Chapter 24 twenty four

The next morning it was cold, but not raining, and I walked down the street to the Vicarage.I recognized the names of the shops on the side of the street. They were all Kentish surnames Gans, Kemp, Cobbs, and Igulden that had lasted for hundreds of years, but I didn't meet them on the road. an acquaintance.I felt as if I were a ghost wandering the streets. I used to know almost everyone here, if not in words, at least by face.Suddenly, a very old car passed by me, stopped suddenly, reversed a little, and I saw a person in the car looking at me curiously.Then a tall, burly, elderly man got out of the car and walked towards me.

you are willieAshenden?he asked. That's when I recognized him.He was the son of a doctor in the town, and I went to school with him; we were classmates for many years, and I knew that he succeeded his father as a doctor. Hi, how are you?he asked, I have just been at the Vicarage to see my grandson.There is now a private elementary school there, and he was sent there at the beginning of this term. His clothes are very shabby and untidy, but his appearance is very good. I can see that he must have had a good face when he was young.It's strange that I never noticed this before. Are you a grandpa now?I asked.

Been three times.he said with a smile. This surprised me quite a bit.When he was born into the world, he learned to walk, and soon he grew up, married, and had children, and his children had children in turn.I judged from his appearance that he had spent his life in constant toil in poverty, and that he had the manner of a country doctor, frank, earnest, and tactful.His life is over.I still have so many plans for writing scripts in my mind, I am full of various plans for the future; I feel that there are so many activities and fun in my future life; but in the eyes of others, I am afraid that I must also be like Older people like the doctor's son in my eyes.I was so shocked at the time that I couldn't calmly ask him about his brothers who used to play with me for a few hours, or old friends who used to be with me; left him.I went on to the parsonage, a large and untidy house.In the eyes of modern clergymen who take their duties more seriously than my uncle did, the house is too out of the way and too expensive for the present cost of living.The house is situated in a large garden surrounded by green fields.There is a big square notice board in front of the door, which states that this is a private elementary school for the children of local aristocratic families, and also lists the principal's name and academic title.I looked over the fence wall; the garden was untidy and dirty, the pond where I used to fish for grouper had been filled in, and the fields that had belonged to the vicar had been set aside for building yards.There were rows of small brick houses with poorly repaired rough paths in front of them.I walked along Happy Lane, where some houses were also built, all of which were bungalows facing the sea.What used to be a checkpoint on Kazi Road is now a tidy teahouse.

I wandered around, and there seemed to be countless streets in front of me, with small yellow brick houses on both sides, but I didn't know who lived in it, because there was no one around.I walked towards the port, which was very deserted.There is only one irregular cargo ship parked not far from the pier.Two or three sailors were sitting outside a warehouse, and they all stared at me as I passed.The coal business has been sluggish, and colliers no longer come to Heishan Town. It was time for me to go to Fern House, so I walked back to the inn.The innkeeper had said he had a Daimler for hire, and I had arranged with him to take it to the luncheon.When I got back to the inn, the car was parked outside the door. It was a Bloom. ], but the oldest and most battered of this model I've ever seen; it creaked and clanked and rattled all the way, and suddenly jumped up in a rage, and I don't know if I could sit on it reach the destination.But what was so unusual and startling about the car was that it smelled exactly like the old open-top wagon my uncle used to hire to take him to church every Sunday morning.It was an acrid smell of stale straw at the bottom of stalls and wagons.After all these years, I can't figure out why this car smells like that.But nothing brings back memories of bygone times like a scent or a stench.I forgot the country I was driving through, and I seemed to see myself as a little boy again, sitting in the front seat of the carriage, with the communion tray by my side, and opposite my aunt, exuding a little clean-washed clean clothes and the smell of cologne; she was wearing a black silk cloak and a little hat with a feather in it; next to me was my uncle in his cassock with a wide ribbed silk A girdle, with a golden cross hanging from a gold chain around his neck, hung down to his stomach.

Well, Willie, you've got to behave yourself today.Sit in your seat and don't turn your body back and forth.In the temple of God there is no room for idleness.You have to remember that other children are not as good as you, and you should set an example for them. When I reached Fern Hall, Mrs. Driffield and Roy were walking in the garden, and they came to meet me as I got out of the car. I'm showing Roy my flowers.said Mrs. Driffield, shaking hands with me.Then she sighed and said: Now I only have these flowers left. She looked about the same as when I saw her six years ago, she didn't look old, she was dressed in a quiet and elegant mourning dress, the collar and cuffs were white crepe.I spotted Roy wearing a black tie to match his neat blue suit; I guessed it was in honor of the notable dead.

I'll show you my circle of herbaceous beds, said Mrs Driffield, and we went in to lunch. We went around and Roy was very knowledgeable about flowers and plants; he knew the names of all the flowers, and the Latin words rolled off his tongue like cigarettes rolling out of a cigarette machine.He told Mrs. Driffield which breeds she must add, where to get them, and which ones were particularly beautiful. Shall we go in through Edward's study?Mrs. Driffield suggested that I keep the study just as it was in his lifetime, and nothing changed.You can't imagine how many people come to visit this house; of course, what they want to see most is the room where he used to work.

We walked in through an open French window.On the desk was a bowl of roses; on the little round table next to the armchair was a copy of The Spectator; in the ashtray was the master's pipe; the inkwell contained ink.Everything is well organized.But I don't know why it seems to me that the room looks particularly dead; it already has a musty smell of a museum.Mrs. Driffield approached the bookshelf, smiled half-jokingly, half-sadly, and slid her hand rapidly over the spines of half a dozen blue-bound volumes. You know, Edward admires your work very much, said Mrs. Driffield, and he often re-reads your books.

I am very happy.I replied politely. I remember very well that the last time I visited there were no works of mine on the shelves.I took out a book pretending to be casual, and touched the top of the book with my fingers to see if there was any dust.No.I got another one, it's Charlotte.Bronte's work, I tried the same while speaking as if with seriousness.No, there is no dust on the top of the book.So the only thing I can ascertain is that Mrs. Driffield is a very good housekeeper, and her maids must be very conscientious. We then went to lunch, which was a good English lunch of roast beef and Yorkshire puddings.We talked about the book Roy was going to write.

I wanted to lighten my dear Roy a little, said Mrs. Driffield, and I have been gathering as much information as I can.This is of course quite laborious, but it is also very interesting.I found a lot of old photos that I had to show you guys. When dinner was over we went into the drawing-room, and again I noticed Mrs. Driffield's great skill in furnishing the room.The drawing-room seemed more appropriate to the widow of a famous writer than to his wife.Those chintz cloths, those bowls of potpourri that smoked the room, those Dresden porcelain statues all seemed to have a faint melancholy;I wish I could have a fire in the room on this cold day, but the British are a hard-working and old-fashioned race; and it's not difficult for them to make people uncomfortable in order to stick to their principles thing.I hardly believe that Mrs. Driffield would think of lighting a fire in the room before October 1st.She asked me if I had seen lately the lady who had brought me to their home to lunch with the couple; Those noble and fashionable people obviously paid little attention to her gradually.We had just sat down comfortably in the drawing room and started talking about the dead; Roy and Mrs Driffield began to ask clever questions, trying to get me to tell what I remembered, but I tried to keep my cool and guard against myself I accidentally let out something I was determined not to let anyone know, when suddenly the neatly dressed parlor maid came in with two business cards on a tray.

Ma'am, there are two gentlemen driving up at the door, and they're asking if they can come in and see the house and the garden. Really annoying!exclaimed Mrs. Driffield, but her tone was very cheerful, don't you think it's strange?I was just mentioning those who wanted to see the house.I can never have a moment of peace. Hey, why don't you tell them you're sorry you can't have them?Roy said, I thought he was a little sharp. Oh, that's not going to work.Edward certainly didn't want me to do that.She watches famous movies, and my glasses are not with me.

She handed me her business cards, one of which read: Henry.Beard.McDougall, University of Virginia; also written in pencil: Assistant Professor of English Literature.On the other card was Jean.Paul.Underhill, with a New York address at the bottom of the card. American.Mrs. Driffield said, go out and tell them I'd be glad if they wanted to come in and visit. After a while, the maid ushered in the two strangers.They were two tall young men, broad-shouldered, with heavy, dark faces, clean-shaven, and good-looking eyes; both wore horn-rimmed spectacles, and both had their Thick black hair, both wearing a suit that had obviously been newly bought in England; both of them looked a little awkward, but they talked in a very polite manner.They explained that they were on a literary study trip in England and were going to Rye.James bought a house in 1899 and settled here. 】 Pay homage to Henry.James' former residence, because they all admired Edward.Driffield, so I took the liberty of stopping here halfway, hoping to show them what so many associations consider a sacred place.Mrs. Driffield was not all that pleased at their mention of Rye. I think there is a lot of connection between these two places.she says. She introduced the two Americans to me and Roy.I was overwhelmed with admiration for Roy's ability to deftly handle the situation.He seemed to have given lectures at the University of Virginia before, and lived at the home of a well-known professor in the literature department of that university.It was an experience he would never forget.He wondered whether he was more impressed by the hospitality of the genial and lovely Virginians, or by their keen interest in literature and art.He asked them how somebody was doing, how was somebody; he made some friends there that he would never forget; and it seemed to him that everyone he met there was kind and friendly and intelligent.After a while the young professor told Roy how much he liked his book, and Roy humbly told him what his original intentions were for this and that book, and how he realized he had fallen far short of those intentions.Mrs. Driffield listened with a sympathetic smile, but I thought her smile became a little forced.Maybe Roy felt it too, because he stopped talking suddenly. But you don't want to hear me gossip about me, he said loudly and enthusiastically, I'm only here because Mrs Driffield thinks so much of me and has commissioned me to write a book about EdwardThe book of Driffield's life. The incident certainly aroused great interest among the guests. To be honest, it took a lot of thought.It was a good thing I had Mrs Driffield's assistance, Roy said jokingly, in an American accent.Not only was she a very virtuous wife, but she was also an excellent scribe and secretary; she handed me so much material that I had really little to do but rely on her industry and her Enthusiasm will do. Mrs. Driffield looked down at the carpet reservedly, while the two young Americans turned their large, dark eyes to her with sympathy, interest, and respect in their glances.Afterwards the conversation went on for a while, partly about literature, but also about golf, for the two guests said they would like to play a round or two when they got to Rye.When it came to golf, Roy was very good at it, and he told them to be careful of the obstacles on the course, and he hoped to play with them in Sunningdale when they got back to London.Then, hey, Mrs. Driffield got up and offered to show them around Edward's study and bedroom, and of course the garden.Roy also stood up, evidently determined to accompany them, but Mrs. Driffield gave him a faint smile, both kindly and resolute. Roy, you don't have to come.She said, let me take them for a walk.You stay here and talk to Mr Ashenden. Oh fine.certainly. Roy and I sat down again in the chintz upholstered armchairs after our guests had bid us farewell. What a nice room.Roy said. is very good. Amy had taken great pains to get the room the way it was.You know the old man bought the house two or three years before they got married.She wanted him to sell it, but he refused anyway.In some ways he was stubborn.You know, this house was originally the property of a certain Miss Wolfe, and Edward's father was the lady's housekeeper.He said that he has had an idea since he was a child, hoping that one day this house will belong to him, and now that he has finally got it, he does not intend to sell it again.One would have thought that the last thing he would have liked to do was to live in a place where everyone knew his origins and everything else about him.Poor Amy was on the verge of hiring a maid once, but luckily she discovered that the girl was Edward's grand-niece before the deal was settled.When Amy first came to live here, the house was furnished, from top floor to cellar, in the style of houses on Tottinham Court Road; you know the pattern, Turkish rugs, mahogany sideboards, plush Respectable living room furniture with modern marquetry.This is Edward.Driffield thought the house of a gentleman should be furnished.Amy said it was downright ugly.But he forbade her to change anything, and she had to be very careful.She said she couldn't live in such a house, and she was determined to make it look good; she had to change things in it one by one, so as not to attract his attention.She told me the worst thing to do was his desk.I don't know if you noticed the desk in his study now.That's a fine piece of antique furniture; and I'd love to have one.But he had used an ugly American rolltop desk.He has used that table for many years, and he has written a dozen books on it, but he just doesn't want to change it; it's not that he particularly likes this kind of furniture, but because he has used it for so long, he really can't bear to change it.You must ask Amy to tell you how she ended up replacing that desk.That was wonderful.What a wonderful woman she is; generally she can always get her way. I have noticed.I said. Just now when Roy revealed that he wanted to accompany the guest to visit the house, she stopped him immediately.Roy gave me a quick look and laughed.He is not stupid at all. You don't know America as well as I do, he said, where they'd rather have a live mouse than a dead lion.This is one of the reasons why I like America.