Uncle Silas (Horror Classic). Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ 6.

       A Walk in the Wood

       Table of Contents

      TWO LITTLE PIECES of by-play in which I detected her confirmed my unpleasant suspicion. From the corner of the gallery I one day saw her, when she thought I was out and all quiet, with her ear and the keyhole of papa’s study, as we used to call the sitting-room next his bed-room. Her eyes were turned in the direction of the stairs, from which only she apprehended surprise. Her great mouth was open, and her eyes absolutely goggled with eagerness. She was devouring all that was passing there. I drew back into the shadow with a kind of disgust and horror. She was transformed into a great gaping reptile. I felt that I could have thrown something at her; but a kind of tear made me recede again toward my room. Indignation, however, quickly returned, and I came back, treading briskly as I did so. When I reached the angle of the gallery again, Madame, I suppose, had heard me, for she was half-way down the stairs.

      “Ah, my dear cheaile, I am so glad to find you, and you are dress to come out. We shall have so pleasant walk.”

      At that moment the door of my father’s study opened, and Mrs. Rusk, with her dark energetic face very much flushed, stepped out in high excitement.

      “The Master says you may have the brandy-bottle, Madame, and I’m glad to be rid of it — I am.”

      Madame courtesied with a great smirk, that was full of intangible hate and insult.

      “Better your own brandy, if drink you must!” exclaimed Mrs. Rusk. “You may come to the store-room now, or the butler can take it.”

      And off whisked Mrs. Rusk for the back staircase.

      There had been no common skirmish on this occasion, but a pitched battle.

      Madame had made a sort of pet of Anne Wixted, an under-chambermaid, and attached her to her interest economically by persuading me to make her presents of some old dresses and other things. Anne was such an angel!

      But Mrs. Rusk, whose eyes were about her, detected Anne, with a brandy-bottle under her apron, stealing up-stairs. Anne, in a panic, declared the truth. Madame had commissioned her to buy it in the town, and convey it to her bed-room. Upon this, Mrs. Rusk impounded the flask; and, with Anne beside her, rather precipitately appeared before “the Master.” He heard, and summoned Madame. Madame was cool, frank, and fluent. The brandy was purely medicinal. She procured a document in form of a note. Doctor Somebody presented his compliments to Madame de la Rougierre, and ordered her a table-spoonful of brandy and some drops of laudanum whenever the pain of stomach returned. The flask would last a whole year, perhaps two. She claimed her medicine.

      Mans’ estimate of woman is higher than woman’s own. Perhaps in their relations to men they are generally more trustworthy — perhaps woman’s is the juster, and the other an appointed illusion. I don’t know; but so it is ordained.

      Mrs. Rusk was recalled, and I saw, as you are aware, Madame’s procedure during the interview.

      It was a great battle — a great victory. Madame was in high spirits. The air was sweet — the landscape charming — I, so good — everything so beautiful! Where should we go? this way?

      I had made a resolution to speak as little as possible to Madame, I was so incensed at the treachery I had witnessed; but such resolutions do not last long with very young people, and by the time we had reached the skirts of the wood we were talking pretty much as usual.

      “I don’t wish to go into the wood, Madame.”

      “And for what?”

      “Poor mamma is buried there.”

      “Is there the vault?” demanded Madame eagerly.

      I assented.

      “My faith, curious reason; you say because poor mamma is buried there you will not approach! Why, cheaile, what would good Monsieur Ruthyn say if he heard such thing? You are surely not so unkain’, and I am with you. Allons. Let us come — even a little part of the way.”

      And so I yielded, though still reluctant.

      There was a grass-grown road, which we easily reached, leading to the sombre building, and we soon arrived before it.

      Madame de la Rougierre seemed rather curious. She sat down on the little bank opposite, in her most languid pose — her head leaned upon the tips of her fingers.

      “How very sad — how solemn!” murmured Madame. “What noble tomb! How triste, my dear cheaile, your visit ’ere must it be, remembering a so sweet maman. There is new inscription — is it not new?” And so, indeed, it seemed.

      “I am fatigue — maybe you will read it aloud to me slowly and solemnly, my dearest Maud?”

      As I approached, I happened to look, I can’t tell why, suddenly, over my shoulder; I was startled, for Madame was grimacing after me with a vile derisive distortion. She pretended to be seized with a fit of coughing. But it would not do: she saw that I had detected her, and she laughed aloud.

      “Come here, dear cheaile. I was just reflecting how foolish is all this thing — the tomb — the epitaph. I think I would ‘av none — no, no epitaph. We regard them first for the oracle of the dead, and find them after only the folly of the living. So I despise. Do you think your house of Knowl down there is what you call haunt, my dear?”

      “Why?” said I, flushing and growing pale again. I felt quite afraid of Madame, and confounded at the suddenness of all this.

      “Because Anne Wixted she says there is ghost. How dark is this place! and so many of the Ruthyn family they are buried here — is not so? How high and thick are the trees all round! and nobody comes near.”

      And Madame rolled her eyes awfully, as if she expected to see something unearthly, and, indeed, looked very like it herself.

      “Come away, Madame,” I said, growing frightened, and feeling that if I were once, by any accident, to give way to the panic that was gathering round me, I should instantaneously lose all control of myself. “Oh, come away! do, Madame — I’m frightened.”

      “No, on the contrary, sit here by me. It is very odd, you will think, ma chêre — un goût bizarre, vraiment! — but I love very much to be near to the dead people — in solitary place like this. I am not afraid of the dead people, nor of the ghosts. ‘Av you ever see a ghost, my dear?”

      “Do, Madame, pray speak of something else.”

      “Wat little fool! But no, you are not afraid. I’av seen the ghosts myself. I saw one, for example, last night, shape like a monkey, sitting in the corner, with his arms round his knees; very wicked, old, old man his face was like, and white eyes so large.”

      “Come away, Madame! you are trying to frighten me,” I said, in the childish anger which accompanies fear.

      Madame laughed an ugly laugh, and said —

      “Eh, bien! little fool! — I will not tell the rest if you are really frightened; let us change to something else.”

      “Yes, yes! oh, do — pray do.”

      “Wat СКАЧАТЬ