I left Horton Lodge, and went to join my mother in our new abode at A–. I found her well in health, resigned in spirit, and even cheerful, though subdued and sober, in her general demeanour. We had only three boarders and half a dozen day–pupils to commence with; but by due care and diligence we hoped ere long to increase the number of both.
I set myself with befitting energy to discharge the duties of this new mode of life. I call it NEW, for there was, indeed, a considerable difference between working with my mother in a school of our own, and working as a hireling among strangers, despised and trampled upon by old and young; and for the first few weeks I was by no means unhappy. ‘It is possible we may meet again,’ and ‘will it be of any consequence to you whether we do or not?’—Those words still rang in my ear and rested on my heart: they were my secret solace and support. ‘I shall see him again.—He will come; or he will write.’ No promise, in fact, was too bright or too extravagant for Hope to whisper in my ear. I did not believe half of what she told me: I pretended to laugh at it all; but I was far more credulous than I myself supposed; otherwise, why did my heart leap up when a knock was heard at the front door, and the maid, who opened it, came to tell my mother a gentleman wished to see her? and why was I out of humour for the rest of the day, because it proved to be a music–master come to offer his services to our school? and what stopped my breath for a moment, when the postman having brought a couple of letters, my mother said, ‘Here, Agnes, this is for you,’ and threw one of them to me? and what made the hot blood rush into my face when I saw it was directed in a gentleman’s hand? and why—oh! why did that cold, sickening sense of disappointment fall upon me, when I had torn open the cover and found it was ONLY a letter from Mary, which, for some reason or other, her husband had directed for her?
Was it then come to this—that I should be DISAPPOINTED to receive a letter from my only sister: and because it was not written by a comparative stranger? Dear Mary! and she had written it so kindly—and thinking I should be so pleased to have it!—I was not worthy to read it! And I believe, in my indignation against myself, I should have put it aside till I had schooled myself into a better frame of mind, and was become more deserving of the honour and privilege of its perusal: but there was my mother looking on, and wishful to know what news it contained; so I read it and delivered it to her, and then went into the schoolroom to attend to the pupils: but amidst the cares of copies and sums—in the intervals of correcting errors here, and reproving derelictions of duty there, I was inwardly taking myself to task with far sterner severity. ‘What a fool you must be,’ said my head to my heart, or my sterner to my softer self;—’how could you ever dream that he would write to you? What grounds have you for such a hope—or that he will see you, or give himself any trouble about you—or even think of you again?’ ‘What grounds?’—and then Hope set before me that last, short interview, and repeated the words I had so faithfully treasured in my memory. ‘Well, and what was there in that?—Who ever hung his hopes upon so frail a twig? What was there in those words that any common acquaintance might not say to another? Of course, it was possible you might meet again: he might have said so if you had been going to New Zealand; but that did not imply any INTENTION of seeing you—and then, as to the question that followed, anyone might ask that: and how did you answer?—Merely with a stupid, commonplace reply, such as you would have given to Master Murray, or anyone else you had been on tolerably civil terms with.’ ‘But, then,’ persisted Hope, ‘the tone and manner in which he spoke.’ ‘Oh, that is nonsense! he always speaks impressively; and at that moment there were the Greens and Miss Matilda Murray just before, and other people passing by, and he was obliged to stand close beside you, and to speak very low, unless he wished everybody to hear what he said, which—though it was nothing at all particular—of course, he would rather not.’ But then, above all, that emphatic, yet gentle pressure of the hand, which seemed to say, ‘TRUST me;’ and many other things besides—too delightful, almost too flattering, to be repeated even to one’s self. ‘Egregious folly—too absurd to require contradiction—mere inventions of the imagination, which you ought to be ashamed of. If you would but consider your own unattractive exterior, your unamiable reserve, your foolish diffidence—which must make you appear cold, dull, awkward, and perhaps ill–tempered too;—if you had but rightly considered these from the beginning, you would never have harboured such presumptuous thoughts: and now that you have been so foolish, pray repent and amend, and let us have no more of it!’
I cannot say that I implicitly obeyed my own injunctions: but such reasoning as this became more and more effective as time wore on, and nothing was seen or heard of Mr. Weston; until, at last, I gave up hoping, for even my heart acknowledged it was all in vain. But still, I would think of him: I would cherish his image in my mind; and treasure every word, look, and gesture that my memory could retain; and brood over his excellences and his peculiarities, and, in fact, all I had seen, heard, or imagined respecting him.
‘Agnes, this sea air and change of scene do you no good, I think: I never saw you look so wretched. It must be that you sit too much, and allow the cares of the schoolroom to worry you. You must learn to take things easy, and to be more active and cheerful; you must take exercise whenever you can get it, and leave the most tiresome duties to me: they will only serve to exercise my patience, and, perhaps, try my temper a little.’
So said my mother, as we sat at work one morning during the Easter holidays. I assured her that my employments were not at all oppressive; that I was well; or, if there was anything amiss, it would be gone as soon as the trying months of spring were over: when summer came I should be as strong and hearty as she could wish to see me: but inwardly her observation startled me. I knew my strength was declining, my appetite had failed, and I was grown listless and desponding;—and if, indeed, he could never care for me, and I could never see him more—if I was forbidden to minister to his happiness—forbidden, for ever, to taste the joys of love, to bless, and to be blessed—then, life must be a burden, and if my heavenly Father would call me away, I should be glad to rest. But it would not do to die and leave my mother. Selfish, unworthy daughter, to forget her for a moment! Was not her happiness committed in a great measure to my charge?—and the welfare of our young pupils too? Should I shrink from the work that God had set before me, because it was not fitted to my taste? Did not He know best what I should do, and where I ought to labour?—and should I long to quit His service before I had finished my task, and expect to enter into His rest without having laboured to earn it? ‘No; by His help I will arise and address myself diligently to my appointed duty. If happiness in this world is not for me, I will endeavour to promote the welfare of those around me, and my reward shall be hereafter.’ So said I in my heart; and from that hour I only permitted my thoughts to wander to Edward Weston—or at least to dwell upon him now and then—as a treat for rare occasions: and, whether it was really the approach of summer or the effect of these good resolutions, or the lapse of time, or all together, tranquillity of mind was soon restored; and bodily health and vigour began likewise, slowly, but surely, to return.
Early in June, I received a letter from Lady Ashby, late Miss Murray. She had written to me twice or thrice before, from the different stages of her bridal tour, always in good spirits, and professing to be very happy. I wondered every time that she had not forgotten me, in the midst of so much gaiety and variety of scene. At length, however, there was a pause; and it seemed she had forgotten me, for upwards of seven months passed away and no letter. Of course, I did not break my heart about THAT, though I often wondered how she was getting on; and when this last epistle so unexpectedly arrived, I was glad enough to receive it. It was dated from Ashby Park, where she was come to settle down at last, having previously divided her time between the continent and the metropolis. She made many apologies for having neglected me so long, assured me she had not forgotten me, and had often intended to write, &c. &c., but had always been prevented by something. She acknowledged that she had been leading a very dissipated life, and I should think her very wicked and very thoughtless; but, notwithstanding that, she thought a great deal, and, among other things, that she should vastly like to see me. ‘We have been several days here already,’ wrote she. ‘We have not a single friend with us, and are likely to be very dull. You know I never had a fancy for living with my husband like two turtles in a nest, were he the most delightful creature that ever wore a coat; so do take pity upon me and come. I suppose your Midsummer holidays commence in June, the same as other people’s; therefore you cannot plead want of time; and you must and shall come—in fact, I shall die if you don’t. I want you to visit me as a friend, and stay a long time. There is nobody with me, as I told you before, but Sir Thomas and old Lady Ashby: but you needn’t mind them—they’ll trouble us but little with their company. And you shall have a room to yourself, whenever you like to retire to it, and plenty of books to read when my company is not sufficiently amusing. I forget whether you like babies; if you do, you may have the pleasure of seeing mine—the most charming child in the world, no doubt; and all the more so, that I am not troubled with nursing it—I was determined I wouldn’t be bothered with that. Unfortunately, it is a girl, and Sir Thomas has never forgiven me: but, however, if you will only come, I promise you shall be its governess as soon as it can speak; and you shall bring it up in the way it should go, and make a better woman of it than its mamma. And you shall see my poodle, too: a splendid little charmer imported from Paris: and two fine Italian paintings of great value—I forget the artist. Doubtless you will be able to discover prodigious beauties in them, which you must point out to me, as I only admire by hearsay; and many elegant curiosities besides, which I purchased at Rome and elsewhere; and, finally, you shall see my new home—the splendid house and grounds I used to covet so greatly. Alas! how far the promise of anticipation exceeds the pleasure of possession! There’s a fine sentiment! I assure you I am become quite a grave old matron: pray come, if it be only to witness the wonderful change. Write by return of post, and tell me when your vacation commences, and say that you will come the day after, and stay till the day before it closes—in mercy to
‘Yours affectionately,
‘ROSALIE ASHBY.’
I showed this strange epistle to my mother, and consulted her on what I ought to do. She advised me to go; and I went—willing enough to see Lady Ashby, and her baby, too, and to do anything I could to benefit her, by consolation or advice; for I imagined she must be unhappy, or she would not have applied to me thus—but feeling, as may readily be conceived, that, in accepting the invitation, I made a great sacrifice for her, and did violence to my feelings in many ways, instead of being delighted with the honourable distinction of being entreated by the baronet’s lady to visit her as a friend. However, I determined my visit should be only for a few days at most; and I will not deny that I derived some consolation from the idea that, as Ashby Park was not very far from Horton, I might possibly see Mr. Weston, or, at least, hear something about him.
背景和作者介绍
这段文字出自一部19世纪的经典小说，反映了一位年轻女性的生活和内心想法，她正在努力应对个人希望和社会期望。作者写作的时代，女性的角色往往局限于家庭和教育领域，她探讨了爱、失望、责任和个人成长等主题。叙事风格是内省的，让读者深入了解主人公的情感世界，她与希望和现实的斗争，以及她在逆境中寻找意义和目标所做的努力。
详细解读和意义
故事生动地描绘了主人公从依赖生活到承担责任的转变，她和母亲搬到了一个新家，并接受了管理一所小学的挑战。希望和失望之间的情感张力是核心：她紧紧抓住与爱德华·韦斯顿重归于好的可能性，他短暂而模棱两可的互动点燃了她的梦想，但现实却一次又一次地用沉默和缺席来面对她。
这段文字还突出了主人公的内心冲突——允许自己抱有希望，以及每次希望破灭后随之而来的严厉的自我谴责。这种紧张关系反映了一种普遍的人类体验，对于正在学习平衡梦想与现实的年轻读者来说，这一点尤其令人心酸。母亲的实际建议和关怀起到了奠基作用，鼓励了韧性和自我关怀。
来自阿什比夫人的邀请引入了一种新的社会动态和改变的可能性，象征着主人公向超越她直接困境的更广阔世界的试探性迈进。它也对比了不同的生活选择和态度，让读者得以一窥友谊、社会地位和个人转变的主题。
给学生的启示和见解
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希望与韧性： 主人公的旅程教会学生希望的重要性，希望是安慰和动力的源泉，但当希望没有立即实现时，也需要韧性。学会管理期望并保持内在力量是一项宝贵的生活技能。
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自我反思与成长： 叙事鼓励自我意识，展示了主人公如何批判性地审视自己的感受和行为。学生可以学习诚实自我反思在个人发展中的价值。
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平衡情感与责任： 故事说明了平衡情感愿望与责任的挑战。这与面临学业压力、家庭期望或社会挑战的学生相关，提醒他们要在个人感受和义务之间找到平衡。
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同情心和理解他人： 通过主人公对母亲的关心以及她愿意支持阿什比夫人，尽管她做出了个人牺牲，读者可以学习同情心、善良以及在困难时帮助他人的重要性。
在日常生活中应用
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在学习中： 学生可以在学习中运用主人公的勤奋和毅力，认识到挫折是成长的一部分，保持希望可以激励他们继续努力。
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在社交互动中： 故事鼓励在人际关系中保持耐心和理解，表明人们的行为往往有更深层的原因，善良可以成为对他人挣扎的有力回应。
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在个人发展中： 通过反思自己的希望和失望，学生可以培养情商，学习建设性地应对挑战并支持周围的人。
从故事中培养积极品质
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耐心： 像主人公一样，学生可以对自己和他人保持耐心，理解并非所有愿望都能立即实现。
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勇气： 面对情感痛苦并继续履行职责需要勇气，学生可以通过走出舒适区并正面应对挑战来培养这种品质。
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希望： 即使在困难的情况下，保持希望也能激励学生继续努力实现自己的目标。
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同情心： 主人公对母亲和阿什比夫人的同情心树立了同情的榜样，鼓励学生成为体贴和支持的朋友和家人。
结论
这篇摘录提供了对人类情感和社会现实的丰富探索，这些内容与今天的年轻读者息息相关。通过参与主人公的经历，学生可以深入了解如何管理自己的感受、建立韧性以及以善良和责任感行事。这个故事不仅是一部文学作品，也是个人成长和社会理解的指南，使其成为教育和自我发展的宝贵资源。
