The Evil Genius. Wilkie Collins

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      Chapter V. Randal Writes to New York.

      The members of the family at Mount Morven consulted together, before Sydney Westerfield was informed of her brother’s disappearance and of her mother’s death.

      Speaking first, as master of the house, Herbert Linley offered his opinion without hesitation. His impulsive kindness shrank from the prospect of reviving the melancholy recollections associated with Sydney’s domestic life. “Why distress the poor child, just as she is beginning to feel happy among us?” he asked. “Give me the newspaper; I shan’t feel easy till I have torn it up.”

      His wife drew the newspaper out of his reach. “Wait a little,” she said, quietly; “some of us may feel that it is no part of our duty to conceal the truth.”

      Mrs. Presty spoke next. To the surprise of the family council, she agreed with her son-in-law.

      “Somebody must speak out,” the old lady began; “and I mean to set the example. Telling the truth,” she declared, turning severely to her daughter, “is a more complicated affair than you seem to think. It’s a question of morality, of course; but—in family circles, my dear—it’s sometimes a question of convenience as well. Is it convenient to upset my granddaughter’s governess, just as she is entering on her new duties? Certainly not! Good heavens, what does it matter to my young friend Sydney whether her unnatural mother lives or dies? Herbert, I second your proposal to tear up the paper with the greatest pleasure.”

      Herbert, sitting next to Randal, laid his hand affectionately on his brother’s shoulder. “Are you on our side?” he asked.

      Randal hesitated.

      “I feel inclined to agree with you,” he said to Herbert. “It does seem hard to recall Miss Westerfield to the miserable life that she has led, and to do it in the way of all others which must try her fortitude most cruelly. At the same time—”

      “Oh, don’t spoil what you have said by seeing the other side of the question!” cried his brother “You have already put it admirably; leave it as it is.”

      “At the same time,” Randal gently persisted, “I have heard no reasons which satisfy me that we have a right to keep Miss Westerfield in ignorance of what has happened.”

      This serious view of the question in debate highly diverted Mrs. Presty. “I do not like that man,” she announced, pointing to Randal; “he always amuses me. Look at him now! He doesn’t know which side he is on, himself.”

      “He is on my side,” Herbert declared.

      “Not he!”

      Herbert consulted his brother. “What do you say yourself?”

      “I don’t know,” Randal answered.

      “There!” cried Mrs. Presty. “What did I tell you?”

      Randal tried to set his strange reply in the right light. “I only mean,” he explained, “that I want a little time to think.”

      Herbert gave up the dispute and appealed to his wife. “You have still got the American newspaper in your hand,” he said. “What do you mean to do with it?”

      Quietly and firmly Mrs. Linley answered: “I mean to show it to Miss Westerfield.”

      “Against my opinion? Against your mother’s opinion?” Herbert asked. “Have we no influence over you? Do as Randal does—take time, my dear, to think.”

      She answered this with her customary calmness of manner and sweetness of tone. “I am afraid I must appear obstinate; but it is indeed true that I want no time to think; my duty is too plain to me.”

      Her husband and her mother listened to her in astonishment. Too amiable and too happy—and it must be added too indolent—to assert herself in the ordinary emergencies of family life, Mrs. Linley only showed of what metal she was made on the very rare occasions when the latent firmness in her nature was stirred to its innermost depths. The general experience of this sweet-tempered and delightful woman, ranging over long intervals of time, was the only experience which remained in the memories of the persons about her. In bygone days, they had been amazed when her unexpected readiness and firmness of decision presented an exception to a general rule—just as they were amazed now.

      Herbert tried a last remonstrance. “Is it possible, Catherine, that you don’t see the cruelty of showing that newspaper to Miss Westerfield?”

      Even this appeal to Mrs. Linley’s sympathies failed to shake her resolution. “You may trust me to be careful,” was all she said in reply; “I shall prepare her as tenderly for the sad news from America, as if she was a daughter of my own.”

      Hearing this, СКАЧАТЬ