Sandra Belloni (originally Emilia in England) — Complete. George Meredith

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СКАЧАТЬ it is Sunday, perhaps!” would induce Wilfrid to be guilty of another attempt. The ladies tried sisterly cajoleries on him fruitlessly, until Mr. Pole, seeing the desperation of his guest, said: “Why not have her up here, toon and all, some week-day? Sunday birds won't suit us, you know. We've got a piano for her that's good enough for the first of 'em, if money means anything.”

      The ladies murmured meekly: “Yes, papa.”

      “I shall find her for you while you go to your charch,” said Mr. Pericles. And here Wilfrid was seized with a yawn, and rose, and asked his eldest sister if she meant to attend the service that morning.

      “Undoubtedly,” she answered; and Mr. Pole took it up: “That's our discipline, my boy. Must set an example: do our duty. All the house goes to worship in the country.”

      “Why, in ze country?” queried Mr. Pericles.

      “Because”—Cornelia came to the rescue of her sire; but her impetuosity was either unsupported by a reason, or she stooped to fit one to the comprehension of the interrogator: “Oh, because—do you know, we have very select music at our church?”

      “We have a highly-paid organist,” added Arabella.

      “Recently elected,” said Adela.

      “Ah! mon Dieu!” Mr. Pericles ejaculated. “Some music sound well at afar—mellow, you say. I prefer your charch music mellow.”

      “Won't you come?” cried Wilfrid, with wonderful briskness.

      “No. Mellow for me!”

      The Greek's grinders flashed, and Wilfrid turned off from him sulkily. He saw in fancy the robber-Greek prowling about Wilson's farm, setting snares for the marvellous night-bird, and it was with more than his customary inattention to his sisters' refined conversation that he formed part of their male escort to the place of worship.

      Mr. Pericles met the church-goers on their return in one of the green bowery lanes leading up to Brookfield. Cold as he was to English scenes and sentiments, his alien ideas were not unimpressed by the picture of those daintily-clad young women demurely stepping homeward, while the air held a revel of skylarks, and the scented hedgeways quickened with sunshine.

      “You have missed a treat!” Arabella greeted him.

      “A sermon?” said he.

      The ladies would not tell him, until his complacent cynicism at the notion of his having missed a sermon, spurred them to reveal that the organ had been handled in a masterly manner; and that the voluntary played at the close of the service was most exquisite.

      “Even papa was in raptures.”

      “Very good indeed,” said Mr. Pole. “I'm no judge; but you might listen to that sort of playing after dinner.”

      Mr. Pericles seemed to think that was scarcely a critical period, but he merely grimaced, and inquired: “Did you see ze player?”

      “Oh, no: they are hidden,” Arabella explained to him, “behind a curtain.”

      “But, what!” shouted the impetuous Greek: “have you no curiosity? A woman! And zen, you saw not her?”

      “No,” remarked Cornelia, in the same aggravating sing-song voice of utter indifference: “we don't know whether it was not a man. Our usual organist is a man, I believe.”

      The eyes of the Greek whitened savagely, and he relapsed into frigid politeness.

      Wilfrid was not present to point their apprehensions. He had loitered behind; but when he joined them in the house subsequently, he was cheerful, and had a look of triumph about him which made his sisters say, “So, you have been with the Copleys:” and he allowed them to suppose it, if they pleased; the Copleys being young ladies of position in the neighbourhood, of much higher standing than the Tinleys, who, though very wealthy, could not have given their brother such an air, the sisters imagined.

      At lunch, Wilfrid remarked carelessly: “By the way, I met that little girl we saw last night.”

      “The singer! where?” asked his sisters, with one voice.

      “Coming out of church.”

      “She goes to church, then!”

      This exclamation showed the heathen they took her to be.

      “Why, she played the organ,” said Wilfrid.

      “And how does she look by day? How does she dress?”

      “Oh! very jolly little woman! Dresses quiet enough.”

      “She played the organ! It was she, then! An organist! Is there anything approaching to gentility in her appearance?”

      “I—really I'm no judge,” said Wilfrid. “You had better ask Laura Tinley. She was talking to her when I went up.”

      The sisters exchanged looks. Presently they stood together in consultation. Then they spoke with their aunt, Mrs. Lupin, and went to their papa. The rapacity of those Tinleys for anything extraordinary was known to them, but they would not have conceived that their own discovery, their own treasure, could have been caught up so quickly. If the Tinleys got possession of her, the defection of Mr. Pericles might be counted on, and the display of a phenomenon would be lost to them. They decided to go down to Wilson's farm that very day, and forestall their rivals by having her up to Brookfield. The idea of doing this had been in a corner of their minds all the morning: it seemed now the most sensible plan in the world. It was patronage, in its right sense. And they might be of great service to her, by giving a proper elevation and tone to her genius; while she might amuse them, and their guests, and be let off, in fact, as a firework for the nonce. Among the queenly cases of women who are designing to become the heads of a circle (if I may use the term), an accurate admeasurement of reciprocal advantages can scarcely be expected to rank; but the knowledge that an act, depending upon us for execution, is capable of benefiting both sides, will make the proceeding appear so unselfish, that its wisdom is overlooked as well as its motives. The sisters felt they were the patronesses of the little obscure genius whom they longed for to illumine their household, before they knew her name. Cornet Wilfrid Pole must have chuckled mightily to see them depart on their mission. These ladies, who managed everybody, had themselves been very cleverly managed. It is doubtful whether the scheme to surprise and delight Mr. Pericles would have actuated the step they took, but for the dread of seeing the rapacious Tinleys snatch up their lawful prey. The Tinleys were known to be quite capable of doing so. They had, on a particular occasion, made transparent overtures to a celebrity belonging to the Poles, whom they had first met at Brookfield: could never have hoped to have seen had they not met him at Brookfield; and girls who behaved in this way would do anything. The resolution was taken to steal a march on them; nor did it seem at all odd to people naturally so hospitable as the denizens of Brookfield, that the stranger of yesterday should be the guest of to-day. Kindness of heart, combined with a great scheme in the brain, easily put aside conventional rules.

      “But we don't know her name,” they said, when they had taken the advice of the gentlemen on what they had already decided to do: all excepting Mr. Pericles, for whom the surprise was in store.

      “Belloni—Miss Belloni,” said Wilfrid.

      “Are СКАЧАТЬ