contrasts

turn we our eyes upon two homes; not lying side by side, but wide apart, though both within easy range and reach of the great city of london.

the first is situated in the green and wooded country near norwood. it is not a mansion; it is of no pretensions as to size; but it is beautifully arranged, and tastefully kept. the lawn, the soft, smooth slope, the flower-garden, the clumps of trees where graceful forms of ash and willow are not wanting, the conservatory, the rustic verandah with sweet-smelling creeping plants entwined about the pillars, the simple exterior of the house, the well-ordered offices, though all upon the diminutive scale proper to a mere cottage, bespeak an amount of elegant comfort within, that might serve for a palace. this indication is not without warrant; for, within, it is a house of refinement and luxury. rich colours, excellently blended, meet the eye at every turn; in the furniture - its proportions admirably devised to suit the shapes and sizes of the small rooms; on the walls; upon the floors; tingeing and subduing the light that comes in through the odd glass doors and windows here and there. there are a few choice prints and pictures too; in quaint nooks and recesses there is no want of books; and there are games of skill and chance set forth on tables - fantastic chessmen, dice, backgammon, cards, and billiards.

and yet amidst this opulence of comfort, there is something in the general air that is not well. is it that the carpets and the cushions are too soft and noiseless, so that those who move or repose among them seem to act by stealth? is it that the prints and pictures do not commemorate great thoughts or deeds, or render nature in the poetry of landscape, hall, or hut, but are of one voluptuous cast - mere shows of form and colour - and no more? is it that the books have all their gold outside, and that the titles of the greater part qualify them to be companions of the prints and pictures? is it that the completeness and the beauty of the place are here and there belied by an affectation of humility, in some unimportant and inexpensive regard, which is as false as the face of the too truly painted portrait hanging yonder, or its original at breakfast in his easy chair below it? or is it that, with the daily breath of that original and master of all here, there issues forth some subtle portion of himself, which gives a vague expression of himself to everything about him?

it is mr carker the manager who sits in the easy chair. a gaudy parrot in a burnished cage upon the table tears at the wires with her beak, and goes walking, upside down, in its dome-top, shaking her house and screeching; but mr carker is indifferent to the bird, and looks with a musing smile at a picture on the opposite wall.

'a most extraordinary accidental likeness, certainly,' says he.

perhaps it is a juno; perhaps a potiphar's wife'; perhaps some scornful nymph - according as the picture dealers found the market, when they christened it. it is the figure of a woman, supremely handsome, who, turning away, but with her face addressed to the spectator, flashes her proud glance upon him.

it is like edith.

with a passing gesture of his hand at the picture - what! a menace? no; yet something like it. a wave as of triumph? no; yet more like that. an insolent salute wafted from his lips? no; yet like that too - he resumes his breakfast, and calls to the chafing and imprisoned bird, who coming down into a pendant gilded hoop within the cage, like a great wedding-ring, swings in it, for his delight.

the second home is on the other side of london, near to where the busy great north road of bygone days is silent and almost deserted, except by wayfarers who toil along on foot. it is a poor small house, barely and sparely furnished, but very clean; and there is even an attempt to decorate it, shown in the homely flowers trained about the porch and in the narrow garden. the neighbourhood in which it stands has as little of the country to recommend'it, as it has of the town. it is neither of the town nor country. the former, like the giant in his travelling boots, has made a stride and passed it, and has set his brick-and-mortar heel a long way in advance; but the intermediate space between the giant's feet, as yet, is only blighted country, and not town; and, here, among a few tall chimneys belching smoke all day and night, and among the brick-fields and the lanes where turf is cut, and where the fences tumble down, and where the dusty nettles grow, and where a scrap or two of hedge may yet be seen, and where the bird-catcher still comes occasionally, though he swears every time to come no more - this second home is to be found.'

she who inhabits it, is she who left the first in her devotion to an outcast brother. she withdrew from that home its redeeming spirit, and from its master's breast his solitary angel: but though his liking for her is gone, after this ungrateful slight as he considers it; and though he abandons her altogether in return, an old idea of her is not quite forgotten even by him. let her flower-garden, in which he never sets his foot, but which is yet maintained, among all his costly alterations, as if she had quitted it but yesterday, bear witness!

harriet carker has changed since then, and on her beauty there has fallen a heavier shade than time of his unassisted self can cast, all-potent as he is - the shadow of anxiety and sorrow, and the daily struggle of a poor existence. but it is beauty still; and still a gentle, quiet, and retiring beauty that must be sought out, for it cannot vaunt itself; if it could, it would be what it is, no more.

yes. this slight, small, patient figure, neatly dressed in homely stuffs, and indicating nothing but the dull, household virtues, that have so little in common with the received idea of heroism and greatness, unless, indeed, any ray of them should shine through the lives of the great ones of the earth, when it becomes a constellation and is tracked in heaven straightway - this slight, small, patient figure, leaning on the man still young but worn and grey, is she, his sister, who, of all the world, went over to him in his shame and put her hand in his, and with a sweet composure and determination, led him hopefully upon his barren way.

'it is early, john,' she said. 'why do you go so early?'

'not many minutes earlier than usual, harriet. if i have the time to spare, i should like, i think - it's a fancy - to walk once by the house where i took leave of him.'

'i wish i had ever seen or known him, john.'

'it is better as it is, my dear, remembering his fate.'

'but i could not regret it more, though i had known him. is not your sorrow mine? and if i had, perhaps you would feel that i was a better companion to you in speaking about him, than i may seem now.

'my dearest sister! is there anything within the range of rejoicing or regret, in which i am not sure of your companionship?'

'i hope you think not, john, for surely there is nothing!'

'how could you be better to me, or nearer to me then, than you are in this, or anything?' said her brother. 'i feel that you did know him, harriet, and that you shared my feelings towards him.'

she drew the hand which had been resting on his shoulder, round his neck, and answered, with some hesitation:

'no, not quite.'

'true, true!' he said; 'you think i might have done him no harm if i had allowed myself to know him better?'

'think! i know it.'

'designedly, heaven knows i would not,' he replied, shaking his head mournfully; 'but his reputation was too precious to be perilled by such association. whether you share that knowledge, or do not, my dear - '

'i do not,' she said quietly.

'it is still the truth, harriet, and my mind is lighter when i think of him for that which made it so much heavier then.' he checked himself in his tone of melancholy, and smiled upon her as he said 'good-bye!'

'good-bye, dear john! in the evening, at the old time and place, i shall meet you as usual on your way home. good-bye.'

the cordial face she lifted up to his to kiss him, was his home, his life, his universe, and yet it was a portion of his punishment and grief; for in the cloud he saw upon it - though serene and calm as any radiant cloud at sunset - and in the constancy and devotion of her life, and in the sacrifice she had made of ease, enjoyment, and hope, he saw the bitter fruits of his old crime, for ever ripe and fresh.

she stood at the door looking after him, with her hands loosely clasped in each other, as he made his way over the frowzy and uneven patch of ground which lay before their house, which had once (and not long ago) been a pleasant meadow, and was now a very waste, with a disorderly crop of beginnings of mean houses, rising out of the rubbish, as if they had been unskilfully sown there. whenever he looked back - as once or twice he did - her cordial face shone like a light upon his heart; but when he plodded on his way, and saw her not, the tears were in her eyes as she stood watching him.

her pensive form was not long idle at the door. there was daily duty to discharge, and daily work to do - for such commonplace spirits that are not heroic, often work hard with their hands - and harriet was soon busy with her household tasks. these discharged, and the poor house made quite neat and orderly, she counted her little stock of money, with an anxious face, and went out thoughtfully to buy some necessaries for their table, planning and conniving, as she went, how to save. so sordid are the lives of such lo natures, who are not only not heroic to their valets and waiting-women, but have neither valets nor waiting-women to be heroic to withal!

while she was absent, and there was no one in the house, there approached it by a different way from that the brother had taken, a gentleman, a very little past his prime of life perhaps, but of a healthy florid hue, an upright presence, and a bright clear aspect, that was gracious and good-humoured. his eyebrows were still black, and so was much of his hair; the sprinkling of grey observable among the latter, graced the former very much, and showed his broad frank brow and honest eyes to great advantage.

after knocking once at the door, and obtaining no response, this gentleman sat down on a bench in the little porch to wait. a certain skilful action of his fingers as he hummed some bars, and beat time on the seat beside him, seemed to denote the musician; and the extraordinary satisfaction he derived from humming something very slow and long, which had no recognisable tune, seemed to denote that he was a scientific one.

the gentleman was still twirling a theme, which seemed to go round and round and round, and in and in and in, and to involve itself like a corkscrew twirled upon a table, without getting any nearer to anything, when harriet appeared returning. he rose up as she advanced, and stood with his head uncovered.

'you are come again, sir!' she said, faltering.

'i take that liberty,' he answered. 'may i ask for five minutes of your leisure?'

after a moment's hesitation, she opened the door, and gave him admission to the little parlour. the gentleman sat down there, drew his chair to the table over against her, and said, in a voice that perfectly corresponded to his appearance, and with a simplicity that was very engaging:

'miss harriet, you cannot be proud. you signified to me, when i called t'other morning, that you were. pardon me if i say that i looked into your face while you spoke, and that it contradicted you. i look into it again,' he added, laying his hand gently on her arm, for an instant, 'and it contradicts you more and more.'

she was somewhat confused and agitated, and could make no ready answer.

'it is the mirror of truth,' said her visitor, 'and gentleness. excuse my trusting to it, and returning.'

his manner of saying these words, divested them entirely of the character of compliments. it was so plain, grave, unaffected, and sincere, that she bent her head, as if at once to thank him, and acknowledge his sincerity.

'the disparity between our ages,' said the gentleman, 'and the plainness of my purpose, empower me, i am glad to think, to speak my mind. that is my mind; and so you see me for the second time.'

'there is a kind of pride, sir,' she returned, after a moment's silence, 'or what may be supposed to be pride, which is mere duty. i hope i cherish no other.'

'for yourself,' he said.

'for myself.'

'but - pardon me - ' suggested the gentleman. 'for your brother john?'

'proud of his love, i am,' said harriet, looking full upon her visitor, and changing her manner on the instant - not that it was less composed and quiet, but that there was a deep impassioned earnestness in it that made the very tremble in her voice a part of her firmness, 'and proud of him. sir, you who strangely know the story of his life, and repeated it to me when you were here last - '

'merely to make my way into your confidence,' interposed the gentleman. 'for heaven's sake, don't suppose - '

'i am sure,' she said, 'you revived it, in my hearing, with a kind and good purpose. i am quite sure of it.'

'i thank you,' returned her visitor, pressing her hand hastily. 'i am much obliged to you. you do me justice, i assure you. you were going to say, that i, who know the story of john carker's life - '

'may think it pride in me,' she continued, 'when i say that i am proud of him! i am. you know the time was, when i was not - when i could not be - but that is past. the humility of many years, the uncomplaining expiation, the true repentance, the terrible regret, the pain i know he has even in my affection, which he thinks has cost me dear, though heaven knows i am happy, but for his sorrow i - oh, sir, after what i have seen, let me conjure you, if you are in any place of power, and are ever wronged, never, for any wrong, inflict a punishment that cannot be recalled; while there is a god above us to work changes in the hearts he made.'

'your brother is an altered man,' returned the gentleman, compassionately. 'i assure you i don't doubt it.'

'he was an altered man when he did wrong,' said harriet. 'he is an altered man again, and is his true self now, believe me, sir.'

'but we go on, said her visitor, rubbing his forehead, in an absent manner, with his hand, and then drumming thoughtfully on the table, 'we go on in our clockwork routine, from day to day, and can't make out, or follow, these changes. they - they're a metaphysical sort of thing. we - we haven't leisure for it. we - we haven't courage. they're not taught at schools or colleges, and we don't know how to set about it. in short, we are so d-------d business-like,' said the gentleman, walking to the window, and back, and sitting down again, in a state of extreme dissatisfaction and vexation.

'i am sure,' said the gentleman, rubbing his forehead again; and drumming on the table as before, 'i have good reason to believe that a jog-trot life, the same from day to day, would reconcile one to anything. one don't see anything, one don't hear anything, one don't know anything; that's the fact. we go on taking everything for granted, and so we go on, until whatever we do, good, bad, or indifferent, we do from habit. habit is all i shall have to report, when i am called upon to plead to my conscience, on my death-bed. ''habit," says i; ''i was deaf, dumb, blind, and paralytic, to a million things, from habit." ''very business-like indeed, mr what's-your-name,' says conscience, ''but it won't do here!"'

the gentleman got up and walked to the window again and back: seriously uneasy, though giving his uneasiness this peculiar expression.

'miss harriet,' he said, resuming his chair, 'i wish you would let me serve you. look at me; i ought to look honest, for i know i am so, at present. do i?'

'yes,' she answered with a smile.

'i believe every word you have said,' he returned. 'i am full of self-reproach that i might have known this and seen this, and known you and seen you, any time these dozen years, and that i never have. i hardly know how i ever got here - creature that i am, not only of my own habit, but of other people'sl but having done so, let me do something. i ask it in all honour and respect. you inspire me with both, in the highest degree. let me do something.'

'we are contented, sir.'

'no, no, not quite,' returned the gentleman. 'i think not quite. there are some little comforts that might smooth your life, and his. and his!' he repeated, fancying that had made some impression on her. 'i have been in the habit of thinking that there was nothing wanting to be done for him; that it was all settled and over; in short, of not thinking at all about it. i am different now. let me do something for him. you too,' said the visitor, with careful delicacy, 'have need to watch your health closely, for his sake, and i fear it fails.'

'whoever you may be, sir,' answered harriet, raising her eyes to his face, 'i am deeply grateful to you. i feel certain that in all you say, you have no object in the world but kindness to us. but years have passed since we began this life; and to take from my brother any part of what has so endeared him to me, and so proved his better resolution - any fragment of the merit of his unassisted, obscure, and forgotten reparation - would be to diminish the comfort it will be to him and me, when that time comes to each of us, of which you spoke just now. i thank you better with these tears than any words. believe it, pray.

the gentleman was moved, and put the hand she held out, to his lips, much as a tender father might kiss the hand of a dutiful child. but more reverently.

'if the day should ever come, said harriet, 'when he is restored, in part, to the position he lost - '

'restored!' cried the gentleman, quickly. 'how can that be hoped for? in whose hands does the power of any restoration lie? it is no mistake of mine, surely, to suppose that his having gained the priceless blessing of his life, is one cause of the animosity shown to him by his brother.'

'you touch upon a subject that is never breathed between us; not even between us,' said harriet.

'i beg your forgiveness,' said the visitor. 'i should have known it. i entreat you to forget that i have done so, inadvertently. and now, as i dare urge no more - as i am not sure that i have a right to do so - though heaven knows, even that doubt may be habit,' said the gentleman, rubbing his head, as despondently as before, 'let me; though a stranger, yet no stranger; ask two favours.'

'what are they?' she inquired.

'the first, that if you should see cause to change your resolution, you will suffer me to be as your right hand. my name shall then be at your service; it is useless now, and always insignificant.'

'our choice of friends,' she answered, smiling faintly, 'is not so great, that i need any time for consideration. i can promise that.'

'the second, that you will allow me sometimes, say every monday morning, at nine o'clock - habit again - i must be businesslike,' said the gentleman, with a whimsical inclination to quarrel with himself on that head, 'in walking past, to see you at the door or window. i don't ask to come in, as your brother will be gone out at that hour. i don't ask to speak to you. i merely ask to see, for the satisfaction of my own mind, that you are well, and without intrusion to remind you, by the sight of me, that you have a friend - an elderly friend, grey-haired already, and fast growing greyer - whom you may ever command.'

the cordial face looked up in his; confided in it; and promised.

'i understand, as before,' said the gentleman, rising, 'that you purpose not to mention my visit to john carker, lest he should be at all distressed by my acquaintance with his history. i am glad of it, for it is out of the ordinary course of things, and - habit again!' said the gentleman, checking himself impatiently, 'as if there were no better course than the ordinary course!'

with that he turned to go, and walking, bareheaded, to the outside of the little porch, took leave of her with such a happy mixture of unconstrained respect and unaffected interest, as no breeding could have taught, no truth mistrusted, and nothing but a pure and single heart expressed.

many half-forgotten emotions were awakened in the sister's mind by this visit. it was so very long since any other visitor had crossed their threshold; it was so very long since any voice of apathy had made sad music in her ears; that the stranger's figure remained present to her, hours afterwards, when she sat at the window, plying her needle; and his words seemed newly spoken, again and again. he had touched the spring that opened her whole life; and if she lost him for a short space, it was only among the many shapes of the one great recollection of which that life was made.

musing and working by turns; now constraining herself to be steady at her needle for a long time together, and now letting her work fall, unregarded, on her lap, and straying wheresoever her busier thoughts led, harriet carker found the hours glide by her, and the day steal on. the morning, which had been bright and clear, gradually became overcast; a sharp wind set in; the rain fell heavily; and a dark mist drooping over the distant town, hid it from the view.

she often looked with compassion, at such a time, upon the stragglers who came wandering into london, by the great highway hard by, and who, footsore and weary, and gazing fearfully at the huge town before them, as if foreboding that their misery there would be but as a drop of water in the sea, or as a grain of sea-sand on the shore, went shrinking on, cowering before the angry weather, and looking as if the very elements rejected them. day after day, such travellers crept past, but always, as she thought, in one direction - always towards the town. swallowed up in one phase or other of its immensity, towards which they seemed impelled by a desperate fascination, they never returned. food for the hospitals, the churchyards, the prisons, the river, fever, madness, vice, and death, - they passed on to the monster, roaring in the distance, and were lost.

the chill wind was howling, and the rain was falling, and the day was darkening moodily, when harriet, raising her eyes from the work on which she had long since been engaged with unremitting constancy, saw one of these travellers approaching.

a woman. a solitary woman of some thirty years of age; tall; well-formed; handsome; miserably dressed; the soil of many country roads in varied weather - dust, chalk, clay, gravel - clotted on her grey cloak by the streaming wet; no bonnet on her head, nothing to defend her rich black hair from the rain, but a torn handkerchief; with the fluttering ends of which, and with her hair, the wind blinded her so that she often stopped to push them back, and look upon the way she was going.

she was in the act of doing so, when harriet observed her. as her hands, parting on her sunburnt forehead, swept across her face, and threw aside the hindrances that encroached upon it, there was a reckless and regardless beauty in it: a dauntless and depraved indifference to more than weather: a carelessness of what was cast upon her bare head from heaven or earth: that, coupled with her misery and loneliness, touched the heart of her fellow-woman. she thought of all that was perverted and debased within her, no less than without: of modest graces of the mind, hardened and steeled, like these attractions of the person; of the many gifts of the creator flung to the winds like the wild hair; of all the beautiful ruin upon which the storm was beating and the night was coming.

thinking of this, she did not turn away with a delicate indignation - too many of her own compassionate and tender sex too often do - but pitied her.

her fallen sister came on, looking far before her, trying with her eager eyes to pierce the mist in which the city was enshrouded, and glancing, now and then, from side to side, with the bewildered - and uncertain aspect of a stranger. though her tread was bold and courageous, she was fatigued, and after a moment of irresolution, - sat down upon a heap of stones; seeking no shelter from the rain, but letting it rain on her as it would.

she was now opposite the house; raising her head after resting it for a moment on both hands, her eyes met those of harriet.

in a moment, harriet was at the door; and the other, rising from her seat at her beck, came slowly, and with no conciliatory look, towards her.

'why do you rest in the rain?' said harriet, gently.

'because i have no other resting-place,' was the reply.

'but there are many places of shelter near here. this,' referring to the little porch, 'is better than where you were. you are very welcome to rest here.'

the wanderer looked at her, in doubt and surprise, but without any expression of thankfulness; and sitting down, and taking off one of her worn shoes to beat out the fragments of stone and dust that were inside, showed that her foot was cut and bleeding.

harriet uttering an expression of pity, the traveller looked up with a contemptuous and incredulous smile.

'why, what's a torn foot to such as me?' she said. 'and what's a torn foot in such as me, to such as you?'

'come in and wash it,' answered harriet, mildly, 'and let me give you something to bind it up.'

the woman caught her arm, and drawing it before her own eyes, hid them against it, and wept. not like a woman, but like a stern man surprised into that weakness; with a violent heaving of her breast, and struggle for recovery, that showed how unusual the emotion was with her.

she submitted to be led into the house, and, evidently more in gratitude than in any care for herself, washed and bound the injured place. harriet then put before her fragments of her own frugal dinner, and when she had eaten of them, though sparingly, besought her, before resuming her road (which she showed her anxiety to do), to dry her clothes before the fire. again, more in gratitude than with any evidence of concern in her own behalf, she sat down in front of it, and unbinding the handkerchief about her head, and letting her thick wet hair fall down below her waist, sat drying it with the palms of her hands, and looking at the blaze.

'i daresay you are thinking,' she said, lifting her head suddenly, 'that i used to be handsome, once. i believe i was - i know i was - look here!' she held up her hair roughly with both hands; seizing it as if she would have torn it out; then, threw it down again, and flung it back as though it were a heap of serpents.

'are you a stranger in this place?' asked harriet.

'a stranger!' she returned, stopping between each short reply, and looking at the fire. 'yes. ten or a dozen years a stranger. i have had no almanack where i have been. ten or a dozen years. i don't know this part. it's much altered since i went away.'

'have you been far?'

'very far. months upon months over the sea, and far away even then. i have been where convicts go,' she added, looking full upon her entertainer. 'i have been one myself.'

'heaven help you and forgive you!' was the gentle answer.

'ah! heaven help me and forgive me!' she returned, nodding her head at the fire. 'if man would help some of us a little more, god would forgive us all the sooner perhaps.'

but she was softened by the earnest manner, and the cordial face so full of mildness and so free from judgment, of her, and said, less hardily:

'we may be about the same age, you and me. if i am older, it is not above a year or two. oh think of that!'

she opened her arms, as though the exhibition of her outward form would show the moral wretch she was; and letting them drop at her sides, hung down her head.

'there is nothing we may not hope to repair; it is never too late to amend,' said harriet. 'you are penitent

'no,' she answered. 'i am not! i can't be. i am no such thing. why should i be penitent, and all the world go free? they talk to me of my penitence. who's penitent for the wrongs that have been done to me?'

she rose up, bound her handkerchief about her head, and turned to move away.

'where are you going?' said harriet.

'yonder,' she answered, pointing with her hand. 'to london.'

'have you any home to go to?'

'i think i have a mother. she's as much a mother, as her dwelling is a home,' she answered with a bitter laugh.

'take this,' cried harriet, putting money in her hand. 'try to do well. it is very little, but for one day it may keep you from harm.'

'are you married?' said the other, faintly, as she took it.

'no. i live here with my brother. we have not much to spare, or i would give you more.'

'will you let me kiss you?'

seeing no scorn or repugnance in her face, the object of her charity bent over her as she asked the question, and pressed her lips against her cheek. once more she caught her arm, and covered her eyes with it; and then was gone.

gone into the deepening night, and howling wind, and pelting rain; urging her way on towards the mist-enshrouded city where the blurred lights gleamed; and with her black hair, and disordered head-gear, fluttering round her reckless face.

让我们把眼睛转到两个家。虽然它们离伟大的伦敦城都不远，但它们并不是并排坐落在邻近的地方，而是相隔着很大的距离。

第一个家位于诺伍德1附近林木葱茏的乡间。它不是个公馆，它可以自夸的地方不在于面积；但它建造得美丽，装饰得雅致。里面有草坪，花园，暖房；斜坡是柔软和徐缓的，树丛中有不少风姿优美的白蜡树和柳树；游廊是用天然的树木建造的，芳香的匍匐植物缠绕在它的柱子上；住宅的外表朴素，厨房、厕所的设备完善；所有这一切虽然都是小型的，适合于一个普通的别墅，但却说明屋里有着可以供宫殿使用的各种优雅的舒适物品。这个说法并不是没有根据，因为屋子里面的陈设全都是精美与奢华的。鲜艳的颜色处处映入眼帘，它们搭配得很好。在家具中，在墙壁上，在地板上，这些鲜艳的颜色给从奇异的玻璃门窗中射进来的光线染上色彩，使它们变得柔和。家具的大小设计得跟小房间的形状与面积惊人地协调。这里还有几幅优美的木刻与图画；在离奇有趣的角落与壁凹中有不少书；几张桌子上摆着各种比赛技巧或碰运气的游戏用具：奇异的棋子，骰子，十五子棋，纸牌和台球。

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1诺伍德（norwood）：伦敦郊区的地方。

可是，在这些丰富的舒适物品当中存在的总的气氛中却有着某些不良的东西。是不是因为地毯和垫子太柔软、太没有，因此在这里走动或安息的人们都好像是在偷偷摸摸地行动呢？是不是因为那些木刻和图画不是赞颂崇高的思想或业绩，也不是反映风景、厅堂或茅舍中含有诗意的自然美色，而全都是色情肉感一类的作品——它们仅仅炫示形状与颜色而已——而没有别的呢？是不是因为那些书籍都有着金色的外表，从大部分标题来看跟那些木刻与图画都是属于同一类内容的货色呢？是不是因为这房屋的富裕与华美跟这里那里在某些无关重要和耗费不大的方面假装出来的谦逊不相一致呢？（这种虚假的程度就跟挂在墙上的那幅画得逼真的肖像的脸孔或坐在下面安乐椅中正在吃早饭的原型一模一样），或者是不是因为这幅肖像的原型——这里一切的主人——由于每天呼吸空气，就不知不觉地把他自己身上某些微妙的影响扩散到周围的一切东西中呢？

坐在安乐椅中的就是卡克先生。桌子上闪闪发亮的鸟笼子里有一只艳丽的鹦鹉，它用嘴巴咬着铁丝，在它的圆屋顶里胡乱地走来走去，同时摇撼着它的房屋，在尖声叫着；可是卡克先生丝毫也不去注意这只鸟，而是含着沉思的微笑，望着对面墙上的画像。

“的确，碰巧非常相像，”他说道。

也许，这是朱诺1吧；也许这是波提乏的妻子2吧；也许，就像市场上商人们在买卖时所命名的，这是个藐视一切的宁芙3吧。这是一位非常漂亮的女人的画像，她转过身子，但却回过头来，脸孔对着看画的人，向他投来高傲的眼光。

她像伊迪丝。

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1朱诺（juno）：罗马神话中主神朱庇特（jupiter）的妻子，是气派高贵的美人。

2圣经故事中埃及法老的内臣护卫长波提乏（potiphar）的妻子；她曾勾引在她家总管家务的约瑟；约瑟拒绝她的勾引，她便恼羞成怒，反诬约瑟要强奸她；波提乏信以为真，便将约瑟关入监狱。

3宁芙（nymph）：希腊神话中半神半人的少女，住在山、林、水泽中。

他向画像挥了挥手——这是什么意思！是威吓吗？不是，可是也有些像威吓。是扬扬得意的流露吗？不是，可是很有些像扬扬得意。是从他嘴唇上吹送出去的侮辱性的飞吻吗？不是，可是也像是飞吻。——他又重新吃早饭，并招呼关在笼子中的生气的鸟儿；有一个像很大的结婚戒指一样的镀金的圆环悬垂在笼子中，那鸟儿往下走到圆环中，前后摇荡，给他开心取乐。

第二个家在伦敦的另一边，离北边的大公路不远；在往昔的日子里，这条大路交通繁忙，如今却是静寂无声；除了步行的旅客还沿着它辛苦地跋涉外，它几乎已被人们遗弃了。这是一座贫穷的小房屋，家具简陋、稀少，但却很干净；从裁培在门廊旁边和狭窄的庭园中的普通花卉来看，房屋的主人甚至还想把它装饰一下。它所坐落的地方既没有乡村的景色，也没有城市的风光。它既不是城市，又不是乡村。城市就像是个穿着旅行靴的巨人，大步跨过它，在远远的前方落下了他的由砖头和灰泥做成的靴底；可是在巨人两脚之间的地方，现在仍然是光景萧条的乡村。这里有几座日夜冒着黑烟的烟囱，有几个砖厂，还有一些小路，小路上青草已经被割去了，篱笆已经倒塌了，但生长着灰尘覆盖的荨麻，还可以看到一两片树篱；捉鸟的人仍偶尔前来光顾，但每次都发誓不再回来了；第二个家的住宅就坐落在这样的环境之中。

住在这个住宅中的她，就是由于热爱一个被遗弃的弟弟，才离开第一个家的住宅的。她从那座住宅中带走了赎罪的精神，从住宅主人的心胸中带走了他唯一的守护天使。虽然在这次在他看来是忘恩负义的、侮辱性的行为之后，他对她已不再喜爱；虽然他为了报复，已将她抛弃；可是甚至在他的心中也还没有完全遗忘对她的往日的记忆。让她在他门前留下的花园来证明吧！虽然他的脚步从来没有走进去过，可是他尽管花了很多钱来改建他的住宅，这个花园却依旧保留下来，就仿佛她昨天才离开似的。

哈里特·卡克从那时以来，容貌已经改变了；时间老人已经在她美丽的姿容上投下了比他在没有得到外界帮助的情况下独自所能投下的更为沉重的阴影——这是忧虑、悲伤和每天为可怜的生活挣扎的阴影。可是她的姿容仍然是美丽的，仍然是温柔的、文静的、谦逊的美；它是必须寻找才能发现的，因为它不会炫耀自己；如果它会的话，那么它就不会像现在这样了。

是的，这个苗条、矮小、耐性的人儿，穿着普通布料做成的洁净的衣服；在她身上所能看到的仅仅是平淡无奇的家常美德，并没有别的；这种美德与公认的英雄与伟大气概很少有共同之处，除非当这种美德之光成为星座，可以从天上直接找到，那时候这种美德的光线就会照进这个世界上的伟大人物的生活之中。——这位苗条的、矮小的、耐性的人儿靠在一位仍然年轻，但却疲乏无力、头发斑白的男子身上。她就是他的姐姐。她在他蒙受耻辱的时候，独自来到他身边，把她的手搁到他的手中，亲切地、沉着地怀着决心，满怀希望地引导他走上他的荒芜的道路。

“现在还早呢，约翰，”她说道，“为什么你这么早就走了？”

“比平时只早几分钟，哈里特。如果我能抽出时间的话，我想，我就爱从我跟他告别的那座房屋旁边经过，这是个怪癖。”

“我要是过去看见过他或认识他就好了，约翰。”

“你现在这样反倒好，我亲爱的，要是你记得他的命运的话。”

“可是即使我过去认识他的话，那么我也不会比现在更痛心的。难道你的悲伤不就是我的悲伤吗？如果我过去认识他的话，那么你在谈到他的时候，也许就会觉得我是你更好的伴侣了。”

“我最亲爱的姐姐！难道我不相信，有什么欢乐你不是跟我共同分享，有什么忧伤你不是跟我共同分担的吗？”

“我希望你相信这一点，约翰，因为情况确实是这样！”

“你在这件事情上或在其他任何事情上，还能对我更好更亲近的吗？”她的弟弟说道，“我觉得你好像过去是认识他的，哈里特，你跟我共同感受着对他的感情。”

她把搁在他肩膀上的手抽回来，搂着他的脖子，迟疑地回答道：

“不，不完全这样。”

“是的，是的，”他说道，“你认为如果我过去允许我自己跟他更亲近一些，我并不会对他不利吗？”

“我认为？不，我了解这一点。”

“天知道，我是不会故意危害他的；”他伤心地摇着头，回答道，“可是他的声誉太宝贵了；我不愿意由于跟他深交而使他的声誉冒着遭受损害的危险；你同意不同意我的这个看法，我亲爱的——？”

“我不同意，”她沉静地说道。

“但这仍然是真实的情况，哈里特；当我回忆起他，想到我过去由于不能接近他而心情沉重痛苦时，我的心情就感到轻松一些。”他在他悲伤的声调中抑制着自己，没有说下去，并向她微笑着，说道，“再见！”

“再见，亲爱的约翰！晚上，在老时间和老地点，我将跟往常一样，在你回家的路途中来接你。再见！”

她向着他的脸，抬起脸来吻他；她这张热诚的脸孔对他来说，是他的家，他的生命，他的宇宙，可是这也是他的惩罚与痛苦的一部分；因为在这张脸上笼罩着的云（虽然它像日落时发出光彩的云一样，晴朗与宁静）中，在她忠诚的献身的精神中，在她抛弃安逸、欢乐和希望而作出的牺牲中，他看到了他过去所犯罪恶的苦果，永远像过去一样成熟与新鲜。

她站在门口，两只手松弛地互相握着，目送着他从房屋前面那个霉臭难闻和高低不平的地块走过去；这块地不久以前曾经一度是一片可爱的草地，如今已变为一片荒野；在垃圾堆上杂乱无章地矗立着许多简陋的小房子，仿佛是由一只笨拙的手把它们播种在那里似的。他回过头来看了一、两次，每当他回过头来看的时候，她的热诚的脸孔就像一缕明亮的光线一样照射在他的心上；但是当他拖着沉重的脚步向前走去、不再看她的时候，她站在那里望着他的背影，眼中却涌出了眼泪。

她没有在门口沉思地、无所事事地站多久。每天的职责必须去完成，每天的工作必须去做——因为这些毫无英雄气概的平凡的人们时常是用他们的双手辛勤工作的——，所以哈里特很快就忙起家务事来。这些事情干完之后，简陋的房子被收拾得十分干净、整齐，这时她神色忧虑地数了数手头少量的钱，然后若有所思地去买餐桌上所需的食品，一边走一边盘算着怎样节省一些。是的，这些地位低微的人们的生活是这样悲惨可怜，他们不仅在他们的男仆与女仆的眼中不是英雄，1而且既没有男仆也没有女仆去让他们逞英雄！

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1仆人眼中无英雄（nomanisaherotohisvalet）：是英国的一句谚语。

当她离开家，屋子里一个人也没有的时候，从与她弟弟不同的一条路上走来一位先生；他年纪也许刚刚过了壮年，但脸色红润、健康，身材挺直，神情高兴、开朗，态度和蔼、善良。他的眉毛还是黑的，头发有好多也是黑的，但中间夹杂着零星白发，这使他的眉毛显得十分优美，并鲜明地衬托出他宽阔、开朗的前额和诚实的眼睛。

这位先生在门上敲了一下，没有得到回答，就在门廊里的长凳上坐下等候。当他在哼着曲子并在身旁的凳子上打着拍子的时候，他手指的熟练的动作似乎显示出他是一位音乐家。他哼着一支很慢很长、无法识别曲调的歌曲，哼得非常高兴，从这点来看，似乎他是个精通音乐的内行。

当哈里特出现在回来的路上时，他仍在发展着主旋律；这主旋律似乎在不断旋转着，旋转着，旋转着，一层层地深入，深入，再深入，好像一个在桌子上滴溜溜旋转的螺旋锥一样，一直在围绕着自己打转，没有个完。他看到她走来，就站起身来，脱了帽子站着。

“您又来了，先生！”她结结巴巴地说道。

“我很冒昧，”他回答道，“我可不可以打扰您五分钟？”

她犹豫了一下子，然后开了门，领他到小客厅里去。这位先生在那里把椅子拉近桌边，坐在她的对面，并用跟他的外表十分相称的和很可爱的纯朴态度说道：

“哈里特小姐，您是不会骄傲的。那天早上我到这里来的时候，您向我表示，您是骄傲的。请原谅我，如果我告诉您，当您那天这样说的时候，我看着您的脸孔，您的脸孔否定了您的话。我现在又看着您的脸孔，”他把手在她的胳膊上放了一下子，亲切地接下去说道，“它愈加否定了您的话。”

她有些发窘和激动，没有想出什么话来回答。

“您的脸孔是真诚与温柔的镜子，”客人说道，“请原谅，我相信它，并回答了它。”

他讲这些话时的神态完全不像是客气地恭维。他十分坦率，认真，自然和真诚，因此她低下了头，仿佛想要感谢他并承认他是怀着诚意的。

“我们年龄上的差异，”那位先生说道，“以及我的坦诚的目的使我有权利坦率地说出我的心里话；想到这一点我很高兴。我心里的话都说出来了，所以您又第二次看到了我。”

“有一种骄傲，先生，”她沉默了一会儿之后，说道，“或者可以把它当作骄傲吧，可是实际上它仅仅是责任。我希望，除此之外，我并不怀有其他的骄傲。”

“为您自己而感到骄傲吗？”他问道。

“为我自己。”

“可是——请原谅我——”那位先生迟疑地说道，“您为您的弟弟约翰感到骄傲吗？”

“我为他的爱而感到骄傲，”哈里特凝视着她的客人说道，忽然她改变了态度——并不是她的态度不像先前那样沉着和平静，而是在她的态度中有一种深刻的、热情的、认真的精神，这使得连她颤抖的也表明了她的坚定，“我也为他感到骄傲。先生，您不知怎么的知道他的历史，上一次到这里来的时候还把它重新讲给我听——”

“那仅仅是为了取得您的信任，”这位先生打断她说道，“请您千万别以为——”

“我相信，”她说道，“您是怀着善良的、值得称许的目的对我重新提起它的。我完全相信这一点。”

“谢谢您，”她的客人急忙握着她的手，回答道，“我十分感谢您。我肯定地对您说，您对我是公正的。我，知道约翰的历史，——”

“当我说我为他感到骄傲的时候，您可能会责备我骄傲，”她继续说道，“我确实是为他感到骄傲的！您知道，过去有一段时候我没有为他感到骄傲，——那时候我不可能为他感到骄傲，——可是那已经过去了。忍受多年屈辱，毫无怨言地赎罪，衷心地忏悔，深深地遗憾，甚至，我知道，我对他的爱也造成了他的痛苦，他认为我为了爱他付出了高昂的代价，其实，天知道，除了他的不幸使我难过外，我是完全幸福的！——啊，先生，在我眼见到一切之后，我恳求您，如果您一旦有了权力，有人对您犯了罪过，那么，不管是什么样的罪过，您都别对他处以无法挽回的处罚；因为这时候上帝正在天上促使他所创造的心灵改邪归正呢！”

“您的弟弟已变成另外一个人了，”那位先生同情地回答道，“我向您肯定地说，我毫不怀疑这一点。”

“当他犯了罪的时候，他变成了另外一个人，”哈里特说道，“他现在又成了另外一个人，恢复了他的真实面貌。请相信我，先生。”

“可是我们照旧生活着，”她的客人心不在焉地擦着前额，然后若有所思地敲打着桌子，说道，“我们一天一天，按照一成不变的常规生活着，不可能发现或注视这些变化。它们——它们是形而上学一类的东西。我们——我们没有闲暇来研究它。我们——我们没有勇气。在学校或学院里不教它们。我们也不知道怎样着手。总而言之，我们都是些该——死的事务家。”那位先生说道，一边神情极为不满和烦恼地走到窗口，又走回来，重新坐下。

“说实在的，”那位先生又擦着前额，并像先前一样敲打着桌子，说道，“我很有理由相信，这种一天又一天同一个模式的生活会使一个人甘心迁就任何事情。什么也看不见，什么也听不到，什么也不知道，这是事实。我们把一切都认为是理所当然的，我们就这样生活着，直到我们不论做什么事，好的、坏的、不好不坏的，我们都是根据习惯去做。当我躺在临终的床上，要求对着良心为我自己辩护的时候，我只能把一切都说成是习惯。‘习惯，’我说，‘由于习惯，我过去对千百万的事情都是耳聋、口哑、眼瞎、感觉麻痹’。‘先生，您叫什么名字？的确，您是个忙忙碌碌的事务家，’良心说，‘可是它在这里无济于事！’”

那位先生站起来，又走到窗口和走回来；虽然他是采用这样独特的方式来表示他的忧虑不安，但他确实是非常忧虑不安。

“哈里特小姐，”他重新在椅子上坐下，说道，“我希望您能允许我为您帮点忙。请看着我，我的神态应当是诚实的。因为我知道我是诚实的。是不是这样？”

“是的，”她微笑着回答道。

“我相信您所讲的每句话。”他回答道，“我深深地责怪自己，十二年来我本可以了解这一点，看见这一点，本可以了解您，看见您，可是我却没有认识，没有看见。我真不知道我是怎么到这里来的。——我不仅成了我自己习惯的奴隶，而且成了别人习惯的奴隶！可是既然我已到这里来了，就请允许我做点事情。我以所有的道义和尊敬向您请求。您极大地激励了我的道义和尊敬。请允许我做点事情吧。”

“我们并不需要什么，先生。”

“不，不，不完全这样，”那位先生回答道，“我认为不完全这样。有一些小小的生活舒适用品可以使您的生活和他的生活过得愉快一些。和他的生活！”他以为这已在她心上产生了一些印象，就重复了最后这句话，“我过去总是习惯地认为，不需要为他做什么事情了，一切都已解决和过去了，总之我根本就没有想过这个问题。现在我跟过去不一样了，请允许我为他做点什么事情吧。也为您做点事情。”客人关切、体贴地说道，“为了他的缘故，您必须很好地保重您的身体，我担心它已经衰弱了。”

“不管您是什么人，先生，”哈里特抬起眼睛望着他的脸，说道，“我都深深地感谢您。我确实感到，您所讲的一切，都是想为我们好，并不追求其他目的。可是我们过这种生活已有很多年头了。要从我弟弟那里把他对我来说十分宝贵的、并已确实证明是他的坚强决心的东西取走一星半点，要把他在没有得到帮助、默默无闻、被人遗忘的情况下进行赎罪而表现出的优秀品质取走一星半点，那么当您刚才讲到的那个时刻降临到我们面前的时候，它都会减少他和我将会感到的安慰。我的这些眼泪比任何语言都更能表达我对您的感谢。请您相信这一点。”

那位先生被感动了，他把她伸出的手拉到他的嘴唇上，非常像一位慈爱的父亲吻一个孝顺的女儿的手一样。

“如果有一天他部分地恢复他所失去的地位，”哈里特说道。

“恢复！”那位先生很快地喊道，“怎么能希望发生这样的事情？恢复的权力掌握在谁的手里？我想，他得到了他生活中无价的幸福，这是他弟弟对他显示敌意的一个原因。我的这个想法一定没有错。”

“您提到了一个我们两人从来不谈的问题，甚至在我们两人之间也是从来不谈的，”哈里特说道。

“我请您原谅，”来访的客人说道，“我应当知道这点才好。我请求您忘掉我由于疏忽而提到它了。现在，我不敢再劝您一定接受我的建议——因为我不太清楚，我是不是有权利这样做——虽然天知道，甚至这种怀疑也是一种习惯，”那位先生又像刚才一样失望地擦着前额，说道，“我对您来说是一位陌生人，但同时也不算是个陌生人，请允许我请求您答应我的两点请求。”

“是什么？”她问道。

“第一点，如果您认为有理由改变您的决心，那么请允许我成为您的左右手，那时候我将把我的姓名告诉您，听随您呼唤。现在告诉您没有用，而且我的姓名是微不足道的。”

“我们选择朋友，并不是郑重得了不得，需要我花时间考虑一番才行。”她微微露出笑容，回答道，“我可以答应这一点。”

“第二点，请您允许我有时，就说每星期一早上九点钟吧——又是习惯——我一定是个循规蹈矩的人了，”那位先生说道，他奇怪地喜爱在这方面责怪自己，“请允许我走过这里，看到您在门口或窗口。我并不请求进来，因为那时您弟弟不在家。我并不请求跟您谈话。我只是为使伐自己安心，请让我看到您身体健康，同时毫不强迫地提醒您，您有一位朋友——一位年纪很大的朋友，他的头发已经斑白，很快就会变得更白——您随时可以嘱咐他为您效劳。”

那张恳挚的脸孔抬起来，信任地望着他的脸孔。她答应了他的请求。

“像先前一样，我知道，”那位先生站起身来，说道，“您不准备把我的访问告诉约翰·卡克，以免他因为我知道他的历史而苦恼。我对这感到很高兴，因为这越出了事物通常的轨道和——习惯，又是习惯！”那位先生不耐烦地中断了自己的话，说道，“仿佛除了通常的轨道之外，就没有更好的轨道似的！”

他一边说着这些话，一边转过身子，手里拿着帽子，走到那条小门廊的外面，无限尊敬和真诚关切地向她告辞；这种尊敬和关切不是任何教养所能教出来，而只有纯洁与诚实的心才能表露出来的；它们的真实性是不会引起任何怀疑的。

这次访问在这位姐姐的心中唤醒了几乎已被忘却了的许多情感。很久没有客人跨进他们家的门槛，很久没有同情的像悲哀的音乐一样在她耳边鸣响，所以在这以后的好几个钟头中，当她坐在窗口一针一针在辛勤缝着的时候，这位陌生人的形象一直出现在她的眼前；他的话似乎一次又一次地重新说给她听。他已经触动了打开她整个生活的那根心弦；如果说她在一个短时间内忘掉了他，那么那是因为与一个伟大的回忆有关的许多思想把它暂时遮蔽了，整个生命就是从这个伟大的回忆所产生的1。

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1意即：当她思念上帝时暂时把他忘了。

哈里特·卡克交替地沉思着和工作着；有时她强制自己长久地专心于着针线活；有时她又心不在焉地让活计掉落在膝盖上，听任自己涌集的思潮随意奔流；时间就这样在她不知不觉之间悄悄地溜走了。早晨的天空，原先是明亮与晴朗的，现在逐渐遮满了乌云；刺骨的寒风吹刮进来；雨点沉重地落下；黑沉沉的迷雾笼罩着远方的城市，使它看不见了。

每逢这样的时候，她总时常怜悯地望着那些旅客沿着她房屋旁边那条公路艰辛地向伦敦走去；他们的脚已经走痛了，身子已经走累了，正恐惧地望着前面宏伟的城市，仿佛预感到他们在那里的悲惨境遇将只不过是大海中的一滴水或海滩上的一粒沙；他们在狂风暴雨面前心怯胆寒地收缩着身子，看来仿佛大自然也把他们抛弃了似的。一天又一天，这些旅客无力地、迟缓地拖着脚步，不过她觉得总是朝着一个方向——朝着城市的方向走去。似乎有一股猛烈的魔力把他们推进这座无限广大的城市之中的某个部分一样，他们被它吞没了，再也没有回来。他们成为医院、墓地、监狱、河流、热病、疯狂、恶习和死亡的食物，——他们向着在远方吼叫的怪物走去，然后消失了。

寒风在怒号，雨在下着，白天在阴沉地黑下来，这时哈里特眼睛离开她孜孜不倦缝了好久的活计，看着这些走过来的旅客中的一位。

她是一位妇女。一位三十岁光景、孤身一人的妇女；她个子高大，身材端正，容貌漂亮，衣服破烂；在倾盆大雨下，她的灰色斗篷上粘满了许多乡村道路在各种气候中飞溅起来的泥土——灰尘、白垩、粘土、沙砾——；她没有戴帽子；浓密的黑发上除了一块撕破的手绢之外，没有别的东西挡雨；手绢的边端和头发在风中飘动，遮住了她的眼睛，所以她时常停下来把它们推回去，并望着她所前往的道路。

哈里特就在她这样的时候注意到她。她把两手举到晒黑的前额，抹了抹脸，把覆盖在脸上的障碍物挪开；这时候可以看出：她的姿容美丽，但她的性格却是鲁莽轻率、毫无顾虑的；比气候更为严重的事情她也毫无畏缩地置之度外，根本不去考虑自己的道德品行如何；对于从天上或地上抛掷到她的毫无遮盖的头上的一切东西，她都满不在乎。这一切，再加上她的贫穷和孤独，使她的同胞姐妹哈里特的内心深受感动。她想到这位妇女不仅在外表上而且在内心里也是反常的、损坏了的；就像她富于魅力的姿容不像原先那么娇柔一样，她那颗原本朴实优美的心也变得冷酷无情；造物主赋予她的许多高尚的资质都像那些蓬乱的头发一样被风吹走了；暴风雨正在吹打着她那被毁损的美容，夜色即将笼罩着它。

她在想着这一切的时候，并没有嫌恶、愤怒地避开她（在她富于同情心、温柔体贴的女同胞中，过多的人是过于经常这样做的），而是可怜她。

她的堕落的姐妹继续向前走来，直望着远远的前方；锐利的眼睛想要穿透笼罩着城市的迷雾，时常以一个异乡人不知所措和犹豫不决的神情左顾右盼。她的步伐虽然坚决有力，但她已疲倦了。她踌躇了一会儿以后，在一堆石头上坐下，任凭雨落在她身上，不想避开。

她现在正好对着这座房屋。她把头垂落在两只手上休息了一会儿以后，又抬起来，这时她的眼光碰到了哈里特的眼光。

哈里特一会儿就出现在门口；那位妇女听到她的招呼之后，从坐位上站起来，慢吞吞地向她走去，她的态度并不是亲切友好的。

“您为什么在雨里休息呢？”哈里特温柔地问她。

“因为我没有别的地方好休息，”她回答道。

“可是附近有许多可以避雨的地方。这里，”她指着小门廊说，“比您刚才坐的地方好。欢迎您到这里来休息。”

这位妇女怀疑与惊奇地望着她，但没有任何感谢的表情；她坐下来，把一只破烂的鞋子脱掉，倒出里面的碎石和尘土，这时可以看到她的脚已破伤了，正在流血。

当哈里特发出怜悯的喊声时，这位妇女抬起眼睛望着她，露出轻蔑与怀疑的微笑。

“对于像我这样的人来说，一只破伤的脚算得了什么呢？”她说道，“对于像您这样的人来说，我这种人有一只破伤了的脚又算得了什么呢？

“进来洗洗它吧，”哈里特温厚地说道，“我给您一点什么东西把它包扎起来。”

这位妇女抓住她的手，拉到她自己眼睛前面，紧贴着，并哭泣起来。这不像是一位妇女的哭泣，而像是一位性格坚强的男子突然屈从于这种弱点时的哭泣；她的胸脯猛烈地上下起伏，并竭力想恢复常态，这说明她内心的情感是多么不寻常地激动。

她顺从地被引进屋子里，然后显然是出于感激，而不是出于保护自己，冲洗和包扎了伤处。接着，哈里特从她自己微薄的晚饭中分出一些，端到她的面前；当她吃完之后（虽然数量是不多的），哈里特又请求她重新赶路（她急切地想这样做）之前先把衣服在炉火上烤烤干。她又一次出于感激，而不是出于对自己的任何关心，在炉子前面坐下来，把系在头上的手绢解开，让她浓密的、淋湿了的头发垂落到腰下，然后坐在那里，一边用手掌把它搓干，一边看着炉火。

“大概您在想，我过去是漂亮的吧，”她突然抬起头来，说道，“我想我过去是的。我知道我过去是的。请看这里！”

她粗野地用两只手把头发撩起来，抓得紧紧地，仿佛要把它撕断似的；然后又把它放下来，甩到肩后，仿佛这是一堆蛇似的。

“您是不是个外乡人？”哈里特问道。

“外乡人！”她回答道；每说完一个短句，她总要停顿一下，并看着炉火，“不错，当了十年或十多年的外乡人。我没有我在那里居住过的日历。大概是十年或十多年吧。我不认识这个地方。我离开以后，这里发生了很大的变化。”

“您这十来年所在的地方离这里远吗？”

“很远。必须在海上航行好几个月。即使是乘船也是很远的。我是在罪犯流放的地方，”她凝视着招待她的主人，接下去说道，“我自己也是一个犯人。”

“上帝帮助您和宽恕您，”哈里特温柔地回答道。

“啊！上帝帮助我和宽恕我吧！”她向炉火点点头，回答道，“如果人们肯稍稍帮助我们当中的一些人的话，那么上帝也许会更快地宽恕我们所有的人的。”

可是哈里特恳切的态度和她那诚挚的脸孔（这脸孔充满了温柔的情意、丝毫也不责备她）使她温和下来，她不像刚才那样粗鲁地接着说道：

“我们，您和我，也许是相同的年纪吧。如果我比您大一些，那么也不会大出一、两岁。啊，请想一想这一点吧！”

她伸开胳膊，仿佛展示一下她的外形就会表明她过去在道德上曾经堕落到何等地步似的；然后她把胳膊放下来，低垂着头。

“没有什么我们不能补救的事情；改正错误是从来不会太晚的，”哈里特说道，“您已经忏悔了。”

“不，”她回答道，“我没有忏悔！我不能忏悔。我不是这种人。为什么我必须忏悔，而世界上所有的人都在放荡不羁？他们都对我谈到我的忏悔。可是谁忏悔加害于我的罪恶呢？”

她站起来，用手绢把头包扎好之后，转身要走。

“您上哪里去？”哈里特问道。

“那里，”她用手指一指，说道，“上伦敦去。”

“您在伦敦有家吗？”

“我想，我有一个母亲。她也算是个母亲，就像她的住所也算是个家一样，”她苦笑着回答道。

“把这拿去，”哈里特把钱塞到她手里，说道，“好好做人。

钱很少，但也许有一天它会使您避开不幸的。”

“您结婚了吗？”那位妇女收下钱，轻声问道。

“没有。我跟我的弟弟一起住在这里。我们能省出的钱不多，要不我本会多给您一些的。”

“您允许我亲亲您吗？”

这位接受了施舍的妇女看到哈里特脸上没有流露出任何轻蔑与嫌恶的神情，就在提出请求之后弯下身去，把嘴唇紧贴在她的脸颊上。她又一次抓住她的手，遮住她的眼睛，然后离开了。

她走进了愈益深沉的夜，迎着怒吼的狂风和倾盆大雨，向着迷雾笼罩、闪烁着半明半暗的灯光的城市，赶着她的路；乌黑的头发和不整齐的、当作帽子的手绢在她毫无顾虑的脸孔四周飘动着。