Isabel Clarendon, Vol. II (of II). George Gissing

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СКАЧАТЬ be the ready dupe of plausible representations. That she was deeply in love with him he took for granted; the pleasant flattery of a supposition which agreed so well with our friend’s view of his own advantages was not to be resisted. In a year and a half she would be of age; it was a long time to wait, with a prospect of mere frustration in the end, but there was no choice. If the danger proved illusory, after all he would not have lost much; nay, it was to be remembered that Ada’s inheritance increased in value from accumulation, and would be yet more desirable after another eighteen months. Truly, there was a much-needed point of support; he must keep that well in mind. Of course, if any considerable heiress, with a more agreeable person, fell at his feet in the meantime, he held himself free to review his position; another advantage of delaying, if it came to that.

      You will naturally understand that these reflections are not to be taken baldly as representing the state of Lacour’s mind. He thought all these things, but he felt many other things simultaneously. I will just barely hint that when excitement had allayed itself, there might have been some dim motive, of which Lacour was himself unconscious, operating towards acquiescence in the unexpected turn things had taken. This, at all events, is one of the suggestions helping me to account for the fact that Lacour put away the anonymous letter that same night and adhered to his purpose of revealing its existence to no one. He would scarcely have done so if that day’s mental perturbation had not brought into activity certain forces of his nature previously without influence on his decisions.

      Mrs. Clarendon being with the Strattons at Chislehurst, Ada was living by herself at Knightswell. Instead of finishing the letter to her upon which he was engaged when interrupted by Rhoda Meres, Lacour, having let a day or two pass in nervous awaiting of each post, rose one morning with the determination to take train to Winstoke. On his breakfast-table he found a letter from Mrs. Clarendon—a brief matter-of-fact communication—telling him that she hoped to be in London that day week, and requesting him to previously pay a visit to her solicitor, who would discuss with him the business matters which it was needful to arrange. He pondered the words of this note, but only with the result of strengthening his resolve. After very little hesitation he penned a reply, begging that there might be no needless haste, and intimating, with skilful avoidance of direct falsehood, that he consulted Ada’s wish in suppressing his own anxiety for a speedy marriage. “There are circumstances, as you know,” wrote Vincent, “which make it my duty to exercise the utmost delicacy and discretion in all that concerns my marriage. I esteem you my true friend; I have often given you my perfect confidence, and in return I have asked for your forbearance when I showed myself weak or inconsistent. You will believe that I am not incapable of generosity, that I would not selfishly exact the fulfilment of any pledge which a hint should prove to have been rashly given. I am but too well aware of my own shortcomings, but after all there is a certain pride in me which will preserve me from the errors of vulgar self-confidence. I beg of you, dear Mrs. Clarendon, not to see in this more than I would imply. I only desire that there should be no unbecoming haste. Ada and myself are both, thank goodness! young enough, and, I believe, are sincerely devoted to each other. Let everything be done with careful preconsideration.”

      He read this through with an air of satisfaction, and posted it on his way to Waterloo Station. The train by which he travelled reached Winstoke at two o’clock. As it was a clear day he walked from the station to the village, which was nearly a mile, then took luncheon at the inn, and reached Knightswell about half-past three. On asking for Miss Warren he was led to the drawing-room.

      Ada entered almost immediately. They had not seen each other since the day at South Kensington, and he was astonished at the girl’s appearance. Her face had every mark of illness; there were dark rings about her eyes, her cheeks were colourless, her lips dry and nervous; she had a worn, anxious, feverish look, and the hand she gave him was hot. They exchanged no more than an ordinary friends’ greeting, and Ada seated herself without having met his eyes.

      Lacour drew his chair within reach of her, and leaned forward to take one of her hands, which she surrendered passively.

      “What has made you look so ill?” he asked, with surprise. “Is it the result of your anxiety for Mrs. Clarendon? Why didn’t you tell me that you were not well?”

      “There was nothing necessary to speak of,” she answered, in a voice which seemed to come from a parched throat. “I think I am not quite well, but it’s nothing more than I am used to; I have headaches.”

      “You haven’t written to me for a fortnight. Why didn’t you ask me to come and see you?”

      “I supposed you would come before long.”

      “You don’t seem very glad to see me, now I have come,” said Lacour musingly.

      “Yes, I am glad.”

      The words had not much life, and the smile with which she accompanied them was as pain-stricken as a smile could be. Lacour, still holding her hand, looked down, his brows contracting.

      “You haven’t had any bad news?” he asked all at once, facing her.

      “Bad news?”

      “It is not anything you have heard that has made you ill?”

      “Certainly not. What should I have heard?”

      Her tone had sincerity in it, and relieved him from the suspicion that she too might have received an anonymous letter. He leaned back in his chair smiling.

      “What should I have heard?” Ada repeated impatiently, examining his face.

      “Oh, I don’t know. We are always getting news, and there is so much more of bad than good. Mrs. Clarendon seems to be much better,” he added, slapping his leg with his gloves.

      “Yes. You have heard from her?”

      “Several times. I had a letter this morning.”

      “What did she say?”

      “She spoke of the necessary preparations for our marriage.”

      Ada was silent. She had several times moved nervously on her chair, and now she seemed compelled by restlessness to change her position. A small ornament on a bracket had got out of position; she went and put it right.

      “What preparations?55 she asked, walking to the window.

      “I don’t exactly know. She wishes me to see her lawyer. Unfortunately,” he added in a joking tone, “you are not one of those girls whose marriage is a simple matter of the ceremony.”

      She turned and came towards him, her hands hanging clasped before her.

      “That is something I have to speak of. I cannot mention it to Mrs. Clarendon, and if I tell you now it will be done with. I desire that there shall be no kind of settlement. Nothing of the kind is enacted by the will, and I do not wish it. Will you please to see that my wish is respected?”

      “Why is it your wish?”

      “I can give no reason. I wish it.”

      “I imagine there will be very strong opposition, and not only from Mrs. Clarendon. I expect the trustees will have something to say.”

      Ada’s eyes flashed; her whole face showed agitation, passionate impatience.

      “What does it matter what they say?” she exclaimed. “What are they to me? What is my future to them? If you refuse to give me an assurance that my one desire shall be respected I must turn to Mrs. Clarendon, and that will be hateful to me! I have asked nothing else; but this I wish.”

      “You СКАЧАТЬ