A Change of Air. Hope Anthony

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ you? We've just breakfasted – had a ride before, you know. But I must introduce you."

      He searched the floor, picked up the cigar, looked at it regretfully, and threw it out of an open window.

      "This," he resumed, waving his hand toward the piano, "is Mrs. Ernest Hodge. This is Miss Fane, Mrs. Hodge's daughter – no, not by a first marriage; everybody suggests that. Professional name, you know – she sings. Hodge really wouldn't do, would it, Mrs. Hodge? This is Philip Hume. This is Arthur Angell, who writes verses – like me. This is – but I expect you know these gentlemen?"

      Mr. Delane peered through the smoke which Philip Hume was producing from a long pipe, and to his amazement discerned three familiar faces: those of Dr. Roberts, the Mayor, and Alderman Johnstone. The Doctor was flushed and looked excited; the Mayor was a picture of dignified complacency; Johnstone appeared embarrassed and uncomfortable, for his bald head was embellished with a flowery garland. Dale saw Mr. Delane's eyes rest on this article.

      "We always crown anybody who adds to our knowledge," he explained. "He gets a wreath of honor. The Alderman added to our knowledge of the expense of building a room. So Miss Fane crowned him."

      An appreciative chuckle from the Mayor followed this explanation; he knocked the butt of his cue against the floor, and winked at Philip Hume.

      The last-named, seeing that Mr. Delane was somewhat surprised at the company, came up to him and said:

      "Come and sit down; Dale never remembers that anybody wants a seat. Here's an armchair."

      Mr. Delane sat down next to Miss Fane, and noticed, even in his perturbation, that his neighbor was a remarkably pretty girl, with fair hair clustering in a thick mass on the nape of her neck, and large blue eyes which left gazing on Dale Bannister when their owner turned to greet him. Mr. Delane would have enjoyed talking to her, had not his soul been vexed at the presence of the three Denborough men. One did not expect to meet the tradesmen of the town; and what business had the Doctor there? To spend Sunday in that fashion would not increase his popularity or his practice. And then that nonsense about the wreath! How undignified it was! it was even worse than yelling out Nihilistic verses by way of Sabbath amusement.

      "I shall get away as soon as I can," he thought, "and I shall say a word to the Doctor."

      He was called from his meditations by Miss Fane. She sat in a low chair with her feet on a stool, and now, tilting the chair back, she fixed her eyes on Mr. Delane, and asked:

      "Are you shocked?"

      No man likes to admit that he is shocked.

      "I am not, but many people would be."

      "I suppose you don't like meeting those men?"

      "Hedger is an honest man in his way of life. I have no great opinion of Johnstone."

      "This is your house, isn't it?"

      "Yes."

      "All the houses about here are yours, aren't they?"

      "Most of them are, Miss Fane."

      "Then you are a great man?"

      The question was put so simply that Mr. Delane could not suspect a sarcastic intent.

      "Only locally," he answered, smiling.

      "Have you any daughters?" she asked.

      "Yes; one."

      "What is she like?"

      "Fancy asking her father! I think Janet a beauty."

      "Fair or dark?"

      "Dark."

      "Dale likes dark girls. Tall or short?"

      "Tall."

      "Good eyes?"

      "I like them."

      "Oh, that'll do. Dale will like her;" and Miss Fane nodded reassuringly. Mr. Delane had not the heart to intimate his indifference to Dale Bannister's opinion of his daughter.

      "Do you know this country?" he asked, by way of conversation.

      "We've only been here a week, but we've ridden a good deal. We hold Dale on, you know."

      "You are on a visit to Mr. Bannister?"

      "Oh, yes, mother and I are here."

      Mr. Delane could not help wondering whether their presence was such a matter of course as her tone implied, but before he could probe the matter further, he heard Dale exclaim:

      "Oh, it's a wretched thing! Read it yourself, Roberts."

      "Mount him on the rostrum," cried the young man who had been presented to Mr. Delane as Arthur Angell, and who had hitherto been engaged in an animated discussion with the Doctor.

      Laughing, and only half resisting, the Doctor allowing himself to be hoisted on to the billiard-table, sat down, and announced in a loud voice:

      "'Blood for Blood': by Dale Bannister."

      The poem which bore this alarming title was perhaps the most outrageous of the author's works. It held up to ridicule and devoted to damnation every person and every institution which the Squire respected and worshiped. And the misguided young man declaimed it with sparkling eyes and emphasizing gestures, as though every wicked word of it were gospel. And to this man's charge were committed the wives and families of the citizens of Denborough! The Squire's self-respect demanded a protest. He rose with dignity, and went up to his host.

      "Good-by, Mr. Bannister."

      "What? you're not going yet? What? Does this stuff bore you?"

      "It does not bore me. But I must add – excuse an old-fashioned fellow – that it does something worse."

      "What? Oh, you're on the other side? Of course you are!"

      "Whatever side I was, I could not listen to that. As an older man, let me give you a word of advice."

      Dale lifted his hands in good-humored protest.

      "Sorry you don't like it," he said. "Shut up, Roberts! If I'd known, we wouldn't have had it. But it's true – true – true."

      The Doctor listened with sparkling eyes.

      "I must differ utterly; I must indeed. Good-by, Mr. Bannister. Hedger?"

      The Mayor started.

      "I am walking into the town. Come with me."

      The Mayor wavered. The Squire stood and waited for him.

      "I didn't think of goin' yet, Mr. Delane, sir."

      Dale watched the encounter with a smile.

      "Your wife will expect you," said the Squire. "Come along."

      The Mayor rose, ignoring Johnstone's grin and the amusement on the faces of the company.

      "I'll come and look you up," said Dale, pressing the Squire's hand warmly. "Oh, it's all right. СКАЧАТЬ