乔治·科珀德为自己的贫穷而发愁。他后来在希尔尼斯修船厂当工程师头领。莫瑞尔太太——格特鲁德——是他的二女儿。她像母亲，也最爱母亲，但她继承了科珀德家族的蓝眼睛宽额头。她的眼睛明亮有神。她记得小时候她恨父亲对温柔、幽默、善良的母亲的那种盛气凌人的态度；她记得自己跑遍希尔尼斯大堤去找船、她记得自己去修船厂时，男人们都亲热地拍着她夸奖她，因为她虽是一位娇嫩的女孩，但她个性鲜明；她还记得那个私立学校的一位年迈女教师，后来还给她当助手。她现在还保留着约翰·费尔德送给她的《圣经》。十九岁时，她常和约翰·费尔德一块儿从教堂回家。 他是一个富有商人的儿子，在伦敦上过大学，当时正准备投身于商业。

    她甚至能回忆起那年九月一个星期天下午他俩坐在她父亲住所后院的葡萄藤下的每一个细节，阳光从葡萄叶的缝隙中射下来，在他俩身上投下美丽的图案，有如一条披肩。有些叶子完全黄了，就像一朵朵平展的金花。

    “坐着别动，”他喊道，“看你的头发，我不知道如何形容，它像黄金和紫钢一样闪闪发光，像烧熔的铜一样红，太阳一照 有如一根根金丝，他们竟然说你的头发是褐色的，你母亲还说是灰色的呢。”

她看着他闪光的眼睛，但她那平静的表情却没有流露出内心的激动。

    “可是你说你不喜欢做生意。”她缠着他问。

    “我不喜欢，我恨做生意！”他激动地喊道。“你可能愿意做一个牧师吧。”她半恳求地说。

    “当然，我喜欢做一个牧师，我认为自己能做一个第一流的传教士。”

    “那你为什么不呢——为什么不做牧师呢？”她的声音充满愤慨，“我要是一个男子汉，没有什么可以阻止我。”她把头抬得很高，他在她面前总是有些胆怯。

    “但是我父亲非常固执，他决定让我去做生意，要知道他是说到做到的。”

    “可是，你是一个男子汉吗？”她叫了起来。

    “是个男子汉算什么。”说完后，他无可奈何地皱着眉。

    如今她在河川区操持家务，多少能体谅一点男子汉是怎么回事，明白凡事不可能样样顺心。

    二十岁的时候，他身体不佳，便离开了希尔尼斯。父亲已经退休回到了诺丁汉。约翰·费尔德因为父亲已经破产，只得去诺伍德当了老师。一去两年，沓无音讯。

    她便下决心去打听一下，才知道他和房东太太，一个四十多岁富有的寡妇结了婚。

    莫瑞尔太太还保存着约翰·费尔德的那本《圣经》。她现在已经不相信他会——唉，她相当明白他会是什么样的。她为了自己才保存着他的《圣经》。把对他的想念藏在心里，三十五年了，直到她离世的那天，她也没提起过他。

    二十三岁时，她在一次圣诞晚会上遇见了一个来自埃沃斯河谷的小伙子。莫瑞尔当时二十七岁，体格强壮，身材挺拔，仪表堂堂，头发自然卷曲，乌黑发亮，胡须浓密茂盛而且不加修饰，满面红光，嘴唇红润，又笑口常开，所以非常引人注目，他的笑声浑厚而响亮， 与众不同。格特鲁德·科珀德盯着他，不知不觉入了迷。他生气勃勃，幽默诙谐，和什么人都能愉快相处。她的父亲也极富幽默感，但是有点冷嘲热讽。这个人不同：温和、不咬文嚼字、热心，近似嬉戏。

    她本人刚好相反。她生性好奇，接受能力强，爱听别人 说话，而且善于引导别人谈话。她喜欢思索，聪明颖悟，尤其喜欢和一些受过教育的人讨论有关宗教、哲学、政治方面的问题。遗憾的是这样的机会并不多，因此她总是让人们谈他们自己的事，她也自得其乐。

    她本人相当娇小、柔弱，但天庭饱满，褐色的卷发披肩，蓝色的眼睛坦率、真诚，像在探索什么。她有双科珀德家人特有的美丽的手，她的衣服总是很淡雅，藏青色的绸衣，配上一条奇特的扇贝形银链，再别上一枚螺旋状的胸针，再简洁不过。她完美无暇，心地坦白，不乏赤子之心。

    沃尔特·莫瑞尔在她面前仿佛骨头都酥了。在这个矿工眼里，她是神秘的化身，是奇妙的组合，是一个地道的淑女。她跟他说话时，她那纯正的南方口音的英语使他听着感到很刺激。她看着他那优美的舞姿，好象是天生的舞星，他跳起来乐此不疲，他的祖父是个法国难民，娶了一个英国酒吧女郎——如果这也算是婚姻的话。格特鲁德·科珀德看着这个年轻人跳舞，他的动作有点炫耀的感觉，很有魅力。他那红光满面、黑发技散的头，仿佛是插在身上的一朵花，而且对每一位舞伴都一样的嘻笑颜颜。她觉得 他太棒了，她还从来没有碰到谁能比得上他。对她来说，父亲就是所有男人的典范，然而，乔治·科珀德，爱读神学，只和圣保罗有共同思想，他英俊而高傲，对人冷嘲热讽，热情，但好支配他人，他漠视所有的感官享受——他和那些矿工大相径庭。格特鲁德本人很蔑视跳舞，她对这种娱乐没有一点兴趣，甚至从没学 过乡村舞蹈。她是一个清教徒，和她的父亲一样，思想清高而古板。因此，矿工生命的情欲之火不断溢出温柔的情感，就象蜡烛的火焰似的从他体内汩汩流出，不像她的那股火受她的思想和精神的禁铜，喷发不出来。所以她对他有种新奇的感觉。

    他走过来对她鞠了躬，一股暖流涌入她的身体，仿佛喝了仙酒。

    “一定要和我跳一曲。”他亲热地说。她告诉过他，自己不会跳舞。“不很容易，我很想看你跳舞。”她看着他恭敬的样子笑了。她笑得很美，这使他不禁心旌摇曳。

    “不行，我不会跳舞。”她轻柔地说。她的声音清脆得像铃铛一样响亮。

    他下意识地坐到了她的身旁，恭敬地欠着身子，他常凭直觉行事。

    “但是你不应该放弃这支曲子。”她责怪着说。

    “不，我不想跳那支——那不是我想跳的。”

    “可刚才你还请我跳呢。”

    他听了大笑起来。

    “我从没想到你还有这一手，你一下就把我绕的圈子拉直了。”

    这自是她轻快地笑了。

    “你看起来不像拉直的样子。”她说。

    “我像条猪尾巴，不由自主地蜷缩起来。”他爽朗地笑着。

    “你是一个矿工！”她惊愕地喊道。

    “对，我十岁就开始下井了。”

    她又惊愕地看着他。

    “十岁时！那一定很辛苦吧？”她问道。

    “很快就习惯了：人像耗子一样生活着，直到晚上才溜出来看看动静。”

    “那眼睛也瞎了。”她皱了皱眉。

    “像一只地老鼠！”他笑道：“嗯，有些家伙的确像地老鼠一样到处转。”他闭上眼睛头往前伸，模仿老鼠翘起鼻子到处闻，像在打探方向。“他们的确这么做。”他天真地坚持说。“你从来没见过他们下井时的样子？不过，什么时候我带你下去一趟，让你亲眼看看。”

    她看着他，非常吃惊。一种全新的生活展现在她面前。她了解到了矿工的生活，成千成百的矿工在地下辛勤地干活，直到晚上才出来。在她眼里他似乎高尚起来，他每天的生活都在冒险，他却依然欢天喜地。她带着感动和尊敬的神情看着他。

    “你不喜欢吗？”他温柔地问，“是的，那会弄脏你的。”

    她从来没 与方音很重的人谈过话。

    来年的圣诞节他们结婚了，前三个月她幸福极了，她一直沉浸在这种幸福中有半年时光。

    他签约保证永不沾酒，并带上禁酒会的蓝缎带招摇过市。她原以为他俩住的是他自己的房子。房子虽小，但比较方便，房里的陈设实惠耐用又美观大方，这与她踏实的性格相投。她与周围的女人们不大来往，因此，莫瑞尔的母亲和姐妹们常取笑她的小姐派头。但是，她只要和丈夫在一起，什么也就不在乎了。

    有时候，她厌倦了卿卿我我的蜜语，努力尝试着跟他正儿八经地聊聊，当然他只是在用心的听着，却听不懂。这使她那想彼此加深理解的希望破灭了，她有点害怕。有时候，他一到晚上就坐立不安，她明白，对他来说守着她不是他生活的全部，索性病痛快快地让他去干些零活。

他聪明手巧，擅长修修补补。因此，她就说：

    “我真喜欢你母亲的那个火拨子——小巧好使。”

    “真的吗？宝贝？嗯，那是我做的，我可以再做一个。”

    “什么！哇，那是钢的。”

    “钢的又怎么了，我一定会做一把，即使不完全一样，也差不离儿的。”

    她不在乎乱七八糟，叮叮咣咣，因为他正忙得不亦乐乎。

    但到婚后第七个月的一天，她在刷扫他的那件礼服时，发觉他胸前的口袋里 有几张纸。出于一种好奇心，她拿出了那几张纸。他很少穿这件结婚时穿的礼服，所以，以前并未注意这些纸片，原来是房子家具的帐单，至今尚未付清。

    “看，”在 他吃完晚饭，洗完澡之后，她才说：“我在你的婚礼服里发现了这些帐单，你还没有还清吗？”

    “没有，我还没来得及呢。”

    “但是，你告诉我所有的帐都已付清。那我最好星期六去诺丁汉把帐付清了。我不想坐在别人的椅上、别人的桌子旁吃饭。”

    他没有吭气。

    “你能把你的存折给我吗？”

    “可以，顶什么用呢！”

    “我觉得……”她欲说又止。他曾经给她说过，他还有一笔存款。可是，现在她意识到再问也没用。于是，她只好又悲凉又愤怒地呆呆地坐在那里。

    第二天，她去见他们的母亲。

    “你给沃尔特买过家具吗？”她问道。

    “是啊，我买过。”老太太冷淡地回答。

    “他给你多少钱去买家具？”

    老太太被儿媳妇的问话激怒了。

    “既然这么关心，我就告诉你，八十镑！”她回答道。

    “八十镑！可是还有四十二英镑还没有付呢！”

    “这不是我的问题。”

    “可是，钱到哪儿去了？”

    “我想你会找到所有的帐单的。你一看就知道了——他除了欠我十镑外，还 有我这儿办婚礼花去的六镑。”

    “六镑！”格特鲁德·莫瑞尔重复了一句她觉得这话太无耻，她父亲为她办婚礼花掉了一大笔钱，然而，沃尔特父亲还让儿子付六镑的酒席钱。

    “他买房子花了多少钱？”她问道。

    “他的房子——哪儿的房子？”

    格特鲁德·莫瑞尔的嘴唇都发白了。他曾告诉她，他住的房子和旁边的那间房子，都是他自己的。

    “我以为我们住的房子——”她欲言又止。

    “那是我的房子，那两间，”婆婆说：“收费并不高， 我只需要能够抵押利息就行了。”

    格特鲁德脸色苍白，一言不发地坐在那儿，神情简直跟她父亲一模一样。

    “那么说，我们应该给你付房租。”她冷冷地说。

    “沃尔特是在给我付房租。”婆婆回答。

    “多少租金？”格特鲁德问。

    “每周六先令。”婆婆回答。

     可房子不值这个价钱。格特鲁德昂起头，直直地瞅着她。

    “你很幸运，”老太太讽刺地说：“花钱用费都由丈夫操心，自己只大手大脚地用。”

     小媳妇保持沉默。

    George Coppard was bitterly galled by his own poverty. He became foreman of the engineers in the dockyard at Sheerness. Mrs. Morel--Gertrude--was the second daughter. She favoured her mother,loved her mother best of all; but she had the Coppards' clear,defiant blue eyes and their broad brow. She remembered to havehated her father's overbearing manner towards her gentle, humorous,kindly-souled mother. She remembered running over the breakwaterat Sheerness and finding the boat. She remembered to have beenpetted and flattered by all the men when she had gone to the dockyard,for she was a delicate, rather proud child. She remembered the funnyold mistress, whose assistant she had become, whom she had loved to helpin the private school. And she still had the Bible that John Fieldhad given her. She used to walk home from chapel with John Fieldwhen she was nineteen. He was the son of a well-to-do tradesman,had been to college in London, and was to devote himself to business.
　　She could always recall in detail a September Sunday afternoon,when they had sat under the vine at the back of her father's house. The sun came through the chinks of the vine-leaves and madebeautiful patterns, like a lace scarf, falling on her and on him. Some of the leaves were clean yellow, like yellow flat flowers.
　　"Now sit still," he had cried. "Now your hair, I don't knowwhat it IS like! It's as bright as copper and gold, as red asburnt copper, and it has gold threads where the sun shines on it. Fancy their saying it's brown. Your mother calls it mouse-colour."
　　She had met his brilliant eyes, but her clear face scarcelyshowed the elation which rose within her.
　　"But you say you don't like business," she pursued.
　　"I don't. I hate it!" he cried hotly.
　　"And you would like to go into the ministry," she half implored.
　　"I should. I should love it, if I thought I could makea first-rate preacher."
　　"Then why don't you--why DON'T you?" Her voice rang with defiance. "If I were a man, nothing would stop me."
　　She held her head erect. He was rather timid before her.
　　"But my father's so stiff-necked. He means to put me intothe business, and I know he'll do it."
　　"But if you're a MAN?" she had cried.
　　"Being a man isn't everything," he replied, frowning withpuzzled helplessness.
　　Now, as she moved about her work at the Bottoms, with someexperience of what being a man meant, she knew that it was NOT everything.
　　At twenty, owing to her health, she had left Sheerness. Her father had retired home to Nottingham. John Field's fatherhad been ruined; the son had gone as a teacher in Norwood. She didnot hear of him until, two years later, she made determined inquiry. He had married his landlady, a woman of forty, a widow with property.
　　And still Mrs. Morel preserved John Field's Bible. She didnot now believe him to be--- Well, she understood pretty well what hemight or might not have been. So she preserved his Bible, and kepthis memory intact in her heart, for her own sake. To her dying day,for thirty-five years, she did not speak of him.
　　When she was twenty-three years old, she met, at a Christmasparty, a young man from the Erewash Valley. Morel was thentwenty-seven years old. He was well set-up, erect, and very smart. He had wavy black hair that shone again, and a vigorous blackbeard that had never been shaved. His cheeks were ruddy,and his red, moist mouth was noticeable because he laughed so oftenand so heartily. He had that rare thing, a rich, ringing laugh. Gertrude Coppard had watched him, fascinated. He was so full ofcolour and animation, his voice ran so easily into comic grotesque,he was so ready and so pleasant with everybody. Her own fatherhad a rich fund of humour, but it was satiric. This man'swas different: soft, non-intellectual, warm, a kind of gambolling.
　　She herself was opposite. She had a curious, receptive mindwhich found much pleasure and amusement in listening to other folk. She was clever in leading folk to talk. She loved ideas, and wasconsidered very intellectual. What she liked most of all was anargument on religion or philosophy or politics with some educated man. This she did not often enjoy. So she always had people tell herabout themselves, finding her pleasure so.
　　In her person she was rather small and delicate, with alarge brow, and dropping bunches of brown silk curls. Her blue eyeswere very straight, honest, and searching. She had the beautifulhands of the Coppards. Her dress was always subdued. She woredark blue silk, with a peculiar silver chain of silver scallops. This, and a heavy brooch of twisted gold, was her only ornament. She was still perfectly intact, deeply religious, and fullof beautiful candour.
　　Walter Morel seemed melted away before her. She wasto the miner that thing of mystery and fascination, a lady. When she spoke to him, it was with a southern pronunciation and apurity of English which thrilled him to hear. She watched him. He danced well, as if it were natural and joyous in him to dance. His grandfather was a French refugee who had married an Englishbarmaid--if it had been a marriage. Gertrude Coppard watched theyoung miner as he danced, a certain subtle exultation like glamour inhis movement, and his face the flower of his body, ruddy, with tumbledblack hair, and laughing alike whatever partner he bowed above. She thought him rather wonderful, never having met anyone like him. Her father was to her the type of all men. And George Coppard,proud in his bearing, handsome, and rather bitter; who preferredtheology in reading, and who drew near in sympathy only to one man,the Apostle Paul; who was harsh in government, and in familiarity ironic;who ignored all sensuous pleasure:--he was very different fromthe miner. Gertrude herself was rather contemptuous of dancing;she had not the slightest inclination towards that accomplishment,and had never learned even a Roger de Coverley. She was puritan,like her father, high-minded, and really stern. Therefore the dusky,golden softness of this man's sensuous flame of life, that flowed offhis flesh like the flame from a candle, not baffled and gripped intoincandescence by thought and spirit as her life was, seemed to hersomething wonderful, beyond her.
　　He came and bowed above her. A warmth radiated through heras if she had drunk wine.
　　"Now do come and have this one wi' me," he said caressively. "It's easy, you know. I'm pining to see you dance."
　　She had told him before she could not dance. She glancedat his humility and smiled. Her smile was very beautiful. It moved the man so that he forgot everything.
　　"No, I won't dance," she said softly. Her words came cleanand ringing.
　　Not knowing what he was doing--he often did the right thingby instinct--he sat beside her, inclining reverentially.
　　"But you mustn't miss your dance," she reproved.
　　"Nay, I don't want to dance that--it's not one as I care about."
　　"Yet you invited me to it."
　　He laughed very heartily at this.
　　"I never thought o' that. Tha'rt not long in taking the curlout of me."
　　It was her turn to laugh quickly.
　　"You don't look as if you'd come much uncurled," she said.
　　"I'm like a pig's tail, I curl because I canna help it,"he laughed, rather boisterously.
　　"And you are a miner!" she exclaimed in surprise.
　　"Yes. I went down when I was ten."
　　She looked at him in wondering dismay.
　　"When you were ten! And wasn't it very hard?" she asked.
　　"You soon get used to it. You live like th' mice, an' you popout at night to see what's going on."
　　"It makes me feel blind," she frowned.
　　"Like a moudiwarp!" he laughed. "Yi, an' there's some chapsas does go round like moudiwarps." He thrust his face forwardin the blind, snout-like way of a mole, seeming to sniff andpeer for direction. "They dun though!" he protested naively. "Tha niver seed such a way they get in. But tha mun let me ta'ethee down some time, an' tha can see for thysen."
　　She looked at him, startled. This was a new tract of lifesuddenly opened before her. She realised the life of the miners,hundreds of them toiling below earth and coming up at evening. He seemed to her noble. He risked his life daily, and with gaiety. She looked at him, with a touch of appeal in her pure humility.
　　"Shouldn't ter like it?" he asked tenderly. "'Appen not,it 'ud dirty thee."
　　She had never been "thee'd" and "thou'd" before.
　　The next Christmas they were married, and for three monthsshe was perfectly happy: for six months she was very happy.
　　He had signed the pledge, and wore the blue ribbon of atee-totaller: he was nothing if not showy. They lived, she thought,in his own house. It was small, but convenient enough, and quitenicely furnished, with solid, worthy stuff that suited her honest soul. The women, her neighbours, were rather foreign to her, and Morel'smother and sisters were apt to sneer at her ladylike ways.But she could perfectly well live by herself, so long as shehad her husband close.
　　Sometimes, when she herself wearied of love-talk, she triedto open her heart seriously to him. She saw him listen deferentially,but without understanding. This killed her efforts at a finer intimacy,and she had flashes of fear. Sometimes he was restless of an evening: it was not enough for him just to be near her, she realised. She was glad when he set himself to little jobs.
　　He was a remarkably handy man--could make or mend anything. So she would say:
　　"I do like that coal-rake of your mother's--it is small and natty."
　　"Does ter, my wench? Well, I made that, so I can make theeone! "
　　"What! why, it's a steel one!"
　　"An' what if it is! Tha s'lt ha'e one very similar, if notexactly same."
　　She did not mind the mess, nor the hammering and noise. He was busy and happy.
　　But in the seventh month, when she was brushing his Sunday coat,she felt papers in the breast pocket, and, seized with a sudden curiosity,took them out to read. He very rarely wore the frock-coat he wasmarried in: and it had not occurred to her before to feel curiousconcerning the papers. They were the bills of the household furniture,still unpaid.
　　"Look here," she said at night, after he was washed and hadhad his dinner. "I found these in the pocket of your wedding-coat.Haven't you settled the bills yet?"
　　"No. I haven't had a chance."
　　"But you told me all was paid. I had better go into Nottinghamon Saturday and settle them. I don't like sitting on another man'schairs and eating from an unpaid table."
　　He did not answer.
　　"I can have your bank-book, can't I?"
　　"Tha can ha'e it, for what good it'll be to thee."
　　"I thought---" she began. He had told her he had a good bit ofmoney left over. But she realised it was no use asking questions. She sat rigid with bitterness and indignation.
　　The next day she went down to see his mother.
　　"Didn't you buy the furniture for Walter?" she asked.
　　"Yes, I did," tartly retorted the elder woman.
　　"And how much did he give you to pay for it?"
　　The elder woman was stung with fine indignation.
　　"Eighty pound, if you're so keen on knowin'," she replied.
　　"Eighty pounds! But there are forty-two pounds still owing!"
　　"I can't help that."
　　"But where has it all gone?"
　　"You'll find all the papers, I think, if you look--beside tenpound as he owed me, an' six pound as the wedding cost down here."
　　"Six pounds!" echoed Gertrude Morel. It seemed to hermonstrous that, after her own father had paid so heavilyfor her wedding, six pounds more should have been squanderedin eating and drinking at Walter's parents' house, at his expense.
　　"And how much has he sunk in his houses?" she asked.
　　"His houses--which houses?"
　　Gertrude Morel went white to the lips. He had told herthe house he lived in, and the next one, was his own.
　　"I thought the house we live in---" she began.
　　"They're my houses, those two," said the mother-in-law. "Andnot clear either. It's as much as I can do to keep the mortgageinterest paid."
　　Gertrude sat white and silent. She was her father now.
　　"Then we ought to be paying you rent," she said coldly.
　　"Walter is paying me rent," replied the mother.
　　"And what rent?" asked Gertrude.
　　"Six and six a week," retorted the mother.
　　It was more than the house was worth. Gertrude held herhead erect, looked straight before her.
　　"It is lucky to be you," said the elder woman, bitingly,"to have a husband as takes all the worry of the money, and leavesyou a free hand."
　　The young wife was silent.