Arakin 1 Unit 20 - Home, p. 305-306 | Текст песни

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• Arakin 1 Unit 20
• Home, p. 305-306

$#1049159;$#1049192;$#1049190;$#1049183;
After W. S. Maugham*
* Maugham [m$#1048767;m].
The farm, an old-fashioned stone house, was built in 1673, and for three hundred years the people had been
born and died in it and had farmed the surrounding land.
George Meadows was a man of fifty and his wife, Mrs. George, was a year or two younger. They were both
fine people in the prime of life. Their three daughters were lovely and their two sons were handsome and
strong. They had no notions about being gentlemen and ladies; they knew their place, were happy and deserved
their happiness, as they were merry, industrious and kindly.
The master of the house was not George, but his mother, who was twice the man her son was, as they said in
the village. She was a woman of seventy, tall, upright, with gray hair and a wrinkled face. Her eyes were bright
and shrewd and she had a sense of humour. Her word was law in the house and on the farm. In short, she was a
character.
One day Mrs. George met me in the street and told me that they had received a letter from their Uncle
George, whom them all thought dead. The letter informed them of his coming. "Just fancy," she said, "he hasn't
been here for fifty years. And old Mrs. Meadows sits there and smiles to herself! All she says is that he was
very good-looking, but not so steady as his brother Tom!" Mrs. George invited me to look in and see the old
man. I accepted the invitation with joy, as I knew the story of Uncle George Meadows and it amused me
because it was like an old ballad. It was touching to come across such a story in real life. More than fifty years
ago, when Mrs. Meadows was Emily Green, a young charming girl, George and his younger brother Tom both
courted her. When Emily married Tom, George had gone to sea. For twenty years he sent them presents now
and then; then there was no more news of him. After her husband's death Emily wrote George about it, but
never received an answer. And the previous day, to their greatest surprise they received his letter, in which he
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wrote that he was crippled with rheumatism and feeling he had not much longer to live, wanted to return to the
house in which he was born.
When I came the whole family was assembled in the kitchen. I was amused to see that Mrs. Meadows was
wearing her best silk dress. On the other side of the fireplace sat an old man with a wrinkled yellow face. He
was very thin and his skin hung on his bones like an old suit too large for him. Captain George, as he had called
himself, told us that he had been so ill he thought he would never be able to get back, but the look of his old
home had done him a lot of good. He said good-humouredly: "I feel now better and stronger than I have for
many years, dear Emily!" No one had called Mrs. Meadows by her Christian name for a generation and it gave
me a shock, as though the old man were taking a liberty with her. It was strange to look at these two old smiling
people and to think that nearly half a century ago he had loved her and she had married another.
When I asked him if he had ever been married he said he knew too much about women for that. Then he
added looking at Mrs. Meadows: "I said I'd never marry anyone but you, Emily, and I never had." He said it not
with regret, but with some satisfaction.
Captain Meadows told us a lot of interesting stories about his adventures and about many things he had seen
and done.
"Well, one thing you haven't done. George, and that is to make a fortune!" said Mrs. Meadows with a
thoughtful smile.
"Oh, I'm not one to save money. Make it and spend it, that's my motto. But if I had a chance of going
through my life again I'd take it. There are not many people who'd wish it!"
I looked at this toothless, crippled, penniless old man with admiration and respect. That was a man who had
made a success of his life, because he had enjoyed it.
Next morning I decided to see the old man again. I saw Mrs. Meadows in the garden picking white flowers. I
asked her if Captain Meadows was well. "Oh, dear, he had always been a harum-scarum fellow! He boasted
that he was so happy to be back in his old home that he would live for another twenty years. Alas! He died in
his sleep." Mrs. Meadows smelt the flowers she held in her arms and added thoughtfully: "Well, I'm glad he
came back. After I married Tom and George went away, I was never sure I had married the right man!"

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