章节正文
"Please, sir, my harness has given away. Would you mind stepping
in here for a few minutes? They're friends of mine. I'll take you
where you like after I've got it mended. I shan't be many minutes,
but you can't stand in this wind."
Half stupid with fatigue and want of food, Mr. Evans yielded
to the boy's suggestion, and walked in at the door which the maid
held with difficulty against the wind. She took Mr. Evans
for a visitor, as indeed he was, and showed him into the room
on the ground-floor. Diamond, who had followed into the hall,
whispered to her as she closed the door--
"Tell Miss Coleman. It's Miss Coleman he wants to see."
"I don't know" said the maid. "He don't look much like a gentleman."
"He is, though; and I know him, and so does Miss Coleman."
The maid could not but remember Diamond, having seen him when he
and his father brought the ladies home. So she believed him,
and went to do what he told her.
What passed in the little parlour when Miss Coleman came down
does not belong to my story, which is all about Diamond.
If he had known that Miss Coleman thought Mr. Evans was dead,
perhaps he would have managed differently. There was a cry
and a running to and fro in the house, and then all was quiet again.
Almost as soon as Mr. Evans went in, the wind began to cease,
and was now still. Diamond found that by making the breeching
just a little tighter than was quite comfortable for the old
horse he could do very well for the present; and, thinking it
better to let him have his bag in this quiet place, he sat
on the box till the old horse should have eaten his dinner.
In a little while Mr. Evans came out, and asked him to come in.
Diamond obeyed, and to his delight Miss Coleman put her arms round
him and kissed him, and there was payment for him! Not to mention
the five precious shillings she gave him, which he could not refuse
because his mother wanted them so much at home for his father.
He left them nearly as happy as they were themselves.
The rest of the day he did better, and, although he had not so
much to take home as the day before, yet on the whole the result
was satisfactory. And what a story he had to tell his father
and mother about his adventures, and how he had done, and what was
the result! They asked him such a multitude of questions! some
of which he could answer, and some of which he could not answer;
and his father seemed ever so much better from finding that his boy
was already not only useful to his family but useful to other people,
and quite taking his place as a man who judged what was wise,
and did work worth doing.
For a fortnight Diamond went on driving his cab, and keeping his family.
He had begun to be known about some parts of London, and people would
prefer taking his cab because they liked what they heard of him.
One gentleman who lived near the mews engaged him to carry him
to the City every morning at a certain hour; and Diamond was
punctual as clockwork--though to effect that required a good deal
of care, for his father's watch was not much to be depended on,
and had to be watched itself by the clock of St. George's church.
Between the two, however, he did make a success of it.
After that fortnight, his father was able to go out again.
Then Diamond went to make inquiries about Nanny, and this led
to something else.
CHAPTER XXVII
THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL
THE first day his father resumed his work, Diamond went with him
as usual. In the afternoon, however, his father, having taken
a fare to the neighbourhood, went home, and Diamond drove the cab
the rest of the day. It was hard for old Diamond to do all
the work, but they could not afford to have another horse.
They contrived to save him as much as possible, and fed him well,
and he did bravely.
The next morning his father was so much stronger that Diamond
thought he might go and ask Mr. Raymond to take him to see Nanny.
He found him at home. His servant had grown friendly by this time,
and showed him in without any cross-questioning. Mr. Raymond received
him with his usual kindness, consented at once, and walked with him
to the Hospital, which was close at hand. It was a comfortable
old-fashioned house, built in the reign of Queen Anne, and in her day,
no doubt, inhabited by rich and fashionable people: now it was a home
for poor sick children, who were carefully tended for love's sake.
There are regions in London where a hospital in every other street
might be full of such children, whose fathers and mothers are dead,
or unable to take care of them.
When Diamond followed Mr. Raymond into the room where those children
who had got over the worst of their illness and were growing better lay,
he saw a number of little iron bedsteads, with their heads to the walls,
and in every one of them a child, whose face was a story in itself.
In some, health had begun to appear in a tinge upon the cheeks,
and a doubtfulbrightness in the eyes, just as out of the cold dreary
winter the spring comes in blushing buds and bright crocuses.
In others there were more of the signs of winter left. Their faces
reminded you of snow and keen cutting winds, more than of sunshine
and soft breezes and butterflies; but even in them the signs
of suffering told that the suffering was less, and that if the
spring-time had but arrived, it had yet arrived.
Diamond looked all round, but could see no Nanny. He turned
to Mr. Raymond with a question in his eyes.
"Well?" said Mr. Raymond.
"Nanny's not here," said Diamond.
"Oh, yes, she is."
"I don't see her."
"I do, though. There she is."
He pointed to a bed right in front of where Diamond was standing.
"That's not Nanny," he said.
"It is Nanny. I have seen her many times since you have.
Illness makes a great difference."
"Why, that girl must have been to the back of the north wind!"
thought Diamond, but he said nothing, only stared; and as he stared,
something of the old Nanny began to dawn through the face of the
new Nanny. The old Nanny, though a good girl, and a friendly girl,
had been rough, blunt in her speech, and dirty in her person.
Her face would always have reminded one who had already been to the back
of the north wind of something he had seen in the best of company,
but it had been coarsenotwithstanding, partly from the weather,
partly from her living amongst low people, and partly from having
to defend herself: now it was so sweet, and gentle, and refined,
that she might have had a lady and gentleman for a father and mother.
And Diamond could not help thinking of words which he had heard
in the church the day before: "Surely it is good to be afflicted;"
or something like that. North Wind, somehow or other, must have
had to do with her! She had grown from a rough girl into a gentle
maiden.
Mr. Raymond, however, was not surprised, for he was used to see
such lovely changes--something like the change which passes upon
the crawling, many-footed creature, when it turns sick and ill,
and revives a butterfly, with two wings instead of many feet.
Instead of her having to take care of herself, kind hands ministered
to her, making her comfortable and sweet and clean, soothing her
aching head, and giving her cooling drink when she was thirsty;
and kind eyes, the stars of the kingdom of heaven, had shone upon her;
so that, what with the fire of the fever and the dew of tenderness,
that which was coarse in her had melted away, and her whole face
had grown so refined and sweet that Diamond did not know her. But as
he gazed, the best of the old face, all the true and good part of it,
that which was Nanny herself, dawned upon him, like the moon coming
out of a cloud, until at length, instead of only believing Mr. Raymond
that this was she, he saw for himself that it was Nanny indeed--
very worn but grown beautiful.
He went up to her. She smiled. He had heard her laugh, but had
never seen her smile before.
"Nanny, do you know me?" said Diamond.
She only smiled again, as if the question was amusing.
She was not likely to forget him; for although she did not yet know
it was he who had got her there, she had dreamed of him often,
and had talked much about him when delirious. Nor was it much wonder,
for he was the only boy except Joe who had ever shown her kindness.
Meantime Mr. Raymond was going from bed to bed, talking to the
little people. Every one knew him, and every one was eager
to have a look, and a smile, and a kind word from him.
Diamond sat down on a stool at the head of Nanny's bed. She laid
her hand in his. No one else of her old acquaintance had been
near her.
Suddenly a little voice called aloud--
"Won't Mr. Raymond tell us a story?"
"Oh, yes, please do! please do!" cried several little voices which
also were stronger than the rest. For Mr. Raymond was in the habit
of telling them a story when he went to see them, and they enjoyed
it far more than the other nice things which the doctor permitted
him to give them.
"Very well," said Mr. Raymond, "I will. What sort of a story shall
it be?"
"A true story," said one little girl.
"A fairy tale," said a little boy.
"Well," said Mr. Raymond, "I suppose, as there is a difference,
I may choose. I can't think of any true story just at this moment,
so I will tell you a sort of a fairy one."
"Oh, jolly!" exclaimed the little boy who had called out for
a fairy tale.
"It came into my head this morning as I got out of bed,"
continued Mr. Raymond; "and if it turns out pretty well,
I will write it down, and get somebody to print it for me,
and then you shall read it when you like."
"Then nobody ever heard it before?" asked one older child.
"No, nobody."
"Oh!" exclaimed several, thinking it very grand to have the first telling;
and I daresay there might be a peculiarfreshness about it,
because everything would be nearly as new to the story-teller
himself as to the listeners.
Some were only sitting up and some were lying down, so there could
not be the same busy gathering, bustling, and shifting to and fro
with which children generally prepare themselves to hear a story;
but their faces, and the turning of their heads, and many feeble
exclamations of expected pleasure, showed that all such preparations
were making within them.
Mr. Raymond stood in the middle of the room, that he might turn from
side to side, and give each a share of seeing him. Diamond kept
his place by Nanny's side, with her hand in his. I do not know
how much of Mr. Raymond's story the smaller children understood;
indeed, I don't quite know how much there was in it to be understood,
for in such a story every one has just to take what he can get.
But they all listened with apparentsatisfaction, and certainly
with great attention. Mr. Raymond wrote it down afterwards,
and here it is--somewhat altered no doubt, for a good story-teller
tries to make his stories better every time he tells them.
I cannot myself help thinking that he was somewhat indebted for this
one to the old story of The Sleeping Beauty.
CHAPTER XXVIII
LITTLE DAYLIGHT
NO HOUSE of any pretension to be called a palace is in the least
worthy of the name, except it has a wood near it--very near it--
and the nearer the better. Not all round it--I don't mean that,
for a palace ought to be open to the sun and wind, and stand
high and brave, with weathercocks glittering and flags flying;
but on one side of every palace there must be a wood. And there
was a very grand wood indeed beside the palace of the king who was
going to be Daylight's father; such a grand wood, that nobody yet
had ever got to the other end of it. Near the house it was kept
very trim and nice, and it was free of brushwood for a long way in;
in here for a few minutes? They're friends of mine. I'll take you
where you like after I've got it mended. I shan't be many minutes,
but you can't stand in this wind."
Half stupid with fatigue and want of food, Mr. Evans yielded
to the boy's suggestion, and walked in at the door which the maid
held with difficulty against the wind. She took Mr. Evans
for a visitor, as indeed he was, and showed him into the room
on the ground-floor. Diamond, who had followed into the hall,
whispered to her as she closed the door--
"Tell Miss Coleman. It's Miss Coleman he wants to see."
"I don't know" said the maid. "He don't look much like a gentleman."
"He is, though; and I know him, and so does Miss Coleman."
The maid could not but remember Diamond, having seen him when he
and his father brought the ladies home. So she believed him,
and went to do what he told her.
What passed in the little parlour when Miss Coleman came down
does not belong to my story, which is all about Diamond.
If he had known that Miss Coleman thought Mr. Evans was dead,
perhaps he would have managed differently. There was a cry
and a running to and fro in the house, and then all was quiet again.
Almost as soon as Mr. Evans went in, the wind began to cease,
and was now still. Diamond found that by making the breeching
just a little tighter than was quite comfortable for the old
horse he could do very well for the present; and, thinking it
better to let him have his bag in this quiet place, he sat
on the box till the old horse should have eaten his dinner.
In a little while Mr. Evans came out, and asked him to come in.
Diamond obeyed, and to his delight Miss Coleman put her arms round
him and kissed him, and there was payment for him! Not to mention
the five precious shillings she gave him, which he could not refuse
because his mother wanted them so much at home for his father.
He left them nearly as happy as they were themselves.
The rest of the day he did better, and, although he had not so
much to take home as the day before, yet on the whole the result
was satisfactory. And what a story he had to tell his father
and mother about his adventures, and how he had done, and what was
the result! They asked him such a multitude of questions! some
of which he could answer, and some of which he could not answer;
and his father seemed ever so much better from finding that his boy
was already not only useful to his family but useful to other people,
and quite taking his place as a man who judged what was wise,
and did work worth doing.
For a fortnight Diamond went on driving his cab, and keeping his family.
He had begun to be known about some parts of London, and people would
prefer taking his cab because they liked what they heard of him.
One gentleman who lived near the mews engaged him to carry him
to the City every morning at a certain hour; and Diamond was
punctual as clockwork--though to effect that required a good deal
of care, for his father's watch was not much to be depended on,
and had to be watched itself by the clock of St. George's church.
Between the two, however, he did make a success of it.
After that fortnight, his father was able to go out again.
Then Diamond went to make inquiries about Nanny, and this led
to something else.
CHAPTER XXVII
THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL
THE first day his father resumed his work, Diamond went with him
as usual. In the afternoon, however, his father, having taken
a fare to the neighbourhood, went home, and Diamond drove the cab
the rest of the day. It was hard for old Diamond to do all
the work, but they could not afford to have another horse.
They contrived to save him as much as possible, and fed him well,
and he did bravely.
The next morning his father was so much stronger that Diamond
thought he might go and ask Mr. Raymond to take him to see Nanny.
He found him at home. His servant had grown friendly by this time,
and showed him in without any cross-questioning. Mr. Raymond received
him with his usual kindness, consented at once, and walked with him
to the Hospital, which was close at hand. It was a comfortable
old-fashioned house, built in the reign of Queen Anne, and in her day,
no doubt, inhabited by rich and fashionable people: now it was a home
for poor sick children, who were carefully tended for love's sake.
There are regions in London where a hospital in every other street
might be full of such children, whose fathers and mothers are dead,
or unable to take care of them.
When Diamond followed Mr. Raymond into the room where those children
who had got over the worst of their illness and were growing better lay,
he saw a number of little iron bedsteads, with their heads to the walls,
and in every one of them a child, whose face was a story in itself.
In some, health had begun to appear in a tinge upon the cheeks,
and a doubtfulbrightness in the eyes, just as out of the cold dreary
winter the spring comes in blushing buds and bright crocuses.
In others there were more of the signs of winter left. Their faces
reminded you of snow and keen cutting winds, more than of sunshine
and soft breezes and butterflies; but even in them the signs
of suffering told that the suffering was less, and that if the
spring-time had but arrived, it had yet arrived.
Diamond looked all round, but could see no Nanny. He turned
to Mr. Raymond with a question in his eyes.
"Well?" said Mr. Raymond.
"Nanny's not here," said Diamond.
"Oh, yes, she is."
"I don't see her."
"I do, though. There she is."
He pointed to a bed right in front of where Diamond was standing.
"That's not Nanny," he said.
"It is Nanny. I have seen her many times since you have.
Illness makes a great difference."
"Why, that girl must have been to the back of the north wind!"
thought Diamond, but he said nothing, only stared; and as he stared,
something of the old Nanny began to dawn through the face of the
new Nanny. The old Nanny, though a good girl, and a friendly girl,
had been rough, blunt in her speech, and dirty in her person.
Her face would always have reminded one who had already been to the back
of the north wind of something he had seen in the best of company,
but it had been coarsenotwithstanding, partly from the weather,
partly from her living amongst low people, and partly from having
to defend herself: now it was so sweet, and gentle, and refined,
that she might have had a lady and gentleman for a father and mother.
And Diamond could not help thinking of words which he had heard
in the church the day before: "Surely it is good to be afflicted;"
or something like that. North Wind, somehow or other, must have
had to do with her! She had grown from a rough girl into a gentle
maiden.
Mr. Raymond, however, was not surprised, for he was used to see
such lovely changes--something like the change which passes upon
the crawling, many-footed creature, when it turns sick and ill,
and revives a butterfly, with two wings instead of many feet.
Instead of her having to take care of herself, kind hands ministered
to her, making her comfortable and sweet and clean, soothing her
aching head, and giving her cooling drink when she was thirsty;
and kind eyes, the stars of the kingdom of heaven, had shone upon her;
so that, what with the fire of the fever and the dew of tenderness,
that which was coarse in her had melted away, and her whole face
had grown so refined and sweet that Diamond did not know her. But as
he gazed, the best of the old face, all the true and good part of it,
that which was Nanny herself, dawned upon him, like the moon coming
out of a cloud, until at length, instead of only believing Mr. Raymond
that this was she, he saw for himself that it was Nanny indeed--
very worn but grown beautiful.
He went up to her. She smiled. He had heard her laugh, but had
never seen her smile before.
"Nanny, do you know me?" said Diamond.
She only smiled again, as if the question was amusing.
She was not likely to forget him; for although she did not yet know
it was he who had got her there, she had dreamed of him often,
and had talked much about him when delirious. Nor was it much wonder,
for he was the only boy except Joe who had ever shown her kindness.
Meantime Mr. Raymond was going from bed to bed, talking to the
little people. Every one knew him, and every one was eager
to have a look, and a smile, and a kind word from him.
Diamond sat down on a stool at the head of Nanny's bed. She laid
her hand in his. No one else of her old acquaintance had been
near her.
Suddenly a little voice called aloud--
"Won't Mr. Raymond tell us a story?"
"Oh, yes, please do! please do!" cried several little voices which
also were stronger than the rest. For Mr. Raymond was in the habit
of telling them a story when he went to see them, and they enjoyed
it far more than the other nice things which the doctor permitted
him to give them.
"Very well," said Mr. Raymond, "I will. What sort of a story shall
it be?"
"A true story," said one little girl.
"A fairy tale," said a little boy.
"Well," said Mr. Raymond, "I suppose, as there is a difference,
I may choose. I can't think of any true story just at this moment,
so I will tell you a sort of a fairy one."
"Oh, jolly!" exclaimed the little boy who had called out for
a fairy tale.
"It came into my head this morning as I got out of bed,"
continued Mr. Raymond; "and if it turns out pretty well,
I will write it down, and get somebody to print it for me,
and then you shall read it when you like."
"Then nobody ever heard it before?" asked one older child.
"No, nobody."
"Oh!" exclaimed several, thinking it very grand to have the first telling;
and I daresay there might be a peculiarfreshness about it,
because everything would be nearly as new to the story-teller
himself as to the listeners.
Some were only sitting up and some were lying down, so there could
not be the same busy gathering, bustling, and shifting to and fro
with which children generally prepare themselves to hear a story;
but their faces, and the turning of their heads, and many feeble
exclamations of expected pleasure, showed that all such preparations
were making within them.
Mr. Raymond stood in the middle of the room, that he might turn from
side to side, and give each a share of seeing him. Diamond kept
his place by Nanny's side, with her hand in his. I do not know
how much of Mr. Raymond's story the smaller children understood;
indeed, I don't quite know how much there was in it to be understood,
for in such a story every one has just to take what he can get.
But they all listened with apparentsatisfaction, and certainly
with great attention. Mr. Raymond wrote it down afterwards,
and here it is--somewhat altered no doubt, for a good story-teller
tries to make his stories better every time he tells them.
I cannot myself help thinking that he was somewhat indebted for this
one to the old story of The Sleeping Beauty.
CHAPTER XXVIII
LITTLE DAYLIGHT
NO HOUSE of any pretension to be called a palace is in the least
worthy of the name, except it has a wood near it--very near it--
and the nearer the better. Not all round it--I don't mean that,
for a palace ought to be open to the sun and wind, and stand
high and brave, with weathercocks glittering and flags flying;
but on one side of every palace there must be a wood. And there
was a very grand wood indeed beside the palace of the king who was
going to be Daylight's father; such a grand wood, that nobody yet
had ever got to the other end of it. Near the house it was kept
very trim and nice, and it was free of brushwood for a long way in;
- harness [´hɑ:nis]
vt.上马具 n.马具 (初中英语单词) - stupid [´stju:pid] a.愚蠢的；糊涂的 (初中英语单词)
- suggestion [sə´dʒestʃən] n.建议，提议；暗示 (初中英语单词)
- visitor [´vizitə] n.访问者；来宾；参观者 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- payment [´peimənt] n.支付；报酬；报偿 (初中英语单词)
- satisfactory [,sætis´fæktəri] a.令人满意的 (初中英语单词)
- multitude [´mʌltitju:d] n.大群(批)；众多 (初中英语单词)
- unable [ʌn´eibəl] a.不能的；无能为力的 (初中英语单词)
- illness [´ilnis] n.生病，不健康，疾病 (初中英语单词)
- suffering [´sʌfəriŋ] n.痛苦；灾害 (初中英语单词)
- pointed [´pɔintid] a.尖(锐)的；中肯的 (初中英语单词)
- coarse [kɔ:s] a.粗(糙)的；粗鲁的 (初中英语单词)
- partly [´pɑ:tli] ad.部分地；不完全地 (初中英语单词)
- butterfly [´bʌtəflai] n.蝴蝶；蝶式 (初中英语单词)
- acquaintance [ə´kweintəns] n.相识；熟人，相识的人 (初中英语单词)
- peculiar [pi´kju:liə] a.特有的；奇异的 (初中英语单词)
- apparent [ə´pærənt] a.显然的；表面上的 (初中英语单词)
- satisfaction [,sætis´fækʃən] n.满意；满足 (初中英语单词)
- sleeping [´sli:piŋ] n.&a.睡着(的) (初中英语单词)
- fatigue [fə´ti:g] n.&vt.(使)疲劳(劳累) (高中英语单词)
- differently [´difrentli] ad.不同地，有差别地 (高中英语单词)
- finding [´faindiŋ] n.发现物；判断；结果 (高中英语单词)
- fortnight [´fɔ:tnait] n.两星期 (高中英语单词)
- fashionable [´fæʃənəbəl] a.流行的，时髦的 (高中英语单词)
- doubtful [´dautful] a.怀疑的，可疑的 (高中英语单词)
- brightness [´braitnis] n.光明；快乐 (高中英语单词)
- notwithstanding [,nɔtwiθ´stændiŋ] prep.&conj.虽然；还是 (高中英语单词)
- amongst [ə´mʌŋst] prep.其中之一 =among (高中英语单词)
- seeing [si:iŋ] see的现在分词 n.视觉 (高中英语单词)
- refined [ri´faind] a.精制的；文雅的 (英语四级单词)
- freshness [´freʃnis] n.新鲜 (英语四级单词)
- gathering [´gæðəriŋ] n.集会，聚集 (英语四级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- indebted [in´detid] a.负债的；感恩的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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