Chapter 5 five

Edward.Driffield did teach me to ride a bicycle.That's how I first met him.I don't know how long the low seat bicycle had been invented at the time, but in the remote part of Kent where I live, it was not common at that time.So when you see someone speeding past on a car with solid tires, you always have to turn your head until you see his figure disappear from your eyes.Those middle-aged gentlemen think it is a funny behavior to ride this kind of bicycle, and they say it is very good to walk on their own two legs; while those old ladies are afraid of this kind of bicycle, whenever they look at it When a bicycle came from a distance, they immediately ran to the side of the road.I have long been very envious of the boys who come to campus on bicycles.If you ride through the school gate with both hands off the handlebars, it's a great opportunity to show off.I've been begging my uncle to let me buy a bicycle at the beginning of the summer holidays, but my aunt objected, saying I would break my neck, but my uncle agreed more readily at my insistence, Because of course I bought the car with my own money.I ordered one before the school holidays and it arrived from Turcanbury a few days later by a freight company.

I decided to learn to ride a bike by myself, and my friends at school told me they could learn it in half an hour.I tried and tried, and finally came to the conclusion that I was stupid (I think now, I was exaggerating when I said that), but even if I completely put aside my pride and let the gardener help me into the car, I still couldn't get to the first place. At the end of the morning, I still can't seem to get on my bike as much as I started.The next day, I thought the carriage drive outside the vicarage was too winding for a good place to learn to ride, so I pushed the bike out onto a road not far outside.I know that the road is straight and level, and very quiet, no one will see me make a fool of myself.I tried to get on the car again and again in there, but fell off each time.My calf was also scraped by the running board; I felt hot and irritable all over.

I tried it for about an hour, and started to feel like God didn't want me to ride, but I was determined to keep going (because I couldn't stand the thought of God's taunting on my uncle's behalf in Heilongjiang), but then , I was disgusted to see two cyclists riding towards me on this deserted road.I immediately pushed the car to the side of the road, sat down on a fence step, and looked out at the sea as if nothing had happened, as if I had been riding for a long time, and now I was sitting there lost in thought facing the vast sea.I stared blankly, not looking at the two people riding towards me, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw that they were getting closer, and from the corner of my eye, I saw that it was a man and a woman.As they rode past me, the woman lurched toward the curb where I was sitting, hit me, and fell.

Oh, I'm so sorry, she said, I knew I was going to fall when I saw you just now. In this case, it was impossible for me to maintain my ecstasy, and I told her with a flushed face that it didn't matter at all. When she fell, the man also got out of the car. Did you hurt anywhere?he asked. No. That's when I recognized him as Edward.Driffield, that writer I saw walking with the curate a few days ago. I was learning to ride a bike, and his girlfriend said that if I saw anything in the road, I would fall off. Aren't you the pastor's nephew?Driffield said, I saw you the other day.Galloway told me who you are.This is my wife.

She held out her hand to me with a gesture of uncanny frankness, and when I took her hand she gave it a passionate squeeze.There was a smile in her eyes and on her mouth, and even when I was young, I could see that she had a very friendly smile.I was very flustered.Meeting strangers always makes me very shy and uneasy, and I didn't see her features clearly at all.I just thought she was a fair-haired woman of rather tall stature.She was wearing a blue serge skirt with a wide hem, a pink blouse with a starched front and collar, and on her thick blond hair what was probably called a flat-topped cap at the time. straw hat.I don't know if I saw it clearly at the time or if I remembered it afterwards.

I think cycling is really fun, don't you think so?She said, looking at my beautiful new bike leaning against the step, how exciting it would be to ride it well. I think her words are envious of my proficient driving skills. It just takes practice.I said. Today is my third class.Mr. Driffield says I'm making quick progress, but I feel so stupid I wish I could kick myself.How long have you learned to ride? I was so ashamed that my face was flushed red, and I could hardly say that embarrassing sentence. I don't know how to ride yet, I said, I just bought this bike, and today I'm going to try it out for the first time.

I was a bit ambiguous, but I secretly added a sentence in my heart: except I tried it in my garden yesterday, so that I can have a clear conscience. I'll teach you if you like, Driffield said kindly, come on. No, I said, I don't want to bother you anyway. why is that?asked his wife, with those blue eyes still full of kindness and friendliness, Mr. Driffield would like to teach you.Besides, I can take a break too. Driffield pushed my bike.Although I didn't want to, I couldn't stop his friendly action. I stepped into the car clumsily, shaking back and forth, but he held me firmly with his hands.

step faster.He said. I was on the running boards and he was running beside me, my car rocked back and forth and despite all his efforts I eventually fell and we were both terribly hot.Under the circumstances, it was impossible for me to maintain the aloofness which the vicar's nephew should treat Miss Wolfe's housekeeper's son.I got on the bike again and rode back, and I rode nervously alone for thirty or forty yards. Mrs. Driffield ran into the middle of the road, put her hands on her hips, and shouted loudly: Come on, come on, two to one prevails.I laughed out loud with joy, completely oblivious to my own social status.I got out of the car myself, and I must have had a smug look on my face.The Driffields congratulated me on my intelligence, and learned to ride a bicycle the first day, and I accepted their congratulations without shame.

I'll see if I can get in the car myself.said Mrs. Driffield.I sat down again on the roadside step and watched her unsuccessful attempts with her husband. Later, she wanted to rest for a while, so she sat down beside me in a disappointed but cheerful manner.Driffield lit his pipe.Let's chat.I know now that there was a frankness in her manner which made one feel free and free of all scruples, which I naturally did not then know.She always speaks with an earnest tone, full of enthusiasm for life like a child, and her eyes always have a charming smile.I can't say why I like her smile.If slyness were not an unpleasant quality, I should say there was a tinge of slyness in her smile; but her smile was too innocent to be called sly.It was a mischievous look, like a kid who does something he thinks is funny but knows you'll think he's pretty naughty.He also knows that you can't really be angry.If you don't find out what he's up to soon, he'll come and tell you himself.But of course all I knew at the time was that her smile put me at ease.

After a while Driffield looked at his watch, said it was time for them to go back, and proposed that we ride back together in style.That was the time when my uncle and aunt came home from their daily walks around town.I didn't want to take the risk of them seeing me with someone they didn't like, so I asked them to go first because they were faster than me.Mrs. Driffield disapproved of this, but Driffield gave me a brief glance of curious interest.It made me think he saw through my excuse for not going with them, and flushed with shame, he said: Let him go, Rosie, he'll ride better alone.

All right.Are you still here tomorrow?We are still coming. I will fight for it.I replied. They rode on the car and left first.After a few minutes, I also set off.I was so proud that I rode all the way to the gate of the pastor's mansion without falling off.I probably bragged about it at dinner, but I didn't mention that I'd met the Driffields. About eleven o'clock the next morning I rolled my bicycle out of the coach-house.The house, as it was called, didn't even have a pony cart in it, it was just where the gardener kept his mower and roller, and Marianne kept her bags of feed for the chickens there.I pushed my bike to the gate, got on with some difficulty, and rode along Turcanbury Road to what used to be the toll gate, and then turned into Pleasure Lane. The sky was blue, and the warm, crisp air seemed to crackle and crackle.The light is bright but not harsh.The sunlight hit the white avenue like a directed energy and bounced back like a rubber ball. I rode up and down this road a few times, waiting for the Driffields to arrive, and presently I saw them coming.I waved to them, then turned the front of the car (first got out of the car and then turned it over), and rode forward with them.Mrs. Driffield and I congratulated each other on our progress.We rode nervously, holding on to the handlebars desperately, but all in high spirits.Driffield said we must ride around the country when we were all well on our way. I'm going to dig a monument or two [note] nearby.He said. 【Note】Refers to the brass monument carved with portraits and coats of arms on the ground or wall of the church. I don't understand what he's talking about, but he won't explain. Just wait, I'll show you, he said, do you think you can ride fourteen miles tomorrow?Seven miles round trip. sure.I said. I'll bring you a piece of paper and some wax, and you can do it too.But you'd better ask your uncle if you can go. I don't need to ask him. I think you better ask. Mrs. Driffield gave me one of her mischievous and friendly glances, and I flushed bright red.I knew that if I asked my uncle for his opinion, he would disagree.It's best not to tell him anything.But as we rode on, I saw the doctor driving towards us in his hansom.I stared straight ahead as he passed me, hoping he wouldn't look at me if I didn't, but it couldn't.I feel very uncomfortable.If the doctor had seen me, the news would soon have reached my uncle or aunt, and I wondered if it would not be better for me to reveal to them this seemingly irresistible secret myself.When we parted at the parsonage gate (I could not avoid riding so far with them), Driffield said that if I could go with them tomorrow, I'd better go to their house as soon as possible to find them. You know where we live, don't you?Just next door to the Congregational Church, called Lyme Lodge. As I sat down to dinner at noon that day, I was intent on finding an opportunity to tell, consciously or not, about my chance encounter with the Driffields, but in the town of Blacklot the word traveled quickly. Who were you riding with this morning?My aunt asked, and we met Dr. Anstey in town, and he said he saw you. My uncle chewed his roast beef with a disapproving expression, looking sullenly at the plate in front of him. The Driffields, I replied nonchalantly, were the writers.Mr. Galloway knew them. They have a very bad reputation, my uncle said, and I don't want you to associate with them. Why not?I asked. I don't want to tell you why.I don't want you to associate with them, that's enough. How did you know them?my aunt asked. I was riding on the main road, and they were riding there, and they asked me if I would ride with them.I have slightly changed the actual situation to say so. I think it's really wishful thinking.my uncle said. I kept my face down and said nothing.To show my displeasure, when dessert arrived, I refused to taste a single bite of my favorite purple berry pie.My aunt asked me if I felt something was wrong. Nothing, I try to be as arrogant as possible, I'm fine. Eat a small piece.aunt said. I'm not hungry.I answered. Makes me happy too. He himself knows whether he is full or not.said uncle. I gave him a hard look. Then eat a small piece.I said. My aunt gave me a big piece of pie.I ate my pie like a man who is obliged to do something he really dislikes out of a firm sense of duty.It was actually a very tasty piece of purple berry pie.Marianne's crunchy tarts soften as soon as they are eaten.But when my aunt asked me if I could have some more, I put on a cold posture and said no.Nor did she insist.My uncle said the after-dinner prayer of thanksgiving, and I went into the living room with a hurt heart. After I reckoned the servants had finished their meal, I went into the kitchen.Emily was polishing the silverware in the pantry.Marianne was washing the dishes. Hey, what's wrong with the Driffields?I asked Marianne. Marianne had been working at the parsonage since she was eighteen.When I was a little boy, she bathed me; when I needed powdered medicine, she mixed it in plum sauce; when I went to school, she packed my suitcase; when I was sick, she nursed me. ; when I was bored, she read to me; when I was naughty, she scolded me.The maid Emily is a flirtatious young girl.Marianne wondered what would become of me if she had me in charge.Marian is a local girl from Heishan Town.She has never been to London in her life.Even Turcanbury, she probably only went to three or four times.She was never sick, never had a holiday, and was paid twelve pounds a year.One night a week, she went to town to visit her mother, who did the laundry for the parsonage; every Sunday night she went to church.But Marianne knew everything that was going on in Black Shed.She knew everyone here, who they were married to; she knew who's father died of what, how many children a woman had, and what their names were. Marianne listened to my question and slapped a wet rag down the sink. I don't blame your uncle, she said, and if you were my nephew, I wouldn't want you to associate with them either.No wonder they invite you to ride with them!Some people just can do anything. I saw that someone had already told Marianne of the conversation in the dining room. I am not a child.I said. Not a child is worse.They actually have faces here!Marianne often drops the initial h sound at will when she speaks.Rent a house and put on a gentlemanly air.Well, don't touch that pie. This is what we had for dinner. If you want to eat another piece, why didn't you just eat it?Ted.Driffield was a man who couldn't do anything long.He was also considered well educated.I only feel bad for his mom.He'd caused his mother a lot of trouble from the moment he was born, and then he went off to Rosie.Gunn gets married.I've heard people say that when he told his mother who he was going to marry, his mother fell ill in bed for three weeks and didn't talk to anyone. Mrs. Driffield had been called Rosie D. before she married.Gunn?Which family is Gann? Gunn was the most common surname in Black Tavern.The churchyard is littered with gravestones of people named Gunn. Alas, you won't know the family.Her father is Josiah.Old man Gann is also a lawless guy.He went out to serve as a soldier, and when he came back, he put on a wooden leg.He used to go out and paint people's houses, but often he couldn't find work.They lived next door to us in Rye Lane then.Rosie and I used to go to Sunday school together. But she is younger than you.I spoke with the candor typical of my age. She is over thirty. Marianne is a short little girl with a snub nose and black decayed teeth, but a good complexion, and I don't think she's over thirty-five. No matter how young Rosie pretended to be, she was not four or five years younger than me.I've heard people say she's unrecognizable in all her clothes now. Had she really been a hotel hostess?I asked. Well, first at the Railroad Badge Hotel.Later at the Prince of Wales Feather Hotel in Haversham.At first Mrs. Reeves hired her to entertain guests in the bar of the Railway Emblem Hotel, but her behavior was so indiscreet that Mrs. Reeves had to fire her. The Railway Emblem Hotel is a very ordinary little hotel, just opposite the station for the London, Chatham and Dover Railway, with a wickedly convivial atmosphere.If you passed the hotel on a winter's night, you could see through the glass doors some men lounging on the liquor counter.My uncle disapproves of this hotel so much he has been trying to get its license revoked for years.Most of the people who went there to drink were railroad porters, collier crews, and farm laborers.No well-behaved resident of Black Tavern would bother to go there, and for a pint of bitter they went either to the Bear and Key or to the Duke of Kent. Oh, what did she do?I asked with my eyes wide open. What hasn't she done?Marianne said: If your uncle happened to hear me tell you these things, he wouldn't know what to say.There wasn't a single man in the tavern who Rosie didn't flirt with, or whoever it was.She couldn't concentrate on loving a man, so she changed one after another.I've heard people say it's downright disgusting.That was when she hooked up with Lord George.A hotel of that sort was not the sort of place Lord George would have been, not worthy of a man of his grandeur, but it is said that he happened to walk in one day because his train was delayed, and he saw her there.He's been hanging around there ever since, hanging out with rough men.Of course they all understood why he was there, but he also had a wife and three children at home.Oh, I feel so sorry for his wife!How much gossip has been caused by this!Well, afterward Mrs. Reeves said she couldn't stand it for a day, and paid Rosie to pack up and walk.I said at the time, thank goodness for throwing this baggage away! I know Lord George very well.His name is George.Kemp, but they called him Lord George, a name they called him in mockery of his pomp.He is a coal merchant here, he also does a little real estate business, and he also owns a coal ship or two shares.He built a new brick house on the land of his own home, lived in it, and had his own two-wheeled carriage.He was a stocky man with a goatee under his chin, a rosy, good-looking man, and wild blue eyes.Whenever I think of him, I think he must have looked a lot like the cheerful, rosy-faced businessman in an old Dutch painting.He always dresses fancy.Whenever you see him driving briskly through the middle of the street in a light yellow leather jacket with big buttons, a brown bowler hat tilted on one side, and a red rose in the buttonhole, you Can't help but look at him a few times.Every Sunday, he always wears a shiny top hat and a frock coat to go to church.It was known that he wanted to be a parish councilor.Evidently his vigor was useful to the church, but my uncle said he would not allow it as long as he was vicar of the parish.Afterwards Lord George went to church for a year in protest at the Secession church, but my uncle persisted in spite of this.When he met Lord George in town, he pretended not to know him.They reconciled afterwards, and Lord George came to church again, but my uncle only promised to make him a vicar.Gentlemen thought him very vulgar; I thought he was a real fan of fame and braggadocio.They thought his voice was too loud, his laughter was harsh, and when he was talking to people on one side of the road, you could hear every word he said on the other side of the road, and they thought his manner was very annoying.He is too kind to people.He talked to gentlemen as if he wasn't a businessman at all; they said he was very pushy.George was gracious and easygoing with everyone he met, and he was enthusiastic about public works, and when he raised money for the annual rowing race or harvest thanksgiving, he was willing to help anyone, but if he thought his He was wrong to think that behavior could bridge the gap between him and the gentleman class in Heishan Town.All these communicative efforts of his were met with utter hostility. I remember once, when the doctor's wife was visiting my aunt, Emily came in and announced to my uncle that GeorgeMr. Kemp wanted to see him. But I heard the front door bell ringing just now, Emily.my aunt said. Yes, ma'am, he's at the front door. Everyone in the room felt embarrassed for a while.No one knew how to deal with such an unusual event.Emily always knew who should come in by the front door, who should go by the side door, and who should go by the back door, but even she was a little flustered now.My aunt was a mild-mannered person, and I thought she was genuinely bewildered by a visitor who had placed herself in such an unnatural position, but the doctor's wife snorted contemptuously.In the end it was my uncle who calmed down. Take him to the study, Emily.He said, I'll come right after I finish my tea. But no matter what he was treated, Lord George was always cheerful, showy, loud, and shouting.He said the whole town was dead and he was going to wake it up.He wants to convince the railway company to run tourist trains.He couldn't see why this couldn't be another Margate. ], and why shouldn't they have a mayor?Fern Bay has a mayor. I think he thinks he deserves to be mayor, said the man from Blacktown.They pouted.Pride is bound to fail.they said. And my uncle said you can take a horse to water, you can't force a horse to drink. I should add that at that time I treated Lord George with the same contempt and ridicule as everyone else.It annoyed me every time he stopped me in the street, called me by my first name, and talked to me as if there was no difference in social status between us.He even offered me to play cricket with his son.His sons are around my age.But they both went to grammar school at Harvardsham.Of course I can't have anything to do with them. What Marianne told me thrilled and astonished me, but I did not quite believe her.By then I had read a lot of novels and heard a lot in school, so I knew a lot about love, but I thought it was just a thing to do with young people.I can't imagine a man with a beard and sons my age having this kind of affection.I thought that once a person got married, all such affections were over.I find it rather disgusting that people over thirty are still in love. You don't mean to say they really did something, do you?I asked Marianne. I've heard people say Rosie.Gunn can do anything.Lord George wasn't the only man she hooked up with either. But, hey, why doesn't she have children? In novels I used to read that every time a pretty woman degenerates into something stupid, she has a child.The reasons for this in the book are always treated with extreme care, sometimes even indicated by a row of asterisks, but the result is always inevitable. I think it's her good luck, not her clever means.Marianne said.Then she collected herself and put down the dishes she had been busy drying.I see you know a lot of things you shouldn't know.she says. Of course I know, I say with pride, what the hell!I've actually grown up, haven't I? All I can tell you is, Marianne says, that after Mrs. Reeves dismissed her, Lord George got her a job at the Prince of Wales Feather Hotel in Haversham.From then on he always drove there to drink.You can't tell me the beer there is any different from here. Natted.Why did Driffield marry her?I asked. I don't know, said Marianne, he met her at the Feather.I don't think he can find any other woman willing to marry him.No decent girl would want him. Does he understand her? You'd better ask him to go. I stopped talking.It's all very puzzling. what does she look like nowasked Marianne. I haven't seen her since she was married.I haven't even spoken to her since I heard about what she did at the Railway Emblem. She looks fine.I said. Oh, you ask her if she remembers me and see what she says.