The Story of Charles Strange. Vol. 3 (of 3). Henry Wood
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Название: The Story of Charles Strange. Vol. 3 (of 3)

Автор: Henry Wood

Издательство: Public Domain

Жанр: Зарубежная классика

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СКАЧАТЬ could I tell Mrs. Brightman that it was to afford Annabel a home and a protector: that this, her mother's home, was not fitting for a refined and sensitive girl?

      But I pressed the suit. I told her I had Annabel's consent, and that I had recently been with her at Hastings. I should like to have added that I had Miss Brightman's, only that it might have done more harm than good. I spoke very slightly of Miss Brightman's projected departure from England, when her house would be shut up and Annabel must leave Hastings. And I added that I wanted to make a home for her by that time.

      I am sure she caught my implied meaning, for she grew agitated and her hands shook as they lay on her crape dress. Her diamond rings, which she had not discarded, flashed in the sunlight. But she rallied her strength. All her pride rose up in rebellion.

      "My daughter has her own home, sir; her home with me—what do you mean? During my illness, I have allowed her to remain with her aunt, but she will shortly return to me."

      And when I would have urged further, and pleaded as for something dearer than life, she peremptorily stopped me.

      "I will hear no more, Mr. Strange. My daughter is descended on my side from the nobles of the land—you must forgive me for thus alluding to it—and it is impossible that I can forget that, or allow her to do so. Never, with my consent, will she marry out of that grade: a professional man is, in rank, beneath her. This is my decision, and it is unalterable. The subject is at an end, and I beg of you never again to enter upon it."

      There was no chance of my pursuing it then, at any rate. Hatch came from the house, a folded cloak on her arm, and approached her mistress.

      "The carriage is at the gate, ma'am."

      Mrs. Brightman rose at once: she was going for a drive. After what had just passed, I held out my arm to her with some hesitation. She put the tips of her fingers within it, with a stiff "Thank you," and we walked to the gate in silence. I handed her into the open carriage; Hatch disposed the cloak upon her knees, assisted by the footman. With a cold bow, Mrs. Brightman, who had already as coldly shaken hands with me, drove away.

      Hatch, always ready for a gossip, stood within the little iron gate while she spoke to me.

      "We be going away for a bit, sir," she began. "Did you know it?"

      "No. Mrs. Brightman has not mentioned the matter to me."

      "Well, we be, then," continued Hatch; "missis and me and Perry. Mr. Close have got her to consent at last. I don't say that she was well enough to go before; Close thought so, but I didn't. He wants her gone, you see, Mr. Charles, to get that fancy out of her head about master."

      "But does she still think she sees him?"

      "Not for the past few days," replied Hatch. "She has changed her bedroom, and taken to the best spare one; and she has been better in herself. Oh, she'll be all right now for a bit, if only–"

      "If only what?" I asked, for Hatch had paused.

      "Well, you know, sir. If only she can control herself. I'm certain she is trying to," added Hatch. "There ain't one of us would be so glad to find it got rid of for good and all as she'd be. She's put about frightfully yet at Miss Annabel's knowing of it."

      "And where is it that you are going to?"

      "Missis talked of Cheltenham; it was early, she thought, for the seaside; but this morning she got a Cheltenham newspaper up, and saw that amid the company staying there were Captain and Lady Grace Chantrey. 'I'm not going where my brother and that wife of his are,' she says to me in a temper—for, as I dare say you've heard, Mr. Charles, they don't agree. And now she talks of Brighton. Whatever place she fixes on, Perry is to be sent on first to take lodgings."

      "Well, Hatch," I said, "the change from home will do your mistress good. She is much better. I trust the improvement will be permanent."

      "Ah, if she would but take care! It all lies in that, sir," concluded Hatch, as I turned away from the gate, and she went up the garden.

      We must go back for a moment to the previous evening. Leaving behind us the church of St. Clement Danes and its lighted windows, Lake and I turned into Essex Street, arm-in-arm, went down it and reached my door. I opened it with my latch-key. The hall-lamp was not lighted, and I wondered at Watts's neglect.

      "Go on up to my room," I said to Lake. "I'll follow you in a moment."

      He bounded up the stairs, and the next moment Leah came up from the kitchen with a lighted candle, her face white and terrified.

      "It is only myself, Leah. Why is the lamp not alight?"

      "Heaven be good to us, sir!" she cried. "I thought I heard somebody go upstairs."

      "Mr. Lake has gone up."

      She dropped her candlestick upon the slab, and backed against the wall, looking more white and terrified than ever. I thought she was about to faint.

      "Mr. Charles! I feel as if I could die! I ought to have bolted the front door."

      "But what for?" I cried, intensely surprised. "What on earth is the matter, Leah?"

      "He is up there, sir! Up in your front sitting-room. I put out the hall-lamp, thinking the house would be best in darkness."

      "Who is up there?" For in the moment's bewilderment I did not glance at the truth.

      "Mr. Tom, sir. Captain Heriot."

      "Mr. Tom! Up there?"

      "Not many minutes ago, soon after Watts had gone out to church—for he was late to-night—there came a ring at the doorbell," said Leah. "I came up to answer it, thinking nothing. A rough-looking man stood, in a wide-awake hat, close against the door there. 'Is Mr. Strange at home?' said he, and walked right in. I knew his voice, and I knew him, and I cried out. 'Don't be stupid, Leah; it's only me,' says he. 'Is Mr. Charles upstairs? Nobody with him, I hope.' 'There's nobody to come and put his head in the lion's mouth, as may be said, there at all, sir,' said I; and up he went, like a lamplighter. I put the hall-lamp out. I was terrified out of my senses, and told him you were at Hastings, but I expected you in soon. And Mr. Charles," wound up Leah, "I think he must have gone clean daft."

      "Light the lamp again," I replied. "It always is alight, you know. If the house is in darkness, you might have a policeman calling to know what was the matter."

      Tom was in a fit of laughter when I got upstairs. He had taken off his rough overcoat and broad-brimmed hat, and stood in a worn—very much worn—suit of brown velveteen breeches and gaiters. Lake stared at him over the table, a comical expression on his face.

      "Suppose we shake hands, to begin with," said Lake. And they clasped hands heartily across the table.

      "Did you know me just now, in the Strand, Lake?" asked Tom Heriot.

      "I did," replied Lake, and his tone proved that he meant it. "I said to Charley, here, that I had just seen a fellow very like Tom Heriot; but I knew who it was, fast enough."

      "You wouldn't have known me, though, if I hadn't lifted my face to the lamp-light. I forget myself at moments, you see," added Tom, after a pause. "Meeting you unexpectedly, I was about to speak as in the old days, and recollected myself only just in time. I say"—turning himself about in his velveteens—"should you take me for a gamekeeper?"

      "No, I should not: you don't look the thing at all," I put in testily, СКАЧАТЬ