rises octagon upon octagon, pinnacle by pinnacle, until the stone pillars shriek and the ground beneath it swims. Its shadow falls ever darker on the world below, and on Dean Jocelin in wkkk.net the author of Lord of the Flies, The Spire is a dark and powerful portrait of one man's will, and the folly that he creates.'A superb tragedy … the book should become a classic.' Sunday Telegraph'A marvel.' Frank Kermode, New York Review of Books.