Demos. George Gissing
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Название: Demos

Автор: George Gissing

Издательство: Public Domain

Жанр: Зарубежная классика

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СКАЧАТЬ then when you spoke to me about him; it has occurred to me that perhaps you did him less than justice. Regard his position and mine, and tell me whether you think he could have become so much to us if he had not been a gentleman in the highest sense of the word. When Godfrey first of all brought me that proposal from him that we should still remain in this house, it seemed to me the most impossible thing. You know what it was that induced me to assent, and what led to his becoming so intimate with us. Since then it has been hard for me to remember that he was not one of our family. His weak points it was not difficult to discover; but I fear you did not understand what was noblest in his character. Uprightness, clean-heartedness, good faith—these things he prized before everything. In you, in one of your birth, he looked to find them in perfection. Hubert, I stood shamed before him.’

      The young man breathed hard, as if in physical pain. His eyes were fixed in a wide absent gaze. Mrs. Eldon had lost all the severity of her face; the profound sorrow of a pure and noble nature was alone to be read there now.

      ‘What,’ she continued—‘what is this class distinction upon which we pride ourselves? What does it mean, if not that our opportunities lead us to see truths to which the eyes of the poor and ignorant are blind? Is there nothing in it, after all—in our pride of birth and station? That is what people are saying nowadays: you yourself have jested to me about our privileges. You almost make me dread that you were right. Look back at that man, whom I came to honour as my own father. He began life as a toiler with his hands. Only a fortnight ago he was telling me stories of his boyhood, of seventy years since. He was without education; his ideas of truth and goodness he had to find within his own heart. Could anything exceed the noble simplicity of his respect for me, for you boys? We were poor, but it seemed to him that we had from nature what no money could buy. He was wrong; his faith misled him. No, not wrong with regard to all of us; my boy Godfrey was indeed all that he believed. But think of himself; what advantage have we over him? I know no longer what to believe. Oh, Hubert!’

      He left his chair and walked to a more distant part of the room, where he was beyond the range of lamp and firelight. Standing here, he pressed his hand against his side, still breathing hard, and with difficulty suppressing a groan.

      He came a step or two nearer.

      ‘Mother,’ he said, hurriedly, ‘I am still far from well. Let me leave you: speak to me again to-morrow.’

      Mrs. Eldon made an effort to rise, looking anxiously into the gloom where he stood. She was all but standing upright—a thing she had not done for a long time—when Hubert sprang towards her, seizing her hands, then supporting her in his arms. Her self-command gave way at length, and she wept.

      Hubert placed her gently in the chair and knelt beside her. He could find no words, but once or twice raised his face and kissed her.

      ‘What caused your illness?’ she asked, speaking as one wearied with suffering. She lay back, and her eyes were closed.

      ‘I cannot say,’ he answered. ‘Do not speak of me. In your last letter there was no account of how he died.’

      ‘It was in church, at the morning service. The pew-opener found him sitting there dead, when all had gone away.’

      ‘But the vicar could see into the pew from the pulpit? The death must have been very peaceful.’

      ‘No, he could not see; the front curtains were drawn.’

      ‘Why was that, I wonder?’

      Mrs. Eldon shook her head.

      ‘Are you in pain?’ she asked suddenly. ‘Why do you breathe so strangely?’

      ‘A little pain. Oh, nothing; I will see Manns to-morrow.’

      His mother gazed long and steadily into his eyes, and this time he bore her look.

      ‘Mother, you have not kissed me,’ he whispered.

      ‘And cannot, dear. There is too much between us.’

      His head fell upon her lap.

      ‘Hubert!’

      He pressed her hand.

      ‘How shall I live when you have gone from me again? When you say good-bye, it will be as if I parted from you for ever.’

      Hubert was silent.

      ‘Unless,’ she continued—‘unless I have your promise that you will no longer dishonour yourself.’

      He rose from her side and stood in front of the fire; his mother looked and saw that he trembled.

      ‘No promise, Hubert,’ she said, ‘that you cannot keep. Rather than that, we will accept our fate, and be nothing to each other.’

      ‘You know very well, mother, that that is impossible. I cannot speak to you of what drove me to disregard your letters. I love and honour you, and shall have to change my nature before I cease to do so.’

      ‘To me, Hubert, you seem already to have changed. I scarcely know you.’

      ‘I can’t defend myself to you,’ he said sadly. ‘We think so differently on subjects which allow of no compromise, that, even if I could speak openly, you would only condemn me the more.’

      His mother turned upon him a grief-stricken and wondering face.

      ‘Since when have we differed so?’ she asked. ‘What has made us strangers to each other’s thoughts? Surely, surely you are at one with me in condemning all that has led to this? If your character has been too weak to resist temptation, you cannot have learnt to make evil your good?’

      He kept silence.

      ‘You refuse me that last hope?’

      Hubert moved impatiently.

      ‘Mother, I can’t see beyond to-day! I know nothing of what is before me. It is the idlest trifling with words to say one will do this or that, when action in no way depends on one’s own calmer thought. In this moment I could promise anything you ask; if I had my choice, I would be a child again and have no desire but to do your will, to be worthy in your eyes. I hate my life and the years that have parted me from you. Let us talk no more of it.’

      Neither spoke again for some moments; then Hubert asked coldly—

      ‘What has been done?’

      ‘Nothing,’ replied Mrs. Eldon, in the same tone. ‘Mr. Yottle has waited for your return before communicating with the relatives in London.’

      ‘I will go to Belwick in the morning,’ he said. Then, after reflection, ‘Mr. Mutimer told you that he had destroyed his will?’

      ‘No. He had it from Mr. Yottle two days before his death, and on the day after—the Monday—Mr. Yottle was to have come to receive instructions for a new one. It is nowhere to be found: of course it was destroyed.’

      ‘I suppose there is no doubt of that?’ Hubert asked, with a show of indifference.

      ‘There can be none. Mr. Yottle tells me that a will which existed. before Godfrey’s marriage was destroyed in the same way.’

      ‘Who is the heir?’

      ‘A great-nephew bearing the same name. The will contained provision for him and certain СКАЧАТЬ