The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第89章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


her。　She　felt　something　all　the　time　wearing　upon　her；　wearing
her　down。　She　went　about　in　these　first　weeks　trying　to　deny　it；
to　say　she　was　free　as　ever。　She　tried　not　to　feel　at　a
disadvantage　before　Miss　Harby；　tried　to　keep　up　the　effect　of
her　own　superiority。　But　a　great　weight　was　on　her；　which　Violet
Harby　could　bear；　and　she　herself　could　not。

Though　she　did　not　give　in；　she　never　succeeded。　Her　class
was　getting　in　worse　condition；　she　knew　herself　less　and　less
secure　in　teaching　it。　Ought　she　to　withdraw　and　go　home　again？
Ought　she　to　say　she　had　e　to　the　wrong　place；　and　so　retire？
Her　very　life　was　at　test。

She　went　on　doggedly；　blindly；　waiting　for　a　crisis。　Mr。
Harby　had　now　begun　to　persecute　her。　Her　dread　and　hatred　of
him　grew　and　loomed　larger　and　larger。　She　was　afraid　he　was
going　to　bully　her　and　destroy　her。　He　began　to　persecute　her
because　she　could　not　keep　her　class　in　proper　condition；
because　her　class　was　the　weak　link　in　the　chain　which　made　up
the　school。

One　of　the　offences　was　that　her　class　was　noisy　and
disturbed　Mr。　Harby；　as　he　took　Standard　Seven　at　the　other　end
of　the　room。　She　was　taking　position　on　a　certain　morning；
walking　in　among　the　scholars。　Some　of　the　boys　had　dirty　ears
and　necks；　their　clothing　smelled　unpleasantly；　but　she　could
ignore　it。　She　corrected　the　writing　as　she　went。

〃When　you　say　'their　fur　is　brown'；　how　do　you　write
'their'？〃　she　asked。

There　was　a　little　pause；　the　boys　were　always　jeeringly
backward　in　answering。　They　had　begun　to　jeer　at　her　authority
altogether。

〃Please；　miss；　t…h…e…i…r〃；　spelled　a　lad；　loudly；　with　a　note
of　mockery。

At　that　moment　Mr。　Harby　was　passing。

〃Stand　up；　Hill！〃　he　called；　in　a　big　voice。

Everybody　started。　Ursula　watched　the　boy。　He　was　evidently
poor；　and　rather　cunning。　A　stiff　bit　of　hair　stood　straight　off
his　forehead；　the　rest　fitted　close　to　his　meagre　head。　He　was
pale　and　colourless。

〃Who　told　you　to　call　out？〃　thundered　Mr。　Harby。

The　boy　looked　up　and　down；　with　a　guilty　air；　and　a　cunning；
cynical　reserve。

〃Please；　sir；　I　was　answering；〃　he　replied；　with　the　same
humble　insolence。

〃Go　to　my　desk。〃

The　boy　set　off　down　the　room；　the　big　black　jacket　hanging
in　dejected　folds　about　him；　his　thin　legs；　rather　knocked　at
the　knees；　going　already　with　the　pauper's　crawl；　his　feet　in
their　big　boots　scarcely　lifted。　Ursula　watched　him　in　his
crawling；　slinking　progress　down　the　room。　He　was　one　of　her
boys！　When　he　got　to　the　desk；　he　looked　round；　half　furtively；
with　a　sort　of　cunning　grin　and　a　pathetic　leer　at　the　big　boys
in　Standard　VII。　Then；　pitiable；　pale；　in　his　dejected　garments；
he　lounged　under　the　menace　of　the　headmaster's　desk；　with　one
thin　leg　crooked　at　the　knee　and　the　foot　struck　out　sideways
his　hands　in　the　low…hanging　pockets　of　his　man's　jacket。

Ursula　tried　to　get　her　attention　back　to　the　class。　The　boy
gave　her　a　little　horror；　and　she　was　at　the　same　time　hot　with
pity　for　him。　She　felt　she　wanted　to　scream。　She　was　responsible
for　the　boy's　punishment。　Mr。　Harby　was　looking　at　her
handwriting　on　the　board。　He　turned　to　the　class。

〃Pens　down。〃

The　children　put　down　their　pens　and　looked　up。

〃Fold　arms。〃

They　pushed　back　their　books　and　folded　arms。

Ursula；　stuck　among　the　back　forms；　could　not　extricate
herself。

〃What　is　your　position　about？〃　asked　the
headmaster。　Every　hand　shot　up。　〃The　〃　stuttered
some　voice　in　its　eagerness　to　answer。

〃I　wouldn't　advise　you　to　call　out；〃　said　Mr。　Harby。　He　would
have　a　pleasant　voice；　full　and　musical；　but　for　the　detestable
menace　that　always　tailed　in　it。　He　stood　unmoved；　his　eyes
twinkling　under　his　bushy　black　eyebrows；　watching　the　class。
There　was　something　fascinating　in　him；　as　he　stood；　and　again
she　wanted　to　scream。　She　was　all　jarred；　she　did　not　know　what
she　felt。

〃Well；　Alice？〃　he　said。

〃The　rabbit；〃　piped　a　girl's　voice。

〃A　very　easy　subject　for　Standard　Five。〃

Ursula　felt　a　slight　shame　of　inpetence。　She　was　exposed
before　the　class。　And　she　was　tormented　by　the　contradictoriness
of　everything。　Mr。　Harby　stood　so　strong；　and　so　male；　with　his
black　brows　and　clear　forehead；　the　heavy　jaw；　the　big；
overhanging　moustache：　such　a　man；　with　strength　and　male　power；
and　a　certain　blind；　native　beauty。　She　might　have　liked　him　as
a　man。　And　here　he　stood　in　some　other　capacity；　bullying　over
such　a　trifle　as　a　boy's　speaking　out　without　permission。　Yet　he
was　not　a　little；　fussy　man。　He　seemed　to　have　some　cruel；
stubborn；　evil　spirit；　he　was　imprisoned　in　a　task　too　small　and
petty　for　him；　which　yet；　in　a　servile　acquiescence；　he　would
fulfil；　because　he　had　to　earn　his　living。　He　had　no　finer
control　over　himself；　only　this　blind；　dogged；　wholesale　will。
He　would　keep　the　job　going；　since　he　must。　And　this　job　was　to
make　the　children　spell　the　word　〃caution〃　correctly；　and　put　a
capital　letter　after　a　full…stop。　So　at　this　he　hammered　with
his　suppressed　hatred；　always　suppressing　himself；　till　he　was
beside　himself。　Ursula　suffered；　bitterly　as　he　stood；　short　and
handsome　and　powerful；　teaching　her　class。　It　seemed　such　a
miserable　thing　for　him　to　be　doing。　He　had　a　decent；　powerful；
rude　soul。　What　did　he　care　about　the　position　on　〃The
Rabbit〃？　Yet　his　will　kept　him　there　before　the　class；　threshing
the　trivial　subject。　It　was　habit　with　him　now；　to　be　so　little
and　vulgar；　out　of　place。　She　saw　the　shamefulness　of　his
position；　felt　the　fettered　wickedness　in　him　which　would　blaze
out　into　evil　rage　in　the　long　run；　so　that　he　was　like　a
persistent；　strong　creature　tethered。　It　was　really　intolerable。
The　jarring　was　torture　to　her。　She　looked　over　the　silent；
attentive　class　that　seemed　to　have　crystallized　into　order　and
rigid；　neutral　form。　This　he　had　it　in　his　power　to　do；　to
crystallize　the　children　into　hard；　mute　fragments；　fixed　under
his　will：　his　brute　will；　which　fixed　them　by　sheer　force。

She　too　must　learn　to　subdue　them　to　her　will：　she　must。　For
it　was　her　duty；　since　the　school　was　such。　He　had　crystallized
the　class　into　order。　But　to　see　him；　a　strong；　powerful　man；
using　all　his　power　for　such　a　purpose；　seemed　almost　horrible。
There　was　something　hideous　about　it。　The　strange；　genial　light
in　his　eye　was　really　vicious；　and　ugly；　his　smile　was　one　of
torture。　He　could　not　be　impersonal。　He　could　not　have　a　clear；
pure　purpose；　he　could　only　exercise　his　own　brute　will。　He　did
not　believe　in　the　least　in　the　education　he　kept　inflicting
year　after　year　upon　the　children。　So　he　must　bully；　only　bully；
even　while　it　tortured　his　strong；　wholesome　nature　with　shame
like　a　spur　always　galling。　He　was　so　blind　and　ugly　and　out　of
place。　Ursula　could　not　bear　it　as　he　stood　there。　The　whole
situation　was　wrong　and　ugly。

The　lesson　was　finished；　Mr。　Harby　went　away。　At　the　far　end
of　the　room　she　heard　the　whistle　and　the　thud　of　the　cane。　Her
heart　stood　still　within　her。　She　could　not　bear　it；　no；　she
could　not　bear　it　when　the　boy　was　beaten。　It　made　her　sick。　She
felt　that　she　must　go　out　of　this　school；　this　torture…place。
And　she　hated　the　schoolmaster；　thoroughly　and　finally。　The
brute；　had　he　no　shame？　He　should　never　be　allowed　to　continue
the　atrocity　of　this　bullying　cruelty。　Then　Hill　came　crawling
back；　blubbering　piteously。　There　was　something　desolate　about
this　blubbering　that　nearly　broke　her　heart。　For　after　all；　if
she　had　kept　her　class　in　proper　discipline；　this　would　never
have　happened；　Hill　would　never　have　called　out　and　been
caned。

She　began　the　arithmetic　lesson。　But　she　was　distracted。　The
boy　Hill　sat　away　on　the　back　desk；　huddled　up；　blubbering　and
sucking　his　hand。　It　was　a　long　time。　She　dared　not　go　near；　nor
speak　to　him。　She　felt　ashamed　before　him。　And　she　felt　she
could　not　forgive　the　boy　for　being　the　huddled；　blubbering
object；　all　wet　and　snivelled；　which　he　was。

She　went　on　correcting　the　sums。　But　there　were　too　many
children。　She　could　not　get　round　the　class。　And　Hill　was　on　her
conscience。　At　last　he　had　stopped　crying；　and　sat　bunched　over
his　hands；　playing　quietly。　Then　he　looked　up　at　her。　His　face
was　dirty　with　tears；　his　eyes　had　a　curious　washed　look；　like
the　sky　after　rain；　a　sort　of　wanness。　He　bore　no　malice。　He　had
already　forgotten；　and　was　waiting　to　be　restored　to　the　normal
position。

〃Go　on　with　your　work；　Hill；〃　she　said。

The　children　were　playing　over　their　arithmetic；　and；　she
knew；　cheating　thoroughly。　She　wrote　another　sum　on　the
blackboard。　She　could　not　get　round　the　class。　She　went　again　to
the　front　to　watch。　Some　were　ready。　Some　were　not。　What　was　she
to　do？

At　last　it　was　time　for　recreation。　She　gave　the　order　to
cease　working；　and　in　some　way　or　other　got　her　class　out　of　the
room。　Then　she　faced　the　disorderly　litter　of　blotted；
uncorrected　books；　of　broken　rulers　and　chewed　pens。　And　her
heart　sank　in　sickness。　The　misery　was　getting　deeper。

The　trouble　went　on　and　on；　day　after　day。　She　had　always
piles　of　books　to　mark；　myriads　of　errors　to　correct；　a
heart…wearying　task　that　she　loathed。　And　the　work　got　worse　and
wors