LESSON 27 LUCY FORESTER

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露西·弗斯特

John Wilson (b.1785, d.1854), better known as “Christopher North,” was a celebrated author, poet, and critic, born at Paisley, Scotland, and educated at the University of Glasgow and at Oxford.In 1808 he moved to Westmoreland, England, where he formed one of the “Lake School”of poets.While at Oxford he gained a prize for a poem on “Painting, Poetry, and Architecture.” In 1820 he became Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh, which position he retained until 1851.He gained his greatest reputation as the chief author of “Noctes Ambrosianae,”essays contributed to Blackwood’s Magazine between 1822 and 1835.Among his poems may be mentioned “The Isle of Palms” and the “City of the Plague,” This selection is adapted from “The Foresters,” a tale of Scottish life.

1.Lucy was only six years old, but bold as a fairy; she had gone by herself a thousand times about the braes^[2], and often upon errands to houses two or three miles distant.What had her parents to fear? The footpaths were all fi rm, and led to no places of danger, nor are infants themselves incautious when alone in then pastimes^[3].Lucy went singing into the low woods, and singing she reappeared on the open hillside.With her small white hand on the rail, she glided along the wooden bridge, or tripped from stone to stone across the shallow streamlet.

2.The creature would be away for hours, and no fear be felt on her account by anyone at home; whether she had gone, with her basket on her arm, to borrow some articles of household use from a neighbor, or, merely for her own solitary delight, had wandered off to the braes to play among the fl owers, coming back laden with wreaths and garlands.

3.The happy child had been invited to pass a whole day, from morning to night, at Ladyside (a farmhouse about two miles off) with her playmates the Maynes; and she left home about an hour after sunrise.

4.During her absence, the house was silent but happy, and, the evening being now far advanced, Lucy was expected home every minute, and Michael, Agnes, and Isabel, her father, mother, and aunt, went to meet her on the way.They walked on and on, wondering a little, but in no degree alarmed till they reached Ladyside, and heard the cheerful din of the children within, still rioting^[4] at the close of the holiday.Jacob Mayne came to the door, but, on their kindly asking why Lucy had not been sent home before daylight was over, he looked painfully surprised, and said that she had not been at Ladyside.

5.Within two hours, a hundred persons were traversing the hills in all directions, even at a distance which it seemed most unlikely that poor Lucy could have reached.The shepherds and their dogs, all the night through, searched every nook, every stony and rocky place, every piece of taller heather^[5], every crevice that could conceal anything alive or dead: but no Lucy was there.

6.Her mother, who for a while seemed inspired^[6] with supernatural^[7] strength, had joined in the search, and with a quaking heart looked into every brake^[8], or stopped and listened to every shout and halloo reverberating^[9] among the hills, intent^[10] to seize upon some tone of recognition or discovery.But the moon sank; and then the stars, whose increased brightness had for a short time supplied her place, all faded away; and then came the gray dawn of the morning, and then the clear brightness of the day,—and still Michael and Agnes were childless.

7.“She has sunk into some mossy or miry place,” said Michael, to a man near him, into whose face he could not look, “a cruel, cruel death to one like her! The earth on which my child walked has closed over her, and we shall never see her more!”

8.At last, a man who had left the search, and gone in a direction toward the highroad, came running with something in his arms toward the place where Michael and others were standing beside Agnes, who lay, apparently exhausted almost to dying, on the sward.He approached hesitatingly; and Michael saw that he carried Lucy’s bonnet, clothes, and plaid^[11].

9.It was impossible not to see some spots of blood upon the frill that the child had worn around her neck.“Murdered! murdered!” was the one word whispered or ejaculated^[12] all around; but Agnes heard it not; for, worn out by that long night of hope and despair, she had fallen asleep, and was, perhaps, seeking her lost Lucy in her dreams.

10.Isabel took the clothes, and, narrowly inspecting them with eye and hand, said, with a fervent voice that was heard even in Michael’s despair, “No, Lucy is yet among the living.There are no marks of violence on the garments of the innocent; no murderer’s hand has been here.These blood spots have been put there to deceive.Besides, would not the murderer have carried off these things? For what else would he have murdered her? But, oh! foolish despair! What speak I of? For, wicked as the world is—ay! desperately wicked—there is not, on all the surface of the wide earth, a hand that would murder our child! Is it not plain as the sun in the heaven, that Lucy has been stolen by some wretched gypsy beggar?”

11.The crowd quietly dispersed, and horse and foot began to scour^[13] the country.Some took the highroads, others all the bypaths, and many the trackless hills.Now that they were in some measure relieved from the horrible belief that the child was dead, the worst other calamity seemed nothing, for hope brought her back to their arms.

12.Agnes had been able to walk home to Bracken-Braes, and Michael and Isabel sat by her bedside.All her strength was gone, and she lay at the mercy of the rustle of a leaf, or a shadow across the window.Thus hour after hour passed, till it was again twilight.“I hear footsteps coming up the brae,” said Agnes, who had for some time appeared to be slumbering; and in a few moments the voice of Jacob Mayne was heard at the outer door.

13.Jacob wore a solemn expression of countenance, and he seemed, from his looks, to bring no comfort.Michael stood up between him and his wife, and looked into his heart.Something there seemed to be in his face that was not miserable.“If he has heard nothing of my child,” thought Michael, “this man must care little for his own fi reside.” “Oh, speak, speak,” said Agnes; “yet why need you speak? All this has been but a vain belief, and Lucy is in heaven.”

14.“Something like a trace of her has been discovered; a woman, with a child that did not look like a child of hers, was last night at Clovenford, and left it at the dawning.” “Do you hear that, my beloved Agnes?” said Isabel; “she will have tramped away with Lucy up into Ettrick or Yarrow; but hundreds of eyes will have been upon her; for these are quiet but not solitary glens; and the hunt will be over long before she has crossed down upon Hawick.I knew that country in my young days.What say you, Mr.Mayne? There is the light of hope in your face.”“There is no reason to doubt, ma’am, that it was Lucy.Everybody is sure of it.If it was my own Rachel, I should have no fear as to seeing her this blessed night.”

15.Jacob Mayne now took a chair, and sat down, with even a smile upon his countenance.“I may tell you now, that Watty Oliver knows it was your child, for he saw her limping along after the gypsy at Galla-Brigg; but, having no suspicion, he did not take a second look at her,—but one look is suffi cient, and he swears it was bonny Lucy Forester.”

16.Aunt Isabel, by this time, had bread and cheese and a bottle of her own elder-fl ower wine on the table.“You have been a long and hard journey, wherever you have been, Mr.Mayne; take some refreshment;” and Michael asked a blessing.

17.Jacob saw that he might now venture to reveal the whole truth.“No, no, Mrs.Irving, I am over happy to eat or to drink.You are all prepared for the blessing that awaits you.Your child is not far off ; and I myself, for it is I myself that found her, will bring her by the hand, and restore her to her parents.”

18.Agnes had raised herself up in her bed at these words, but she sank gently back on her pillow; aunt Isabel was rooted to her chair; and Michael, as he rose up, felt as if the ground were sinking under his feet.There was a dead silence all around the house for a short space, and then the sound of many voices, which again by degrees subsided.The eyes of all then looked, and yet feared to look, toward the door.

19.Jacob Mayne was not so good as his word, for he did not bring Lucy by the hand to restore her to her parents; but dressed again in her own bonnet and gown, and her own plaid, in rushed their own child, by herself, with tears and sobs of joy, and her father laid her within her mother’s bosom.

【中文閱讀】

約翰·威爾遜（1785—1854），著名作家、詩人兼評論家，他的筆名克里斯托夫·諾斯更為人所熟知。威爾遜出生于蘇格蘭佩斯里鎮(zhèn)，曾在格拉斯洛大學和牛津大學接受教育。1808年，他移居到英國威斯特摩蘭，并在那里建立“英國湖畔詩”流派分系。在牛津大學求學期間，他的詩歌《繪畫，詩歌和建筑》榮膺獎項。1820年，他在愛丁堡大學擔任倫理學教授，并一直任職到1851年。作為《安部羅斯那對話》的首席作者，1822年和1835年間，該書在《黑檀木》雜志上連載，他因此聲名鵲起。在他的詩歌中，《棕櫚島》和《瘟疫之城》尤為值得一提。以下這篇文章改編自他的《弗斯特一家》，一篇描寫蘇格蘭生活的故事。

1.露西只有六歲，但大膽得像童話里的仙女。她已經(jīng)獨自一人攀爬過不計其數(shù)的陡坡，還經(jīng)常被差遣到離家兩三英里遠的地方幫忙辦事。她的父母有什么可擔心的呢？附近的小路都很堅實，并不通往什么危險的地方，這些孩子們一個人的時候也都很謹慎小心。露西總是唱著歌，鉆進低矮的樹林里，她重復吟唱的稚嫩歌聲也常在開闊的山坡上飄蕩回響。她用白嫩的小手扶著欄桿，時而飛快地跑過木橋，時而踩著石頭，跳過清淺的小溪。

2.這個小家伙總會一連好幾個鐘頭不沾家，家里從沒人曾為她擔心過——不管她是在胳膊上挎只小花籃，去鄰居那兒借點兒家什物件；還是僅為了讓自己玩得開心，而跑到附近斜坡的花叢間昏天黑地地玩，然后將一堆花環(huán)拎回家。

3.這個快樂的小姑娘總會被邀請去淑女坡（大約兩英里外的一處農(nóng)莊），和她的小玩伴梅恩一家的孩子們度過一整天。通常，日出一小時后，她便從家里出發(fā)。

4.她不在家的時候，家里顯得寂寞安寧。現(xiàn)在，天早就黑了，家里人惦記著她早點回家。于是，露西的父親邁克爾、母親艾格尼絲和嬸嬸伊莎貝爾都去路上接她。他們走著，走著，好奇為什么沒遇上她，但心里沒有一點驚慌，直到他們不知不覺間走到淑女坡。節(jié)日已經(jīng)快結束了，但屋里孩子們?nèi)栽诒M情嬉鬧著。雅各·梅恩開了門，來客禮貌地詢問他，為什么露西沒在天黑以前被送回家。聽到這話，雅各神色驚愕地告訴他們，露西今天根本就沒來淑女坡。

5.接下來的兩小時里，一百多人搜索了山里的各個角落，甚至連可憐的小露西根本不可能走到的地方也都去了。整整一夜，那些牧羊人帶著他們的牧羊犬，找遍了山間野外的旮旯角落，甚至每處石縫溝壑、灌木樹林，那些可以藏身匿尸的所有地方，但是，哪兒都找不到小露西。

6.似乎被某種超自然的力量支撐著，露西的母親也加入了夜間搜索。她心驚膽戰(zhàn)地查看途經(jīng)的茂密叢林，時而停下腳步，傾聽著從山谷那邊回蕩過來的大家的呼喊聲，試圖從里面聆聽到是否有好消息。月亮沉落了，星星看起來更亮了些，多少照亮了她的路；但是很快，星星也隨之黯淡了。清晨煦光乍露，接著，一輪艷陽騰空而起，清晰地照亮了大地——可是，邁克爾和艾格尼絲仍然沒有孩子的消息。

7.“露西大概是陷進長滿青苔或泥濘的地方了，”邁克爾對身邊的一個男人說，他沒法直視那男人的臉，“對她這樣的孩子來說，這是個多么、多么殘忍的死法！我的孩子曾走過的這片土地吞噬了她，我們再也見不到她了！”

8.搜索隊早有人離開，獨自朝公路方向走去尋找，后來，有人向他們跑來，手里拿著些什么東西。邁克爾和其他人站在艾格尼絲身邊，艾格尼絲躺在草地上，明顯已經(jīng)精疲力竭，一副瀕死的模樣。來人躊躇不決地靠近了，邁克爾一眼看到，他手里拿的正是露西的帽子、衣服和外套。

9.所有人都看到，孩子的衣服脖頸處，有幾點明顯的血跡。“孩子被謀殺了！被謀殺了！”有些人竊竊私語著，有些人高聲驚呼著，但說的都是同樣的一句話。但是，母親艾格尼絲聽不見了，整整一夜希望與絕望的反復折騰后，她早已疲憊不堪地睡著了，或許正在夢里尋找她丟失的可愛露西。

10.嬸嬸伊莎貝爾接過衣服，仔仔細細地檢查了一番，急切地說：“不，露西還活著。”她的聲音給絕望的邁克爾帶來希望，“孩子的衣服上沒有絲毫施暴的痕跡，兇手的手從未碰到過這些衣服。這些血跡是后來沾上去的，大概是為了隱藏些什么。更何況，如果真的有人謀殺了露西，為什么他不把這些衣服帶走？他又為什么要謀殺她呢？哦，沒有必要這么絕望！我想說些什么？我想說的是，這世道雖然邪惡——是啊，令人絕望的邪惡！但是，這世上并沒有人殺死了我們的孩子！事實再清楚不過了，露西是被某個卑鄙無恥的吉普賽乞丐給偷走了！”

11.人群安靜地散開，馬蹄或腳印很快將布滿周邊地區(qū)。有些人沿著大路搜索，有些人去岔道追蹤，還有些人到那些偏僻的山嶺里尋找。現(xiàn)在，他們多少從那個孩子已不在世上的可怕念頭中解脫出來，更壞的災禍看來絕不可能，生的希望已將露西重新帶回眾人懷里。

12.艾格尼絲已經(jīng)從布雷墾山坡走回家里，邁克爾和伊莎貝爾坐在她的床邊。她看來完全筋疲力盡了，靜靜躺在那里，窗外，樹葉沙沙作響，蔭影越過窗欞，周圍仿佛沉浸在一片悲戚之中。時間一點點流逝，直到滿天星斗再現(xiàn)。“我聽到斜坡上有腳步聲。”艾格尼絲突然說，她原本看上去已經(jīng)睡著了。不一會兒，雅各·梅恩的聲音在門外響起。

13.雅各·梅恩臉色凝重，從他表情看來，他帶來的大概不是什么好消息。邁克爾在來客與妻子間站起來，深深地看著雅各，似乎要洞察他的靈魂。雅各臉上的表情看起來并不是那么糟糕。“如果他沒有露西的消息，”邁克爾心想，“這男人這會兒多半會在自家的壁爐邊。”“哦，你快說呀，說呀，”艾格尼絲焦急地說，“但你還需要說什么呢？所有這一切不過是虛妄之想，露西已經(jīng)去了天國了。”

14.“有人發(fā)現(xiàn)了關于露西的線索：昨天夜里在克婁文福德，有個女人帶著一個孩子，那孩子看起來并不像她親生的，她們今早剛離開。”“親愛的艾格尼絲，你聽到了嗎？”伊莎貝爾說。“那女人多半會帶著露西向北逃往埃特里克或亞羅，但是，好幾百雙眼睛都會盯著她的。這些山谷雖然人煙稀少，但總會有人蹲守，甚至沒等到她趕到霍維克，我們就會抓到她。我打小就對這片地區(qū)相當熟悉，你怎么看，梅恩先生？你臉上露出希望的光彩。”“毫無疑問，夫人，那孩子就是露西，沒有人不相信。倘若那是我的女兒瑞切爾，我一定立馬就想見到她，就在這個上帝賜福的夜晚。”

15.雅各·梅恩拉過一把椅子坐下來，臉上甚至浮出一絲笑容。“現(xiàn)在，我可以告訴你們，沃迪·奧利弗知道那是你們的孩子，當時在加拉-布里格，他曾看見露西一瘸一拐地跟在那吉普賽女人身后。但由于壓根沒懷疑，他只不過看了那孩子一眼——但是，一眼就足夠了。他發(fā)誓，那孩子就是可愛的露西·弗斯特。”

16.這時，伊莎貝爾嬸嬸將面包、奶酪和一瓶她自釀的接骨木花酒端到餐桌上。“不管你曾到了哪些地方，你一定走了很遠的山路，路上那么難走，辛苦你了，梅恩先生，請吃點東西吧。”邁克爾也隨聲附和。

17.雅各心里清楚，說出真相的時候到了。“不，不，歐文夫人，我實在太開心了，什么都吃不下。對于等待已久的圣靈賜福，你們大概都已經(jīng)做好準備了吧？你們的孩子就在附近，是我親自找到她的，我要親手將她帶回家，將她重新交回她父母的手中。”

18.聽到這些話，艾格尼絲飛快地從床上支起身，但又無力地躺到了枕頭上；嬸嬸伊莎貝爾呆坐在椅子上，半晌沒回過神來；至于邁克爾，他站起身，覺得天塌地陷。有那么短短幾分鐘，屋里死一般的寂靜，隨即爆發(fā)出一片歡樂嘈雜，好一會兒才平息下來。所有目光都注視門外，但又惴惴不安，不敢睹視。

19.雅各·梅恩并沒有兌現(xiàn)他的承諾：他并未親手將露西送到她父母的手中。露西還是往常一身裝扮，戴著帽子，穿著裙子，套著那件帶格子圖案的外套，一下子沖到家人面前。她的父親哽咽著，迸出歡喜的淚水，一把抱起她，將她放到母親的懷里。

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【注釋】

[1] The scene of this story is laid in Scotland, and many of the words employed, such as brae, brake, heather, and plaid, are but little used except in that country.

[2] Brae, shelving ground, a declivity or slope of a hill.

[3] Pastimes, sports, plays.

[4] Rioting, romping.

[5] Heather, an evergreen shrub bearing beautiful f lowers, used in Great Britain for making brooms, etc.

[6] Inspired, animated, enlivened.

[7] Supernatural, more than human.

[8] Brake, a place overgrown with shrubs and brambles.

[9] Reverberating, resounding, echoing.

[10] Intent, having the mind closely f ixed.

[11] Plaid, a striped or checked overgarment worn by the Scotch.

[12] Ejaculated, exclaimed.

[13] Scour, to pass over swiftly and thoroughly.