The Greatest Works of Sheridan Le Fanu (65+ Novels & Short Stories in One Edition). Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

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СКАЧАТЬ don’t you see, Miss, it is not a fair position to put your uncle in,” replied he, after a little hesitation.

      “But suppose he does not think so. You know, if he does, he may decline it.”

      “Well that’s true — but he won’t. Here is his letter”— and he produced it —“announcing officially that he means to accept the office; but I think he ought to be told it is not delicate, under all circumstances. You know, Miss, that your uncle, Mr. Silas Ruthyn, was talked about unpleasantly once.”

      “You mean “— I began.

      “I mean about the death of Mr. Clarke, at Bartram–Haugh.”

      “Yes, I have heard that,” I said; he was speaking with a shocking aplomb.

      “We assume, of course, unjustly; but there are many who think quite differently.”

      “And possibly, Doctor Bryerly, it was for that very reason that my dear papa made him my guardian.”

      “There can be no doubt of that, Miss; it was to purge him of that scandal.”

      “And when he has acquitted himself honourably of that trust, don’t you think such a proof of confidence so honourably fulfilled must go far to silence his traducers?”

      “Why, if all goes well, it may do a little; but a great deal less than you fancy. But take it that you happen to die, Miss, during your minority. We are all mortal, and there are three years and some months to go; how will it be then? Don’t you see? Just fancy how people will talk.”

      “I think you know that my uncle is a religious man?” said I.

      “Well, Miss, what of that?” he asked again.

      “He is — he has suffered intensely,” I continued. “He has long retired from the world; he is very religious. Ask our curate, Mr. Fairfield, if you doubt it.”

      “But I am not disputing it, Miss; I’m only supposing what may happen — an accident, we’ll call it small-pox, diphtheria, that’s going very much. Three years and three months, you know, is a long time. You proceed to Bartram–Haugh, thinking you have much goods laid up for many years; but your Creator, you know, may say, ‘Thou fool, this day is thy soul required of thee.’ You go — and what pray is thought of your uncle, Mr. Silas Ruthyn, who walks in for the entire inheritance, and who has long been abused like a pickpocket, or worse, in his own county, I’m told?”

      “You are a religious man, Doctor Bryerly, according to your lights?” I said.

      The Swedenborgian smiled.

      “Well, knowing that he is so too, and having yourself experienced the power of religion, do not you think him deserving of every confidence? Don’t you think it well that he should have this opportunity of exhibiting both his own character and the reliance which my dear papa reposed on it, and that we should leave all consequences and contingencies in the hands of Heaven?”

      “It appears to have been the will of Heaven hitherto,” said Doctor Bryerly — I could not see with what expression of face, but he was looking down, and drawing little diagrams with his stick on the dark carpet, and spoke in a very low tone —“that your uncle should suffer under this ill report. In countervailing the appointment of Providence, we must employ our reason, with conscientious diligence, as to the means, and if we find that they are as likely to do mischief as good, we have no right to expect a special interposition to turn our experiment into an ordeal. I think you ought to weight it well — I am sure there are reasons against it. If you make up your mind that you would rather be placed under the care, say of Lady Knollys, I will endeavour all I can to effect it.”

      “That could not be done without his consent, could it?” said I.

      “No, but I don’t despair of getting that — on terms, of course,” remarked he.

      “I don’t quite understand,” I said.

      “I mean, for instance, if he were allowed to keep the allowance for your maintenance — eh?”

      “I mistake my uncle Silas very much,” I said, “if that allowance is any object whatever to him compared with the moral value of the position. If he were deprived of that, I am sure he would decline the other.”

      “We might try him at all events,” said Doctor Bryerly, on whose dark sinewy features, even in this imperfect light, I thought I detected a smile.

      “Perhaps,” said I, “I appear very foolish in supposing him actuated by any but sordid motives; but he is my near relation, and I can’t help it, sir.”

      “That is a very serious thing, Miss Ruthyn,” he replied. “You are very young, and cannot see it at present, as you will hereafter. He is very religious, you say, and all that, but his house is not a proper place for you. It is a solitude — its master an outcast, and it has been the repeated scene of all sorts of scandals, and of one great crime; and Lady Knollys thinks your having been domesticated there will be an injury to you all the days of your life.”

      “So I do, Maud,” said Lady Knollys, who had just entered the room unperceived. —“How do you do, Doctor Bryerly? — a serious injury. You have no idea how entirely that house is condemned and avoided, and the very name of its inmates tabooed.”

      “How monstrous — how cruel!” I exclaimed.

      “Very unpleasant, my dear, but perfectly natural. You are to recollect that quite independently of the story of Mr. Clarke, the house was talked about, and the county people had cut your uncle Silas long before that adventure was dreamed of; and as to the circumstance of your being placed in his charge by his brother, who took, from strong family feeling, a totally one-sided view of the affair from the first, having the slightest effect in restoring his position in the county, you must quite give that up. Except me, if he will allow me, and the clergyman, not a soul in the country will visit at Bartram–Haugh. They may pity you, and think the whole thing the climax of folly and cruelty; but they won’t visit at Bartram, or know Silas, or have anything to do with his household.”

      “They will see, at all events, what my dear papa’s opinion was.”

      “They know that already,” answered she, “and it has not, and ought not to have, the slightest weight with them. There are people there who think themselves just as great as the Ruthyns, or greater; and your poor father’s idea of carrying it by a demonstration was simply the dream of a man who had forgotten the world, and learned to exaggerate himself in his long seclusion. I know he was beginning himself to hesitate; and I think if he had been spared another year that provision of his will would have been struck out.”

      Doctor Bryerly nodded, and he said —

      “And if he had the power to dictate now, would he insist on that direction? It is a mistake every way, injurious to you, his child; and should you happen to die during your sojourn under your uncle’s care, it would woefully defeat the testator’s object, and raise such a storm of surmise and inquiry as would awaken all England, and sent he old scandal on the wing through the world again.”

      “Doctor Bryerly will, I have no doubt, arrange it all. In fact, I do not think it would be very difficult to bring Silas to terms; and if you do not consent to his trying, Maud, mark my words, you will live to repent it.”

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