英语天堂-第75章

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1　The　Ancient　History；　ten　volumes　（1730…1738）；　by　the　French　historian　Charles　Rollin　（1661…1741）。
2　Scott’s　Family　Bible　（1788…1792）；　edited　with　notes　by　the　English　Biblical　commentator；　Thomas　Scott　（1747…1821）。
3　The　Cerographic　Atlas　of　the　United　States　（1842…1845）；　by　Sidney　Edwards　Morse　（1794…1871）；　son　of　the　geographer；　Jedidiah　Morse；　and　brother　of　the　painter…inventor；　Samuel　F。　B。　Morse。
4　Recollections　of　the　　Ten　Years　（1826）　by　Timothy　Flint　（1780…1840）；　missionary　of　Presbyterianism　to　the　trans…Allegheny　West。
Chapter　16
Tom’s　Mistress　and　Her　Opinions
“And　now；　Marie；”　said　St。　Clare；　“your　golden　days　are　dawning。　Here　is　our　practical；　business…like　New　England　cousin；　who　will　take　the　whole　budget　of　cares　off　your　shoulders；　and　give　you　time　to　refresh　yourself；　and　grow　young　and　handsome。　The　ceremony　of　delivering　the　keys　had　better　come　off　forthwith。”
This　remark　was　made　at　the　breakfast…table；　a　few　mornings　after　Miss　Ophelia　had　arrived。
“I’m　sure　she’s　welcome；”　said　Marie；　leaning　her　head　languidly　on　her　hand。　“I　think　she’ll　find　one　thing；　if　she　does；　and　that　is；　that　it’s　we　mistresses　that　are　the　slaves；　down　here。”
“O；　certainly；　she　will　discover　that；　and　a　world　of　wholesome　truths　besides；　no　doubt；”　said　St。　Clare。
“Talk　about　our　keeping　slaves；　as　if　we　did　it　for　our　convenience；”　said　Marie。　“I’m　sure；　if　we　consulted　that；　we　might　let　them　all　go　at　once。”
Evangeline　fixed　her　large；　serious　eyes　on　her　mother’s　face；　with　an　earnest　and　perplexed　expression；　and　said；　simply；　“What　do　you　keep　them　for；　mamma？”
“I　don’t　know；　I’m　sure；　except　for　a　plague；　they　are　the　plague　of　my　life。　I　believe　that　more　of　my　ill　health　is　caused　by　them　than　by　any　one　thing；　and　ours；　I　know；　are　the　very　worst　that　ever　anybody　was　plagued　with。”
“O；　come；　Marie；　you’ve　got　the　blues；　this　morning；”　said　St。　Clare。　“You　know　’t　isn’t　so。　There’s　Mammy；　the　best　creature　living；—what　could　you　do　without　her？”
“Mammy　is　the　best　I　ever　knew；”　said　Marie；　“and　yet　Mammy；　now；　is　selfish—dreadfully　selfish；　it’s　the　fault　of　the　whole　race。”
“Selfishness　is　a　dreadful　fault；”　said　St。　Clare；　gravely。
“Well；　now；　there’s　Mammy；”　said　Marie；　“I　think　it’s　selfish　of　her　to　sleep　so　sound　nights；　she　knows　I　need　little　attentions　almost　every　hour；　when　my　worst　turns　are　on；　and　yet　she’s　so　hard　to　wake。　I　absolutely　am　worse；　this　very　morning；　for　the　efforts　I　had　to　make　to　wake　her　last　night。”
“Hasn’t　she　sat　up　with　you　a　good　many　nights；　lately；　mamma？”　said　Eva。
“How　should　you　know　that？”　said　Marie；　sharply；　“she’s　been　complaining；　I　suppose。”
“She　didn’t　complain；　she　only　told　me　what　bad　nights　you’d　had；—so　many　in　sucomession。”
“Why　don’t　you　let　Jane　or　Rosa　take　her　place；　a　night　or　two；”　said　St。　Clare；　“and　let　her　rest？”
“How　can　you　propose　it？”　said　Marie。　“St。　Clare；　you　really　are　inconsiderate。　So　nervous　as　I　am；　the　least　breath　disturbs　me；　and　a　strange　hand　about　me　would　drive　me　absolutely　frantic。　If　Mammy　felt　the　interest　in　me　she　ought　to；　she’d　wake　easier；—of　course；　she　would。　I’ve　heard　of　people　who　had　such　devoted　servants；　but　it　never　was　my　luck；”　and　Marie　sighed。
Miss　Ophelia　had　listened　to　this　conversation　with　an　air　of　shrewd；　observant　gravity；　and　she　still　kept　her　lips　tightly　compressed；　as　if　determined　fully　to　ascertain　her　longitude　and　position；　before　she　committed　herself。
“Now；　Mammy　has　a　sort　of　goodness；”　said　Marie；　“she’s　smooth　and　respectful；　but　she’s　selfish　at　heart。　Now；　she　never　will　be　done　fidgeting　and　worrying　about　that　husband　of　hers。　You　see；　when　I　was　married　and　came　to　live　here；　of　course；　I　had　to　bring　her　with　me；　and　her　husband　my　father　couldn’t　spare。　He　was　a　blacksmith；　and；　of　course；　very　necessary；　and　I　thought　and　said；　at　the　time；　that　Mammy　and　he　had　better　give　each　other　up；　as　it　wasn’t　likely　to　be　convenient　for　them　ever　to　live　together　again。　I　wish；　now；　I’d　insisted　on　it；　and　married　Mammy　to　somebody　else；　but　I　was　foolish　and　indulgent；　and　didn’t　want　to　insist。　I　told　Mammy；　at　the　time；　that　she　mustn’t　ever　expect　to　see　him　more　than　once　or　twice　in　her　life　again；　for　the　air　of　father’s　place　doesn’t　agree　with　my　health；　and　I　can’t　go　there；　and　I　advised　her　to　take　up　with　somebody　else；　but　no—she　wouldn’t。　Mammy　has　a　kind　of　obstinacy　about　her；　in　spots；　that　everybody　don’t　see　as　I　do。”
“Has　she　children？”　said　Miss　Ophelia。
“Yes；　she　has　two。”
“I　suppose　she　feels　the　separation　from　them？”
“Well；　of　course；　I　couldn’t　bring　them。　They　were　little　dirty　things—I　couldn’t　have　them　about；　and；　besides；　they　took　up　too　much　of　her　time；　but　I　believe　that　Mammy　has　always　kept　up　a　sort　of　sulkiness　about　this。　She　won’t　marry　anybody　else；　and　I　do　believe；　now；　though　she　knows　how　necessary　she　is　to　me；　and　how　feeble　my　health　is；　she　would　go　back　to　her　husband　tomorrow；　if　she　only　could。　I　do；　indeed；”　said　Marie；　“they　are　just　so　selfish；　now；　the　best　of　them。”
“It’s　distressing　to　reflect　upon；”　said　St。　Clare；　dryly。
Miss　Ophelia　looked　keenly　at　him；　and　saw　the　flush　of　mortification　and　repressed　vexation；　and　the　sarcastic　curl　of　the　lip；　as　he　spoke。
“Now；　Mammy　has　always　been　a　pet　with　me；”　said　Marie。　“I　wish　some　of　your　northern　servants　could　look　at　her　closets　of　dresses；—silks　and　muslins；　and　one　real　linen　cambric；　she　has　hanging　there。　I’ve　worked　sometimes　whole　afternoons；　trimming　her　caps；　and　getting　her　ready　to　go　to　a　party。　As　to　abuse；　she　don’t　know　what　it　is。　She　never　was　whipped　more　than　once　or　twice　in　her　whole　life。　She　has　her　strong　coffee　or　her　tea　every　day；　with　white　sugar　in　it。　It’s　abominable；　to　be　sure；　but　St。　Clare　will　have　high　life　below…stairs；　and　they　every　one　of　them　live　just　as　they　please。　The　fact　is；　our　servants　are　over…indulged。　I　suppose　it　is　partly　our　fault　that　they　are　selfish；　and　act　like　spoiled　children；　but　I’ve　talked　to　St。　Clare　till　I　am　tired。”
“And　I；　too；”　said　St。　Clare；　taking　up　the　morning　paper。
Eva；　the　beautiful　Eva；　had　stood　listening　to　her　mother；　with　that　expression　of　deep　and　mystic　earnestness　which　was　peculiar　to　her。　She　walked　softly　round　to　her　mother’s　chair；　and　put　her　arms　round　her　neck。
“Well；　Eva；　what　now？”　said　Marie。
“Mamma；　couldn’t　I　take　care　of　you　one　night—just　one？　I　know　I　shouldn’t　make　you　nervous；　and　I　shouldn’t　sleep。　I　often　lie　awake　nights；　thinking—”
“O；　nonsense；　child—nonsense！”　said　Marie；　“you　are　such　a　strange　child！”
“But　may　I；　mamma？　I　think；”　she　said；　timidly；　“that　Mammy　isn’t　well。　She　told　me　her　head　ached　all　the　time；　lately。”
“O；　that’s　just　one　of　Mammy’s　fidgets！　Mammy　is　just　like　all　the　rest　of　them—makes　such　a　fuss　about　every　little　headache　or　finger…ache；　it’ll　never　do　to　encourage　it—never！　I’m　principled　about　this　matter；”　said　she；　turning　to　Miss　Ophelia；　“you’ll　find　the　necessity　of　it。　If　you　encourage　servants　in　giving　way　to　every　little　disagreeable　feeling；　and　complaining　of　every　little　ailment；　you’ll　have　your　hands　full。　I　never　complain　myself—nobody　knows　what　I　endure。　I　feel　it　a　duty　to　bear　it　quietly；　and　I　do。”
Miss　Ophelia’s　round　eyes　expressed　an　undisguised　amazement　at　this　peroration；　which　struck　St。　Clare　as　so　supremely　ludicrous；　that　he　burst　into　a　loud　laugh。
“St。　Clare　always　laughs　when　I　make　the　least　allusion　to　my　ill　health；”　said　Marie；　with　the　voice　of　a　suffering　martyr。　“I　only　hope　the　day　won’t　come　when　he’ll　remember　it！”　and　Marie　put　her　handkerchief　to　her　eyes。
Of　course；　there　was　rather　a　foolish　silence。　Finally；　St。　Clare　got　up；　looked　at　his　watch；　and　said　he　had　an　engagement　down　street。　Eva　tripped　away　after　him；　and　Miss　Ophelia　and　Marie　remained　at　the　table　alone。
“Now；　that’s　just　like　St。　Clare！”　said　the　latter；　withdrawing　her　handkerchief　with　somewhat　of　a　spirited　flourish　when　the　criminal　to　be　affected　by　it　was　no　longer　in　sight。　“He　never　realizes；　never　can；　never　will；　what　I　suffer；　and　have；　for　years。　If　I　was　one　of　the　complaining　sort；　or　ever　made　any　fuss　about　my　ailments；　there　would　be　some　reason　for　it。　Men　do　get　tired；　naturally；　of　a　complaining　wife。　But　I’ve　kept　things　to　myself；　and　borne；　and　borne；　till　St。　Clare　has　got　in　the　way　of　thinking　I　can　bear　anything。”
Miss　Ophelia　did　not　exactly　know　what　she　was　expected　to　answer　to　this。
While　she　was　thinking　what　to　say；　Marie　gradually　wiped　away　her　tears；　and　smoothed　her　plumage　in　a　general　sort　of　way；　as　a　dove　might　be　supposed　to　make　toilet　after　a　shower；　and　began　a　housewifely　chat　with　Miss　Ophelia；　concerning　cupboards；　closets；　linen…presses；　store…rooms；　and　other　matters；　of　which　the　latter　was；　by　common　understanding；　to　assume　the　direction；—giving　her　so　many　cautious　directions　and　charges；　that　a　head　less　systematic　and　business…like　than　Miss　Ophelia’s　would　have　been　utterly　dizzied　and　confounded。
“And　now；”　said　Marie；　“I　believe　I’ve　told　you　everything；　so　that；