1、Lizzie LeighLizzie Leigh by Elizabeth Gaskell CHAPTER I.When Death is present in a household on a Christmas Day, the very contrast between the time as it now is, and the day as it has often been, gives a poignancy to sorrow-a more utter blankness to the desolation. James Leigh died just as the far-a
2、way bells of Rochdale Church were ringing for morning service on Christmas Day, 1836. Afew minutes before his death, he opened his already glazing eyes, and made a sign to his wife, by the faint motion of his lips, that he had yet something to say. She stooped close down, and caught the broken whisp
3、er, I forgive her, Annie! May God forgive me!Oh, my love, my dear! only get well, and I will never cease showing my thanks for those words. May God in heaven bless thee for saying them. Thourt not so restless, my lad! may be-Oh, God!For even while she spoke he died.They had been two-and-twenty years
4、 man and wife; for nineteen of those years their life had been as calm and happy as the most perfect uprightness on the one side, and the most complete confidence and loving submission on the other, could make it. Miltons famous line might have been framed and hung up as the rule of their married li
5、fe, for he was truly the interpreter, who stood between God and her; she would have considered herself wicked if she had ever dared even to think him austere, though as certainly as he was an upright man, so surely was he hard, stern, and inflexible. But for three years the moan and the murmur had n
6、ever been out of her heart; she had rebelled against her husband as against a tyrant, with a hidden, sullen rebellion, which tore up the old landmarks of wifely duty and affection, and poisoned the fountains whence gentlest love and reverence had once been for ever springing.But those last blessed w
7、ords replaced him on his throne in her heart, and called out penitent anguish for all the bitter estrangement of later years. It was this which made her refuse all the entreaties of her sons, that she would see the kind-hearted neighbours, who called on their way from church, to sympathize and condo
8、le. No! she would stay with the dead husband that had spoken tenderly at last, if for three years he had kept silence; who knew but what, if she had only been more gentle and less angrily reserved he might have relented earlier-and in time?She sat rocking herself to and fro by the side of the bed, w
9、hile the footsteps below went in and out; she had been in sorrow too long to have any violent burst of deep grief now; the furrows were well worn in her cheeks, and the tears flowed quietly, if incessantly, all the day long. But when the winters night drew on, and the neighbours had gone away to the
10、ir homes, she stole to the window, and gazed out, long and wistfully, over the dark grey moors. She did not hear her sons voice, as he spoke to her from the door, nor his footstep as he drew nearer. She started when he touched her.Mother! come down to us. Theres no one but Will and me. Dearest mothe
11、r, we do so want you. The poor lads voice trembled, and he began to cry. It appeared to require an effort on Mrs. Leighs part to tear herself away from the window, but with a sigh she complied with his request.The two boys (for though Will was nearly twenty-one, she still thought of him as a lad) ha
12、d done everything in their power to make the house-place comfortable for her. She herself, in the old days before her sorrow, had never made a brighter fire or a cleaner hearth, ready for her husbands return home, than now awaited her.The tea-things were all put out, and the kettle was boiling; and
13、the boys had calmed their grief down into a kind of sober cheerfulness.They paid her every attention they could think of, but received little notice on her part; she did not resist, she rather submitted to all their arrangements; but they did not seem to touch her heart.When tea was ended-it was mer
14、ely the form of tea that had been gone through-Will moved the things away to the dresser. His mother leant back languidly in her chair.Mother, shall Tom read you a chapter? Hes a better scholar than I.Ay, lad! said she, almost eagerly. Thats it. Read me the Prodigal Son. Ay, ay, lad. Thank thee.Tom
15、found the chapter, and read it in the high-pitched voice which is customary in village schools. His mother bent forward, her lips parted, her eyes dilated; her whole body instinct with eager attention. Will sat with his head depressed and hung down. He knew why that chapter had been chosen; and to h
16、im it recalled the familys disgrace. When the reading was ended, he still hung down his head in gloomy silence. But her face was brighter than it had been before for the day. Her eyes looked dreamy, as if she saw a vision; and by-and-by she pulled the Bible towards her, and, putting her finger under
17、neath each word, began to read them aloud in a low voice to herself; she read again the words of bitter sorrow and deep humiliation; but most of all, she paused and brightened over the fathers tender reception of the repentant prodigal.So passed the Christmas evening in the Upclose Farm.The snow had
18、 fallen heavily over the dark waving moorland before the day of the funeral. The black storm-laden dome of heaven lay very still and close upon the white earth, as they carried the body forth out of the house which had known his presence so long as its ruling power. Two and two the mourners followed
19、, making a black procession, in their winding march over the unbeaten snow, to Milne Row Church;now lost in some hollow of the bleak moors, now slowly climbing the heaving ascents. There was no long tarrying after the funeral, for many of the neighbours who accompanied the body to the grave had far
20、to go, and the great white flakes which came slowly down were the boding forerunners of a heavy storm. One old friend alone accompanied the widow and her sons to their home.The Upclose Farm had belonged for generations to the Leighs; and yet its possession hardly raised them above the rank of labour
21、ers. There was the house and out-buildings, all of an old-fashioned kind, and about seven acres of barren unproductive land, which they had never possessed capital enough to improve; indeed, they could hardly rely upon it for subsistence; and it had been customary to bring up the sons to some trade,
22、 such as a wheelwrights or blacksmiths.James Leigh had left a will in the possession of the old man who accompanied them home. He read it aloud. James had bequeathed the farm to his faithful wife, Anne Leigh, for her lifetime, and afterwards to his son William. The hundred and odd pounds in the savi
23、ngs bank was to accumulate for Thomas.After the reading was ended, Anne Leigh sat silent for a time and then she asked to speak to Samuel Orme alone. The sons went into the back kitchen, and thence strolled out into the fields regardless of the driving snow. The brothers were dearly fond of each oth
24、er, although they were very different in character. Will, the elder, was like his father, stern, reserved, and scrupulously upright. Tom (who was ten years younger) was gentle and delicate as a girl, both in appearance and character. He had always clung to his mother arid dreaded his father. They di
25、d not speak as they walked, for they were only in the habit of talking about facts, and hardly knew the more sophisticated language applied to the description of feelings.Meanwhile their mother had taken hold of Samuel Ormes arm with her trembling hand.Samuel, I must let the farm-I must.Let the farm
26、! Whats come oer the woman?Oh, Samuel! said she, her eyes swimming in tears, Im just fain to go and live in Manchester. I mun let the farm.Samuel looked, and pondered, but did not speak for some time. At last he said -If thou hast made up thy mind, theres no speaking again it; and thou must een go.
27、Thoult be sadly pottered wi Manchester ways;but thats not my look out. Why, thoult have to buy potatoes, a thing thou hast never done afore in all thy born life. Well! its not my look out. Its rather for me than again me. Our Jenny is going to be married to Tom Higginbotham, and he was speaking of w
28、anting a bit of land to begin upon. His father will be dying sometime, I reckon, and then hell step into the Croft Farm. But meanwhile-Then, thoult let the farm, said she, still as eagerly as ever.Ay, ay, hell take it fast enough, Ive a notion. But Ill not drive a bargain with thee just now; it woul
29、d not be right; well wait a bit.No; I cannot wait; settle it out at once.Well, well; Ill speak to Will about it. I see him out yonder.Ill step to him and talk it over.Accordingly he went and joined the two lads, and, without more ado, began the subject to them.Will, thy mother is fain to go live in
30、Manchester, and covets to let the farm. Now, Im willing to take it for Tom Higginbotham; but Ilike to drive a keen bargain, and there would be no fun chaffering with thy mother just now. Let thee and me buckle to, my lad! and try and cheat each other; it will warm us this cold day.Let the farm! said
31、 both the lads at once, with infinite surprise.Go live in Manchester!When Samuel Orme found that the plan had never before been named to either Will or Tom, he would have nothing to do with it, he said, until they had spoken to their mother. Likely she was dazed by her husbands death; he would wait
32、a day or two, and not name it to any one; not to Tom Higginbotham himself, or may be he would set his heart upon it. The lads had better go in and talk it over with their mother. He bade them good-day, and left them.Will looked very gloomy, but he did not speak till they got near the house. Then he said -Tom, go to th shippon, and supper the cows. I want to speak to mother alone.When he entered the house-place, she was sitting before the fire, looking into its embers. She did not hear him come in: for some time she had lost her quick perception of outwar
