Chapter 93
第九十三章
翌日上午，米尔德丽德脸色阴沉，闷声吞气。她把自己关在卧室里，足不出户，直到该烧中饭时才走出房门。她可是个蹩脚厨娘，除了烧排骨、炒肉片之外，会做的菜就寥寥无几了，而且她还不懂得要物尽其用，把一些碎杂儿都给扔了。因此，菲利普不得不承担一笔比原先估计的要大得多的开支。米尔德丽德摆好饭菜之后，便在菲利普的对面坐了下来，可就是不吃不喝。菲利普问她，她只说是头疼得厉害，肚子不饿。菲利普心里高兴的是他还有个好去处可以打发这天余下的时光--阿特尔涅一家子都挺爽快，且还很好客。他们一个个都怀着高兴的心情期待着他的登门造访，这倒是件意想不到的好事。菲利普从阿特尔涅家回到寓所时，米尔德丽德早已就寝了。可是到了第二天，她还是那样的一言不发。吃晚饭时，她坐在桌边，愁眉锁眼的，但他默默告诫自己要体贴她，要体谅她的心情。
"你怎么一声也不吭呀？"菲利普笑容可掬地问道。
"我受雇替人烧饭和打扫房间，可不曾想到还要与人说话。"
菲利普认为这个答话太无礼了，但是如果他们俩还要继续在一起过日子，那他就必须尽力而为，使得他俩的关系不要过于紧张。
"恐怕你是为了那天晚上的事儿生我的气了吧？"菲利普说。
谈论这件事倒叫人颇为尴尬，不过显然有必要跟她把话说清楚。
"我不知道你的话是什么意思，"米尔德丽德回了一句。
"请别发脾气。要不是我认为我们之间的关系只能是朋友关系，当初我就不会叫你住到这儿来了。我之所以提出这个建议，是因为我想你希望有个栖身之处，你也可以有个出去找个活儿干干的机会。"
"喔，别以为我看重这件事儿。"
"我
一刻儿也没这样想过，"菲利普连忙接口说，"你也不应当以为我这个人不讲情义。我知道你是为了我才提出那个事情的。我只是感到那个事情会使一切都显得丑恶和可怕，我也说不清楚自己怎么会有这种想法的。"
"你这个人真怪，"米尔德丽德说着用好奇的目光注视着菲利普，"真叫人猜不透。"
此刻，她对菲利普已无怨恨之心，但颇感惆怅迷惘，不知道菲利普究竟是什么心思。她默默地接受了这种生活方式，她的确朦朦胧胧地感到菲利普的行为是非常高尚的，对此，她不能不佩服。不过在这同时，她又想嘲笑他，或许还有点儿瞧不起他。
"他是个不好对付的家伙，"米尔德丽德私下里这么想。
对他们来说，日子倒过得挺顺当的。菲利普白天都泡在医院里，晚上除了去阿特尔涅家或上皮克大街上的那家酒菜馆以外，一般都在寓所看书做功课。有一次，一位医生邀请他出席一次正式的午餐会，因他曾在这位医生手下实习过。他还参加了两三次同学们举行的晚会。而米尔德丽德则听其自然，对这种寂寞单调的生活倒也接受下来了。要是她对菲利普在晚上把她独自一人扔在寓所这件事有所介意，她嘴上可从来不说。间或，菲利普也把她带上杂耍剧场去散散心。菲利普是在切实地贯彻他的意图，即他们俩之间的关系只能是他为米尔德丽德提供食宿之便，而米尔德丽德得以操持家务来抵偿。米尔德丽德决定夏天不去找工作，因为去找也没有用。在菲利普的许可下，她拿定主意在原地呆到秋天。她想，到了秋天，出去找工作要容易些。
"就我来说，就是你找到了工作，只要你认为方便的话，你还可以呆在这里。房间是现成的，原先我雇佣的那个老妈于可以来照料孩子。"
菲利普变得非常疼爱米尔德丽德的孩子。他有做慈父的大性，可就是没有机会得以表露。米尔德丽德待孩子也不能说不好。她把孩子照应得很好。有一次，孩子患了重感冒，她就像位尽心尽职的护士那样照料着孩子。可是，孩子使她心生厌烦。孩子一打扰她，她就恶声恶气的。她喜次这孩子，可缺少那种忘我的母爱。米尔德丽德不是个感情外露的人，相反觉得情感的流露荒唐可笑。当菲利普把孩子抱在膝上坐着，逼孩子玩、吻孩子的时候，她就大声嘲笑他。
"你真是她的生身父亲的话，也至多只能这样喜爱她了，"她说，"跟这孩子在一起的时候，你要多傻气有多傻气。"
菲利普的脸刷地红了，他就怕受人奚落。自己对另一个男人的孩子竟会如此的一往情深，真是荒唐！他不由得为自己感情的洋溢而感到难为情。然而，此刻那孩子似乎感觉到他喜欢她，便把那张小脸紧紧地贴住菲利普的脸，并依偎在他的怀抱里。
"对你来说一切都很好罗，"米尔德丽德说。"不顺心的事儿你又沾不上边。要是你夜里睡得好好的，可就因为这位小太太不想睡，让你醒上个把钟头，你会有什么想法呢？"
菲利普以为早忘却了的自己孩提时代的往事，一下子都涌现在自己的脑海里。他信手抓起了孩子的脚趾。
"这只小猪卖给市场，这只小猪留在家里。"
傍晚回家，一走进起居间，他第一眼就是搜索那四肢趴在地板上的孩子。一听到那孩子看到他后发出的愉快的叫唤声，他心里不由激起几朵兴奋的浪花。米尔德丽德教孩子管菲利普叫爸爸，可是当孩子第一次自动地叫菲利普爸爸时，她又肆无忌惮地发出一阵浪笑。
"我怀疑你是否因为这孩子是我的才这么喜欢她的，"米尔德丽德说，"不知道你对别人的孩子可也是这样的。"
"我从来不认识任何人的孩子，所以我也说不上来，"菲利普答道。
菲利普在住院部实习的第二学期即将结束。此时，他交上了好运。时值七月中旬。一个星期二晚上，他上皮克大街上的那家酒菜馆去，发现只有马卡利斯特一人在那儿。他们俩坐在一起，谈了一会儿那两位缺席的朋友。过了一会儿，马卡利斯特对菲利普说：
"喂，顺便给你说个事儿。今天我听到了一个非常好的消息。是关于新克莱恩丰顿的消息。新克莱恩丰顿是罗得西亚的一座金矿。要是你想投一下机的话，倒是可以赚一笔钱的。"
菲利普一直在心情迫切地等待这么个机会，可机会真的来了，他倒犹豫起来了。他极怕输钱，因为他缺少点赌徒的气质。
"我很想试试，不过我不知道我是否敢去冒这个险。一旦环事，我要蚀掉多少本呀？"
"就因为看你对这事很迫切，我才把这件事告诉你的，要不然，我根本不会讲。"
菲利普觉得马卡利斯特把他看作是一头蠢驴。
"我是很想赚笔钱的，"他哈哈笑着说。
"除非你准备冒险，否则就甭想赚到一个子儿。"
马卡利斯特谈起别的事情来了。坐在一旁的菲利普，嘴上嗯嗯哼哼地应答着，可心里头却一刻不停地盘算着，要是这场交易最后成功了，那么下次他们俩见面时，这位证券经纪人就会看他的笑话。马卡利斯特的那张嘴可会挖苦人了。
"如果你不介意的话，我倒想试它一试，"菲利普热切地说。
"好吧。我给你买进二百五十份股票，一看到涨上两个半先令的话，我就立即把你的股票抛售出去。"
菲利普很快就算出了这笔数字有多大，此刻，他不禁垂涎三尺。到时候，就会从天外飞来三十英镑的意外之财，他认为命运的确欠他的债。第二天早晨吃早饭时，他一看到米尔德丽德，就把此事告诉了她。可她却认为他太愚蠢了。
"我从来没碰到过有谁通过证券交易所发了大财的，"她说道，"埃米尔经常这么说的。他说，你不能指望通过证券交易所去发财。"
菲利普在回家的路上买了张晚报，眼睛一下子就盯住了金融栏。他对这类事一窍不通，好不容易才找到马卡利斯特讲起的股票。他发现股票行情上涨了四分之一。他的心怦怦直跳。蓦地，他又忧心如焚，担心马卡利斯特把他的事给忘了，或者由于别的什么原因没有代他购进股票。马卡利斯特答应给他打电报。菲利普等不及乘电车回家，跳上了一辆马车。这在他来说，倒是个罕见的奢侈行为。
"有我的电报吗？"他一跨进房门便问道。
"没有，"米尔德丽德答了一声。
他顿时拉长了脸，深感失望，重重地瘫进了一张椅子里。
"这么说来，他根本没给我购进股票。这个混蛋！"他愤愤地骂了一句。"真倒运！我整天在考虑我怎么花那笔钱。"
"喂，你打算干什么呀？"米尔德丽德问了一句。
"现在还想它做什么？喔，我多么需要那笔钱啊！"
米尔德丽德哈哈一笑，随手递给他一封电报。
"刚才我是跟你闹着玩的。这电报我拆过了。"
他一把从她手中夺过电报。马卡利斯特给他购进了二百五十份股票，并正如他说的那样，以两个半先令的利息把股票抛了出去。委托书第二天就到。有一会儿，菲利普很恼火，米尔德丽德竟跟他开这么个残忍的玩笑，可是隔了不久，他完全沉浸在欢乐之中了。
"我有了这笔钱，情形可就不同啦，"他大声叫了起来。"你愿意的话，我给你买件新衣服。"
"我正需要买一件新衣服，"米尔德丽德接口说。
"我现在把我的打算告诉你。我打算在七月底去开刀。"
"哎，你有啥毛病啊？"她插进来问道。
米尔德丽德觉得，他身患一种她不知道的暗疾这件事，兴许能够帮助她弄明白她为什么对他感到迷惑不解的原因。而菲利普涨红了脸，因为他不愿提起他的残疾。
一没什么毛病，不过他们认为我的跛足还是有办法治的。以前我腾不出时间来，可现在就没有关系了。我在医院里只呆几个星期，然后我们可以去海滨度过余下的夏日。这对你，对孩子，对我，对我们大家都有好处。"
"哦，我们上布赖顿去吧，菲利普。我喜欢布赖顿，你在那儿有那么多的颇有身份的朋友。"
菲利普依稀想起了康沃尔一带的小渔村。但是在米尔德丽德说话的当儿，他忽然觉得到那儿去，米尔德丽德会憋得发慌的。
"只要能看到大海，上哪儿都行。"
不知怎么的，菲利普心中突然萌生出一种不可抗拒的对大海的渴望之情。他想痛痛快快地洗个海水浴。他兴奋地畅想起自己拍击海水浪花四溅的情景来，没有比波涛汹涌的大海更能激起他无限的欢乐。
"嘿，那可美极啦！"菲利普叫喊着。
"倒像是去度蜜月一样，是不？"米尔德丽德说。"菲尔，你给我多少钱去买新衣服呀？"
Next morning Mildred was sulky and taciturn. She remained in her room till it was time to get the dinner ready. She was a bad cook and could do little more than chops and steaks; and she did not know how to use up odds and ends, so that Philip was obliged to spend more money than he had expected. When she served up she sat down opposite Philip, but would eat nothing; he remarked on it; she said she had a bad headache and was not hungry. He was glad that he had somewhere to spend the rest of the day; the Athelnys were cheerful and friendly. It was a delightful and an unexpected thing to realise that everyone in that household looked forward with pleasure to his visit. Mildred had gone to bed when he came back, but next day she was still silent. At supper she sat with a haughty expression on her face and a little frown between her eyes. It made Philip impatient, but he told himself that he must be considerate to her; he was bound to make allowance.
‘You’re very silent,’ he said, with a pleasant smile.
‘I’m paid to cook and clean, I didn’t know I was expected to talk as well.’
He thought it an ungracious answer, but if they were going to live together he must do all he could to make things go easily.
‘I’m afraid you’re cross with me about the other night,’ he said.
It was an awkward thing to speak about, but apparently it was necessary to discuss it.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she answered.
‘Please don’t be angry with me. I should never have asked you to come and live here if I’d not meant our relations to be merely friendly. I suggested it because I thought you wanted a home and you would have a chance of looking about for something to do.’
‘Oh, don’t think I care.’
‘I don’t for a moment,’ he hastened to say. ‘You mustn’t think I’m ungrateful. I realise that you only proposed it for my sake. It’s just a feeling I have, and I can’t help it, it would make the whole thing ugly and horrid.’
‘You are funny’ she said, looking at him curiously. ‘I can’t make you out.’
She was not angry with him now, but puzzled; she had no idea what he meant: she accepted the situation, she had indeed a vague feeling that he was behaving in a very noble fashion and that she ought to admire it; but also she felt inclined to laugh at him and perhaps even to despise him a little.
‘He’s a rum customer,’ she thought.
Life went smoothly enough with them. Philip spent all day at the hospital and worked at home in the evening except when he went to the Athelnys’ or to the tavern in Beak Street. Once the physician for whom he clerked asked him to a solemn dinner, and two or three times he went to parties given by fellow-students. Mildred accepted the monotony of her life. If she minded that Philip left her sometimes by herself in the evening she never mentioned it. Occasionally he took her to a music hall. He carried out his intention that the only tie between them should be the domestic service she did in return for board and lodging. She had made up her mind that it was no use trying to get work that summer, and with Philip’s approval determined to stay where she was till the autumn. She thought it would be easy to get something to do then.
‘As far as I’m concerned you can stay on here when you’ve got a job if it’s convenient. The room’s there, and the woman who did for me before can come in to look after the baby.’
He grew very much attached to Mildred’s child. He had a naturally affectionate disposition, which had had little opportunity to display itself. Mildred was not unkind to the little girl. She looked after her very well and once when she had a bad cold proved herself a devoted nurse; but the child bored her, and she spoke to her sharply when she bothered; she was fond of her, but had not the maternal passion which might have induced her to forget herself. Mildred had no demonstrativeness, and she found the manifestations of affection ridiculous. When Philip sat with the baby on his knees, playing with it and kissing it, she laughed at him.
‘You couldn’t make more fuss of her if you was her father,’ she said. ‘You’re perfectly silly with the child.’
Philip flushed, for he hated to be laughed at. It was absurd to be so devoted to another man’s baby, and he was a little ashamed of the overflowing of his heart. But the child, feeling Philip’s attachment, would put her face against his or nestle in his arms.
‘It’s all very fine for you,’ said Mildred. ‘You don’t have any of the disagreeable part of it. How would you like being kept awake for an hour in the middle of the night because her ladyship wouldn’t go to sleep?’
Philip remembered all sorts of things of his childhood which he thought he had long forgotten. He took hold of the baby’s toes.
‘This little pig went to market, this little pig stayed at home.’
When he came home in the evening and entered the sitting-room his first glance was for the baby sprawling on the floor, and it gave him a little thrill of delight to hear the child’s crow of pleasure at seeing him. Mildred taught her to call him daddy, and when the child did this for the first time of her own accord, laughed immoderately.
‘I wonder if you’re that stuck on baby because she’s mine,’ asked Mildred, ‘or if you’d be the same with anybody’s baby.’
‘I’ve never known anybody else’s baby, so I can’t say,’ said Philip.
Towards the end of his second term as in-patients’ clerk a piece of good fortune befell Philip. It was the middle of July. He went one Tuesday evening to the tavern in Beak Street and found nobody there but Macalister. They sat together, chatting about their absent friends, and after a while Macalister said to him:
‘Oh, by the way, I heard of a rather good thing today, New Kleinfonteins; it’s a gold mine in Rhodesia. If you’d like to have a flutter you might make a bit.’
Philip had been waiting anxiously for such an opportunity, but now that it came he hesitated. He was desperately afraid of losing money. He had little of the gambler’s spirit.
‘I’d love to, but I don’t know if I dare risk it. How much could I lose if things went wrong?’
‘I shouldn’t have spoken of it, only you seemed so keen about it,’ Macalister answered coldly.
Philip felt that Macalister looked upon him as rather a donkey.
‘I’m awfully keen on making a bit,’ he laughed.
‘You can’t make money unless you’re prepared to risk money.’
Macalister began to talk of other things and Philip, while he was answering him, kept thinking that if the venture turned out well the stockbroker would be very facetious at his expense next time they met. Macalister had a sarcastic tongue.
‘I think I will have a flutter if you don’t mind,’ said Philip anxiously.
‘All right. I’ll buy you two hundred and fifty shares and if I see a half-crown rise I’ll sell them at once.’
Philip quickly reckoned out how much that would amount to, and his mouth watered; thirty pounds would be a godsend just then, and he thought the fates owed him something. He told Mildred what he had done when he saw her at breakfast next morning. She thought him very silly.
‘I never knew anyone who made money on the Stock Exchange,’ she said. ‘That’s what Emil always said, you can’t expect to make money on the Stock Exchange, he said.’
Philip bought an evening paper on his way home and turned at once to the money columns. He knew nothing about these things and had difficulty in finding the stock which Macalister had spoken of. He saw they had advanced a quarter. His heart leaped, and then he felt sick with apprehension in case Macalister had forgotten or for some reason had not bought. Macalister had promised to telegraph. Philip could not wait to take a tram home. He jumped into a cab. It was an unwonted extravagance.
‘Is there a telegram for me?’ he said, as he burst in.
‘No,’ said Mildred.
His face fell, and in bitter disappointment he sank heavily into a chair.
‘Then he didn’t buy them for me after all. Curse him,’ he added violently. ‘What cruel luck! And I’ve been thinking all day of what I’d do with the money.’
‘Why, what were you going to do?’ she asked.
‘What’s the good of thinking about that now? Oh, I wanted the money so badly.’
She gave a laugh and handed him a telegram.
‘I was only having a joke with you. I opened it.’
He tore it out of her hands. Macalister had bought him two hundred and fifty shares and sold them at the half-crown profit he had suggested. The commission note was to follow next day. For one moment Philip was furious with Mildred for her cruel jest, but then he could only think of his joy.
‘It makes such a difference to me,’ he cried. ‘I’ll stand you a new dress if you like.’
‘I want it badly enough,’ she answered.
‘I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to be operated upon at the end of July.’
‘Why, have you got something the matter with you?’ she interrupted.
It struck her that an illness she did not know might explain what had so much puzzled her. He flushed, for he hated to refer to his deformity.
‘No, but they think they can do something to my foot. I couldn’t spare the time before, but now it doesn’t matter so much. I shall start my dressing in October instead of next month. I shall only be in hospital a few weeks and then we can go away to the seaside for the rest of the summer. It’ll do us all good, you and the baby and me.’
‘Oh, let’s go to Brighton, Philip, I like Brighton, you get such a nice class of people there.’ Philip had vaguely thought of some little fishing village in Cornwall, but as she spoke it occurred to him that Mildred would be bored to death there.
‘I don’t mind where we go as long as I get the sea.’
He did not know why, but he had suddenly an irresistible longing for the sea. He wanted to bathe, and he thought with delight of splashing about in the salt water. He was a good swimmer, and nothing exhilarated him like a rough sea.
‘I say, it will be jolly,’ he cried.
‘It’ll be like a honeymoon, won’t it?’ she said. ‘How much can I have for my new dress, Phil?’