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the heir of redclyffe-第74部分

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Guy stood holding up his light; and looking fixedly at it for a 

considerable time。  Strange thoughts passed through his mind as the 

pictured eyes seemed to gaze piercingly down into his own。  When he 

turned away; he muttered aloud;



'He; too; would have said〃Is thy servant a dog; that he should do 

this?〃'



It seemed to him as if he had once been in a happier; better world; 

with the future dawning brightly on him; but as if that once yielding 

to the passions inherited from that wretched man; had brought on him 

the doom of misery。  He had opened the door to the powers of evil; and 

must bear the penalty。



These feelings might partly arise from its having been only now that; 

had all been well; he could have been with Amabel; so that it seemed as 

if he had never hitherto appreciated the loss。  He had at first 

comforted himself by thinking it was better to be without her than to 

cause her distress; but now he found how hard it was to miss herhis 

bright angel。  Darkness was closing on him; a tedious; aimless life 

spread out before him; a despair of doing good haunted him; and with it 

a sense of something like the presence of an evil spirit; triumphing in 

his having once put himself within its grasp。



It was well for Guy that he was naturally active; and had acquired 

power over his own mind。  He would not allow himself to brood over 

these thoughts by day; and in the evening he busied himself as much as 

possible with his studies; or in going over with Markham matters that 

would be useful to him to know when he came to the management of his 

property。  Yet still these thoughts would thicken on him; in spite of 

himself; every evening when he sat alone in the library。



The late hours of Christmas Eve was the time when he had most to 

suffer。  The day had been gloomy and snowy; and he had spent it almost 

entirely in solitude; with no companion or diversion to restore the 

tone of his mind; when he had tried it with hard study。  He tried to 

read; but it would not do; and he was reduced to sit looking at the 

fire; recalling this time last year; when he had been cutting holly; 

helping the sisters to deck the house; and in the evening enjoying a 

merry Christmas party; full of blitheness and glee; where there were; 

of course; special recollections of Amabel。



As usual; he dwelt on the contrast; mused on the estrangement of Mrs。 

Edmonstone; and tormented himself about Charles's silence; till he fell 

into the more melancholy train of thought of the destiny of his race。



Far better for him to bear all alone than to bring on Amy grief and 

horror; such as had fallen on his own mother; but it was much to bear 

that loneliness and desolation for a lifetime。  The brow was 

contracted; and the lip drawn into a resolute expression of keeping 

down suffering; like that of a man enduring acute bodily pain; as Guy 

was not yielding; he was telling himselftelling the tempter; who 

would have made him give up the strugglethat it was only for a life; 

and that it was shame and ingratitude to be faint…hearted; on the very 

night when he ought to be rejoicing that One had come to ruin the power 

of the foe; and set him free。  But where was his rejoicing?  Was he 

cheered;was he comforted?  Was not the lone; blank despondency that 

had settled on him more heavily than ever; a token that he was shut out 

from all that was good;nay; that in former years there had been no 

true joy in him; only enjoyment of temporal pleasure?  Had his best 

days of happiness been; then; nothing but hollowness and self…

deception?



At that moment the sound of a Christmas carol came faintly on his ear。  

It was one of those tunes which; when the village choir were the only 

musicians he knew; he had thought; unrivalled; and now; even to his 

tutored; delicate ear; softened as it was by distance; and endeared by 

association; it was full of refreshing; soothing harmony。  He undrew 

the curtain; opened the shutter; and looked into the court; where he 

saw some figures standing。  As soon as the light shone from the window; 

the carol was resumed; and the familiar tones were louder and harsher; 

but he loved them; with all their rudeness and dissonance; and throwing 

up the window; called the singers by name; asking why they stood out in 

the snow; instead of coming into the hall; as usual。



The oldest of the set came to the window to answer;so old a man that 

his voice was cracked; and his performance did more harm than good in 

the psalms at church。



'You see; Sir Guy;' said he; 'there was some of us thought you might 

not like to have us coming and singing like old times; 'cause 'tis not 

all as it used to be here with you。  Yet we didn't like not to come at 

all; when you had been away so long; so we settled just to begin; and 

see whether you took any notice。'



'Thank you。  It was a very kind thought; James;' said Guy; touched by 

the rough delicacy of feeling manifested by these poor men; 'I had 

rather hear the carols than anything。  Come to the front door; I'll let 

you in。'



'Thank you; sir;' with a most grateful touch of the hat; and Guy 

hastened to set things in order; preferring the carols to everything at 

that moment; even though disabused of his pristine admiration for James 

Robinson's fiddle; and for Harry Ray's grand shake。  A long space was 

spent in listening; and a still longer in the endeavour to show what 

Mr。 Ashford meant by suggesting some improvements which they were 

regarding with dislike and suspicion; till they found Sir Guy was of 

the same mind。  In fact; when he had sung a verse or two to illustrate 

his meaning; the opinion of the choir was; that; with equal advantages; 

Sir Guy might sing quite as well as Harry Ray。



It was the first time he had heard his own voice; except at church; 

since the earlier days of St。 Mildred's; but as he went up the long 

stairs and galleries to bed; he found himself still singing。  It was;



       Who lives forlorn;

       On God's own word doth rest;

       His path is bright

       With heavenly light;

       His lot among the blest。



He wondered; and remembered finding music for it with Amy's help。  He 

sighed heavily; but the anguish of feeling; the sense of being in the 

power of evil; had insensibly left him; and though sad and oppressed; 

the unchangeable joy and hope of Christmas were shedding a beam on him。



They were not gone when he awoke; and rose to a solitary breakfast 

without one Christmas greeting。  The light of the other life was 

beginning to shine out; and make him see how to do and to bear; with 

that hope before him。  The hope was becoming less vague; the 

resolution; though not more firm; yet less desponding; that he would go 

on to grapple with temptation; and work steadfastly; and with that hope 

before him; he now felt that even a lifetime without Amy would be 

endurable。



The power of rejoicing came more fully at church; and the service 

entered into his soul as it never had done before。  It had never been 

such happiness; though repentance and mournful feelings were ever 

present with him; nor was his 'Verena' absent from his mind。  He walked 

about between the services; saw the poor people dining in their holly…

decked houses; exchanging Christmas wishes with them; and gave his old; 

beautiful; bright smile as he received demonstrations of their 

attachment; or beheld their enjoyment。  He went home in the dark; 

allowed Mrs。 Drew to have her own way; and serve him and Bustle with a 

dinner sufficient for a dozen people; and was shut up for the solitary 

Christmas evening which he had so much dreaded; and which would have 

been esteemed a misfortune even by those who had no sad thoughts to 

occupy them。



Yet when the clock struck eleven he was surprised; and owned that it 

had been more than not being unhappy。  The dark fiends of remorse and 

despair had not once assaulted him; yet it had not been by force of 

employment that they had been averted。  He had read and written a 

little; but very little; and the time had chiefly been spent in a sort 

of day…dream; though not of a return to Hollywell; nor of what 

Redclyffe might be with Amy。  It had been of a darkened and lonely 

course; yet; in another sense; neither dark nor lonely; of a cheerless 

home and round of duties; with a true home beyond; and still it had 

been a happy; refreshing dream; and he began the next morning with the 

fresh brightened spirit of a man who felt that such an evening was sent 

him to reinvigorate his energies; and fit him for the immediate duties 

that lay before him。



On the breakfast…table was what he had not seen for a long timea 

letter directed to him。  It was from Mr。 Ross; in answer to his 

question about Coombe Prior; entering readily into the subject; and 

advising him to write to the Bishop; altogether with a tone of frie
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