Chapter 2 Chapter One
There is a wall around the Abbas estate in St. Langston, and it is said that seven virgins were trapped and died inside the wall.One day, someone actually found the remains there.The five of us happened to get together two days after it happened: brothers Justin and John of St. Langstons, Melora Martin and Dick Kimber, and me—Kronsa Cali.Although the four of them are sons and daughters of a country gentleman's family, and I live in a small mud hut, my name is as noble as theirs.
The St. Langstons have owned Abbas for centuries.Before that, it was originally a monastery.Cornish stone is used throughout the building: the Germanic roof soars into the sky.The manor looks old and majestic.A house adjacent to the main building is Gothic, and several places are mottled and must have been renovated several times.I have never been inside the house, but I am very familiar with everything outside the house.There is nothing unusual about the building itself, because there are as many houses of this kind in Cornwall as in England; Virgin's story.
The several big stones standing here are said to be the incarnations of six virgins.But if the legend is true, then it's a bit of a misnomer.Because it is said that there was a nun who was turned into stone after losing her virginity.Melora's father, the venerable Charles Martin, was a man who liked to dig into the roots of history. He called these stones "Pillars of Rough Stone", which means large stone pillars left by prehistoric times.The legend about the seven virgins also comes from Charles.His great-grandfather, he said, shared his interest in studying the past; one day Charles found an old chest in a corner of the house containing notes and a story about the Seventh Virgin.He published this discovery in the local newspaper, and the sensational effect brought about by it caused many people who hadn't paid attention to it to rush to have a look. Facing the big stone pillars, they were all stunned.
The story is about six new nuns who, under the influence of an older nun, finally lose their virginity, and then, shortly thereafter, the six nuns are kicked out of the convent.Passing a meadow on the way out of the monastery, they danced in a silent protest, for which they were all turned into stone pillars.At that time, people believed that if a living person was built in the wall and allowed to linger until death, it would bring good luck to the local area.The nun who instigated the crime was more sinful than the other six new nuns, so she was built into the wall and "fortified" in this way.
The Reverend Charles said the story was pure fiction; in his opinion the pillars were older than Christianity, and stood on the plains before the abbey was built; such pillars are everywhere in Cornwall and Stowage. It can be seen; however, the people of St. Langston Township are always fond of this legend, and they are willing to believe it to be true.
Years and years passed in this way, and one day, one of the oldest walls in the Abbas estate collapsed, and Sir St. Langston Justin immediately called for repairs.
Ruben Pengast said that he was working at the moment when the wall fell, so he saw a woman standing in the wall hole.
"She stood there," he said, "and it was like I was having a nightmare, but everything in front of me disappeared quickly, and when I looked again, there was only mud and stones left."
Some say that since then, Ruben has become a little neurotic and a little out of order.It is said that he bumped into an evil spirit at night, and has been enchanted by evil ever since.
"He saw things the human eye shouldn't see," they all said, "and that's why he went crazy."
However, there is indeed a pair of dead bones in the hole in the wall. According to experts, it is a pair of bones of a young woman.There has since been a resurgence of interest in Abbas Estates, as had been the case many years before when Reverend Charles published his views on the "column of rough stone" in the newspapers.Like everyone else, I wanted to see where the bones of the dead were found.
The weather was really hot, and after lunch, I walked out of the small earthen hut.We have pea paste for lunch, my brother Joe, my grandmother Bi and I, each a bowl.In Cornwall, everyone knows pea mush, which is a kind of porridge cooked with peas.During times of famine, peas are often the staple food of the poor because they are cheaper and resistant to starvation. I was twelve years old, with black hair and dark eyes; even though I was young, I had a certain power to make the men of the past look back at me frequently.I know very little about myself, and I don't analyze myself, but I am clearly aware of my pride—one of the seven deadly sins.I used to walk in a defiant, self-satisfied way, not at all like a kid living in a mud hut, but like a noble Langston. My small earthen house is in a bush, far away from other people’s houses, which makes me feel different. Of course, the house is exactly the same as other people’s houses from substance to appearance, with rectangular mud walls, round With a round green grass roof, this is the most rudimentary dwelling for us people.However, I still often tell myself that I am different from others, and our house is different from others.My grandmother was said to be extraordinary, and I thought I was extraordinary; as for Joe, his future would be different whether he wanted to or not; I ran out of the cottage, past the church and the doctor's house, through the narrow gate of the fence, across a field, and onto the driveway of the Abbas estate.The driveway was nearly a mile long and ended at the gate to the estate; I stepped over a fence and approached the large lawn in front of the house. I stopped, looked around, and listened to the chirping of insects in the weeds.From a distance, you can see the Talent Hall where Dick Kimber lives. I really envy him that he can live in such a nice house.I had but to go a few steps before I was in forbidden ground--trespassing--and Sir Justin's punishment for trespassers, especially his village, I felt Heartbroken.I'm only twelve years old, and I thought to myself, they can't be too vicious to a child, right? Really?Once they caught Jack Thomas with a pheasant in his pocket, and they sentenced him to seven years of exile, and he is still serving at Botany Bay.At that time, Jack was only eleven years old. But I'm not interested in pheasants.I don't want to do anything illegal.Sir Justin was said to be more lenient with girls. Through the bushes, I saw that beautiful house, and I stood there, but my heart was inexplicably excited.What caught my eye was the tall Germanic-style roof and the windows separated by straight floors, so beautiful!Those carved on the pillars were still more beautiful, where the heads of dragons and griffins and winged monsters were carved, softened and beautiful with age. The lawn slowly extends to the small gravel road in front of the house.The scenery here is better: there is a lawn on one side of the road, and the lawn and the endless grass are separated by some square bamboo fences. On the other side of the fence stand six stone pillars. From a distance, it really looks like six young people women.It is not difficult for me to imagine that when night falls and a new moon rises quietly, these stones must be very beautiful.I'll have to check it out next time.Next to the Maiden Stone is an abandoned tin mine, which is very out of harmony with the surrounding scenery.But maybe it is the tin mine that makes everything here look so eye-catching. Those gimbals and hoists are still in place. As long as you climb to the top of the derrick, you can see the dark underground world. People used to say why the St. Langstons didn't get rid of the rubbish, why did they keep the old mine?This tin mine not only kills the scenery, but because it's next to those maiden stones, it's an act of sacrilege.But there is actually a reason.There was once a gambler in the St. Langston family, and when he lost the Abbas estate once, they found tin deposits on their property.So, start mining.Of course the Langston family didn't like having a mine in front of their house. They couldn't stand the miners digging holes in front of their eyes and listening to the sound of hooks and shovels clanging all day long. However, tin mining saved Abbas Manor . Once the estate was saved, however, the Langstons closed the tin mine.Grandma once told me that when Langston closed the tin mines, people for miles around suffered because they lost their jobs.But Jazz didn't care at all, he didn't care about other people's lives; he only cared about himself.Grandma said that the Langston family still kept the tin mine because it was regarded as a kind of wealth stored in the ground, and if there was any problem, the tin mine could solve it again. People in Cornwall—rich and poor alike were somewhat superstitious—the St. Langstons saw tin mines as a sign of wealth; as long as there were tin deposits in the ground, they would be well fed.There are rumors that the existing tin mines are really just a facade - there is no more to be mined.The elders in the village said that the Langston fathers knew the tin was gone and that's why they closed the tin mine, and that the Langstons liked to be thought of as rich forever and that's why they kept the mine. .For, in Cornwall, tin means money. Anyway, Justin doesn't want to go back to mining.People around here hated and feared Justin; whenever I saw him ride by on a white horse or carry a gun, he always looked like a man-eating demon.From what my grandmother told me, I felt that he might have some truth in considering the property in Langston Village as his own, but that he should treat all the people as his private property-this is too much.Although he didn't act like an old slave master, he seduced quite a few girls.Grandma often warned me to stay away from him. I walked towards the Maiden Stone.I stopped and leaned against one of the rocks.These standing stones are surrounded by a circle, as if they were suddenly turned into stones at the moment of dancing.They were of different heights—just as in real life, two were taller, and the rest looked plump and in their prime.In the hot afternoon, surrounded by silence, I feel as if I have become one of them.I think if I was in the situation at that time, I would also commit their heinous crimes, and if I was found out, I would dance like no one else. I gently stroked the cool stones, and felt that one of them felt my deep sympathy. She bent down, and there seemed to be a feeling of mutual understanding between us. I used to have wild ideas, and it was all my grandmother's fault.It would be dangerous for me to go any further.I'm running across the lawn, and the people who live in the house will spot me at the windows.I rushed to the side of the house and pressed against the wall. I know that the workmen are sitting not far away at this moment, eating the crispy brown bread just baked in the morning; we call this bread "muffin"; They also wrap some muffins in a red handkerchief to take home. I entered cautiously through a door, and saw the garden within the wall; beside the wall were planted willows and roses, which were emitting a pleasant fragrance. That should be the end of it, but I still want to go in and see the wall where the nun's bones were found. A wheelbarrow was leaning against the opposite wall, and some labor tools were scattered on the floor, which must be here. I stepped forward quickly, and looked in through the hole in the wall.It was empty inside, like a small room, about seven feet high and six feet wide.Obviously the space inside was designed and looking at this small room, I believe the story of the Seventh Virgin is true. I wanted to crawl into the hole and stand where the nun had stood, to experience what it was like to be walled.The hole in the wall was about three feet above the ground, and I scratched my leg when I climbed in.After entering, I turned my back to the entrance of the cave, and tried to imagine what it would be like for the nun to be forced in, waiting for death in the dark.I can understand her fear and despair at the time. There was a musty smell in the air.I think this is probably the breath of death. My rich imagination makes me feel that I am the seventh virgin. I have sacrificed my virginity casually, and now I have to face death; but I said to myself: " If there is an afterlife, I will still be me!" I am too proud to admit how frightened I really am; I wish the nuns were as proud as I am, for although pride is not a virtue, it is the most effective balm in pain, and it makes people indomitable. A loud voice brought me back to the real world. "I really want to see it!" I recognized Melora Martin, the vicar's daughter. I didn't like her. She always wore neat gingham dresses, white stockings, and shiny black lace-up shoes. .I should also have a pair of shoes like hers, but I don't, so I turned my helpless mood into a disapproving attitude towards her.She is twelve years old, the same age as me.I have seen her sit at the vicarage window absorbed in a book, or read aloud and do her needlework in the garden with her governess.Poor prisoner!However, what makes me most uncomfortable is that I really want to read but can't.I vaguely feel that it is cultural differences that create inequality among people, rather than beautiful and expensive clothes.People say Melora's hair is blond, but I say buff; her blue eyes are big and bright, and her complexion is ruddy.I secretly call her Mellie.Because, Melora, that name sounds too elegant.Actually, my own name isn't bad either, my grandmother said, Cronsha, in the Cornish dialect, which means peace and love; I've never heard of Melora having any special meaning. "You'll get your clothes dirty!" said John of St. Langston's. "If the Langston family finds out that it's me, it's over!" I was secretly worried.But John is said to be more forgiving than his father in his treatment of women.John is fourteen years old.I've seen him walk with his father, carrying a gun.Almost everyone in their family can hunt.He's not as tall as me, but I'm considered tall among my peers?Tall, John was handsome, but not Melora's good-looking.There was nothing St. Langston about him. I was relieved to see that it was only John and Melora. "I don't care! John, do you believe in the legend of the nun?" "Of course I do." "Poor woman! Being imprisoned...alive..." "Hey!" Another voice came from not far away, "Get away from that wall." "We want to know where they found the nun's bones!" said John. "Nonsense! No one can prove that it belonged to the nun, it's just a legend!" I tried my best to retreat into the corner, thinking that I should rush out and get away.Still have to stay in place?It is not easy to climb out of the hole in the wall, and they will definitely be caught by them-especially now that there is another person. Melora had peered into the cave, and gasped as her eyes adjusted to the darkness in the cave.At that moment I was sure she must have seen me as the Seventh Virgin. "Oh..." She opened her mouth wide, "She..." John's head emerged from the hole.After being silent for a while, he seemed to be talking to himself and said, "So it's the girl from the little earthen house." "Be careful! There's going to be trouble!" I recognized Justin, St. Langston's heir to the estate, speaking.He's still in college and on vacation at home. "There's someone inside," John said. "I can't believe virgins are still in there!" said another voice, which was Dick Kimber, who lived in the Gift Hall and studied with Justin at Oxford. "Come and see for yourself!" said John. I hurriedly moved to the corner, I didn't know what I was more afraid of - whether they found me here or let them see me like this - "the little girl in the small earthen house", he actually looked at me like that. Another face appeared at the mouth of the hole, brown skin, black hair matted; brown eyes smiling. "I said it wasn't the nun," said Dick Kimber. "Doesn't she look a bit like it, Kim?" John said. Now Justin pushed them aside and peered in; he was tall and thin, with a calm look and voice. "What is this?" he asked. "Not 'something,'" I said, "I'm Miss Clenza Carley." "You are a child in a small mud hut," he said, "you can't come here, come out!" I hesitated, wondering what his next move would be.I seem to have been taken to his house by him and told others that I was trespassing on other people's territory.I really don't want to stand in front of them like this.My smock was too small and shabby; my feet were not ugly, but my brown complexion looked a little dirty without shoes.In fact, in order to appear educated, I went to the creek to wash my feet every night, but because I didn't have shoes, I was always dirty after the day. "What's the matter?" asked Dick Kimber, who they called Kim and I always called him Kim, "why don't you come out?" "Go away," I said, "I'll get out." He was about to walk in when Justin warned him, "Be careful, Kim, you're going to bring down the whole wall." Jin stood motionless, "What did you say your name was?" he asked me. "Clentha Carley." "Nice name, but you'd better come out now." "Then go away first." "Jingle bells, Clentha fell down the well." "Who put her in there?" King continued. "Is it because she committed some crime?" They are all laughing at me.I climbed out of the hole in the wall and was about to run away, but they surrounded me. At that moment, I felt no different from staying in the hole in the wall just now. They must have noticed the difference between me and the other girls in the small mud huts.My hair is black and shiny, with a blue sheen; my big eyes stand out on a small face; my olive skin is smooth and delicate.They were all well-groomed and well-bred; even Kim, who was grinning and tousled. There was a hint of confusion in Melora's blue eyes, and I suddenly realized that I had underestimated her a little.She is weak, but she is definitely not stupid, she is much smarter than the others around her. "Don't be afraid, Clenza," she said. "Oh, that's not the problem," said John. "Miss Clenza Carley was caught trespassing, and we've got to figure out what to do with her." He was obviously taunting me.He wasn't really trying to punish me; he noticed my long black hair, and his eyes flicked over my shoulders that were exposed by the smock. "It's human nature to be curious," King said. "That's stupid," Justin said, turning to me. "You're acting stupid. Don't you know that it's dangerous to climb into a hole in a wall that has just fallen in? Besides, what are you doing in there?" Without waiting for an answer, he said, "Get out of here... hurry!" I don't like any of these people.I hated Justin's indifference as if I were as low as anyone's child on his father's land, John's and Kim's jeers, and Melora's sympathy for knowing my mind too well. I ran as fast as I could, and after reaching a certain distance, I couldn't help but stop and look back at them. They watched me in a semicircle, and I noticed Melora's expression of concern—she was worried about me. I stuck out my tongue at them and I heard John and Kim laughing.I turned and ran in the direction of home.
When I got home, my grandma was already sitting at the door. She often sat by the door and basked in the sun. The stool was leaning against the wall, with a pipe in her mouth. When she smiled at Mimi, her eyes were always half-closed and half-open. I sat down next to her and told what had just happened.She put one hand on top of my head, stroking my hair.Although she was old, her hair was still thick and black.This has nothing to do with the meticulous maintenance she has carried out.Sometimes she braids her hair in two thick braids, and sometimes she puts her hair up high.People said that an elderly person like her should not have such beautiful hair, and grandma was very proud of it.Yes, her hair is not only her pride, but also a symbol.I used to tell her it looked like Samson's hair in the Bible, and she would laugh.I know she made a lotion herself and used it every night to brush her hair and give her head a five-minute massage.No one knew the secret but me and Joe; in fact, Joe never noticed, he was always busy with a wounded bird or some other small animal, and I used to sit and watch Granny fix her hair.Once, she said: "I will tell you how to protect your hair in the future, Kronsa, and then your hair will be as beautiful as mine, and it will still be brilliant when you die." It was not taught to me. "I'll tell you in due time," she said, "and if I die suddenly, you'll find the recipe in a little box in the cupboard." Grandma loved Joe and me so much, her care was extremely warm, and more importantly, I was the closest person to her.As for Joe, we loved him with the care and thoughtfulness of a small animal, but there was also a kind of closeness between my grandmother and me. Grandma is very smart. I don’t just mean that she has a good mind, but that people for miles around know that she has a special ability. She can cure all kinds of minor diseases and disasters, and there are many people who come to see her. No doubt, they trust her more than doctors.Various herbs are always prepared in our small earthen hut, and various fragrances waft in the room.I also learned to go to the jungle to collect the right plants.She was also believed to have a knack for predicting the future; I begged her to teach me, but she said she had learned it by her own experience and observation.She believes that human nature is similar, there are good and bad, and there are good and bad, as long as you can distinguish the ratio of good and bad!If you know the person who asks you about your fate, then you can predict his future as boldly as possible. This is a prophet.When you get good at it, people will believe it, and they will often follow the advice you tell them to live, which in turn helps you to predict their future with further accuracy. All three of us lived off my grandmother's wit, and we did pretty well.If someone kills a pig, they send us a leg.Often someone would drop a bag of potatoes or peas on our doorstep as a token of appreciation; others would automatically deliver freshly baked bread.I'm also a good businessman, and I'm good at cooking, especially bread, desserts, and chicken pies. Ever since Joe and I moved in with my grandmother, I've been in a much brighter mood than before. But what comforts me the most is the tacit understanding formed between me and my grandmother; at this moment, sitting next to her, I feel this warmth again. "They made fun of me, Brother St. Langston and Kim. Melora didn't make fun of me, she felt sorry for me." Grandma said, "If you were to make a wish now, what would you most wish for?" I grabbed a handful of grass on the ground and kept silent; I never said what I wanted in my heart. She answered for me: "You want to be a rich lady, Clenza, in a carriage, in silks and satins, with rich nightgowns and shoes with silver straps." "I want to read and write more," I looked at my grandma with eager anticipation, "Grandma, can this wish come true?" She didn't answer, and I suddenly felt dejected, thinking silently why she could predict the future of others, but why she couldn't tell, what would my future be like?I was full of longing, but she turned a blind eye.The sun cast a layer of brilliance on her black braids, making her look solemn and noble.Her eyes, though not as well maintained as her hair, were still radiant. "What are you thinking?" I asked her. "I'm reminiscing about the day you first got here, do you remember?" As I rest my head on her lap, memories come flooding back. Our first few years - Joe and I - were spent by the sea.Dad also has a small mud house on the pier, which is similar to the one we live in now, except that there is a cellar in that one. If Dad catches a lot of sardines, we will marinate the fish and put them in the cellar.Whenever I think of Dad's cabin, I can smell a fishy smell - a pleasant smell, which when wafted through the house means that our little cellar is well stocked, enough to feed us several times. a week. I used to take care of Joe all the time.Joe was four and I was six when Mom died.My mother asked me to take care of my younger brother when she was dying.Sometimes, when Dad went fishing, we were very worried. The roaring sea wind seemed to throw our hut into the sea at any moment. I hugged Joe and sang to him, and he was no longer afraid.I told myself not to be afraid, and then I was really not afraid.From then on, I gradually realized that there is nothing to be afraid of in this world. Whenever the sea is calm and the sardine fishing news comes, our happy mood is beyond words.The fishermen on the beach walk around, and once they find a school of fish, they send out fishing signals to everyone.I remember the excited "Hi-Wah!" which means "here come the fish" in the Cornish dialect.Then, I saw fishing boats from all walks of life set sail one after another, and then returned with a full load, and our small cellar was filled with fish.In the church, in addition to wheat, fruits, and vegetables, sardines are also placed, which are offerings made by fishermen to God. They, like farmers, sincerely praise the holy Lord. Joe and I were busy in the cellar: put a layer of fish, sprinkle a layer of salt, and so on, until the fingers became stiff and numb, and the whole small room smelled fishy. This is our happy hour.But when winter came and our cellars ran out of stock, and the sea was rough and there was no fish to catch, Joe and I walked the sand with the other kids and dug in the dark of night with little iron hooks for hidden fish. Tendon fish in the sand; we took home what we caught and burned it, and what else?Shellfish and mud snails can also be used to make soup.Later, he boiled nettles and ate them.I will never forget the pangs of hunger as long as I live. We think about it day and night, hoping to hear the happy "hi-wah, hi-wah," but often wake up even more depressed. I saw the look of despair in my father's eyes.I saw the way he looked at me and Joe, and felt he had something important to say.He said to me: "Your mother often told you about grandma." I nod.Mama said Grandma lived in a place called St. Langston. "I think she must be looking forward to seeing you--you and Jo." As Dad turned and pulled the boat toward shore, I understood what he meant.Years at sea had made him well aware of the hardships he foresaw to come.I remember him coming into the cottage and saying to me, "They're back! We'll have sardines again for breakfast. Take good care of Joe until I get back." I watched him go.I noticed there were other people on the beach, and they were talking to him, and I could tell they were trying to persuade him to go back, but he wouldn't listen. I hate the southwest wind.Every time I listen to the wind, I will think of the wind that night.I put Joe to sleep, but I couldn't sleep myself, thinking about "Sardine Breakfast" in my mind, and the wind whistling in my ears. He never came back, leaving me and Joe.I do not know what to do?But for Joe's sake he had to put on a show.I racked my brains trying to figure out what I could do, and I kept thinking about what my mother told me to take good care of my brother, and my father's words: "Take care of Joe until I come back." Neighbors helped a little, but times were hard, and life was hard for everyone; some said they were sending us to child labour.I thought of the grandma my father had talked about, and I told Joe, let's go find grandma.So we set out for St. Langston, and, after a lot of trouble, we got here. Another thing I will never forget is that first night with my grandmother.She wrapped Joe up in a blanket, and gave him hot milk; then she made me lie down, and washed my feet, and oiled the wounds on them.The next morning, I felt miraculously better. It was incredible.To this day, I can still feel the joy that surged in my heart at that time.I really feel that I am home, and my grandma is the closest person to me.I love Jo, but I'm even more attached to Grandma, who never ceases to amaze me.I can't forget her lying on the bed, letting go of her long, dark hair, combing and massaging her dignified schedule without the sudden arrival of two grandchildren. Grandma healed my wounds, fed me, clothed me -- and built my pride and self-esteem.The little girl who had just arrived and was extremely tired was completely different from the me who stood in the hole in the wall. She knows things like a god, and my grandma knows all my thoughts like the back of my hand. We quickly adapted to our new life here.We went from fisherman's life to community life.Although the Langston family tin mine ceased production, another mine called the Feder mine provided employment for many people in the village of St. Langston.I later discovered that the miners were as superstitious as the fishermen.Every sound of going down the shaft is a dangerous signal, however, the miners regard this as an opportunity to serve the god of luck.Grandma used to sit there and tell me stories about the miners.My grandfather was also a miner.She said they used to put a big pie outside the door to appease the goblins.That big pie was meant to be a decent lunch for a very hungry workman.She said angrily that the head of the miner always gave verbal rewards, but did not give the workers a wage increase; this means that if the mine output is not large, the workers' wages will be reduced accordingly; Stores where coupons are exchanged for physical goods, the goods in those stores are expensive, but the workers have nothing to do. When I listen to my grandmother tell these things, I can't help but imagine myself walking down the mine shaft, and I seem to see miners in rags, wearing tin protective caps on their heads, with a candle attached to their caps; I felt that I was walking into a dark cage; the workmen were at work, and I felt the warm air and quivering ore; I felt that at any moment a hungry ogre might appear before me, or It's a black dog, a white rabbit; if you do see these things, people call them portents of bad luck. I said to my grandmother, "I remember it very well." "What brought you here to me?" she asked. "Is it a chance?" She shook her head. "That's a long way for such a small child. But you believe you can get there, right? You know that if you just keep going, you'll come to me, right?" I nod. As if she answered the question correctly, she smiled happily. "I'm thirsty, dear," she said, "go get me some sloe." I go into the house.There is only one large room in the grandmother's house, besides this, there is also a small room made of stones, where she often prepares various medicines and treats patients.The one big room was both our bedroom and our living room.There is still a story to tell!The house was built by my grandfather, Pedro Bowencio.The Cornish people called him Pedro Bee.Grandma said that the custom here is that if you can build a house overnight, then the homestead will be yours, so Grandpa has been busy for this reason.He chose this place—an open field among the bushes, and found thatch, brackets, and clay for building walls; on a night when the moon was full, he called several friends to build the house together.Usually people just built the four walls and then slowly added windows, doors and chimneys.But Pedro Bi finished it all in one night, as the Romans do, and it was perfect. Pedro is Spanish.Perhaps it was because he heard that Cornwall had a strong Spanish flavor, and so many Spanish sailors set foot on the coast, fell in love with local women, and settled down. He also came here.Some of the Spaniards here look like Melora, with blond hair; but most still inherit black hair, bright black eyes, and hot tempers, which are very different from the mild climate of the place. Pedro loves his wife Clenza - who has the same name as me.He loved her black eyes and black hair; black hair and eyes made her miss Spain.They got married, stayed together in the small earthen house they built with their own hands, and gave birth to a daughter, who is my mother. I walked past the storeroom and into the room to get the sloe wine. Since it was the only bedroom, we built a loft in the middle for me and Joe, and put a ladder in the corner of the room so we could go up and down. Joe was up in the attic at the moment. "What are you doing?" I asked. He ignored me, and after I asked a few words, he raised the pigeon in his hand. "It's got a broken leg," he said, "and I'm going to fix it." The pigeon looked very honest and quiet in his hands, and I saw that Joe had already made a small splint to tie it to the leg of the pigeon.Every time Joe healed the little animal, the little animal always quietly cooperated with him in his hands, which is incredible.有一次，一只大野猫悄悄地走到乔身边，用脑袋擦擦乔的腿，乔马上知道是在向自己讨吃的。乔也从不只顾自己吃，他总要留下一份去喂小动物。大多数时候，他总在树林里转悠。有一次，我找到他时，他正趴在地上专心地观察草丛里的昆虫。 乔的手指纤细柔软，似乎专用来给小动物疗伤的，除此之外，他对动物总有一种超乎寻常的感知。他用外婆调制的药膏给小动物治病，只要为了他的小动物，他从不吝啬他收藏起来的任何宝贝。 看着乔为小动物疗伤，我的心中浮起了一个梦想。我彷佛看到了他成为受人尊敬的圣·朗斯顿村的医生。我想，如果那些找外婆看病的人真的十分信赖她的药方，他们就不应该仅仅口头上表示感谢；外婆尽管是智慧超群，但她却只住在这么差的小土屋里，而希拉德医生却生活富裕。我下定决心，要让乔当一名医生，我自己要当贵妇人，这两种愿望一样强烈。 “你把鸽子治好后又会怎么样？”我问。 “它就可以飞，自己去寻找食物。” “那你又得到了什么？” 他好像没听见我的话，对鸽子轻声细语地说着什么。如果他刚才听见我的话，他一定会皱皱眉头说，让受伤的小动物恢复健康是他最大的快乐。 每次走进我们的小小贮藏室，我总感到无比舒畅。在库房四周放着长长的板凳，凳上摆满了瓶瓶罐罐；房顶上横着一根梁木，上面放着各种草药，草药的清香扑鼻而来，还有一个壁炉和一个被熏黑了的大锅子，旁边长凳下面就摆着外婆所调制好的药剂。我找到那盛黑刺李酒的坛子，往玻璃杯里倒了一些，拿出去给外婆。 外婆呷着酒，我静静地坐在她身边。 “外婆，”我说，“告诉我，我的愿望能不能实现？” 她看着我，笑着说：“我亲爱的，你就像那些姑娘，跑到我这里问我她们的情人是否真心爱她们。你不应该问我的，克伦莎。” “可是我想知道。” “那听我说。答案很简单。聪明人不用别人告诉他们将来会怎样，他们自己创造未来”
这一天，整日枪声不断。显然，阿巴斯庄园的人又在狩猎聚会。我们看到一辆辆马车接踵而至，每年这个时候都是这样，他们在森林里打野鸡。 乔坐在阁楼的床上，前几天带回的一条狗躺在他身边。小狗已能自己跑动，但它仍紧跟着乔，不肯离去。乔与小狗同吃同住，快乐至极。可是，今天，乔显得很烦的样子。他一定是想起了去年他们打猎时，他看到被击中的，或是受伤的野鸡纷纷落下的惨象。 他拍了拍桌子说：“最让我担心的是那些受伤的野鸡。如果被一枪打死，倒也罢了，可是那些受伤的，如果又没被人发现……” 我说：“乔，你得理智些，对于那些无可奈何的事你最好别管。” 他觉得我说得对，就老实待在家里了。他就这样陪着身边的小狗。他给它取了个名字叫“鸽子”，因为这条狗来的那天已经痊愈了的鸽子飞走了。 看着乔愤闷的神态，我觉得他有些地方与我很相似，这让我感到不安，我从来猜不到他的行为。我常说他很幸运，整日在林子里闲逛，寻找小动物，而与他同龄的许多孩子早就在费德矿厂干活了。很多人对乔不去做点事，整日待在家里深表不解，可是我知道，外婆与我一样，对乔的前程寄以很大希望。只要我们目前能填饱肚子就绝不让他去干活。这也是外婆与众不同的做法。 外婆知道我很担心，所以要我陪她一起到林子里去采集药草。 我很高兴能出来走走。 外婆说：“别为他担心，他就是这个样子，看到受伤的小动物就痛苦不已。” “外婆，我希望……希望他成为一名医生，给人治病。实现这个梦想要花很多钱吗？” “你觉得他自己愿意吗？亲爱的？” “既然他那么热中于疗伤治病，那为什么不愿意给人看病？况且还可以用来谋生创业，而且受人尊敬。” “但也有可能他不像你，那么在乎别人怎么看自己，克伦莎。” “我不允许他放任自己！”我说。 “如果命中注定他是位医生，那他会成为医生的。” “但你不是说根本没有命中注定的事，一切全是靠自己创造的。” “是由每个人自己创造的命运决定的。他决定他的，你管你自己的。” “他整天躺在床上，和动物待在一起。” “随他去吧，宝贝，”外婆说，“他会选择他自己的生活的。” 可我就是不允许他随心所欲地生活，我要让他明白一定要好好选择自己的命运。我们都应该享受更好的生活，我们三个：外婆、乔和我都应该有更好的明天。我真不明白外婆为什么没有意识到这一点，而心甘情愿地接受眼前的一切？ 采集草药的时候，我常常心静如水。外婆教我哪种草药长在哪儿，她还向我讲解各种草药的药用价值，可是，今天，采草药的整个过程中，充斥在耳边的尽是打猎的枪声。 我们累了，就坐在树底下休息，我让外婆跟我讲讲过去的事。 每当这种时候，我彷佛觉得是外婆施了魔法让我中了邪，让我变成了她，那位与众不同的佩德罗已在向我求爱。他唱着西班牙情歌。外婆不懂西班牙语，不知道他在唱什么？ “不一定要懂歌词才能欣赏歌曲，”她说，“在那个时候，因为他是个外国人，所以不太受人欢迎。在康沃尔这么小的地方，要干的活本来就不多，因此一个外国人要想找份工作养家餬口就更难了。可佩德罗不以为然地一笑置之，他说只要能看到我就够了。他说他不会走的，我到哪儿，他就去哪儿。” “外婆，你真心诚意地爱他吗？” “他是我的男人，我不想要别的——心里也没有过别人。” “这么说你从来没有过别的情人？” 我注意到她脸上闪过一种少有的表情。她把头稍稍倾向阿巴斯庄园的方向，彷佛是在聆听枪声。 “你外公的脾气不太好，”她说，“谁要是得罪了他或触怒了他，他会杀了那人。” “那么他有没有杀过人？外婆。” “没有。但是，如果他知道这事，他也许会的……” “什么事情，外婆？” 她沉默不语，脸上显出一种令人费解的神情，彷佛是戴了个面具似的。 我靠着外婆，抬头看着高高的树。松树依然一片苍葱，整个冬天都保持枝繁叶茂；其它树上的叶子已开始泛黄。冬天就要来了。 过了好大一会儿，外婆说，“都已是很久以前的事了。” “你是说你有过情人？” “他不算是我的情人，我告诉你吧，也许真的该告诉你了——对你也是一种教训。会让你明白世态炎凉，也许你将来也会碰到类似的事。那个人叫贾斯廷·圣·朗斯顿……不是现在的贾斯廷爵士，是爵士的父亲。” 我坐在她身边，吃惊得张大了眼睛。 “你，外婆，和贾斯廷·圣·朗斯顿爵士！” “是贾斯廷的父亲，不过，这父子俩差别也不大。那家伙是个恶棍。” “那你为什么……” “为了佩德罗。” "how is this possible……" “这就要你听完以后，用脑子公正地看待这件事，孩子。我现在告诉你，我一定要讲给你听。自从他看到我的第一眼起，就对我着了迷；我是本地人，已订了婚。他肯定查问了我的情况，知道我马上就要嫁给佩德罗。我记得他对我费尽心机。在离他家不远的地方有一个围墙围起来的花园。” I nod. “我那时真傻，想去他们家的厨房探望一个女佣。我走进花园的时候，他看到了我，他对我一见倾心，向我保证要给佩德罗一份既安全又丰厚的工作；他说在矿井下干活太危险；但条件是，我必须听话。我爱佩德罗，而且马上就要结婚了，除了佩德罗，谁也无法占据我的心。” “然后呢？外婆！” “太吃惊了，对吧，我的宝贝？这件事发生以后，我也想过，但我觉得不能怪我。这一切正像我对你说的那样是由自己的命创造出来的。我的未来是与佩德罗在一起。我希望能与他在我们小屋里相濡以沫，白头偕老，我们的子孙满堂，男孩子们长得像他，女孩们像我，我当时只想全力挽回我与佩德罗的共同未来。那么，把自己给他一次又何妨？后来发生的事证明我这样做是对的。要不然，佩德罗早就没命了。你很难想像从前的贾斯廷爵士是个什么样的人。在他眼里，我们这种人就像随杀随捕的野鸟，天生就是给他取乐的。当时，我如果不答应他的要求，他肯定会杀了佩德罗，或者只消把他安排在一个极危险的岗位上，从而置他于死地。我不想让他毁了我和佩德罗的未来，所以，我就主动去找他。” “我真恨圣·朗斯顿家的人！”我说。 “世事变迁，克伦莎，人也随之改变。人世险恶，但现在的世道比我在你这个年龄时的好多了。等到将来，你孩子像你这么大的时候，生活又会更容易些。事情总是这样会慢慢好起来的。” “外婆，后来怎么样了？” “故事还没讲完。他很喜欢我，仅仅一次远远满足不了他的欲望。佩德罗喜欢我这头又黑又亮的头发，他也喜欢。在我结婚后的第一年中，阴云一直笼罩在我心头，我难过极了。本该是与佩德罗一起享受幸福的日子，但我却不得不去他那儿。你知道，如果佩德罗发现了我的秘密，会把他杀了——因为他深深地爱着我。” “那你一定害怕极了，外婆。” 她皱皱眉头，彷佛是在极力回忆。“这真有点像赌博。就这样过了一年后，我发觉自己怀孕了……我拿不准是谁的孩子。克伦莎，我不想要他的孩子，不想要。万一生下来的孩子长得像他，简直太可怕了……而且又不得不欺骗佩德罗……那会像永远洗不净的污点。绝对不能那样。所以，后来就没留下这个孩子，克伦莎，我生了一场大病，差点丢了命，但那孩子没有了。这就是这段故事的结尾。他渐渐地把我忘了。我尽力在感情上弥补佩德罗。我告诉他尽管我也有发脾气的时候，但我是世界上对他最温柔的女人。他高兴极了！克伦莎，他感到很幸福。但有时候，我想，我之所以对他百般柔情，是因为我曾对不起他。我觉得自己很不自然，就像恶贯满盈的家伙做了件善事令人难以置信。这件事使我开始理解生活，也学会帮助别人。所以，克伦莎，你今后千万不要为生活中已发生的事感到遗憾、后悔，不管发生的事是好是坏，都要一视同仁；因为在生活中，好坏善恶总是掺和在一起的，这是再明白不过的道理，就如同你我此刻端坐在这儿一样实实在在。两年以后，你的母亲——佩德罗和我的女儿出世了。为了生她，我又一次死里逃生，但从此以后，我再不能有孩子了。我想这也是对我所做的报应。生活毕竟是美丽。日月如梭，人的罪恶也被一点点地冲淡。多少次，我对着镜子里的自己说：'你别无选择，只有这样。'” “但是，他凭什么就这样破坏你的生活！”我感到义愤填膺。 “世上的人有强弱之分：如果你天生柔弱你就得想办法寻找力量。只要你努力，你就一定会找到。” “外婆，我能找到自己的力量的。” “是的，女孩，你只要愿意，就能找到。一切全在自己手上。” “哦，外婆，我真恨圣·朗斯顿家的人！” “不，他早就死了，一切如过眼烟云。不要因父辈的罪过而去仇恨他们的下一代，也不要因为我去责怪你自己呵！我与佩德罗过得很幸福。但接踵而至的却是悲伤的回忆了。那天他上早班。我知道他们在引爆开矿，佩德罗开着矿车进去把矿石装上车。我不知道下面出了什么事——谁也不知道究竟怎么了。我一整天都坐在井台上等他出来。我等了十二个小时，当人们把他抬出来时，他已经不再是原来那个佩德罗了。他还活着……活了几分钟，刚好与我做最后的告别。'上帝保佑你'，他说，'谢谢你陪伴我的生命旅程！'还有什么话比这更动听？我后来想，即便没有贾斯廷爵士这回事，即便我能为他生下一个健康的儿子传宗接代，这仍然是他能对我说的最美妙的话了。”说完，她站起身，我俩一起走进屋子。 乔带着“鸽子”出去了。外婆带我走进小库房。库房里有个小盒子，一直锁着。她打开盒子让我看里面的东西。盒子里装着两把西班牙木梳和发罩；她拿起一把梳子插进头发，然后用发罩把头发盘起。 “你瞧，”她说，“他就喜欢我这样子。他说等他发了财就带我回西班牙。到那时，我只要坐在阳台上打扇乘凉，任凭世界翻云覆雨，我们都安度着幸福日子。” “你看上去仍然很漂亮，外婆。” “另一把梳子是给你的，等你长大时拿出来戴，”她说，“我死了以后两把都归你。” 说着，她拿起另一把梳子插进我头发里，用发罩盘起我的头发。我俩站在一起，看上去十分相似。 听了她跟我讲的这一切，我很感激她。这世界上，除了我，恐怕没有第二个人知道她心底的秘密。 我也永远不会忘记这一刻，我们戴着梳子，挽着发髻，并肩站在一起，我们四周是芬香的草药和盆盆罐罐，外面枪声四起。
溶溶月光洒进我们的小屋，我从梦中惊醒。我从床上坐起，四周静得出奇，我觉得有些异样；怎么连外婆和乔睡觉时的呼吸声也听不到？Oh!我想起来了，外婆去帮人接生了。她经常出去帮忙，而且不一定什么时候能回家，对这我早习以为常。可是，乔到哪儿去了？ “乔！”我喊了一声，“乔，你在哪儿？” 我望望床的另一头，他不在床上。 “鸽子！”我又喊了一声，那条狗也不在家。 我走下楼梯，很快找遍了整个屋子，仍不见乔的影子。我的耳边忽然响起了今天下午与外婆站在一起时听到的猎枪声。 难道乔会那么傻，去森林里找受伤的小动物？要真是那样，那他真是疯了。他走进森林，就算是私闯领地，一旦被抓……这在那时可是不小的罪，要严加惩处的。 我捉摸着他去了有多久。我打开屋门，大概已是半夜时分。 我重新回到屋里坐下，不知该怎么办？心中只有企盼外婆早点回来。我们一定要跟乔好好谈谈，让她真正明白他的莽撞行为会带来灾难的。 我等啊等，就是不见外婆和乔回来。我肯定等了有一个多小时，实在坐下住了，我穿好衣服，走出家门，朝阿巴斯森林奔去。 沉沉夜幕中的万物显得宁静而美丽。夜色给人一种怪诞而扑朔迷离又充满诱惑的感觉。我的脑海里闪现出那六位修女，要不是为了寻找乔，此刻，我真想跑去看看那些石头。 空气冷飕飕的，但又十分惬意。我一路小跑到了树林边，不知该往哪儿去，又不敢放声呼唤，守林子的人一定在到处巡逻。如果乔已走进森林深处，那他倒反而安全了。 乔，你这个笨蛋！我心里懊恼极了，你为什么要喜欢小动物？这会带给你无尽的痛苦！ 我站在一块木板前面，上面写着“ＰＲＩＶＡＴE”，我知道意思是说这块是私人领地，不得入内，否则就要遭受处罚。这样的木板在森林里比比皆是。 “乔！”我压低嗓子叫了一声，心中十分担心是否叫得太响了。我朝森林里走了几步，又觉得这样是没用的，还不如快点回家，说不定此刻乔已在家里了。我的脑海中闪过各种可怕的画面，也许乔找到了一只受伤的鸟儿？也许他已被人五花大绑。如果他真的已遭了大祸，那我现在最好赶紧回家、上床、睡觉，我完全是无能为力的。 但我的心又不忍离去，因为照顾乔是我的责任。如果他出了什么事。我怎么也不会原谅自己的。可我现在能做的只有在黑漆漆的林子里为他祈祷，希望他平平安安。我全身心地祈求上帝答应我的请求。 我静静地伫立，希望梦想成真，可是周围仍是一片静悄悄。我已不想回家，我强烈地感觉到乔现在不会在家里。我凝神谛听，隐隐约约听到了一条狗的喘气声。 “鸽子！”我轻轻地叫了声。尽管我是压低了声音，但森林里传来的回声还是吓了我一大跳。小狗在我的腿下磨来蹭去，一面发出唔唔的呜咽声。 我跪下来，“鸽子，他在哪儿？鸽子！乔在哪儿？” 小狗往前奔跑一阵，停下来看看我又继续往前跑，它在带路。我紧跟着鸽子。 我看到乔的那一刻，几乎吓呆了。我怔怔地站着，望着陷阱里被夹子套牢的乔，不知所措。乔掉进了看林人设下的陷阱。我使出浑身力气拉动夹子，但毫无用处。 “乔！”我轻轻喊了他一声。鸽子仍在我腿边磨蹭，哀求我快救它的好朋友。乔被牢牢夹住，一动不动，毫无反应。 我发疯似地拚命拉那些铁条，但怎么也拉不开。我惊恐得快失去理智了，一心只想尽快把乔救出来，免得被人发现。如果被当场抓获，而乔又还活着，他们就会将他送交地方法官那儿。贾斯廷爵士是不会轻易放过他的。但我还祈求上帝得保佑他还活着，他一定要活着！只要活着，我总会有办法的。 记得外婆曾说过只要竭尽全力去做某件事，总会到达成功的彼岸，我对此深信无疑。但此时此刻，当我面临眼前这一切时，我实在觉得外婆的话只是说说而已！ 我的手都弄破了，血流不止。我根本就不知道如何打开机关。不管我如何努力，一点用处也没有。但我确信一定有办法打开，只是要人帮忙。应该去找外婆，但是她毕竟上了年纪，她是聪明的，但她能打开吗？她行吗？OK!我鼓励自己，是的，我现在不该浪费时间，得赶紧回去叫外婆来。 小狗抬头看看我，眼睛里充满了期待。 我摸摸它说，“你留下来陪着乔！”说完撒腿就跑。 我从没跑得那么快，但脚下的路还是那么漫长。一路上，我一直惊觉着四周的动静。如果贾斯廷爵士的人赶在我回来之前发现了乔，那就糟了！我彷佛已看到他被鞭打、被奴役。 我穿过一条小路时，再也控制不住内心的痛苦，低低地抽泣着，所以一点也没听到由远而近的脚步声，等我发觉时，他已站在我面前。 “嗨，”一个声音说，“怎么啦？” 我听出这人是我的冤家，那个叫做金的男孩。 千万不能让他抓到我，千万不能被他发现。我边想边跑，但他很快追上了我。 他抓住我的手臂，一把扭转我的身体。 他吹了声口哨，“是克伦莎！” “放我走。” “深更半夜的，你为什么在森林里跑来跑去？你是个巫婆吗？是的，一定是的，你一听到我来，就施展巫术把你的扫把甩掉？” 我想挣脱出来，但他紧紧地抓住我，他的脸凑到我眼前。 “你害怕了，”他说，“你怕我？” 我真想踢他一脚，“我才不怕呢！” 我想到了还关在陷阱里的乔，他在受苦受难，而我却无能为力，这样一想，就情不自禁地哭了。他的态度一下变得温和起来，他说：“相信我，我不会伤害你的。”听他这么一说，我顿觉安然了许多。他说话的语气让我感受到他不是个心狠手辣的人。 他年龄不大，但体格健壮，相比之下，我显得弱不禁风；我忽然产生这样一个念头，也许他能打开那个陷阱的机关。 我决定孤注一掷，但话才出口又觉得有些后悔，但既然说了也没转圜余地了。 “都是为了我弟弟。”我说。 "Where is he?" 我朝森林远处看了看说：“在……陷阱里。” “我的天！”他大吃一惊，“快带我去。” 当我把他带到乔那儿时，小狗欢愉地迎了上来。但乔的情况相当严重，好在他现在有希望了。 “我们可以试试！”他说。 “我们一定要把他救出来！”我态度坚定，语气强硬，我注意到他听了以后嘴唇紧闭，嘴角微微翘起。 “会成功的！”他安慰我，我觉得更有信心了。 他告诉我该怎么配合他，然后我们一起用力，但铁夹子仍是一动不动。我暗自庆幸刚才没有去叫外婆来帮忙，因为现在我知道凭我和外婆的力气，是绝对打不开铁夹子的。 “加把劲！”他命令说。我使出浑身力气，压在铁条上，慢慢地，金打开了这魔鬼的枷锁。笑容舒展在金的脸上。乔终于得救了。 “乔，亲爱的，”我柔声地呼唤着，就像他还是个婴儿时一样，“你可不能死，你一定要活着。” 我们一起把乔从陷阱里拖了出来，同时拖出来的还有一只死野鸡。我注意到金朝野鸡看了一眼，但他什么也没说。 “恐怕他的腿已给夹断了，”他说，“我们得小心点，还是让我来背他吧！”说着他轻轻地抱起乔，从这一刻起，我对他的一股亲切之情油然而生；他在我眼里是如此温文尔雅，如此体恤平民百姓。 就这样，金背着乔，我带着小狗走在他身旁，心中荡漾着成功的喜悦。当走到离家不远的地方时，我意识到不管金多么温柔可爱，他毕竟跟自己不一样。今天下午举行的打猎活动也许就有他。在他们这些人眼中，我们的命还不如森林里的鸟儿。 我焦虑地问他：“你要带他到哪儿？” “去找希拉德医生，还用问吗？” “不行！”我紧张起来。 "why?" “难道你不知道？他会问我们在哪儿发现乔这副样子，然后他就知道乔是掉入森林里的陷阱里才受伤。你还不明白这样做的后果吗？” “会怀疑他偷野鸡？”金问我。 “不，不，他从不偷东西。他无非想帮助那些鸟儿。他就是喜欢小动物。你不要把他带到医生那儿。求求你了，行行好吧……” 我一把抓住他的外套，抬头看着他。 “那我们把他送到哪儿？” “送到我们的小屋去。我外婆比医生还强，而且又能不被人发现……” 他停住脚步，我以为他不愿理会我的请求，出乎意料地，他说，“好吧，但我还是认为应该去看医生。” “他最需要的是快点回家，和外婆，和我待在一起。” “你既然这么坚决，那也只好这样，但实际上不该这么做。” “他是我弟弟。你清楚那伙人会怎么惩罚他的。” “那你在前面带路吧！”他说，随即便跟着我踏上回小屋的路。 外婆正等在门口，满脸忧虑，担心我们出了什么事。我上气不接下气地讲述了前后给外婆听，金站在一旁一言不发；他把乔背进里屋，让乔躺在外婆早已铺好的毯子上。乔躺在床上，显得十分弱小。 “我猜他一定折断了腿骨。”金说。 外婆点点头。 他们一起在乔的腿上绑了一根木棒，金给外婆当助手，忙这忙那，我觉得自己彷佛在梦中。外婆给乔清洗伤口，再往伤口上涂了点药膏，金站在一旁默默地看着。 当外婆忙完了以后，金说：“他应该去看医生。” “还是这样好。”外婆知道这事的前后经过，就谢绝了。 金耸耸肩，悄然离去。
我和外婆整夜看护着乔。到早上时，我们深信乔已脱离了险境。 但我们依然提心吊胆。乔整日躺在床上，自然没有精力为自己担心，我和外婆却时时留意着周围的动静。只要听到脚步声，就紧张得站起来，害怕是有人来捉拿乔。 连平日说话，我们都尽可能地压低嗓子。 “外婆，”我问她，“我做得不对吗？当时，金就站在我身边，他那么高大魁梧，我觉得他一定能解救乔。况且我认为你我俩人是无法打开铁夹子的。” “你做得对，”外婆安慰我说，“如果乔到天亮都没人搭救，他一定没命了。” 我们不再说话，看着乔，听着是否有脚步声。 “外婆，”我说，“你觉得他会不会……” “我也说不准。” “他看上去挺随和的，外婆，跟别人不一样。” “是很和善的样子。”外婆赞同我的看法。 “但是，他是朗斯顿家的朋友
The weather was really hot, and after lunch, I walked out of the small earthen hut.We have pea paste for lunch, my brother Joe, my grandmother Bi and I, each a bowl.In Cornwall, everyone knows pea mush, which is a kind of porridge cooked with peas.During times of famine, peas are often the staple food of the poor because they are cheaper and resistant to starvation. I was twelve years old, with black hair and dark eyes; even though I was young, I had a certain power to make the men of the past look back at me frequently.I know very little about myself, and I don't analyze myself, but I am clearly aware of my pride—one of the seven deadly sins.I used to walk in a defiant, self-satisfied way, not at all like a kid living in a mud hut, but like a noble Langston. My small earthen house is in a bush, far away from other people’s houses, which makes me feel different. Of course, the house is exactly the same as other people’s houses from substance to appearance, with rectangular mud walls, round With a round green grass roof, this is the most rudimentary dwelling for us people.However, I still often tell myself that I am different from others, and our house is different from others.My grandmother was said to be extraordinary, and I thought I was extraordinary; as for Joe, his future would be different whether he wanted to or not; I ran out of the cottage, past the church and the doctor's house, through the narrow gate of the fence, across a field, and onto the driveway of the Abbas estate.The driveway was nearly a mile long and ended at the gate to the estate; I stepped over a fence and approached the large lawn in front of the house. I stopped, looked around, and listened to the chirping of insects in the weeds.From a distance, you can see the Talent Hall where Dick Kimber lives. I really envy him that he can live in such a nice house.I had but to go a few steps before I was in forbidden ground--trespassing--and Sir Justin's punishment for trespassers, especially his village, I felt Heartbroken.I'm only twelve years old, and I thought to myself, they can't be too vicious to a child, right? Really?Once they caught Jack Thomas with a pheasant in his pocket, and they sentenced him to seven years of exile, and he is still serving at Botany Bay.At that time, Jack was only eleven years old. But I'm not interested in pheasants.I don't want to do anything illegal.Sir Justin was said to be more lenient with girls. Through the bushes, I saw that beautiful house, and I stood there, but my heart was inexplicably excited.What caught my eye was the tall Germanic-style roof and the windows separated by straight floors, so beautiful!Those carved on the pillars were still more beautiful, where the heads of dragons and griffins and winged monsters were carved, softened and beautiful with age. The lawn slowly extends to the small gravel road in front of the house.The scenery here is better: there is a lawn on one side of the road, and the lawn and the endless grass are separated by some square bamboo fences. On the other side of the fence stand six stone pillars. From a distance, it really looks like six young people women.It is not difficult for me to imagine that when night falls and a new moon rises quietly, these stones must be very beautiful.I'll have to check it out next time.Next to the Maiden Stone is an abandoned tin mine, which is very out of harmony with the surrounding scenery.But maybe it is the tin mine that makes everything here look so eye-catching. Those gimbals and hoists are still in place. As long as you climb to the top of the derrick, you can see the dark underground world. People used to say why the St. Langstons didn't get rid of the rubbish, why did they keep the old mine?This tin mine not only kills the scenery, but because it's next to those maiden stones, it's an act of sacrilege.But there is actually a reason.There was once a gambler in the St. Langston family, and when he lost the Abbas estate once, they found tin deposits on their property.So, start mining.Of course the Langston family didn't like having a mine in front of their house. They couldn't stand the miners digging holes in front of their eyes and listening to the sound of hooks and shovels clanging all day long. However, tin mining saved Abbas Manor . Once the estate was saved, however, the Langstons closed the tin mine.Grandma once told me that when Langston closed the tin mines, people for miles around suffered because they lost their jobs.But Jazz didn't care at all, he didn't care about other people's lives; he only cared about himself.Grandma said that the Langston family still kept the tin mine because it was regarded as a kind of wealth stored in the ground, and if there was any problem, the tin mine could solve it again. People in Cornwall—rich and poor alike were somewhat superstitious—the St. Langstons saw tin mines as a sign of wealth; as long as there were tin deposits in the ground, they would be well fed.There are rumors that the existing tin mines are really just a facade - there is no more to be mined.The elders in the village said that the Langston fathers knew the tin was gone and that's why they closed the tin mine, and that the Langstons liked to be thought of as rich forever and that's why they kept the mine. .For, in Cornwall, tin means money. Anyway, Justin doesn't want to go back to mining.People around here hated and feared Justin; whenever I saw him ride by on a white horse or carry a gun, he always looked like a man-eating demon.From what my grandmother told me, I felt that he might have some truth in considering the property in Langston Village as his own, but that he should treat all the people as his private property-this is too much.Although he didn't act like an old slave master, he seduced quite a few girls.Grandma often warned me to stay away from him. I walked towards the Maiden Stone.I stopped and leaned against one of the rocks.These standing stones are surrounded by a circle, as if they were suddenly turned into stones at the moment of dancing.They were of different heights—just as in real life, two were taller, and the rest looked plump and in their prime.In the hot afternoon, surrounded by silence, I feel as if I have become one of them.I think if I was in the situation at that time, I would also commit their heinous crimes, and if I was found out, I would dance like no one else. I gently stroked the cool stones, and felt that one of them felt my deep sympathy. She bent down, and there seemed to be a feeling of mutual understanding between us. I used to have wild ideas, and it was all my grandmother's fault.It would be dangerous for me to go any further.I'm running across the lawn, and the people who live in the house will spot me at the windows.I rushed to the side of the house and pressed against the wall. I know that the workmen are sitting not far away at this moment, eating the crispy brown bread just baked in the morning; we call this bread "muffin"; They also wrap some muffins in a red handkerchief to take home. I entered cautiously through a door, and saw the garden within the wall; beside the wall were planted willows and roses, which were emitting a pleasant fragrance. That should be the end of it, but I still want to go in and see the wall where the nun's bones were found. A wheelbarrow was leaning against the opposite wall, and some labor tools were scattered on the floor, which must be here. I stepped forward quickly, and looked in through the hole in the wall.It was empty inside, like a small room, about seven feet high and six feet wide.Obviously the space inside was designed and looking at this small room, I believe the story of the Seventh Virgin is true. I wanted to crawl into the hole and stand where the nun had stood, to experience what it was like to be walled.The hole in the wall was about three feet above the ground, and I scratched my leg when I climbed in.After entering, I turned my back to the entrance of the cave, and tried to imagine what it would be like for the nun to be forced in, waiting for death in the dark.I can understand her fear and despair at the time. There was a musty smell in the air.I think this is probably the breath of death. My rich imagination makes me feel that I am the seventh virgin. I have sacrificed my virginity casually, and now I have to face death; but I said to myself: " If there is an afterlife, I will still be me!" I am too proud to admit how frightened I really am; I wish the nuns were as proud as I am, for although pride is not a virtue, it is the most effective balm in pain, and it makes people indomitable. A loud voice brought me back to the real world. "I really want to see it!" I recognized Melora Martin, the vicar's daughter. I didn't like her. She always wore neat gingham dresses, white stockings, and shiny black lace-up shoes. .I should also have a pair of shoes like hers, but I don't, so I turned my helpless mood into a disapproving attitude towards her.She is twelve years old, the same age as me.I have seen her sit at the vicarage window absorbed in a book, or read aloud and do her needlework in the garden with her governess.Poor prisoner!However, what makes me most uncomfortable is that I really want to read but can't.I vaguely feel that it is cultural differences that create inequality among people, rather than beautiful and expensive clothes.People say Melora's hair is blond, but I say buff; her blue eyes are big and bright, and her complexion is ruddy.I secretly call her Mellie.Because, Melora, that name sounds too elegant.Actually, my own name isn't bad either, my grandmother said, Cronsha, in the Cornish dialect, which means peace and love; I've never heard of Melora having any special meaning. "You'll get your clothes dirty!" said John of St. Langston's. "If the Langston family finds out that it's me, it's over!" I was secretly worried.But John is said to be more forgiving than his father in his treatment of women.John is fourteen years old.I've seen him walk with his father, carrying a gun.Almost everyone in their family can hunt.He's not as tall as me, but I'm considered tall among my peers?Tall, John was handsome, but not Melora's good-looking.There was nothing St. Langston about him. I was relieved to see that it was only John and Melora. "I don't care! John, do you believe in the legend of the nun?" "Of course I do." "Poor woman! Being imprisoned...alive..." "Hey!" Another voice came from not far away, "Get away from that wall." "We want to know where they found the nun's bones!" said John. "Nonsense! No one can prove that it belonged to the nun, it's just a legend!" I tried my best to retreat into the corner, thinking that I should rush out and get away.Still have to stay in place?It is not easy to climb out of the hole in the wall, and they will definitely be caught by them-especially now that there is another person. Melora had peered into the cave, and gasped as her eyes adjusted to the darkness in the cave.At that moment I was sure she must have seen me as the Seventh Virgin. "Oh..." She opened her mouth wide, "She..." John's head emerged from the hole.After being silent for a while, he seemed to be talking to himself and said, "So it's the girl from the little earthen house." "Be careful! There's going to be trouble!" I recognized Justin, St. Langston's heir to the estate, speaking.He's still in college and on vacation at home. "There's someone inside," John said. "I can't believe virgins are still in there!" said another voice, which was Dick Kimber, who lived in the Gift Hall and studied with Justin at Oxford. "Come and see for yourself!" said John. I hurriedly moved to the corner, I didn't know what I was more afraid of - whether they found me here or let them see me like this - "the little girl in the small earthen house", he actually looked at me like that. Another face appeared at the mouth of the hole, brown skin, black hair matted; brown eyes smiling. "I said it wasn't the nun," said Dick Kimber. "Doesn't she look a bit like it, Kim?" John said. Now Justin pushed them aside and peered in; he was tall and thin, with a calm look and voice. "What is this?" he asked. "Not 'something,'" I said, "I'm Miss Clenza Carley." "You are a child in a small mud hut," he said, "you can't come here, come out!" I hesitated, wondering what his next move would be.I seem to have been taken to his house by him and told others that I was trespassing on other people's territory.I really don't want to stand in front of them like this.My smock was too small and shabby; my feet were not ugly, but my brown complexion looked a little dirty without shoes.In fact, in order to appear educated, I went to the creek to wash my feet every night, but because I didn't have shoes, I was always dirty after the day. "What's the matter?" asked Dick Kimber, who they called Kim and I always called him Kim, "why don't you come out?" "Go away," I said, "I'll get out." He was about to walk in when Justin warned him, "Be careful, Kim, you're going to bring down the whole wall." Jin stood motionless, "What did you say your name was?" he asked me. "Clentha Carley." "Nice name, but you'd better come out now." "Then go away first." "Jingle bells, Clentha fell down the well." "Who put her in there?" King continued. "Is it because she committed some crime?" They are all laughing at me.I climbed out of the hole in the wall and was about to run away, but they surrounded me. At that moment, I felt no different from staying in the hole in the wall just now. They must have noticed the difference between me and the other girls in the small mud huts.My hair is black and shiny, with a blue sheen; my big eyes stand out on a small face; my olive skin is smooth and delicate.They were all well-groomed and well-bred; even Kim, who was grinning and tousled. There was a hint of confusion in Melora's blue eyes, and I suddenly realized that I had underestimated her a little.She is weak, but she is definitely not stupid, she is much smarter than the others around her. "Don't be afraid, Clenza," she said. "Oh, that's not the problem," said John. "Miss Clenza Carley was caught trespassing, and we've got to figure out what to do with her." He was obviously taunting me.He wasn't really trying to punish me; he noticed my long black hair, and his eyes flicked over my shoulders that were exposed by the smock. "It's human nature to be curious," King said. "That's stupid," Justin said, turning to me. "You're acting stupid. Don't you know that it's dangerous to climb into a hole in a wall that has just fallen in? Besides, what are you doing in there?" Without waiting for an answer, he said, "Get out of here... hurry!" I don't like any of these people.I hated Justin's indifference as if I were as low as anyone's child on his father's land, John's and Kim's jeers, and Melora's sympathy for knowing my mind too well. I ran as fast as I could, and after reaching a certain distance, I couldn't help but stop and look back at them. They watched me in a semicircle, and I noticed Melora's expression of concern—she was worried about me. I stuck out my tongue at them and I heard John and Kim laughing.I turned and ran in the direction of home.
When I got home, my grandma was already sitting at the door. She often sat by the door and basked in the sun. The stool was leaning against the wall, with a pipe in her mouth. When she smiled at Mimi, her eyes were always half-closed and half-open. I sat down next to her and told what had just happened.She put one hand on top of my head, stroking my hair.Although she was old, her hair was still thick and black.This has nothing to do with the meticulous maintenance she has carried out.Sometimes she braids her hair in two thick braids, and sometimes she puts her hair up high.People said that an elderly person like her should not have such beautiful hair, and grandma was very proud of it.Yes, her hair is not only her pride, but also a symbol.I used to tell her it looked like Samson's hair in the Bible, and she would laugh.I know she made a lotion herself and used it every night to brush her hair and give her head a five-minute massage.No one knew the secret but me and Joe; in fact, Joe never noticed, he was always busy with a wounded bird or some other small animal, and I used to sit and watch Granny fix her hair.Once, she said: "I will tell you how to protect your hair in the future, Kronsa, and then your hair will be as beautiful as mine, and it will still be brilliant when you die." It was not taught to me. "I'll tell you in due time," she said, "and if I die suddenly, you'll find the recipe in a little box in the cupboard." Grandma loved Joe and me so much, her care was extremely warm, and more importantly, I was the closest person to her.As for Joe, we loved him with the care and thoughtfulness of a small animal, but there was also a kind of closeness between my grandmother and me. Grandma is very smart. I don’t just mean that she has a good mind, but that people for miles around know that she has a special ability. She can cure all kinds of minor diseases and disasters, and there are many people who come to see her. No doubt, they trust her more than doctors.Various herbs are always prepared in our small earthen hut, and various fragrances waft in the room.I also learned to go to the jungle to collect the right plants.She was also believed to have a knack for predicting the future; I begged her to teach me, but she said she had learned it by her own experience and observation.She believes that human nature is similar, there are good and bad, and there are good and bad, as long as you can distinguish the ratio of good and bad!If you know the person who asks you about your fate, then you can predict his future as boldly as possible. This is a prophet.When you get good at it, people will believe it, and they will often follow the advice you tell them to live, which in turn helps you to predict their future with further accuracy. All three of us lived off my grandmother's wit, and we did pretty well.If someone kills a pig, they send us a leg.Often someone would drop a bag of potatoes or peas on our doorstep as a token of appreciation; others would automatically deliver freshly baked bread.I'm also a good businessman, and I'm good at cooking, especially bread, desserts, and chicken pies. Ever since Joe and I moved in with my grandmother, I've been in a much brighter mood than before. But what comforts me the most is the tacit understanding formed between me and my grandmother; at this moment, sitting next to her, I feel this warmth again. "They made fun of me, Brother St. Langston and Kim. Melora didn't make fun of me, she felt sorry for me." Grandma said, "If you were to make a wish now, what would you most wish for?" I grabbed a handful of grass on the ground and kept silent; I never said what I wanted in my heart. She answered for me: "You want to be a rich lady, Clenza, in a carriage, in silks and satins, with rich nightgowns and shoes with silver straps." "I want to read and write more," I looked at my grandma with eager anticipation, "Grandma, can this wish come true?" She didn't answer, and I suddenly felt dejected, thinking silently why she could predict the future of others, but why she couldn't tell, what would my future be like?I was full of longing, but she turned a blind eye.The sun cast a layer of brilliance on her black braids, making her look solemn and noble.Her eyes, though not as well maintained as her hair, were still radiant. "What are you thinking?" I asked her. "I'm reminiscing about the day you first got here, do you remember?" As I rest my head on her lap, memories come flooding back. Our first few years - Joe and I - were spent by the sea.Dad also has a small mud house on the pier, which is similar to the one we live in now, except that there is a cellar in that one. If Dad catches a lot of sardines, we will marinate the fish and put them in the cellar.Whenever I think of Dad's cabin, I can smell a fishy smell - a pleasant smell, which when wafted through the house means that our little cellar is well stocked, enough to feed us several times. a week. I used to take care of Joe all the time.Joe was four and I was six when Mom died.My mother asked me to take care of my younger brother when she was dying.Sometimes, when Dad went fishing, we were very worried. The roaring sea wind seemed to throw our hut into the sea at any moment. I hugged Joe and sang to him, and he was no longer afraid.I told myself not to be afraid, and then I was really not afraid.From then on, I gradually realized that there is nothing to be afraid of in this world. Whenever the sea is calm and the sardine fishing news comes, our happy mood is beyond words.The fishermen on the beach walk around, and once they find a school of fish, they send out fishing signals to everyone.I remember the excited "Hi-Wah!" which means "here come the fish" in the Cornish dialect.Then, I saw fishing boats from all walks of life set sail one after another, and then returned with a full load, and our small cellar was filled with fish.In the church, in addition to wheat, fruits, and vegetables, sardines are also placed, which are offerings made by fishermen to God. They, like farmers, sincerely praise the holy Lord. Joe and I were busy in the cellar: put a layer of fish, sprinkle a layer of salt, and so on, until the fingers became stiff and numb, and the whole small room smelled fishy. This is our happy hour.But when winter came and our cellars ran out of stock, and the sea was rough and there was no fish to catch, Joe and I walked the sand with the other kids and dug in the dark of night with little iron hooks for hidden fish. Tendon fish in the sand; we took home what we caught and burned it, and what else?Shellfish and mud snails can also be used to make soup.Later, he boiled nettles and ate them.I will never forget the pangs of hunger as long as I live. We think about it day and night, hoping to hear the happy "hi-wah, hi-wah," but often wake up even more depressed. I saw the look of despair in my father's eyes.I saw the way he looked at me and Joe, and felt he had something important to say.He said to me: "Your mother often told you about grandma." I nod.Mama said Grandma lived in a place called St. Langston. "I think she must be looking forward to seeing you--you and Jo." As Dad turned and pulled the boat toward shore, I understood what he meant.Years at sea had made him well aware of the hardships he foresaw to come.I remember him coming into the cottage and saying to me, "They're back! We'll have sardines again for breakfast. Take good care of Joe until I get back." I watched him go.I noticed there were other people on the beach, and they were talking to him, and I could tell they were trying to persuade him to go back, but he wouldn't listen. I hate the southwest wind.Every time I listen to the wind, I will think of the wind that night.I put Joe to sleep, but I couldn't sleep myself, thinking about "Sardine Breakfast" in my mind, and the wind whistling in my ears. He never came back, leaving me and Joe.I do not know what to do?But for Joe's sake he had to put on a show.I racked my brains trying to figure out what I could do, and I kept thinking about what my mother told me to take good care of my brother, and my father's words: "Take care of Joe until I come back." Neighbors helped a little, but times were hard, and life was hard for everyone; some said they were sending us to child labour.I thought of the grandma my father had talked about, and I told Joe, let's go find grandma.So we set out for St. Langston, and, after a lot of trouble, we got here. Another thing I will never forget is that first night with my grandmother.She wrapped Joe up in a blanket, and gave him hot milk; then she made me lie down, and washed my feet, and oiled the wounds on them.The next morning, I felt miraculously better. It was incredible.To this day, I can still feel the joy that surged in my heart at that time.I really feel that I am home, and my grandma is the closest person to me.I love Jo, but I'm even more attached to Grandma, who never ceases to amaze me.I can't forget her lying on the bed, letting go of her long, dark hair, combing and massaging her dignified schedule without the sudden arrival of two grandchildren. Grandma healed my wounds, fed me, clothed me -- and built my pride and self-esteem.The little girl who had just arrived and was extremely tired was completely different from the me who stood in the hole in the wall. She knows things like a god, and my grandma knows all my thoughts like the back of my hand. We quickly adapted to our new life here.We went from fisherman's life to community life.Although the Langston family tin mine ceased production, another mine called the Feder mine provided employment for many people in the village of St. Langston.I later discovered that the miners were as superstitious as the fishermen.Every sound of going down the shaft is a dangerous signal, however, the miners regard this as an opportunity to serve the god of luck.Grandma used to sit there and tell me stories about the miners.My grandfather was also a miner.She said they used to put a big pie outside the door to appease the goblins.That big pie was meant to be a decent lunch for a very hungry workman.She said angrily that the head of the miner always gave verbal rewards, but did not give the workers a wage increase; this means that if the mine output is not large, the workers' wages will be reduced accordingly; Stores where coupons are exchanged for physical goods, the goods in those stores are expensive, but the workers have nothing to do. When I listen to my grandmother tell these things, I can't help but imagine myself walking down the mine shaft, and I seem to see miners in rags, wearing tin protective caps on their heads, with a candle attached to their caps; I felt that I was walking into a dark cage; the workmen were at work, and I felt the warm air and quivering ore; I felt that at any moment a hungry ogre might appear before me, or It's a black dog, a white rabbit; if you do see these things, people call them portents of bad luck. I said to my grandmother, "I remember it very well." "What brought you here to me?" she asked. "Is it a chance?" She shook her head. "That's a long way for such a small child. But you believe you can get there, right? You know that if you just keep going, you'll come to me, right?" I nod. As if she answered the question correctly, she smiled happily. "I'm thirsty, dear," she said, "go get me some sloe." I go into the house.There is only one large room in the grandmother's house, besides this, there is also a small room made of stones, where she often prepares various medicines and treats patients.The one big room was both our bedroom and our living room.There is still a story to tell!The house was built by my grandfather, Pedro Bowencio.The Cornish people called him Pedro Bee.Grandma said that the custom here is that if you can build a house overnight, then the homestead will be yours, so Grandpa has been busy for this reason.He chose this place—an open field among the bushes, and found thatch, brackets, and clay for building walls; on a night when the moon was full, he called several friends to build the house together.Usually people just built the four walls and then slowly added windows, doors and chimneys.But Pedro Bi finished it all in one night, as the Romans do, and it was perfect. Pedro is Spanish.Perhaps it was because he heard that Cornwall had a strong Spanish flavor, and so many Spanish sailors set foot on the coast, fell in love with local women, and settled down. He also came here.Some of the Spaniards here look like Melora, with blond hair; but most still inherit black hair, bright black eyes, and hot tempers, which are very different from the mild climate of the place. Pedro loves his wife Clenza - who has the same name as me.He loved her black eyes and black hair; black hair and eyes made her miss Spain.They got married, stayed together in the small earthen house they built with their own hands, and gave birth to a daughter, who is my mother. I walked past the storeroom and into the room to get the sloe wine. Since it was the only bedroom, we built a loft in the middle for me and Joe, and put a ladder in the corner of the room so we could go up and down. Joe was up in the attic at the moment. "What are you doing?" I asked. He ignored me, and after I asked a few words, he raised the pigeon in his hand. "It's got a broken leg," he said, "and I'm going to fix it." The pigeon looked very honest and quiet in his hands, and I saw that Joe had already made a small splint to tie it to the leg of the pigeon.Every time Joe healed the little animal, the little animal always quietly cooperated with him in his hands, which is incredible.有一次，一只大野猫悄悄地走到乔身边，用脑袋擦擦乔的腿，乔马上知道是在向自己讨吃的。乔也从不只顾自己吃，他总要留下一份去喂小动物。大多数时候，他总在树林里转悠。有一次，我找到他时，他正趴在地上专心地观察草丛里的昆虫。 乔的手指纤细柔软，似乎专用来给小动物疗伤的，除此之外，他对动物总有一种超乎寻常的感知。他用外婆调制的药膏给小动物治病，只要为了他的小动物，他从不吝啬他收藏起来的任何宝贝。 看着乔为小动物疗伤，我的心中浮起了一个梦想。我彷佛看到了他成为受人尊敬的圣·朗斯顿村的医生。我想，如果那些找外婆看病的人真的十分信赖她的药方，他们就不应该仅仅口头上表示感谢；外婆尽管是智慧超群，但她却只住在这么差的小土屋里，而希拉德医生却生活富裕。我下定决心，要让乔当一名医生，我自己要当贵妇人，这两种愿望一样强烈。 “你把鸽子治好后又会怎么样？”我问。 “它就可以飞，自己去寻找食物。” “那你又得到了什么？” 他好像没听见我的话，对鸽子轻声细语地说着什么。如果他刚才听见我的话，他一定会皱皱眉头说，让受伤的小动物恢复健康是他最大的快乐。 每次走进我们的小小贮藏室，我总感到无比舒畅。在库房四周放着长长的板凳，凳上摆满了瓶瓶罐罐；房顶上横着一根梁木，上面放着各种草药，草药的清香扑鼻而来，还有一个壁炉和一个被熏黑了的大锅子，旁边长凳下面就摆着外婆所调制好的药剂。我找到那盛黑刺李酒的坛子，往玻璃杯里倒了一些，拿出去给外婆。 外婆呷着酒，我静静地坐在她身边。 “外婆，”我说，“告诉我，我的愿望能不能实现？” 她看着我，笑着说：“我亲爱的，你就像那些姑娘，跑到我这里问我她们的情人是否真心爱她们。你不应该问我的，克伦莎。” “可是我想知道。” “那听我说。答案很简单。聪明人不用别人告诉他们将来会怎样，他们自己创造未来”
这一天，整日枪声不断。显然，阿巴斯庄园的人又在狩猎聚会。我们看到一辆辆马车接踵而至，每年这个时候都是这样，他们在森林里打野鸡。 乔坐在阁楼的床上，前几天带回的一条狗躺在他身边。小狗已能自己跑动，但它仍紧跟着乔，不肯离去。乔与小狗同吃同住，快乐至极。可是，今天，乔显得很烦的样子。他一定是想起了去年他们打猎时，他看到被击中的，或是受伤的野鸡纷纷落下的惨象。 他拍了拍桌子说：“最让我担心的是那些受伤的野鸡。如果被一枪打死，倒也罢了，可是那些受伤的，如果又没被人发现……” 我说：“乔，你得理智些，对于那些无可奈何的事你最好别管。” 他觉得我说得对，就老实待在家里了。他就这样陪着身边的小狗。他给它取了个名字叫“鸽子”，因为这条狗来的那天已经痊愈了的鸽子飞走了。 看着乔愤闷的神态，我觉得他有些地方与我很相似，这让我感到不安，我从来猜不到他的行为。我常说他很幸运，整日在林子里闲逛，寻找小动物，而与他同龄的许多孩子早就在费德矿厂干活了。很多人对乔不去做点事，整日待在家里深表不解，可是我知道，外婆与我一样，对乔的前程寄以很大希望。只要我们目前能填饱肚子就绝不让他去干活。这也是外婆与众不同的做法。 外婆知道我很担心，所以要我陪她一起到林子里去采集药草。 我很高兴能出来走走。 外婆说：“别为他担心，他就是这个样子，看到受伤的小动物就痛苦不已。” “外婆，我希望……希望他成为一名医生，给人治病。实现这个梦想要花很多钱吗？” “你觉得他自己愿意吗？亲爱的？” “既然他那么热中于疗伤治病，那为什么不愿意给人看病？况且还可以用来谋生创业，而且受人尊敬。” “但也有可能他不像你，那么在乎别人怎么看自己，克伦莎。” “我不允许他放任自己！”我说。 “如果命中注定他是位医生，那他会成为医生的。” “但你不是说根本没有命中注定的事，一切全是靠自己创造的。” “是由每个人自己创造的命运决定的。他决定他的，你管你自己的。” “他整天躺在床上，和动物待在一起。” “随他去吧，宝贝，”外婆说，“他会选择他自己的生活的。” 可我就是不允许他随心所欲地生活，我要让他明白一定要好好选择自己的命运。我们都应该享受更好的生活，我们三个：外婆、乔和我都应该有更好的明天。我真不明白外婆为什么没有意识到这一点，而心甘情愿地接受眼前的一切？ 采集草药的时候，我常常心静如水。外婆教我哪种草药长在哪儿，她还向我讲解各种草药的药用价值，可是，今天，采草药的整个过程中，充斥在耳边的尽是打猎的枪声。 我们累了，就坐在树底下休息，我让外婆跟我讲讲过去的事。 每当这种时候，我彷佛觉得是外婆施了魔法让我中了邪，让我变成了她，那位与众不同的佩德罗已在向我求爱。他唱着西班牙情歌。外婆不懂西班牙语，不知道他在唱什么？ “不一定要懂歌词才能欣赏歌曲，”她说，“在那个时候，因为他是个外国人，所以不太受人欢迎。在康沃尔这么小的地方，要干的活本来就不多，因此一个外国人要想找份工作养家餬口就更难了。可佩德罗不以为然地一笑置之，他说只要能看到我就够了。他说他不会走的，我到哪儿，他就去哪儿。” “外婆，你真心诚意地爱他吗？” “他是我的男人，我不想要别的——心里也没有过别人。” “这么说你从来没有过别的情人？” 我注意到她脸上闪过一种少有的表情。她把头稍稍倾向阿巴斯庄园的方向，彷佛是在聆听枪声。 “你外公的脾气不太好，”她说，“谁要是得罪了他或触怒了他，他会杀了那人。” “那么他有没有杀过人？外婆。” “没有。但是，如果他知道这事，他也许会的……” “什么事情，外婆？” 她沉默不语，脸上显出一种令人费解的神情，彷佛是戴了个面具似的。 我靠着外婆，抬头看着高高的树。松树依然一片苍葱，整个冬天都保持枝繁叶茂；其它树上的叶子已开始泛黄。冬天就要来了。 过了好大一会儿，外婆说，“都已是很久以前的事了。” “你是说你有过情人？” “他不算是我的情人，我告诉你吧，也许真的该告诉你了——对你也是一种教训。会让你明白世态炎凉，也许你将来也会碰到类似的事。那个人叫贾斯廷·圣·朗斯顿……不是现在的贾斯廷爵士，是爵士的父亲。” 我坐在她身边，吃惊得张大了眼睛。 “你，外婆，和贾斯廷·圣·朗斯顿爵士！” “是贾斯廷的父亲，不过，这父子俩差别也不大。那家伙是个恶棍。” “那你为什么……” “为了佩德罗。” "how is this possible……" “这就要你听完以后，用脑子公正地看待这件事，孩子。我现在告诉你，我一定要讲给你听。自从他看到我的第一眼起，就对我着了迷；我是本地人，已订了婚。他肯定查问了我的情况，知道我马上就要嫁给佩德罗。我记得他对我费尽心机。在离他家不远的地方有一个围墙围起来的花园。” I nod. “我那时真傻，想去他们家的厨房探望一个女佣。我走进花园的时候，他看到了我，他对我一见倾心，向我保证要给佩德罗一份既安全又丰厚的工作；他说在矿井下干活太危险；但条件是，我必须听话。我爱佩德罗，而且马上就要结婚了，除了佩德罗，谁也无法占据我的心。” “然后呢？外婆！” “太吃惊了，对吧，我的宝贝？这件事发生以后，我也想过，但我觉得不能怪我。这一切正像我对你说的那样是由自己的命创造出来的。我的未来是与佩德罗在一起。我希望能与他在我们小屋里相濡以沫，白头偕老，我们的子孙满堂，男孩子们长得像他，女孩们像我，我当时只想全力挽回我与佩德罗的共同未来。那么，把自己给他一次又何妨？后来发生的事证明我这样做是对的。要不然，佩德罗早就没命了。你很难想像从前的贾斯廷爵士是个什么样的人。在他眼里，我们这种人就像随杀随捕的野鸟，天生就是给他取乐的。当时，我如果不答应他的要求，他肯定会杀了佩德罗，或者只消把他安排在一个极危险的岗位上，从而置他于死地。我不想让他毁了我和佩德罗的未来，所以，我就主动去找他。” “我真恨圣·朗斯顿家的人！”我说。 “世事变迁，克伦莎，人也随之改变。人世险恶，但现在的世道比我在你这个年龄时的好多了。等到将来，你孩子像你这么大的时候，生活又会更容易些。事情总是这样会慢慢好起来的。” “外婆，后来怎么样了？” “故事还没讲完。他很喜欢我，仅仅一次远远满足不了他的欲望。佩德罗喜欢我这头又黑又亮的头发，他也喜欢。在我结婚后的第一年中，阴云一直笼罩在我心头，我难过极了。本该是与佩德罗一起享受幸福的日子，但我却不得不去他那儿。你知道，如果佩德罗发现了我的秘密，会把他杀了——因为他深深地爱着我。” “那你一定害怕极了，外婆。” 她皱皱眉头，彷佛是在极力回忆。“这真有点像赌博。就这样过了一年后，我发觉自己怀孕了……我拿不准是谁的孩子。克伦莎，我不想要他的孩子，不想要。万一生下来的孩子长得像他，简直太可怕了……而且又不得不欺骗佩德罗……那会像永远洗不净的污点。绝对不能那样。所以，后来就没留下这个孩子，克伦莎，我生了一场大病，差点丢了命，但那孩子没有了。这就是这段故事的结尾。他渐渐地把我忘了。我尽力在感情上弥补佩德罗。我告诉他尽管我也有发脾气的时候，但我是世界上对他最温柔的女人。他高兴极了！克伦莎，他感到很幸福。但有时候，我想，我之所以对他百般柔情，是因为我曾对不起他。我觉得自己很不自然，就像恶贯满盈的家伙做了件善事令人难以置信。这件事使我开始理解生活，也学会帮助别人。所以，克伦莎，你今后千万不要为生活中已发生的事感到遗憾、后悔，不管发生的事是好是坏，都要一视同仁；因为在生活中，好坏善恶总是掺和在一起的，这是再明白不过的道理，就如同你我此刻端坐在这儿一样实实在在。两年以后，你的母亲——佩德罗和我的女儿出世了。为了生她，我又一次死里逃生，但从此以后，我再不能有孩子了。我想这也是对我所做的报应。生活毕竟是美丽。日月如梭，人的罪恶也被一点点地冲淡。多少次，我对着镜子里的自己说：'你别无选择，只有这样。'” “但是，他凭什么就这样破坏你的生活！”我感到义愤填膺。 “世上的人有强弱之分：如果你天生柔弱你就得想办法寻找力量。只要你努力，你就一定会找到。” “外婆，我能找到自己的力量的。” “是的，女孩，你只要愿意，就能找到。一切全在自己手上。” “哦，外婆，我真恨圣·朗斯顿家的人！” “不，他早就死了，一切如过眼烟云。不要因父辈的罪过而去仇恨他们的下一代，也不要因为我去责怪你自己呵！我与佩德罗过得很幸福。但接踵而至的却是悲伤的回忆了。那天他上早班。我知道他们在引爆开矿，佩德罗开着矿车进去把矿石装上车。我不知道下面出了什么事——谁也不知道究竟怎么了。我一整天都坐在井台上等他出来。我等了十二个小时，当人们把他抬出来时，他已经不再是原来那个佩德罗了。他还活着……活了几分钟，刚好与我做最后的告别。'上帝保佑你'，他说，'谢谢你陪伴我的生命旅程！'还有什么话比这更动听？我后来想，即便没有贾斯廷爵士这回事，即便我能为他生下一个健康的儿子传宗接代，这仍然是他能对我说的最美妙的话了。”说完，她站起身，我俩一起走进屋子。 乔带着“鸽子”出去了。外婆带我走进小库房。库房里有个小盒子，一直锁着。她打开盒子让我看里面的东西。盒子里装着两把西班牙木梳和发罩；她拿起一把梳子插进头发，然后用发罩把头发盘起。 “你瞧，”她说，“他就喜欢我这样子。他说等他发了财就带我回西班牙。到那时，我只要坐在阳台上打扇乘凉，任凭世界翻云覆雨，我们都安度着幸福日子。” “你看上去仍然很漂亮，外婆。” “另一把梳子是给你的，等你长大时拿出来戴，”她说，“我死了以后两把都归你。” 说着，她拿起另一把梳子插进我头发里，用发罩盘起我的头发。我俩站在一起，看上去十分相似。 听了她跟我讲的这一切，我很感激她。这世界上，除了我，恐怕没有第二个人知道她心底的秘密。 我也永远不会忘记这一刻，我们戴着梳子，挽着发髻，并肩站在一起，我们四周是芬香的草药和盆盆罐罐，外面枪声四起。
溶溶月光洒进我们的小屋，我从梦中惊醒。我从床上坐起，四周静得出奇，我觉得有些异样；怎么连外婆和乔睡觉时的呼吸声也听不到？Oh!我想起来了，外婆去帮人接生了。她经常出去帮忙，而且不一定什么时候能回家，对这我早习以为常。可是，乔到哪儿去了？ “乔！”我喊了一声，“乔，你在哪儿？” 我望望床的另一头，他不在床上。 “鸽子！”我又喊了一声，那条狗也不在家。 我走下楼梯，很快找遍了整个屋子，仍不见乔的影子。我的耳边忽然响起了今天下午与外婆站在一起时听到的猎枪声。 难道乔会那么傻，去森林里找受伤的小动物？要真是那样，那他真是疯了。他走进森林，就算是私闯领地，一旦被抓……这在那时可是不小的罪，要严加惩处的。 我捉摸着他去了有多久。我打开屋门，大概已是半夜时分。 我重新回到屋里坐下，不知该怎么办？心中只有企盼外婆早点回来。我们一定要跟乔好好谈谈，让她真正明白他的莽撞行为会带来灾难的。 我等啊等，就是不见外婆和乔回来。我肯定等了有一个多小时，实在坐下住了，我穿好衣服，走出家门，朝阿巴斯森林奔去。 沉沉夜幕中的万物显得宁静而美丽。夜色给人一种怪诞而扑朔迷离又充满诱惑的感觉。我的脑海里闪现出那六位修女，要不是为了寻找乔，此刻，我真想跑去看看那些石头。 空气冷飕飕的，但又十分惬意。我一路小跑到了树林边，不知该往哪儿去，又不敢放声呼唤，守林子的人一定在到处巡逻。如果乔已走进森林深处，那他倒反而安全了。 乔，你这个笨蛋！我心里懊恼极了，你为什么要喜欢小动物？这会带给你无尽的痛苦！ 我站在一块木板前面，上面写着“ＰＲＩＶＡＴE”，我知道意思是说这块是私人领地，不得入内，否则就要遭受处罚。这样的木板在森林里比比皆是。 “乔！”我压低嗓子叫了一声，心中十分担心是否叫得太响了。我朝森林里走了几步，又觉得这样是没用的，还不如快点回家，说不定此刻乔已在家里了。我的脑海中闪过各种可怕的画面，也许乔找到了一只受伤的鸟儿？也许他已被人五花大绑。如果他真的已遭了大祸，那我现在最好赶紧回家、上床、睡觉，我完全是无能为力的。 但我的心又不忍离去，因为照顾乔是我的责任。如果他出了什么事。我怎么也不会原谅自己的。可我现在能做的只有在黑漆漆的林子里为他祈祷，希望他平平安安。我全身心地祈求上帝答应我的请求。 我静静地伫立，希望梦想成真，可是周围仍是一片静悄悄。我已不想回家，我强烈地感觉到乔现在不会在家里。我凝神谛听，隐隐约约听到了一条狗的喘气声。 “鸽子！”我轻轻地叫了声。尽管我是压低了声音，但森林里传来的回声还是吓了我一大跳。小狗在我的腿下磨来蹭去，一面发出唔唔的呜咽声。 我跪下来，“鸽子，他在哪儿？鸽子！乔在哪儿？” 小狗往前奔跑一阵，停下来看看我又继续往前跑，它在带路。我紧跟着鸽子。 我看到乔的那一刻，几乎吓呆了。我怔怔地站着，望着陷阱里被夹子套牢的乔，不知所措。乔掉进了看林人设下的陷阱。我使出浑身力气拉动夹子，但毫无用处。 “乔！”我轻轻喊了他一声。鸽子仍在我腿边磨蹭，哀求我快救它的好朋友。乔被牢牢夹住，一动不动，毫无反应。 我发疯似地拚命拉那些铁条，但怎么也拉不开。我惊恐得快失去理智了，一心只想尽快把乔救出来，免得被人发现。如果被当场抓获，而乔又还活着，他们就会将他送交地方法官那儿。贾斯廷爵士是不会轻易放过他的。但我还祈求上帝得保佑他还活着，他一定要活着！只要活着，我总会有办法的。 记得外婆曾说过只要竭尽全力去做某件事，总会到达成功的彼岸，我对此深信无疑。但此时此刻，当我面临眼前这一切时，我实在觉得外婆的话只是说说而已！ 我的手都弄破了，血流不止。我根本就不知道如何打开机关。不管我如何努力，一点用处也没有。但我确信一定有办法打开，只是要人帮忙。应该去找外婆，但是她毕竟上了年纪，她是聪明的，但她能打开吗？她行吗？OK!我鼓励自己，是的，我现在不该浪费时间，得赶紧回去叫外婆来。 小狗抬头看看我，眼睛里充满了期待。 我摸摸它说，“你留下来陪着乔！”说完撒腿就跑。 我从没跑得那么快，但脚下的路还是那么漫长。一路上，我一直惊觉着四周的动静。如果贾斯廷爵士的人赶在我回来之前发现了乔，那就糟了！我彷佛已看到他被鞭打、被奴役。 我穿过一条小路时，再也控制不住内心的痛苦，低低地抽泣着，所以一点也没听到由远而近的脚步声，等我发觉时，他已站在我面前。 “嗨，”一个声音说，“怎么啦？” 我听出这人是我的冤家，那个叫做金的男孩。 千万不能让他抓到我，千万不能被他发现。我边想边跑，但他很快追上了我。 他抓住我的手臂，一把扭转我的身体。 他吹了声口哨，“是克伦莎！” “放我走。” “深更半夜的，你为什么在森林里跑来跑去？你是个巫婆吗？是的，一定是的，你一听到我来，就施展巫术把你的扫把甩掉？” 我想挣脱出来，但他紧紧地抓住我，他的脸凑到我眼前。 “你害怕了，”他说，“你怕我？” 我真想踢他一脚，“我才不怕呢！” 我想到了还关在陷阱里的乔，他在受苦受难，而我却无能为力，这样一想，就情不自禁地哭了。他的态度一下变得温和起来，他说：“相信我，我不会伤害你的。”听他这么一说，我顿觉安然了许多。他说话的语气让我感受到他不是个心狠手辣的人。 他年龄不大，但体格健壮，相比之下，我显得弱不禁风；我忽然产生这样一个念头，也许他能打开那个陷阱的机关。 我决定孤注一掷，但话才出口又觉得有些后悔，但既然说了也没转圜余地了。 “都是为了我弟弟。”我说。 "Where is he?" 我朝森林远处看了看说：“在……陷阱里。” “我的天！”他大吃一惊，“快带我去。” 当我把他带到乔那儿时，小狗欢愉地迎了上来。但乔的情况相当严重，好在他现在有希望了。 “我们可以试试！”他说。 “我们一定要把他救出来！”我态度坚定，语气强硬，我注意到他听了以后嘴唇紧闭，嘴角微微翘起。 “会成功的！”他安慰我，我觉得更有信心了。 他告诉我该怎么配合他，然后我们一起用力，但铁夹子仍是一动不动。我暗自庆幸刚才没有去叫外婆来帮忙，因为现在我知道凭我和外婆的力气，是绝对打不开铁夹子的。 “加把劲！”他命令说。我使出浑身力气，压在铁条上，慢慢地，金打开了这魔鬼的枷锁。笑容舒展在金的脸上。乔终于得救了。 “乔，亲爱的，”我柔声地呼唤着，就像他还是个婴儿时一样，“你可不能死，你一定要活着。” 我们一起把乔从陷阱里拖了出来，同时拖出来的还有一只死野鸡。我注意到金朝野鸡看了一眼，但他什么也没说。 “恐怕他的腿已给夹断了，”他说，“我们得小心点，还是让我来背他吧！”说着他轻轻地抱起乔，从这一刻起，我对他的一股亲切之情油然而生；他在我眼里是如此温文尔雅，如此体恤平民百姓。 就这样，金背着乔，我带着小狗走在他身旁，心中荡漾着成功的喜悦。当走到离家不远的地方时，我意识到不管金多么温柔可爱，他毕竟跟自己不一样。今天下午举行的打猎活动也许就有他。在他们这些人眼中，我们的命还不如森林里的鸟儿。 我焦虑地问他：“你要带他到哪儿？” “去找希拉德医生，还用问吗？” “不行！”我紧张起来。 "why?" “难道你不知道？他会问我们在哪儿发现乔这副样子，然后他就知道乔是掉入森林里的陷阱里才受伤。你还不明白这样做的后果吗？” “会怀疑他偷野鸡？”金问我。 “不，不，他从不偷东西。他无非想帮助那些鸟儿。他就是喜欢小动物。你不要把他带到医生那儿。求求你了，行行好吧……” 我一把抓住他的外套，抬头看着他。 “那我们把他送到哪儿？” “送到我们的小屋去。我外婆比医生还强，而且又能不被人发现……” 他停住脚步，我以为他不愿理会我的请求，出乎意料地，他说，“好吧，但我还是认为应该去看医生。” “他最需要的是快点回家，和外婆，和我待在一起。” “你既然这么坚决，那也只好这样，但实际上不该这么做。” “他是我弟弟。你清楚那伙人会怎么惩罚他的。” “那你在前面带路吧！”他说，随即便跟着我踏上回小屋的路。 外婆正等在门口，满脸忧虑，担心我们出了什么事。我上气不接下气地讲述了前后给外婆听，金站在一旁一言不发；他把乔背进里屋，让乔躺在外婆早已铺好的毯子上。乔躺在床上，显得十分弱小。 “我猜他一定折断了腿骨。”金说。 外婆点点头。 他们一起在乔的腿上绑了一根木棒，金给外婆当助手，忙这忙那，我觉得自己彷佛在梦中。外婆给乔清洗伤口，再往伤口上涂了点药膏，金站在一旁默默地看着。 当外婆忙完了以后，金说：“他应该去看医生。” “还是这样好。”外婆知道这事的前后经过，就谢绝了。 金耸耸肩，悄然离去。
我和外婆整夜看护着乔。到早上时，我们深信乔已脱离了险境。 但我们依然提心吊胆。乔整日躺在床上，自然没有精力为自己担心，我和外婆却时时留意着周围的动静。只要听到脚步声，就紧张得站起来，害怕是有人来捉拿乔。 连平日说话，我们都尽可能地压低嗓子。 “外婆，”我问她，“我做得不对吗？当时，金就站在我身边，他那么高大魁梧，我觉得他一定能解救乔。况且我认为你我俩人是无法打开铁夹子的。” “你做得对，”外婆安慰我说，“如果乔到天亮都没人搭救，他一定没命了。” 我们不再说话，看着乔，听着是否有脚步声。 “外婆，”我说，“你觉得他会不会……” “我也说不准。” “他看上去挺随和的，外婆，跟别人不一样。” “是很和善的样子。”外婆赞同我的看法。 “但是，他是朗斯顿家的朋友