The Spider and the Fly. Garvice Charles

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ when they had called, and Mrs. Dodson had accepted the invitation for herself and two menfolk, Violet had still further worried her aunt by declaring that the Dodsons, though they were tallow melters, were not snobs, and that for her part she saw nothing to find fault with in Mrs. Dodson save, perhaps, rather a redundancy of color in her morning cap.

      "Which, my dear aunt," Violet said, in conclusion, "is an error in taste not confined to tallow chandlers."

      So there they are. Mr. Dodson, the father, a quiet, mild-eyed old gentleman, with a partiality for clear soup; Mrs. Dodson, a smiling, homely looking lady, with a devouring admiration for her son; and the son, Mr. Leicester himself, with no particularly prominent virtues or vices save that of silence.

      He had scarcely spoken a word during the soup and the fish, and Violet had almost made up her mind that he was too proud and unforgiving, and was prepared to dislike him, when suddenly he, looking across the table, met her questioning glance, and with a smile dispelled his gravity or ill humor as a mist evaporates before the midday sun, broke out into conversation.

      Then Violet understands that he is not only heroic but amusing, that he is handsomer even than she had thought him, and that, above all, his manner, speech, and bearing are those of a perfect gentleman.

      The entrées are passed round and partaken of.

      Mr. Leicester is describing the Vicani Pass to Miss Mildmay, and interesting her deeply therein.

      Mrs. Dodson is comparing notes with Mrs. Mildmay, and Mr. Dodson is lost in the beauties of a curried fowl, when the butler, a model of solemn propriety, is approached by a footman, with whom he confers in stately, but rather disturbed asides.

      "What is it, James?" asks Mrs. Mildmay, who has noticed the conference.

      "If you please, ma'am, a gentleman – "

      But all explanation is rendered unnecessary by the opening of the door, and the entrance of another servant, who says, with that clear sing-song, proper for the occasion:

      "Captain Howard Murpoint!" and, stepping aside, allows a tall, dark gentleman to pass through the doorway.

      Conversation immediately ceases.

      Dumbly, hostess and guests regard the newcomer; dumbly still, Mrs. Mildmay rises from her chair.

      "Captain Murpoint!" she repeats.

      "Captain Murpoint!" suddenly echoes Violet, whose quick, thoughtful eyes have been scanning every feature of the dark, pale face from its piercing, black eye to the scar on its left cheek, and its black mustache.

      "Captain Murpoint!" she repeats, "my father's dearest friend!"

      Captain Murpoint came forward, with a smile evidently struggling against some emotion, and met her halfway, taking her outstretched hands, and, looking with what may well pass for tear-dimmed eyes into her pure, youthful face.

      "And you are John Mildmay's daughter!" he exclaims, in a tremulous voice. "Poor Jack, poor Jack!" and evidently overcome by the likeness or some memory of the past, Captain Murpoint, after wringing the girl's slight hand, conveys his own to his eyes and – weeps!

      CHAPTER III

      THE RETURNED CAPTIVE

      In the few minutes consumed by Captain Murpoint in mastering the emotion which the sight of his old friend's daughter had produced, Mrs. Mildmay had recovered from her astonishment, and, with her well-bred composure still a little shaken, came forward, with outstretched hand.

      "And is it, indeed, poor John's old friend, Captain Murpoint?" she said, with a little smile.

      "It is, indeed," said the captain, taking her hand, and bending over it with graceful empressement. "Alas, that I should return to find his place empty! Yet scarcely empty, for here is a beautiful reflection of my dear friend's face and form."

      And he turned his eyes with affectionate admiration upon Violet again.

      Mrs. Mildmay sighed, then quickly called his attention to her guests.

      "We have got half through dinner, Captain Murpoint, as you see, but I am sure my friends will not mind a little extension of the meal, while fresh courses are prepared. Let me introduce you. Mrs. Dodson, this is an old friend of Violet's father, consequently a dear friend of ours, Captain Murpoint."

      The captain's quick, black eyes rested for a moment upon her and Mrs. Dodson's physiognomies while the introduction was being made; as quickly passed over Mr. and Mrs. Giles' and the vicar's, but rested a little longer when Mr. Leicester's turn came, and grew more searching in their expression as they met the calm regard of the young man.

      But the keenness of the scrutiny – for it was nothing more nor less – was tempered by a smile. Captain Murpoint possessed the rare art of smiling well.

      "I beg that you will not delay the meal, nor change a single course. I am a case-hardened traveler, and too used to short fare to think anything of the loss of soup and fish. Indeed, my dear madam, if you will pardon me for a few moments I will exchange these dusty and really disgraceful garments for something more orthodox and suitable."

      Mrs. Mildmay bowed graciously, and turned to a footman.

      "I have brought my man with me – a faithful fellow, who has been my companion in fair weather and foul all over the globe," said the captain, moving toward the door. "Pray, let me implore you not to spoil your dinner."

      So saying, he passed through the doorway, outside which, eying the elegant room with a satisfied and comprehensive gaze, stood the grim-faced, sharp-eyed "faithful fellow," the captain's servant.

      Violet had not spoken a single word save those she had addressed to the captain. A sweet, solemn gravity had settled upon her fair, young face, brought there by the memories of her father, which this stranger's arrival had called up.

      She sighed when his soft, pleasing voice had died away, and turned almost with a start to her neighbor, Mr. Leicester.

      "How strange – is it not?" she said.

      "Very," said Mr. Leicester, looking at her, thoughtfully. "Captain Murpoint came unexpectedly?"

      "Quite," said Violet.

      Leicester Dodson toyed with his fork.

      "Do you remember him?" he asked.

      "I have never seen him before," replied Violet, quietly. "But he is such an old personal friend. My father never wrote me a letter without mentioning him."

      Leicester, with all the interest he felt showing plainly in his face, nodded.

      "They met in India, of course. Captain Murpoint must be a younger man than Mr. Mildmay would have been."

      "Yes," said Violet, "much younger. Papa told me how much once, but I have forgotten."

      Then her aunt spoke to her, and Leicester fell into a muse. Captain Murpoint's advent seemed to have struck all his eloquence dumb.

      The rest of the guests were chattering with quite a mild excitement, but he sat turning the fork over and following the pattern of the tablecloth with that grim silence which did not sit ill upon him, though it would have made some men look sullen.

      Suddenly the hum СКАЧАТЬ