Joan Haste. Генри Райдер Хаггард

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СКАЧАТЬ him in a few courteous, well-chosen words, that offered a striking contrast to the social dialect of Mr. Milward – the contrast between the old style and the new – then, with a bow, he passed on to offer his arm to Lady Graves, for at that moment dinner was announced. As Henry followed him with Miss Levinger, he found himself wondering, with a curiosity that was unusual to him, who and what this man had been in his youth, before he drifted a waif to Bradmouth, there to repair his broken fortunes by a mésalliance with the smack owner’s daughter.

      “Was your father ever in the Army?” he asked of Emma, as they filed slowly down the long corridor. “Forgive my impertinence, but he looks like a military man.”

      He felt her start at his question.

      “I don’t know: I think so,” she answered, “because I have heard him speak of the Crimea as though he had been present at the battles; but he never talks of his young days.”

      Then they entered the dining-room, and in the confusion of taking their seats the conversation dropped.

      Chapter 6

      Mr. Levinger Puts a Case

      At dinner Henry found himself seated between Mr. Levinger and his daughter. Naturally enough he began to make conversation to the latter, only to find that, either from shyness or for some other reason, she would not talk in public, but contented herself with replies that were as monosyllabic as she could make them.

      Somewhat disappointed, for their short tête-à- tête interview had given promise of better things, Henry turned his attention to her father, and soon discovered that he was a most interesting and brilliant companion. Mr. Levinger could talk well on any subject, and whatever the matter he touched, he adorned it by an aptness and facility of illustration truly remarkable in a man who for twenty years and more was reported to have been little better than a hermit. At length they settled down to the discussion of archæological questions, in which, as it chanced, Henry took an intelligent interest, and more particularly of the flint weapons used by the early inhabitants of East Anglia. Of these, as it appeared, Mr. Levinger possessed one of the best collections extant, together with a valuable and unique series of ancient British, Danish and Saxon gold ornaments and arms.

      The subject proved so mutually agreeable, indeed, that before dinner was over Mr. Levinger had given, and Henry had accepted, an invitation to stay a night or two at Monk’s Lodge and inspect these treasures, and this, be it said, without any arrière-pensée – at any rate, so far as the latter was concerned.

      In the silence that followed this pleasant termination to their talk Henry overheard Milward pumping Miss Levinger.

      “Miss Graves tells me,” he was saying, “er – that you live in that delightful old house beyond – er – Bradmouth – the one that is haunted.”

      “Yes,” she answered, “if you mean Monk’s Lodge. It is old, for the friars used it as a retreat in times of plague, and after that it became a headquarters of the smugglers; but I never heard that it was haunted.”

      “Oh! pray don’t rob me of my illusion, Miss Levinger. I drove past there with your neighbours the Marchams; and Lady Marcham, the dowager – the one who wears an eye-glass I mean – assured me that it was haunted by a priest running after a grey nun, or a grey nun running after a priest, which seems more likely; and I am certain she cannot be mistaken: she never was about anything yet, spiritual or earthly, except her own age.”

      “Lady Marcham may have seen the ghost: I have not,” said Emma.

      “Oh, I have no doubt that she has seen it: she sees everything. Of course you know her? She is a dear old soul, isn’t she?”

      “I have met Lady Marcham; I do not know her,” answered Emma.

      “Not know Lady Marcham!” said Milward, in affected surprise; “why, I should have thought that it would have been as easy to escape knowing the North Sea when one was on it; she is positively surrounding. What do you mean, Miss Levinger?”

      “I mean that I have not the honour of Lady Marcham’s acquaintance,” she replied, in an embarrassed voice.

      “If that cad does not stop soon, I shall shut him up!” reflected Henry.

      “What! have you quarrelled with her, then?” went on Milward remorselessly. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, for she is a bad enemy; and, besides, it must be so awkward, seeing that you have to meet her at every house about there.”

      Emma looked round in despair; and just as Henry was wondering how he could intervene without showing the temper that was rapidly getting the mastery of him, with a polite “Excuse me” Mr. Levinger leant across him.

      “Perhaps you will allow me to explain, Mr. Milward,” he said, in a particularly clear and cutting voice. “I am an invalid and a recluse. What I am my daughter must be also. I have not the honour of the acquaintance of Lady Marcham, or of any other of the ladies and gentlemen to whom you refer. Do I make myself plain?”

      “Oh, perfectly, I assure you.”

      “I am glad, Mr. Milward, since, from what I overheard of your remarks just now, I gathered that you are not very quick of comprehension.”

      At this point Lady Graves rose with a certain haste and left the room, followed by Miss Levinger and her daughter. Thereupon Sir Reginald fell into talk with Mr. Levinger, leaving Henry and Mr. Milward together.

      “Can you tell me who our friend there is?” the latter asked of Henry. “He seems a very touchy as well as a retired person. I should not have thought that there was anything offensive in my suggesting that his daughter knew Lady Marcham.”

      “Perhaps you insisted upon the point a little too much,” said Henry drily. “I am not very well posted about Mr. Levinger myself, although my father has known him all his life; but I understand that he is a rich man, who, from one reason or another, has been more or less of a hermit for many years.”

      “By George! I have it now,” said Milward. “He’s the man who was very popular in our mothers’ days, then married a wealthy cook or some one of that sort, and was barred by the whole neighbourhood. Of course I have put my foot into it horribly. I am sorry, for really I did not mean to hurt his daughter’s feelings.”

      “I am sure I am glad to hear that you did so inadvertently,” answered Henry rather gruffly. “Won’t you have a cigarette?”

      The rest of the evening passed quietly enough; almost too quietly, indeed, for Emma, dismayed by her former experiences, barricaded herself in a corner behind an enormous photograph album; and Ellen, irritated by a scene which jarred upon her and offended her sense of the social proprieties, grew somewhat tart in speech, especially when addressing her admirer, who quailed visibly beneath her displeasure. Mr. Levinger noticed with some amusement, indeed, that, however largely he might talk, Mr. Milward was not a little afraid of the young lady to whom he was paying his court.

      At length the party broke up. Mr. Milward retired to his own place, Upcott Hall, which was situated in the neighbourhood, remarking as he went that he hoped to see them all at church on the morrow in the afternoon; whereon Henry resolved instantly that he would not attend divine service upon that occasion. Then Sir Reginald and Lady Graves withdrew to bed, followed by Ellen and Emma Levinger; but, somewhat to his surprise, Henry having announced his intention of smoking a pipe in the library, Mr. Levinger said that he also smoked, and with his permission would accompany him.

      At first the conversation turned upon Mr. Milward, of whom Henry spoke СКАЧАТЬ