The Greatest Works of D. H. Lawrence. D. H. Lawrence
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Название: The Greatest Works of D. H. Lawrence
Автор: D. H. Lawrence
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4064066052171
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“They’ve been tellin’ me how to get rich,” he said, nodding his head and laughing, showing his teeth, “An’ I’m goin’ ter show ’em. You see, Meg, you see — I’m goin’ ter show ’em I can be as good as them, you see.”
“Why,” said she, indulgent, “what are you going to do?”
“You wait a bit an’ see — they don’t know yet what I can do — they don’t know — you don’t know — none of you know.”
“An’ what shall you do when we’re rich, George?”
“Do? — I shall do what I like. I can make as good a show as anybody else, can’t I?”— he put his face very near to hers, and nodded at her, but she did not turn away. “Yes — I’ll see what it’s like to have my fling. We’ve been too cautious, our family has — an’ I have; we’re frightened of ourselves, to do anything. I’m goin’ to do what I like, my duck, now — I don’t care — I don’t care — that!”— he brought his hand down heavily on the table nearest him, and broke a glass. Bill looked in to see what was happening.
“But you won’t do anything that’s not right, George!”
“No — I don’t want to hurt nobody — but I don’t care — that!”
“You’re too good-hearted to do anybody any harm.”
“I believe I am. You know me a bit, you do, Meg — you don’t think I’m a fool now, do you?”
“I’m sure I don’t — who does?”
“No — you don’t — I know you don’t. Gi’e me a kiss — thou’rt a little beauty, thou art — like a ripe plum! I could set my teeth in thee, thou’rt that nice — full o’ red juice”— he playfully pretended to bite her. She laughed, and gently pushed him away.
“Tha likest me, doesna to?” he asked softly.
“What do you want to know for?” she replied, with a tender archness.
“But tha does — say now, tha does.”
“I should a’ thought you’d a’ known, without telling.”
“Nay, but I want to hear thee.”
“Go on,” she said, and she kissed him.
“But what should you do if I went to Canada and left you?”
“Ah — you wouldn’t do that.”
“But I might — and what then?”
“Oh, I don’t know what I should do. But you wouldn’t do it, I know you wouldn’t — you couldn’t.” He quickly put his arms round her and kissed her, moved by the trembling surety of her tone:
“No, I wouldna — I’d niver leave thee — tha’d be as miserable as sin, shouldna ta, my duck?”
“Yes,” she murmured.
“Ah,” he said, “tha’rt a warm little thing — tha loves me, eh?”
“Yes,” she murmured, and he pressed her to him, and kissed her, and held her close.
“We’ll be married soon, my bird — are ter glad? — in a bittha’rt glad, aren’t ta?”
She looked up at him as if he were noble. Her love for him was so generous that it beautified him.
He had to walk his bicycle home, being unable to ride; his shins, I know, were a good deal barked by the pedals.
Chapter 7
The Fascination of the Forbidden Apple
On the first Sunday in June, when Lettie knew she would keep her engagement with Leslie, and when she was having a day at home from Highclose, she got ready to go down to the mill. We were in mourning for an aunt, so she wore a dress of fine black voile, and a black hat with long feathers. Then, when I looked at her fair hands, and her arms closely covered in the long black cuffs of her sleeves, I felt keenly my old brother-love shielding, indulgent.
It was a windy, sunny day. In shelter the heat was passionate, but in the open the wind scattered its fire. Every now and then a white cloud broad based, blue shadowed, travelled slowly along the sky-road after the forerunner small in the distance, and trailing over us a chill shade, a gloom which we watched creep on over the water, over the wood and the hill. These royal, rounded clouds had sailed all day along the same route, from the harbour of the south to the wastes in the northern sky, following the swift wild geese. The brook hurried along singing, only here and there lingering to whisper to the secret bushes, then setting off afresh with a new snatch of song.
The fowls pecked staidly in the farmyard, with Sabbath decorum. Occasionally a lost, sportive wind-puff would wander across the yard and ruffle them, and they resented it. The pigs were asleep in the sun, giving faint grunts now and then from sheer luxury. I saw a squirrel go darting down the mossy garden wall, up into the laburnum tree, where he lay flat along the bough, and listened. Suddenly away he went, chuckling to himself. Gyp all at once set off barking, but I soothed her down; it was the unusual sight of Lettie’s dark dress that startled her, I suppose.
We went quietly into the kitchen. Mrs Saxton was just putting a chicken, wrapped in a piece of flannel, on the warm hob to coax it into life; it looked very feeble. George was asleep, with his head in his arms on the table; the father was asleep on the sofa, very comfortable and admirable; I heard Emily fleeing upstairs, presumably to dress.
“He stays out so late — up at the Ram Inn,” whispered the mother in a high whisper, looking at George, “and then he’s up at five — he doesn’t get his proper rest.” she turned to the chicks, and continued in her whisper —“the mother left them just before they hatched out, so we’ve been bringing them on here. This one’s a bit weak — I thought I’d hot him up a bit,” she laughed with a quaint little frown of deprecation. Eight or nine yellow, fluffy little mites were cheeping and scuffling in the fender. Lettie bent over them to touch them; they were tame, and ran among her fingers.
Suddenly George’s mother gave a loud cry, and rushed to the fire. There was a smell of singed down. The chicken had toddled into the fire, and gasped its faint gasp among the red-hot cokes. The father jumped from the sofa; George sat up with wide eyes; Lettie gave a little cry and a shudder; Trip rushed round and began to bark. There was a smell of cooked meat.
“There goes number one!” said the mother, with her queer little laugh. It made me laugh too.
“What’s a matter — what’s a matter?” asked the father excitedly.
“It’s a chicken been and walked into the fire — I put it on the hob to warm,” explained his wife.
“Goodness — I couldn’t think what was up!” he said, and dropped his head to trace gradually the border СКАЧАТЬ