The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. Энн Бронте

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СКАЧАТЬ I thus stood, leaning on my gun, and looking up at the dark gables, sunk in an idle reverie, weaving a tissue of wayward fancies, in which old associations and the fair young hermit, now within those walls, bore a nearly equal part, I heard a slight rustling and scrambling just within the garden; and, glancing in the direction whence the sound proceeded, I beheld a tiny hand elevated above the wall: it clung to the topmost stone, and then another little hand was raised to take a firmer hold, and then appeared a small white forehead, surmounted with wreaths of light brown hair, with a pair of deep blue eyes beneath, and the upper portion of a diminutive ivory nose.

      The eyes did not notice me, but sparkled with glee on beholding Sancho, my beautiful black and white setter, that was coursing about the field with its muzzle to the ground. The little creature raised its face and called aloud to the dog. The good-natured animal paused, looked up, and wagged his tail, but made no further advances. The child, (a little boy, apparently about five years old) scrambled up to the top of the wall and called again and again; but finding this of no avail, apparently made up his mind, like Mahomet, to go to the mountain since the mountain would not come to him, and attempted to get over; but a crabbed old cherry tree, that grew hard by, caught him by the frock in one of its crooked scraggy arms that stretched over the wall. In attempting to disengage himself, his foot slipped, and down he tumbled – but not to the earth; – the tree still kept him suspended. There was a silent struggle, and then a piercing shriek; – but, in an instant, I had dropped my gun on the grass, and caught the little fellow in my arms.

      I wiped his eyes with his frock, told him he was all right, and called Sancho to pacify him. He was just putting his little hand on the dog’s neck and beginning to smile through his tears, when I heard, behind me, a click of the iron gate and a rustle of female garments, and lo! Mrs Graham darted upon me, – her neck uncovered, her black locks streaming in the wind.

      ‘Give me the child!’

      She said in a voice scarce louder than a whisper, but with a tone of startling vehemence, and, seizing the boy, she snatched him from me, as if some dire contamination were in my touch, and then stood with one hand firmly clasping his, the other on his shoulder, fixing upon me her large, luminous, dark eyes – pale, breathless, quivering with agitation.

      ‘I was not harming the child madam,’ said I, scarce knowing whether to be most astonished or displeased, ‘he was tumbling off the wall there; and I was so fortunate as to catch him, while he hung suspended headlong from that tree, and prevent I know not what catastrophe.’

      ‘I beg your pardon sir,’ stammered she, – suddenly calming down, – the light of reason seeming to break upon her beclouded spirit and a faint blush mantling on her cheek – ‘I did not know you; – and I thought’ –

      She stooped to kiss the child, and fondly clasped her arm round his neck.

      ‘You thought I was going to kidnap your son, I suppose?’

      She stroked his head with a half-embarrassed laugh, and replied, –

      ‘I did not know he had attempted to climb the wall. – I have the pleasure of addressing Mr Markham, I believe?’ she added somewhat abruptly.

      I bowed, but ventured to ask how she knew me.

      ‘Your sister called here, a few days ago, with Mrs Markham.’

      ‘Is the resemblance so strong then?’ I asked in some surprise, and not so greatly flattered at the idea as I ought to have been.

      ‘There is a likeness about the eyes and complexion I think,’ replied she, somewhat dubiously surveying my face; – ‘and I think I saw you at church on Sunday.’

      I smiled. – There was something either in that smile or the recollections it awakened that was particularly displeasing to her, for she suddenly assumed again that proud, chilly look that had so unspeakably roused my corruption at church – a look of repellent scorn, so easily assumed, and so entirely without the least distortion of a single feature that, while there, it seemed like the natural expression of the face, and was the more provoking to me, because I could not think it affected.

      ‘Good morning, Mr Markham,’ said she; and, without another word or glance, she withdrew with her child into the garden; and I returned home, angry and dissatisfied – I could scarcely tell you why – and therefore will not attempt it.

      I only stayed to put away my gun and powder-horn, and give some requisite directions to one of the farming-men, and then repaired to the vicarage, to solace my spirit and soothe my ruffled temper with the company and conversation of Eliza Millward.

      I found her, as usual, busy with some piece of soft embroidery (the mania for Berlin wools had not yet commenced), while her sister was seated at the chimney-corner, with the cat on her knee, mending a heap of stockings.

      ‘Mary – Mary! put them away!’ Eliza was hastily saying, just as I entered the room.

      ‘Not I, indeed!’ was the phlegmatic reply; and my appearance prevented further discussion.

      ‘You’re so unfortunate, Mr Markham!’ observed the younger sister, with one of her arch, sidelong glances. ‘Papa’s just gone out into the parish, and not likely to be back for an hour!’

      ‘Never mind; I can manage to spend a few minutes with his daughters, if they’ll allow me,’ said I, bringing a chair to the fire, and seating myself therein, without waiting to be asked.

      ‘Well, if you’ll be very good and amusing, we shan’t object.’

      ‘Let your permission be unconditional, pray; for I came not to give pleasure, but to seek it,’ I answered.

      However, I thought it but reasonable to make some slight exertion to render my company agreeable; and what little effort I made was apparently pretty successful, for Miss Eliza was never in a better humour. We seemed, indeed, to be mutually pleased with each other, and managed to maintain between us a cheerful and animated, though not very profound, conversation. It was little better than a tête-à-tête, for Miss Millward never opened her lips, except occasionally to correct some random assertion or exaggerated expression of her sister’s, and once to ask her to pick up the ball of cotton, that had rolled under the table. I did this myself, however, as in duty bound.

      ‘Thank you, Mr Markham,’ said she, as I presented it to her. ‘I would have picked it up myself; only I did not want to disturb the cat.’

      ‘Mary, dear, that won’t excuse you in Mr Markham’s eyes,’ said Eliza; ‘he hates cats, I dare say, as cordially as he does old maids – like all other gentlemen – don’t you Mr Markham?’

      ‘I believe it is natural for our unamiable sex, to dislike the creatures,’ replied I; ‘for you ladies lavish so many caresses upon them.’

      ‘Bless them – little darlings!’ cried she, in a sudden burst of enthusiasm, turning round and overwhelming her sister’s pet with a shower of kisses.

      ‘Don’t, Eliza!’ said Miss Millward, somewhat gruffly, as she impatiently pushed her away.

      But it was time for me to be going: make what haste I would, I should still be too late for tea; and my mother was the soul of order and punctuality.

      My fair friend was evidently unwilling to bid me adieu. I tenderly squeezed her little hand at parting; and she repaid me with one of her softest smiles and most bewitching СКАЧАТЬ