影视喜剧剧情片在线热门电影电视剧免费观看[周星驰最新影视资源]
看电影电视剧资源“上方蓝字”即可进官号
香港内地最新电影免费推荐在线观看香港内地最新电影免费推荐在线观看欧美和国内电影电视剧免费在线观看欧美和国内电影电视剧免费在线观看最新上线电影电视剧免费在线看大全美国法国大片电影在线观看免费全集泰国日本和在线电影电视剧免费观看喜剧剧情片在线电影电视剧免费观看战争历史片看影视免费全集大全观看武侠动作片全网免费在线看电影网盘警匪悬疑片在线免费播放观在线看网综艺歌舞和最新电影免费在线看网站娱乐搞笑和热门电影电视剧免费观看
或点击下方⇊⇊⇊公众号即可进入官号
⇈⇈⇈
看最新电影电视剧|天天看娱乐新闻
温馨提示：如果上方名片失效|可点击文前箭头上方"蓝色字"|或到文末“阅读原文”|或文末“名片”即可进入官号。
香港内地最新电影免费推荐在线观看
香港内地最新电影免费推荐在线观看
欧美和国内电影电视剧免费在线观看
欧美和国内电影电视剧免费在线观看
最新上线电影电视剧免费在线看大全
美国法国大片电影在线观看免费全集
泰国日本和在线电影电视剧免费观看
喜剧剧情片在线电影电视剧免费观看
战争历史片看影视免费全集大全观看
武侠动作片全网免费在线看电影网盘
警匪悬疑片在线免费播放观在线看网
综艺歌舞和最新电影免费在线看网站
娱乐搞笑和热门电影电视剧免费观看
点击下方⇊⇊⇊公众号即可进入官号
⇈⇈⇈
看最新电影电视剧|天天看娱乐新闻
…………………………
……………………………
……………………………
…………………………
……………………………
END
谢谢观看
以下全球影视英文介绍
pter 1 Shewing How Wrath Began
When Louis Trevelya
and Reason, as well a
This letter also had a postscript.
“Dear Reuben, If ye think that it wad hae been right for me to have said mair and kinder things to ye, just think that I hae written sae, since I am sure that I wish a’ that is kind and right to ye and by ye. Ye will think I am turned waster, for I wear clean hose and shoon every day; but it’s the fashion here for decent bodies and ilka land has it’s ain landlaw. Ower and aboon a’, if laughing days were e’er to come back again till us, ye wad laugh weel to see my round face at the far end of a strae bon-grace, that looks as muckle and round as the middell aisle in Libberton Kirk. But it sheds the sun weel aff, and keeps uncivil folk frae staring as if ane were a worrycow. I sall tell ye by writ how I come on wi’ the Duke of Argyle, when I won up to Lunnon. Direct a line, to say how ye are, to me, to the charge of Mrs. Margaret Glass, tobacconist, at the sign of the Thistle, Lunnon, whilk, if it assures me of your health, will make my mind sae muckle easier. Excuse bad spelling and writing, as I have ane ill pen.”
The orthography of these epistles may seem to the southron to require a better apology than the letter expresses, though a bad pen was the excuse of a certain Galwegian laird for bad spelling; but, on behalf of the heroine, I would have them to know, that, thanks to the care of Butler, Jeanie Deans wrote and spelled fifty times better than half the women of rank in Scotland at that period, whose strange orthography and singular diction form the strongest contrast to the good sense which their correspondence usually intimates.
For the rest, in the tenor of these epistles, Jeanie expressed, perhaps, more hopes, a firmer courage, and better spirits, than she actually felt. But this was with the amiable idea of relieving her father and lover from apprehensions on her account, which she was sensible must greatly add to their other troubles. “If they think me weel, and like to do weel,” said the poor pilgrim to herself, “my father will be kinder to Effie, and Butler will be kinder to himself. For I ken weel that they will think mair o’ me than I do o’ mysell.”
Accordingly, she sealed her le
is answer, the opening quest of a well-scented terrier of the law drove me from the vicinity of Edinburgh, to a more distant and secluded place of concealment. A secret and trusty emissary at length brought me the account of Porteous’s condemnation, and of your sister’s imprisonment on a criminal charge; thus astounding one of mine ears, while he gratified the other.
“I again ventured to the Pleasance — again charged Murdockson with treachery to the unfortunate Effie and her child, though I could conceive no reason, save that of appropriating the whole of the money I had lodged with her. Your narrative throws light on this, and shows another motive, not less powerful because less evident — the desire of wreaking vengeance on the seducer of her daughter — the destroyer at once of her reason and reputation.
id he gain his precarious bread by some petty trade, by menial toil, by violence, or by theft? These were questions on which Sir George’s anxious investigations could obtain no light. Many remembered that Annaple Bailzou wandered through the country as a beggar and fortune-teller, or spae-wife — some remembered that she had been seen with an infant in 1737 or 1738 — but for more than ten years she had not travelled that district; and that she had been heard to say she was going to a distant part of Scotland, of which country she was a native. To Scotland, therefore, came Sir George Staunton, having parted with his lady at Glasgow; and his arrival at Edinburg happening to coincide with the sitting of the General Assembly
The low-toned words seemed to have some reassurance in them for the hearer: she stepped forward close to the boat’s side, and Deronda put out his hand, hoping now that she would let him help her in. She had already put her tiny hand into his which closed around it, when some new thought struck her, and drawing back she said,
“I have nowhere to go—nobody belonging to me in all this land.”
“I will take you to a lady who has daughters,” said Deronda, immediately. He felt a sort of relief in gathering that the wretched home and cruel friends he imagined her to be fleeing from were not in the near background. Still she hesitated, and said more timidly than ever,
“Do you belong to the theatre?”
“No; I have nothing to do with the theatre,” said Deronda, in a decided tone. Then beseechingly, “I will put you in perfect safety at once; with a lady, a good woman; I am sure she will be kind. Let us lose no time: you will make yourself ill. Life may still become sweet to you. There are good people—there are good women who will take care of you.”
She drew backward no more, but stepped in easily, as if she were used to such action, and sat down on the cushions.
“You had a covering for your head,” said Deronda.
“My hat?” (She lifted up her hands to her head.) “It is quite hidden in the bush.”
“I will find it,” said Deronda, putting out his hand deprecatingly as she attempted to rise. “The boat is fixed.”
He jumped out, found the hat, and lifted up the saturated cloak, wringing it and throwing it into the bottom of the boat.
“We must carry the cloak away, to prevent any one who may have noticed you from thinking you have been drowned,” he said, cheerfully, as he got in again and presented the old hat to her. “I wish I had any other garment than my coat to offer you. But shall you mind throwing it over your shoulders while we are on the water? It is quite an ordinary thing to do, when people return late and are not enough provided with wraps.” He held out the coat toward her with a smile, and there came a faint melancholy smile in answer, as she took it and put it on very cleverly.
“I have some biscuits—should you like them?” said Deronda.
“No; I cannot eat. I had still some money left to buy bread.”
He began to ply his oar without further remark, and they went along swiftly for many minutes without speaking. She did not look at him, but was watching the oar, leaning forward in an attitude of repose, as if she were beginning to feel the comfort of returning warmth and the prospect of life instead of death. The twilight was deepening; the red flush was all gone and the little stars were giving their answer one after another. The moon was rising, but was still entangled among the trees and buildings. The light was not such that he could distinctly discern the expression of her features or her glance, but they were distinctly before him nevertheless—features and a glance which seemed to have given a fuller meaning for him to the human face. Among his anxieties one was dominant: his first impression about her, that her mind might be disordered, had not been quite dissipated: the project of suicide was unmistakable, and given a deeper color to every other suspicious sign. He longed to begin a conversation, but abstained, wishing to encourage the confidence that might induce her to speak first. At last she did speak.
“I like to listen to the oar.”
“So do I.”
“If you had not come, I should have been dead now.”
“I cannot bear you to speak of that. I hope you will never be sorry that I came.”
“I cannot see how I shall be glad to live. The maggior dolore and the miseria have lasted longer than the tempo felice.” She paused and then went on dreamily,—“Dolore—miseria—I think those words are alive.”
Deronda was mute: to question her seemed an unwarrantable freedom; he shrank from appearing to claim the authority of a benefactor, or to treat her with the less reverence because she was in distress. She went on musingly,
“I thought it was not wicked. Death and life are one before the Eternal. I know our fathers slew their children and then slew themselves, to keep their souls pure. I meant it so. But now I am commanded to live. I cannot see how I shall live.”
eeling, it is certain, that most men can more easily reconcile themselves to any favourite measure, when agitating it in their own mind, than when obliged to expose its merits to a third party, when the necessity of seeming impartial procures for the opposite arguments a much more fair statement than that which he affords it in tacit meditation. Having finished what he had to say, David thought himself obliged to be more explicit in point of fact, and to explain that this was no hypothetical case, but one on which (by his own influence and that of the Duke of Argyle) Reuben Butler would soon be called to decide.
It was even with something like apprehension that David Deans heard Butler announce, in return to this communication, that he would take that night to consider on what he had said with such kind intentions, and return him an answer the next morning. The feelings of the father mastered David on this occasion. He pressed Butler to spend the evening with him — He produced, most unusual at his meals, one, nay, two bottles of aged strong ale. — He spoke of his daughter — of her merits — her housewifery — her thrift — her affection. He led Butler so decidedly up to a declaration of his feelings towards Jeanie, that, before nightfall, it was distinctly understood she was to be the bride of Reuben Butler; and if they thought it indelicate to abridge the period of deliberation which Reuben had stipulated, it seemed to be sufficiently understood betwixt them, that there was a strong probability of his becoming minister of Knocktarlitie, providing the congregation were as willing to accept of him, as the Duke to grant him the presentation. The matter of the oaths, they agreed, it was time enough to dispute about, whenever the shibboleth should be tendered.
Many arrangements were adopted that evening, which were afterwards ripened by correspondence with the Duke of Argyle’s man of business, who intrusted Deans and Butler with the benevolent wish of his principal, that they should all meet with Jeanie, on her return from England, at the Duke’s hunting-lodge in Roseneath.
This retrospect, so far as the placid loves of Jeanie Deans and Reuben Butler are concerned, forms a full explanation of the preceding narrative up to their meeting on the island, as already mentioned.
Chapter 44
“I come,” he said, “my love, my life,
And — nature’s dearest name — my wife:
Thy father’s house and friends resign,
My home, my friends, my sire, are thine.”
Logan.
he was generally respected by those of his own profession, as well as by the laity who had seats in the Assembly. He had made several public appearances in the Assembly, distinguished by good sense, candour, and ability; and he was followed and admired as a sound, and, at the same time, an eloquent preacher.
This was all very satisfactory to Sir George Staunton’s pride, which had revolted at the idea of his wife’s sister being obscurely married. He now began, on the contrary, to think the connection so much better than he expected, that, if it should be necessary to acknowledge it, in consequence of the recovery of his son, it would sound well enough that Lady Staunton had a sister, who, in the decayed state of the family, had married a Scottish clergyman, high in the opinion of his countrymen, and a leader in the church.
It was with these feelings, that, when the Lord High Commissioner’s cof which, here are ten guineas of retaining fee — I make them fifty when you can find me certain notice of a person, living or dead, whom you will find described in that paper. I shall leave town presently — you may send your written answer to me to the care of Mr. ——” (naming his highly respectable agent), “or of his Grace the Lord High Commissioner.” Rateliffe bowed and withdrew.
“I have angered the proud peat now,” he said to himself, “by finding out a likeness; but if George Robertson’s father had lived within a mile of his mother, d — n me if I should not know what to think, for as high as he carries his head.”
When he was left alone with Butler, Sir George Staunton ordered tea and coffee, which were brought by his valet, and then, after considering with himself for a minute, asked his guest whether he had lately heard from his wife and family. Butler, with some surprise at the question, replied, “that he had received no letter for some time; his wife was a poor penwoman.”
“Then,” said Sir George Staunton, “I am the first to inform you there has been an invasion of your quiet premises since you left home. My wife, whom the Duke of Argyle had the goodness to permit to use Roseneath Lodge, while she was spending some weeks in your country, has sallied across and taken up her quarters in the Manse, as she says, to be nearer the goats, whose milk she is using; but, I believe, in reality, because she prefers Mrs. Butler’s company to that of the respectable gentleman who acts as seneschal on the Duke’s domains.”
Mr. Butler said, “He had often heard the late Duke and the present speak with high respect of Lady Staunton, and was happy if his house could accommodate any friend of theirs — it would be but a very slight acknowledgment of the many favours he owed them.”
“That does not make Lady Staunton and myself the less obliged to your hospitality, sir,” said Sir George. “May I inquire if you think of returning home soon?”
“In the course of two days,” Mr. Butler answered, “his duty in the Assembly would be ended; and the other matters he had in town being all finished, he was desirous of returning to Dumbartonshire as soon as he could; but he was under the necessity of transporting a considerable sum in bills and money with him, and therefore wished to travel in company with one or two of his brethren of the clergy.”
“My escort will be more safe,” said Sir George Staunton, “and I think of setting off tomorrow or next day. If you will give me the pleasure of your company, I will undertake to deliver you and your charge safe at the Manse, provided you will admit me along with you.”
Mr. Butler gratefully accepted of this proposal; the appointment was made accordingly, and, by despatches with one of Sir George’s servants, who was sent forward for the purpose, the inhabitants of the manse of Knocktarlitie were made acquainted with the intended journey; and the news rung through the whole vicinity, “that the minister was coming back wi’ a braw English gentleman and a’ the siller that was to pay for the estate of Craigsture.”
This sudden resolution of going to Knocktarlitie had been adopted by Sir George Staunton in consequence of the incidents of the evening. In spite of his present consequence, he felt he had presumed too far in venturing so near the scene of his former audacious acts of violence, and he knew too well, from past experience, the acuteness of a man like Ratcliffe, again to encounter him. The next two days he kept his lodgings, under pretence of indisposition, and took leave by writing of his noble friend the High Commissioner, alleging the opportunity of Mr. Butler’s company as a reason for leaving Edinburgh sooner than he had proposed. He had a long conference with his agent on the subject of Annaple Bailzou; and the professional gentleman, who was the agent also of the Argyle family, had directions to collect all the information which Ratcliffe or others might be able to obtain concerning the fate of that woman and the unfortunate child, and so soon as anything transpired which had the least appearance of being important, that he should send an express with it instantly to Knrom the beach, and half-an-hour’s walk from thence to the Manse.”
“Are you sure you know the way?” said Butler to the old man.
“I maybe kend it a wee better fifteen years syne, when Dandie Wilson was in the firth wi’ his clean-ganging lugger. I mind Dandie had a wild young Englisher wi’ him, that they ca’d —”
“If you chatter so much,” said Sir George Staunton, “you will have the boat on the Grindstone — bring that white rock in a line with the steeple.”
“By G — ” said the veteran, staring, “I think your honour kens the bay as weel as me. — Your honour’s nose has been on the Grindstone ere now, I’m thinking.”
As they spoke thus, they approached the little cove, which, concealed behind crags, and defended on every point by shallows and sunken rocks, could scarce be discovered or approached, except by those intimate with the navigation. An old shattered boat was already drawn up on the beach within the cove, close beneath the trees, and with precautions for concealment.
Upon observing this vessel, Butler remarked to his companion, “It is impossible for you to conceive, Sir George, the difficulty I have had with my poor people, in teaching them the guilt and the danger of this contraband trade — yet they have perpetually before their eyes all its dangerous consequences. I do not know anything that more effectually depraves and ruins their moral and religious principles.”
Sir George forced himself to say something in a low voice about the spirit of adventure natural to youth, and that unquestionably many would become wiser as they grew older.
“Too seldom, sir,” replied Butler. “If they have been deeply engaged, and especially if they, have mingled in the scenes of violence and blood to which their occupation naturally leads, I have observed, that, sooner or later, they come to an evil end. Experience, as well as Scripture, teaches us, Sir George, that mischief shall hunt the violent man, and that the bloodthirsty man shall not live half his days — But take my arm to help you ashore.”
Sir George needed assistance, for he was contrasting in his altered thought the different feelings of mind and frame with which he had formerly frequented the same place. As they landed, a low growl of thunder was heard at a distance.
“That is ominous, Mr. Butler,” said Sir George.
“Intonuit laevum — it is ominous of good, then,” answered Butler, smiling.
The boatmen were ordered to make the best of their way round the headland to the ordinary landing-place; the two gentlemen, followed by their servant, sought their way by a blind and tangled path, through a close copsewood, to the Manse of Knocktarlitie, where their arrival was anxiously expected.
The sisters in vain had expected their husbands’ return on the preceding day, which was that appointed by Sir George’s letter. The delay of the travellers at Calder had occasioned this breach of appointment. The inhabitants of the Manse began even to doubt whether they would arrive on the present day. Lady Staunton felt this hope of delay as a brief reprieve, for she dreaded the pangs which her husband’s pride must undergo at meeting with a sister-inlaw, to whom the whole of his unhappy and dishonourable history was too well known. She knew, whatever force or constraint he might put upon his feelings in public, that she herself must be doomed to see them display themselves in full vehemence in secret — consume his health, destroy his temper, and render him at once an object of dread and compassion. Again and again she cautioned Jeanie to display no tokens of recognition, but to receive him as a perfect stranger — and again and again Jeanie renewed her promise to comply with her wishes.
Jeanie herself could not fail to bestow an anxious thought on the awkwardness of the approaching meeting; but her conscience was ungalled — and then she was cumbered with many household cares of an unusual nature, which, joined to the anxious wish once more to see Butler, after an absence of unusual length, made her extremely desirous that the travellers should arrive as soon as possible. And — why should I disguise the truth? — ever and anon a thought stole across her mind that her gala dinner had now been postponed for two days; and how few of the dishes, after every art of her simple cuisine had been exerted to dress them, could with any credit or propriety appear again upon the third; and what was she to do with the rest? — Upon this last subject she was saved the trouble of farther deliberation, by the sudden appearance of the Captain at the head of half-a-dozen stout fellows, dressed and armed in the Highland fashion.
“Goot-morrow morning to ye, Leddy Staunton, and I hope I hae the pleasure to see you weel — And goot-morrow to you, goot Mrs. Putler — I do peg you will order some victuals and ale and prandy for the lads, for we hae peen out on firth and moor since afore daylight, and a’ to no purpose neither — Cot tam!”
So saying, he sate down, pushed back his brigadier wig, and wiped his head with an air of easy importance; totally regardless of the look of well-bred astonishment by which Lady Staunton endeavoured to make him comprehend that he was assuming too great a liberty.
“It is some comfort, when one has had a sair tussel,” continued the Captain, addressing Lady Staunton, with an air of gallantry, “that it is in a fair leddy’s service, or in the service of a gentleman whilk has a fair leddy, whilk is the same thing, since serving the husband is serving the wife, as Mrs. Putler does very weel know.”
“Really, sir,” said Lady Staunton, “as you seem to intend this compliment for me, I am at a loss to know what interest Sir George or I can have in your movements this morning.”
“O, Cot tam! — this is too cruel, my leddy — as if it was not py special express from his Grace’s honourable agent and commissioner at Edinburgh, with a warrant conform, that I was to seek for and apprehend Donacha dhu na Dunaigh, and pring him pefore myself and Sir George Staunton, that he may have his deserts, that is to say, the gallows, whilk he has doubtless deserved, py peing the means of frightening your leddyship, as weel as for something of less importance.”
“Frightening me!” said her ladyship; “why, I never wrote to Sir George about my alarm at the waterfall.”
“Then he must have heard it otherwise; for what else can give him sic an earnest tesire to see this rapscallion, that I maun ripe the haill mosses and muirs in the country for him, as if I were to get something for finding him, when the pest o’t might pe a pall through my prains?”
“Can it be really true, that it is on Sir George’s account that you have been attempting to apprehend this fellow?”
“Py Cot, it is for no other cause that I know than his honour’s pleasure; for the creature might hae gone on in a decent quiet way for me, sae lang as he respectit the Duke’s pounds — put reason goot he suld be taen, and hangit to poet, if it may pleasure ony honourable shentleman that is the Duke’s friend — Sae I got the express over night, and I caused warn half a score of pretty lads, and was up in the morning pefore the sun, and I garr’d the lads take their kilts and short coats.”
“I wonder you did that, Captain,” said Mrs. Butler, “when you know the act of Parliament against wearing the Highland dress.”
“Hout, tout, ne’er fash your thumb, Mrs. Putler. The law is put twa-three years auld yet, and is ower young to hae come our length; and pesides, how is the lads to climb the praes wi’ thae tamn’d breekens on them? It makes me sick to see them. Put ony how, I thought I kend Donacha’s haunt gey and weel, and I was at the place where he had rested yestreen; for I saw the leaves the limmers had lain on, and the ashes of them; by the same token, there was a pit greeshoch purning yet. I am thinking they got some word oat o’ the island what was intended — I sought every glen and clench, as if I had been deer-stalking, but teil a want of his coat-tail could I see — Cot tam!”
“He’ll be away down the Firth to Cowal,” said David; and Reuben, who had been out early that morning a-nutting, observed, “That he had seen a boat making for the Caird’s Cove;” a place well known to the boys, though their less adventurous father was ignorant of its existence.
“Py Cot,” said Duncan, “then I will stay here no longer than to trink this very horn of prandy and water, for it’s very possible they will pe in the wood. Donacha’s a clever fellow, and maype thinks it pest to sit next the chimley when the lum reeks. He thought naebody would look for him sae near hand! I peg your leddyship will excuse my aprupt departure, as I will return forthwith, and I will either pring you Donacha in life, or else his head, whilk I dare to say will be as satisfactory. And I hope to pass a pleasant evening with your leddyship; and I hope to have mine revenges on Mr. Putler at backgammon, for the four pennies whilk he won, for he will pe surely at home soon, or else he will have a wet journey, seeing it is apout to pe a scud.”
Thus saying, with many scrapes and bows, and apologies for leaving them, which were very readily received, and reiterated assurances of his speedy return (of the sincerity whereof Mrs. Butler entertained no doubt, so long as her best greybeard of brandy was upon duty), Duncan left the Manse, collected his followers, and began to scour the close and entangled wood which lay between the little glen and the Caird’s Cove. David, who was a favourite with the Captain, on account of his spirit a
“Because, on this second occasion, I saw her daughter, and I understood from her, that, in fact, the child had been removed or destroyed during the illness of the mother. But all knowledge to be got from her is so uncertain and indirect, that I could not collect any farther circumstances. Only the diabolical character of old Murdockson makes me augur the worst.”
“The last account agrees with that given by my poor sister,” said Jeanie; “but gang on wi’ your ain tale, sir.”
“Of this I am certain,” said Staunton, “that Effie, in her senses, and with her knowledge, never injured living creature. — But what could I do in her exculpation? — Nothing — and, therefore, my whole thoughts were turned toward her safety. I was under the cursed necessity of suppressing my feelings towards Murdockson; my life was in the hag’s hand — that I cared not for; but on my life hung that of your sister. I spoke the wretch fair; I appeared to confide in her; and to me, so far as I was personally concerned, she gave proofs of extraordinary fidelity. I was at first uncertain what measures I ought to adopt for your sister’s liberation, when the general rage excited among the citizens of Edinburgh on account of the reprieve, of Porteous, suggested to me the daring idea of forcing the jail, and at once carrying off your sister from the clutches of the law, and bringing to condign punishment a miscreant, who had tormented the unfortunate Wilson, even in the hour o
ce and narrowness of sentiment, seems, on the contrary, to arise from a most justifiable and honourable feeling of patriotism, combined with a conviction, which, if undeserved, would long since have been confuted by experience, that the habits and principles of the nation are a sort of guarantee for the character of the individual. At any rate, if the extensive influence of this national partiality be considered as an additional tie, binding man to man, and calling forth the good offices of such as can render them to the countryman who happens to need them, we think it must be found to exceed, as an active and efficient motive, to generosity, that more impartial and wider principle of general benevolence, which we have sometimes seen pleaded as an excuse for assisting no individual whatever.
Mrs. Bickerton, lady of the ascendant of the Seven Stars, in the Castle-gate, York, was deeply infected with the unfortunate prejudices of her country. Indeed, she displayed so much kindness to Jeanie Deans (because she herself, being a Merse woman, marched with Mid-Lothian, in which Jeanie was born), showed such motherly regard to her, and such anxiety for her farther progress, that Jeanie thought herself safe, though by temper sufficiently cautious, in communicating her whole story to her.
Mrs. Bickerton raised her hands and eyes at the recital, and exhibited much wonder and pity. But she also gave some effectual good advice.
She required to know the strength of Jeanie’s purse, reduced by her deposit at Liberton, and the necessary expense of her journey, to about fifteen pounds. “This,” she said, “would do very well, providing she would carry it a’ safe to London.”
“Safe!” answered Jeanie; “I’se warrant my carrying it safe, bating the needful expenses.”
“Ay, but highwaymen, lassie,” said Mrs. Bickerton; “for ye are come into a more civilised, that is to say, a more roguish country than the north, and how ye are to get forward, I do not profess to know. If ye could wait here eight days, our waggons would go up, and I would recommend you to Joe Broadwheel, who would see you safe to the Swan and two Necks. And dinna sneeze at Joe, if he should be for drawing up wi’ you” (continued Mrs. Bickerton, her acquired English mingling with her national or original dialect), “he’s a handy boy, and a wanter, and no lad better thought o’ on the road; and the English make good husbands enough, witness my poor man, Moses Bickerton, as is i’ the kirkyard.”
Jeanie hastened to say, that she could not possibly wait for the setting forth of Joe Broadwheel; being internally by no means gratified with the idea of becoming the object of his attention during the journey,
“Aweel, lass,” answered the good landlady, “then thou must pickle in thine ain poke-nook, and buckle thy girdle thine ain gate. But take my advice, and hide thy gold in thy stays, and keep a piece or two and some silver, in case thou be’st spoke withal; for there’s as wud lads haunt within a day’s walk from hence, as on the braes of Doune in Perthshire. And, lass, thou maunna gang staring through Lunnon, asking wha kens Mrs. Glass at the sign o’ the Thistle; marry, they would laugh thee to scorn. But gang thou to this honest man,” and she put a direction into Jeanie’s hand, “he kens maist part of the sponsible Scottish folk in the city, and he will find out your friend for thee.”
Jeanie took the little introductory letter with sincere thanks; but, something alarmed on the subject of the highway robbers, her mind recurred to what Ratcliffe had mentioned to her, and briefly relating the circumstances which placed a document so extraordinary in her hands, she put the paper he had given her into the hand of Mrs. Bickerton.
The Lady of the Seven Stars did not indeed ring a bell, because such was not the fashion of the time, but she whistled on a silver call, which was hung by her side, and a tight serving-maid entered the room.
“Tell Dick Ostler to come here,” said Mrs. Bickerton.
Dick Ostler accordingly made his appearance — a queer, knowing, shambling animal, with a hatchet-face, a squint, a game-arm, and a limp.
“Dick Ostler,” said Mrs. Bickerton, in a tone of authority that showed she was (at least by adoption) Yorkshire too, “thou knowest most people and most things o’ the road.”
“Eye, eye, God help me, mistress,” said Dick, shrugging his shoulders betwixt a repentant and a knowing expression —“Eye! I ha’ know’d a thing or twa i’ ma day, mistress.” He looked sharp and laughed — looked grave and sighed, as one who was prepared to take the matter either way.
“Kenst thou this wee bit paper amang the rest, man?” said Mrs. Bickerton, handing him the protection which Ratcliffe had given Jeanie Deans.
When Dick had looked at the paper, he winked with one eye, extended his grotesque mouth from ear to ear, like a navigable canal, scratched his head powerfully, and then said, “Ken! — ay — maybe we ken summat, an it werena for harm to him, mistress!”
“None in the world,” said Mrs. Bickerton; “only a dram of Hollands to thyself, man, an thou wilt speak.”
“Why, then,” said Dick, giving the head-band of his breeches a knowing hoist with one hand, and kicking out one foot behind him to accommodate the adjustment of that important habiliment, “I dares to say the pass will be kend weel eneugh on the road, an that be all.”
“But what sort of a lad was he?” said Mrs. Bickerton, winking to Jeanie, as proud of her knowing Ostler.
“Why, what ken I? — Jim the Rat — why he was Cock o’ the North within this twelmonth — he and Scotch Wilson, Handle Dandie, as they called him — but he’s been out o’ this country a while, as I rackon; but ony gentleman, as keeps the road o’ this side Stamford, will respect Jim’s pass.”
Without asking farther questions, the landlady filled Dick Ostler a bumper of Hollands. He ducked with his head and shoulders, scraped with his more advanced hoof, bolted the alcohol, to use the learned phrase, and withdrew to his own domains.
“I would advise thee, Jeanie,” said Mrs. Bickerton, “an thou meetest with ugly customers o’ the road, to show them this bit paper, for it will serve thee, assure thyself.”
A neat little supper concluded the evening. The exported Scotswoman, Mrs. Bickerton by name, ate heartily of one or two seasoned dishes, drank some sound old ale, and a glass of stiff negus; while she gave Jeanie a history of her gout, admiring how it was possible that she, whose fathers and mothers for many generations had been farmers in Lammermuir, could have come by a disorder so totally unknown to them. Jeanie did not choose to offend her friendly landlady, by speaking her mind on the probable origin of this complaint; but she thought on the flesh-pots of Egypt, and, in spite of all entreaties to better fare, made her evening meal upon vegetables, with a glass of fair water.
Mrs. Bickerton assured her, that the acceptance of any reckoning was entirely out of the question, furnished her with credentials to her correspondent in London, and to several inns upon the road where she had some influence or interest, reminded her of the precautions she should adopt for concealing her money, and as she was to depart early in the morning, took leave of her very affectionately, taking her word that she would visit her on her return to Scotland, and tell her how she had managed, and that summum bonum for a gossip, “all how and about it.” This Jeanie faithfully promised.
Chapter 29
And Need and Misery, Vice and Danger, bind,
In sad alliance, each degraded mind.
As our traveller set out early on the ensuing morning to prosecute her journey, and was in the act of leaving the innyard, Dick Ostler, who either had risen early or neglected to go to bed, either circumstance being equally incident to his calling, hollowed out after her — “The top of the morning to you, Moggie. Have a care o’ Gunderby Hill, young one. Robin Hood’s dead and gwone, but there be takers yet in the vale of Bever. Jeanie looked at him as if to request a farther explanation, but, with a leer, a shuffle, and a shrug, inimitable (unless by Emery1), Dick turned again to the raw-boned steed which he was currying, and sung as he employed the comb and brush —
“Robin Hood was a yeoman right good,
And his bow was of trusty yew;
And if Robin said stand on the king’s lea-land,
Pray, why should not we say so too?”
Jeanie pursued her journey without farther inquiry, for there was nothing in Dick’s manner that inclined her to prolong their conference. A painful day’s journey brought her to Ferrybridge, the best inn, then and since, upon the great northern road; and an introduction from Mrs. Bickerton, added to her own simple and quiet manners, so propitiated the landlady of the Swan in her favour, that the good dame procured her the convenient accommodation of a pillion and post-horse then returning to Tuxford, so that she accomplished, upon the second day after leaving York, the longest journey she had yet made. She was a good deal fatigued by a mode of travelling to which she was less accustomed than to walking, and it was considerably later than usual on the ensuing morning that she felt herself able to resume her pilgrimage. At noon the hundred-armed Trent, and the blackened ruins of Newark Castle, demolished in the great civil war, lay before her. It may easily be supposed, that Jeanie had no curiosity to make antiquarian researches, but, entering the town, went straight to the inn to which she had been directed at Ferrybridge. While she procured some refreshment, she observed the girl who brought it to her, looked at her several times with fixed and peculiar interest, and at last, to her infinite surprise, inquired if her name was not Deans, and if she was not a Scotchwoman, going to London upon justice business. Jeanie, with all her simplicity of character, had some of the caution of her country, and, according to Scottish universal custom, she answered the question by another, requesting the girl would tell her why she asked these questions?
The Maritornes of the Saracen’s Head, Newark, replied, “Two women had passed that morning, who had made inquiries after one Jeanie Deans, travelling to London on such an errand, and could scarce be persuaded that she had not passed on.”
Much surprised and somewhat alarmed (for what is inexplicable is usually alarming), Jeanie questioned the wench about the particular appearance of these two women, but could only learn that the one was aged, and the other young; that the latter was the taller, and that the former spoke most, and seemed to maintain an authority over her companion, and that both spoke with the Scottish accent.
This conveyed no information whatever, and with an indescribable presentiment of evil designed towards her, Jeanie adopted the resolution of taking post-horses for the next stage. In this, however, she could not be gratified; some accidental circumstances had occasioned what is called a run upon the road, and the landlord could not accommodate her with a guide and horses. After waiting some time, in hopes that a pair of horses that had gone southward would return in time for her use, she at length, feeling ashamed at her own pusillanimity, resolved to prosecute her journey in her usual manner.
“It was all plain road,” she was assured, “except a high mountain called Gunnerby Hill, about three miles from Grantham, which was her stage for the night.
“I’m glad to hear there’s a hill,” said Jeanie, “for baith my sight and my very feet are weary o’ sic tracts o’ level ground — it looks a’ the way between this and York as if a’ the land had been trenched and levelled, whilk is very wearisome to my Scotch een. When I lost sight of a muckle blue hill they ca’ Ingleboro’, I thought I hadna a friend left in this strange land.”
“As for the matter of that, young woman,” said mine host, “an you be so fond o’ hill, I carena an thou couldst carry Gunnerby away with thee in thy lap, for it’s a murder to post-horses. But here’s to thy journey, and mayst thou win well through it, for thou is a bold and a canny lass.”
So saying, he took a powerful pull at a solemn tankard of home-brewed ale.
s Fleece; with the following result:
In public asylums about forty per cent. are said to be cured.
In private ones twenty-five per cent, at least; most of them poorish.
香港
港台男明星
陈柏霖，陈冠希，陈浩民，陈启泰，陈升，陈司翰，陈小春，陈晓东，陈勋奇，陈奕迅，陈志朋，成龙，丁子峻， 动力火车，窦智孔，杜德伟，杜汶泽，Energy，范逸臣，范值伟，方力申，房祖名，费翔，冯德伦，古巨基，古天乐，郭富城，郭晋安，郭品超，何润东，黄安，黄家强， 黄立行，黄品源，黄秋生，黄日华，黄仲昆，霍建华，江华，姜育恒，蒋志光，焦恩俊，金城武，柯受良，蓝正龙 ，黎明，李克勤，李威，李小龙，李子雄，梁朝伟，梁汉文，梁家辉，林志炫，林志颖，刘德华，刘畊宏，吕良伟，罗大佑，罗文，罗志祥，马景涛，马浚伟，莫少聪，欧阳震华，潘安邦，潘玮柏，齐秦，邱泽，任达华，任贤齐，苏永康，苏有朋，孙协志，孙耀威，Tension，谭咏麟，陶喆，铁竹堂，童安格，庹宗华，庹宗康，陶大宇， 王杰，王力宏，王仁甫，王绍伟，温兆伦，吴大维，吴建豪，吴奇隆，吴启华 ，吴彦祖，吴镇宇，吴宗宪，五月天，伍佰，伍思凯，萧正楠，谢霆锋，信乐团，许冠杰， 许志安，言承旭，阳帆，叶世荣，游鸿明，余文乐，庾澄庆，曾志伟，张帝，张镐哲，张国荣，张洪量，张家辉， 张卫健，张信哲，张学友，张宇，张雨生，张震，张智霖，赵传，甄子丹，郑少秋，郑伊健，郑元畅，郑中基， 钟镇涛，周传雄，周华健，周杰伦，周启生，周润发，周星驰，周渝民，朱孝天
港台女明星
阿桑，安雅，蔡琴，蔡少芬，蔡依林，曹敏莉，陈宝莲， 陈纯甄，陈德容，陈法蓉，陈慧琳，陈慧珊，陈慧娴，陈见飞，陈美凤，陈美龄，陈明真，陈绮贞，陈松伶，陈文媛，陈孝萱，陈秀珠，陈怡蓉，陈玉莲，楚谨，邓丽君，丁文琪，Ella@S.H.E,范玮琪，范晓萱，方文琳，高胜美，关心妍， 关咏荷，关之琳，归亚蕾，郭蔼明，郭嘉璐，郭静纯，郭可盈，郭羡妮，韩君婷，何韵诗，侯佩岑，侯湘婷，黄伊汶，黄莺莺，Hebe@S.H.E，季芹，贾靖雯，江美琪，江希文，江欣燕，柯以柔，邝文珣，蓝洁瑛，蓝心湄，黎瑞恩，黎姿，李彩桦，李蕙敏，李嘉欣，李丽珍，李玟，李倩蓉，李若彤，李赛凤，李珊珊，李婉华，梁洛施，梁咏琪，林凤娇，林佳仪，林嘉欣，林青霞，林熙蕾，林晓培，林心如，林忆莲，林志玲，刘嘉玲，刘若英，刘玉翠，刘锦玲，刘真，卢巧音，路嘉欣，路嘉仪，吕绣菱，Maggie Q，梅艳芳，蒙嘉慧，孟广美，孟庭苇，米雪，蜜雪薇琪，莫文蔚，欧倩怡，潘美辰，彭佳慧，彭羚，齐豫，钱韦杉，邱淑贞，Rosemary，容祖儿，Selina@S.H.E,佘诗曼,舒淇,顺子,宋新妮,苏慧伦,孙佳君,Twins,唐林,陶晶莹,滕丽名,天心,田丽,恬妞,童爱玲, 涂善妮,万芳,汪明荃,王静莹,王心凌,王馨平,王祖贤,温碧霞,温翠萍,翁虹,翁美玲,翁倩玉,吴辰君,吴家丽,吴君如, 吴倩莲,向海岚,萧蔷,萧亚轩,小雪,谢玲玲,辛晓琪,徐华凤,徐怀钰,徐若瑄,徐熙娣(小S),徐熙媛(大S),徐子淇,许慧欣,许茹芸,宣萱,薛凯琪,雅立,杨采妮,杨丞琳,杨恭如,杨丽菁,杨林,杨乃文,杨千嬅,杨思敏,姚乐怡,叶佩雯,叶倩文,叶全真,叶童,叶璇,叶玉卿,叶子媚,伊能静,应采儿，郁芳，喻可欣，袁咏仪，曾宝仪，张艾嘉，张柏芝，张惠春，张惠妹，张可颐，张曼玉，张敏，张茜，张清芳，张韶涵，张燊悦，张庭，张文慈，张延，章小蕙，赵雅芝， 赵英华，郑希怡，郑欣宜，郑秀文，郑艳丽，郑裕玲，钟楚红，钟丽缇，钟真，周海媚，周慧敏，周丽淇，周汶锜
大陆女明星
李宇春 张靓颖 周笔畅 何洁 刘亦菲 张含韵 陈好 尚雯婕 汤唯 张筱雨 韩雪 孙菲菲 张嘉倪 霍思燕 陈紫函 朱雅琼 江一燕 厉娜 许飞 胡灵 郝菲尔 刘力扬 reborn 章子怡 谭维维 魏佳庆 张亚飞 李旭丹 孙艺心 巩贺 艾梦萌 闰妮 王蓉 汤加丽 汤芳 牛萌萌 范冰冰 赵薇 周迅 金莎 纪敏佳 黄雅莉 叶一茜 马苏 阿桑 董卿 金铭 徐行 姚笛 朱妍 夏颖 陈西贝 冯家妹 高娅媛 林爽 郑靖文 陶虹 徐静蕾 黄奕 董洁 巩俐 高圆圆 于娜 孟广美 Gameapple 美女奉奉 小龙女彤彤 张子萱 果子 丁贝莉 吸血芭比 公交MM 香香 段思思 二月丫头 刘羽琦 dodolook 拉拉公主 沈丽君 周璟馨 丁叮 谢雅雯 陈嘉琪 宋琳 郭慧敏 卢洁云 佘曼妮 黄景 马艳丽 蒋雯丽 宁静 许晴 张静初 瞿颖 张延 孙俪 闵春晓 蔡飞雨 邓莎 白冰 程媛媛 吴婷 殷叶子 朱伟珊 孙菂 赵梦恬 龚洁 许晚秋 杨舒婷 乔维怡 王海珍 易慧 谢雨欣 陈娟红 舒畅 李小璐 曹颖 李冰冰 王艳 沈星 阿朵 周洁 杨林 李霞 陈自瑶 李小冉 李湘 金巧巧 蒋勤勤 梅婷 刘涛 秦海璐 安又琪 杨钰莹 马伊俐 陈红 鲍蕾 牛莉 胡可 杨幂 龚蓓苾 田震 杨童舒 吕燕 王姬 苗圃 李欣汝 王小丫 秦岚 徐帆 刘蓓 彭心怡 邓婕 眉佳 李媛媛 刘晓庆 杨若兮 黄圣依 林熙 薛佳凝 斯琴格日乐 宋祖英 郝蕾 乐珈彤 冯婧 宋丹丹 盖丽丽 田海蓉 杨澜 沈冰 王宇婕 王希维 姜培琳 何晴 焦媛 白灵 胡静 陈冲 刘怡君 韦唯 龚雪 周彦宏 刘丹 傅艺伟 谢东娜 朱媛媛 黑鸭子 周璇 吕丽萍 杨欣 陈小艺 伍宇娟
苏瑾 李玲玉 张凯丽 潘虹 沈丹萍 岳红 赵静怡 宋晓英
内地男演员
1.王志文11.陈道明21.陈宝国31.倪大宏41.孙海英51.傅彪 61.张一山71.黄维德 81.陈思成
2.濮存希12.唐国强22.胡军 32.王冰 42.潘雨辰52.尤勇 62.田亮 72.王刚 82.张晋
3.李幼斌13.胡兵 23.李雪健33.英达 43.文章 53.郭晓冬63.孙小宝73.王学兵 83.吴越
4.孙红雷14.陆毅 24.鲍国安34.陶泽茹44.段奕宏54.高亚麟64.印小天74.陈建斌 84.沙溢
5.张丰毅15.李亚鹏25.侯勇 35.蕉晃 45.连奕名55.唐文龙65.张涵予75.郭达 85.袁弘
6.陈宝国16.葛优 26.陈建斌36.黄晓明46.李晨 56.保剑锋66.黄海滨76.李学庆 86.黄志忠
7.姜文 17.夏雨 27.潘粤明37.赵本山47.王宝强57.韩磊 67.吴建 77.贾乃亮 87.李连杰
8.张国立18.佟大为28.申军谊38.陈坤 48.于荣光58.黄觉 68.沈晓海78.任泉 88.严宽
9.张铁林19.潘长江29.贾宏声39.钱泳辰49.于波 59.邓超 69.张译 79.胡歌 89.乔振宇
10.范伟 20.刘烨 30.姜武 40.王奎荣50.张俊逸60. 周杰 70.聂远 80.杨少华 90.丁志诚
点击下方⇊⇊⇊公众号即可进入官号
⇈⇈⇈
看最新电影电视剧|天天旅游推荐