The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (Unabridged). Anne Bronte
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Название: The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (Unabridged)
Автор: Anne Bronte
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 9788027245666
isbn:
It was true, then, that he had some designs upon Mrs. Graham; and, were they honourable, he would not be so anxious to conceal them. She was blameless, of course, but he was detestable beyond all count.
While these thoughts flashed through my mind, my companion abruptly rose, and calling her son, said they would now go in quest of the company, and departed up the avenue. Doubtless she had heard or guessed something of Miss Wilson’s remarks, and therefore it was natural enough she should choose to continue the tête-à-tête no longer, especially as at that moment my cheeks were burning with indignation against my former friend, the token of which she might mistake for a blush of stupid embarrassment. For this I owed Miss Wilson yet another grudge; and still the more I thought upon her conduct the more I hated her.
It was late in the evening before I joined the company. I found Mrs. Graham already equipped for departure, and taking leave of the rest, who were now returned to the house. I offered, nay, begged to accompany her home. Mr. Lawrence was standing by at the time conversing with some one else. He did not look at us, but, on hearing my earnest request, he paused in the middle of a sentence to listen for her reply, and went on, with a look of quiet satisfaction, the moment he found it was to be a denial.
A denial it was, decided, though not unkind. She could not be persuaded to think there was danger for herself or her child in traversing those lonely lanes and fields without attendance. It was daylight still, and she should meet no one; or if she did, the people were quiet and harmless she was well assured. In fact, she would not hear of any one’s putting himself out of the way to accompany her, though Fergus vouchsafed to offer his services in case they should be more acceptable than mine, and my mother begged she might send one of the farming-men to escort her.
When she was gone the rest was all a blank or worse. Lawrence attempted to draw me into conversation, but I snubbed him and went to another part of the room. Shortly after the party broke up and he himself took leave. When he came to me I was blind to his extended hand, and deaf to his goodnight till he repeated it a second time; and then, to get rid of him, I muttered an inarticulate reply, accompanied by a sulky nod.
‘What is the matter, Markham?’ whispered he.
I replied by a wrathful and contemptuous stare.
‘Are you angry because Mrs. Graham would not let you go home with her?’ he asked, with a faint smile that nearly exasperated me beyond control.
But, swallowing down all fiercer answers, I merely demanded, — ‘What business is it of yours?’
‘Why, none,’ replied he with provoking quietness; ‘only,’ — and he raised his eyes to my face, and spoke with unusual solemnity, — ‘only let me tell you, Markham, that if you have any designs in that quarter, they will certainly fail; and it grieves me to see you cherishing false hopes, and wasting your strength in useless efforts, for — ’
‘Hypocrite!’ I exclaimed; and he held his breath, and looked very blank, turned white about the gills, and went away without another word.
I had wounded him to the quick; and I was glad of it.
CHAPTER X
When all were gone, I learnt that the vile slander had indeed been circulated throughout the company, in the very presence of the victim. Rose, however, vowed she did not and would not believe it, and my mother made the same declaration, though not, I fear, with the same amount of real, unwavering incredulity. It seemed to dwell continually on her mind, and she kept irritating me from time to time by such expressions as — ‘Dear, dear, who would have thought it! — Well! I always thought there was something odd about her. — You see what it is for women to affect to be different to other people.’ And once it was, — ‘I misdoubted that appearance of mystery from the very first — I thought there would no good come of it; but this is a sad, sad business, to be sure!’
‘Why, mother, you said you didn’t believe these tales,’ said Fergus.
‘No more I do, my dear; but then, you know, there must be some foundation.’
‘The foundation is in the wickedness and falsehood of the world,’ said I, ‘and in the fact that Mr. Lawrence has been seen to go that way once or twice of an evening — and the village gossips say he goes to pay his addresses to the strange lady, and the scandal-mongers have greedily seized the rumour, to make it the basis of their own infernal structure.’
‘Well, but, Gilbert, there must be something in her manner to countenance such reports.’
‘Did you see anything in her manner?’
‘No, certainly; but then, you know, I always said there was something strange about her.’
I believe it was on that very evening that I ventured on another invasion of Wildfell Hall. From the time of our party, which was upwards of a week ago, I had been making daily efforts to meet its mistress in her walks; and always disappointed (she must have managed it so on purpose), had nightly kept revolving in my mind some pretext for another call. At length I concluded that the separation could be endured no longer (by this time, you will see, I was pretty far gone); and, taking from the bookcase an old volume that I thought she might be interested in, though, from its unsightly and somewhat dilapidated condition, I had not yet ventured to offer it for perusal, I hastened away, — but not without sundry misgivings as to how she would receive me, or how I could summon courage to present myself with so slight an excuse. But, perhaps, I might see her in the field or the garden, and then there would be no great difficulty: it was the formal knocking at the door, with the prospect of being gravely ushered in by Rachel, to the presence of a surprised, uncordial mistress, that so greatly disturbed me.
My wish, however, was not gratified. Mrs. Graham herself was not to be seen; but there was Arthur playing with his frolicsome little dog in the garden. I looked over the gate and called him to me. He wanted me to come in; but I told him I could not without his mother’s leave.
‘I’ll go and ask her,’ said the child.
‘No, no, Arthur, you mustn’t do that; but if she’s not engaged, just ask her to come here a minute. Tell her I want to speak to her.’
He ran to perform my bidding, and quickly returned with his mother. How lovely she looked with her dark ringlets streaming in the light summer breeze, her fair cheek slightly flushed, and her countenance radiant with smiles. Dear Arthur! what did I not owe to you for this and every other happy meeting? Through him I was at once delivered from all formality, and terror, and constraint. In love affairs, there is no mediator like a merry, simple-hearted child — ever ready to cement divided hearts, to span the unfriendly gulf of custom, to melt the ice of cold reserve, and overthrow the separating walls of dread formality and pride.
‘Well, Mr. Markham, what is it?’ said the young mother, accosting me with a pleasant smile.
‘I want you to look at this book, and, if you please, to take it, and peruse it at your leisure. I make no apology for calling you out on such a lovely evening, though it be for a matter of no greater importance.’
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