The New Warden. Ritchie David George

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      "It grows not greyer, but it becomes dead, like the hair of a corpse – in this atmosphere of Oxford," said Louise, even more firmly.

      "Try not to exaggerate, Louise," said Lady Dashwood, quite unmoved.

      "Madame cannot deny that the humidity of Oxford is bad both for skin and hair," said Louise, with some resentment in her tone.

      "Damp is not bad for the skin, Louise," said her mistress, "but it may be for the hair; I don't know and I don't care."

      "It's bad for the skin," said Louise. "I have seen Madame looking grave, the skin folded, in Oxford. It is the climate. It is impossible to smile – in Oxford. One lies as if under a tomb."

      "Every place has its bad points," said Lady Dashwood. "It is important to make the best of them."

      "But I do not like to see Madame depressed by the climate here," continued Louise, obstinately, "and Madame has been depressed here lately."

      "Not at all," said Lady Dashwood. "You needn't worry, Louise; any one who can stand India would find the climate of Oxford admirable. Now, as soon as you have done my hair, I want you to go down to the drawing-room, where you will find Mrs. Dashwood, and apologise to her for my not coming down again. Say I have a letter that will take me some time to answer. Bid her good night, also the Warden, who will be with her, I expect."

      Louise had been momentarily plunged into despair. She had been unsuccessful all the way round. It looked as if the visit to Oxford was to go on indefinitely, and as to the letter – well – Madame was unfathomable – as she always was. She was English, and one must not expect them to behave as if they had a heart.

      But now her spirits rose! This message to the drawing-room! The Warden was alone with Mrs. Dashwood! The Warden, this man of apparent uprightness who was the seducer of the young! Lady Dashwood had discovered his wickedness and dared not leave Mrs. Dashwood, a widow and of an age (twenty-eight) when a woman is still young, alone with him. So she, Louise, was sent down, bien entendu, to break up the tête-à-tête!

      Louise put down the brush and smiled to herself as she went down to the drawing-room.

      She, through her devotion to duty, had become an important instrument in the hands of Providence.

      When Lady Dashwood found herself alone, she took up her keys and jingled them, unable to make up her mind.

      She had only read the first two or three sentences of Belinda's letter; she had only read – until the identity and meaning of the letter had suddenly come to her.

      She opened the drawer and took out the letter. Then she walked a few steps in the room, thinking as she walked. No, much as she despised Belinda, she could not read a private letter of hers. Perhaps, because she despised her, it was all the more urgent that she should not read anything of hers.

      What Lady Dashwood longed to do was to have done with Belinda and never see her or hear from her again. She wanted Belinda wiped out of the world in which she, Lena Dashwood, moved and thought.

      What was she to do with the letter? Jim was safe now, the letter was harmless – as far as he was concerned. But what about Gwen? Was it not like handing on to her a dose of moral poison?

      On the other hand, the poison belonged to Gwen and had been sent to her by her mother!

      The matter could not be settled without more reflection. Perhaps some definite decision would frame itself during the night; perhaps she would awake in the morning, knowing exactly what was the best to be done.

      She put away the letter again, and again locked the drawer. She was putting away her keys when the door opened and she heard her maid come in.

      There was something in the way Louise entered and stood at the door that made Lady Dashwood turn round and look at her. That excellent Frenchwoman was standing very stiffly, her eyes wide and agitated, and her features expressive of extreme excitement. She breathed loudly.

      "What's the matter?" demanded Lady Dashwood.

      "Madame Dashwood was not visible in the drawing-room!" said Louise, and she tightened her lips after this pronouncement.

      "She had gone up to her bedroom?"

      "Madame Dashwood is not in her bedroom!" said Louise, with ever deepening tragedy in her voice.

      "Did you look for her in the library?" demanded Lady Dashwood.

      "Madame Dashwood is not in the library!" said Louise. She did not move from her position in front of the door. She stood there looking the personification of domestic disaster, her chest heaving.

      "Mrs. Dashwood isn't ill?" Lady Dashwood felt a sudden pang of fear at her heart.

      "No, Madame!" said Louise.

      "Then what is the matter?" demanded Lady Dashwood, sternly. "Don't be a fool, Louise. Say what has happened!"

      "How can I tell Madame? It is indeed unbelievably too sad! I did not see Madame Dashwood but I heard her voice," began Louise. "Oh, Madame, that I should have to pronounce such words to you! I open the door of the drawing-room! It is scarcely at all lighted! No one is visible! I stand and for a moment I look around me! I hear sounds! I listen again! I hear the voice of Madame Dashwood! Ah! what surprise! Where is she? She is hidden behind the great curtains of the window, completely hidden! Why? And to whom does she speak? Ah, Madame, what frightful surprise, what shock to hear reply the voice, also behind the curtain, of Monsieur the Warden! I cannot believe it, it is incredible, but also it is true! I stop no longer, for shame! I fly, I meet Robinson in the gallery, but I pass him – like lightning – I speak not! No word escapes from my mouth! I come direct to Madame's room! In entering, I know not what to say, I say nothing! I dare not! I stand with the throat swelling, the heart oppressed, but with the lips closed! I speak only because Madame insists, she commands me to speak, to say all! I trust in God! I obey Madame's command! I speak! I disclose frankly the painful truth! I impart the boring information!"

      While Louise was speaking Lady Dashwood's face had first expressed astonishment, and then it relaxed into amusement, and when her maid stopped speaking for want of breath, she sank down upon a chair and burst into laughter.

      "My poor Louise?" she said. "You never will understand English people. If Mrs. Dashwood and the Warden are behind the window curtains, it is because they want to look out of the window!"

      Louise's face became passionately sceptical.

      "In the rain, Madame!" she remarked. "In a darkness of the tomb?"

      "Yes, in the rain and darkness," said Lady Dashwood. "You must go down again in a moment, and give them my message!"

      CHAPTER VII

      MEN MARCHING PAST

      After the Warden had closed the door on his sister he came back to the fireplace. He had been interrupted, and he stood silently with his hand on the back of the chair, just as he had stood before. He was waiting, perhaps, for an invitation to speak; for some sign from Mrs. Dashwood that now that they were alone together, she expected him to talk on, freely.

      She had no suspicion of the real reason why her Aunt Lena had gone away. May took for granted that she had fled at the first sign of a religious discussion. May knew that General Sir John Dashwood, like many well regulated persons, was under the impression that he had, at some proper moment in his juvenile existence now forgotten, СКАЧАТЬ