Middlemarch. Джордж Элиот

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       CHAPTER 8

      ‘Oh, rescue her! I am her brother now,

      And you her father. Every gentle maid

      Should have a guardian in each gentleman.’

      It was wonderful to Sir James Chettam how well he continued to like going to the Grange after he had once encountered the difficulty of seeing Dorothea for the first time in the light of a woman who was engaged to another man. Of course the forked lightning seemed to pass through him when he first approached her, and he remained conscious throughout the interview of hiding uneasiness; but, good as he was, it must be owned that his uneasiness was less than it would have been if he had thought his rival a brilliant and desirable match. He had no sense of being eclipsed by Mr Casaubon; he was only shocked that Dorothea was under a melancholy illusion, and his mortification lost some of its bitterness by being mingled with compassion.

      Nevertheless, while Sir James said to himself that he had completely resigned her, since with the perversity of a Desdemona she had not affected a proposed match that was clearly suitable and according to nature, he could not yet be quite passive under the idea of her engagement to Mr Casaubon. On the day when he first saw them together in the light of his present knowledge, it seemed to him that he had not taken the affair seriously enough. Brooke was really culpable; he ought to have hindered it. Who could speak to him? Something might be done perhaps even now, at least to defer the marriage. On his way home he turned into the Rectory and asked for Mr Cadwallader. Happily, the rector was at home, and his visitor was shown into the study, where all the fishing-tackle hung. But he himself was in a little room adjoining, at work with his turning apparatus, and he called to the baronet to join him there. The two were better friends than any other landholder and clergyman in the county—a significant fact which was in agreement with the amiable expression of their faces.

      Mr Cadwallader was a large man, with full lips and a sweet smile; very plain and rough in his exterior, but with that solid imperturbable ease and good humour which is infectious, and like great grassy hills in the sunshine, quiets even an irritated egoism, and makes it rather ashamed of itself. ‘Well, how are you?’ he said, showing a hand not quite fit to be grasped. ‘Sorry I missed you before. Is there anything particular? You look vexed.’

      Sir James’s brow had a little crease in it, a little depression of the eyebrow, which he seemed purposely to exaggerate as he answered.

      ‘It is only this conduct of Brooke’s. I really think somebody should speak to him.’

      ‘What? meaning to stand?’ said Mr Cadwallader, going on with the arrangement of the reels which he had just been turning. ‘I hardly think he means it. But where’s the harm, if he likes it? Any one who objects to Whiggery should be glad when the Whigs don’t put up the strongest fellow. They won’t overturn the Constitution with our friend Brooke’s head for a battering ram.’

      ‘Oh, I don’t mean that,’ said Sir James, who, after putting down his hat and throwing himself into a chair, had begun to nurse his leg and examine the sole of his boot with much bitterness. ‘I mean this marriage. I mean his letting that blooming young girl marry Casaubon.’

      ‘What is the matter with Casaubon? I see no harm in him—if the girl likes him.’

      ‘She is too young to know what she likes. Her guardian ought to interfere. He ought not to allow the thing to, be done in this headlong manner. I wonder a man like you, Cadwallader—a man with daughters, can look at the affair with indifference; and with such a heart as yours! Do think seriously about it.’

      ‘I am not joking; I am as serious as possible,’ said the rector, with a provoking little inward laugh. ‘You are as bad as Elinor. She has been wanting me to go and lecture Brooke; and I have reminded her that her friends had a very poor opinion of the match she made when she married me.’

      ‘But look at Casaubon,’ said Sir James, indignantly. ‘He must be fifty, and I don’t believe he could ever have been much more than the shadow of a man. Look at his legs!’

      ‘Confound you handsome young fellows! you think of having it all your own way in the world. You don’t understand women. They don’t admire you half so much as you admire yourselves. Elinor used to tell her sisters that she married me for my ugliness—it was so various and amusing that it had quite conquered her prudence.’

      ‘You! it was easy enough for a woman to love you. But this is no question of beauty. I don’t like Casaubon.’ This was Sir James’s strongest way of implying that he thought ill of a man’s character.

      ‘Why? what do you know against him?’ said the rector, laying down his reels, and putting his thumbs into his armholes with an air of attention.

      Sir James paused. He did not usually find it easy to give his reasons; it seemed to him strange that people should not know them without being told, since he only felt what was reasonable. At last he said—

      ‘Now, Cadwallader, has he got any heart?’

      ‘Well, yes. I don’t mean of the melting sort, but a sound kernel, that you may be sure of. He is very good to his poor relations; pensions several of the women, and is educating a young fellow at a good deal of expense. Casaubon acts up to his sense of justice. His mother’s sister made a bad match—a Pole, I think—lost herself—at any rate was disowned by her family. If it had not been for that, Casaubon would not have had so much money by half. I believe he went himself to find out his cousins, and see what he could do for them. Every man would not ring so well as that, if you tried his metal. You would, Chettam; but not every man.’

      ‘I don’t know,’ said Sir James, colouring. ‘I am not so sure of myself.’ He paused a moment, and then added, ‘That was a right thing for Casaubon to do. But a man may wish to do what is right, and yet be a sort of parchment code. A woman may not be happy with him. And I think when a girl is so young as Miss Brooke is, her friends ought to interfere a little to hinder her from doing anything foolish. You laugh, because you fancy I have some feeling on my own account. But upon my honour, it is not that. I СКАЧАТЬ