Deerbrook. Harriet Martineau

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СКАЧАТЬ one’s friends: but other people must be considered, as we seem to be agreed—Mr. and Mrs. Rowland, and all the children. So we will proceed with our dressing, Mrs. Grey. But can you tell us, before you go, how soon—How soon we shall know;—when this case will probably be decided?”

      It might be a few hours, or it might be many days, Mrs. Grey said. She should stay at home to-day, in case of anything being sent for from the farmhouse where Mr. Hope was lying. He was well attended—in the hands of good nurses—former patients of his own: but something might be wanted; and orders had been left by Mr. Grey that application should be made to his house for whatever could be of service: so Mrs. Grey could not think of leaving home. Mr. Grey would make inquiry at the farmhouse as the party went by to the woods: and he would just turn his horse back in the middle of the day, to inquire again: and thus the Rowlands’ party would know more of Mr. Hope’s state than those who remained at home. Having explained, Mrs. Grey quitted the room, somewhat disappointed that Hester had received the disclosure so well.

      The moment the door was closed, Hester sank forward on the bed, her face hidden, but her trembling betraying her emotion.

      “I feared this,” said Margaret, looking mournfully at her sister.

      “You feared what?” asked Hester, quickly, looking up.

      “I feared that some accident had happened to Mr. Hope.”

      “So did I.”

      “And if,” said Margaret, “I feared something else—Nay, Hester, you must let me speak. We must have no concealments, Hester. You and I are alone in the world, and we must comfort each other. We agreed to this. Why should you be ashamed of what you feel? I believe that you have a stronger interest in this misfortune than any one in the world; and why—”

      “How do you mean, a stronger interest?” asked Hester, trying to command her voice. “Tell me what you mean, Margaret.”

      “I mean,” said Margaret, steadily, “that no one is so much attached to Mr. Hope as you are.”

      “I think,” said Margaret, after a pause, “that Mr. Hope has a high respect and strong regard for you.” She paused again, and then added, “If I believed anything more, I would tell you.”

      When Hester could speak again, she said, gently and humbly, “I assure you, Margaret, I never knew the state of my own mind till this last night. If I had been aware—”

      “If you had been aware, you would have been unlike all who ever really loved, if people say true. Now that you have become aware, you will act as you can act—nobly—righteously. You will struggle with your feelings till your mind grows calm. Peace will come in time.”

      “Do you think there is no hope?”

      “Consider his state.”

      “But if he should recover? Oh, Margaret, how wicked all this is! While he lies there, we are grieving about me! What a selfish wretch I am!”

      Margaret had nothing to reply, there seemed so much truth in this. Even she reproached herself with being exclusively anxious about her sister, when such a friend might be dying; when a life of such importance to many was in jeopardy.

      “I could do anything, I could bear anything,” said Hester, “if I could be sure that nobody knew. But you found me out, Margaret, and perhaps—”

      “I assure you, I believe you are safe,” said Margaret. “You can hide nothing from me. But, Mrs. Grey—and nobody except myself, has watched you like Mrs. Grey—has gone away, I am certain, completely deceived. But, Hester! my own precious sister, bear with one word from me! Do not trust too much to your pride.”

      “I do trust to my pride, and I will,” replied Hester, her cheeks in a glow. “Do you suppose I will allow all in this house, all in the village, to be pitying me, to be watching how I suffer, when no one supposes that he gave me cause? It is not to be endured, even in the bare thought. No. If you do not betray me—”

      “I betray you?”

      “Well, well! I know you will not: and then I am safe. My pride I can trust to, and I will.”

      “It will betray you,” sighed Margaret. “I do not want you to parade your sorrow, God knows! It will be better borne in quiet and secrecy. What I wish for you is, that you should receive this otherwise than as a punishment, a disgrace in your own eyes for something wrong. You have done nothing wrong, nothing that you may not appeal to God to help you to endure. Take it as a sorrow sent by Him, to be meekly borne, as what no earthly person has any concern with. Be superior to the opinions of the people about us, instead of defying them. Pride will give you no peace: resignation will.”

      “I am too selfish for this,” sighed Hester. “I hate myself, Margaret. I have not even the grace to love him, except for my own sake; and while he is dying, I am planning to save my pride! I do not care what becomes of me. Come, Margaret, let us dress and go down. Do not trouble your kind heart about me: I am not worth it.”

      This mood gave way a little to Margaret’s grief and endearments; but Hester issued from her chamber for the day in a state of towering pride, secretly alternating with the anguish of self-contempt.

      It was a miserable day, as wretched a party of pleasure as could be imagined. Mrs. Rowland was occupied in thinking, and occasionally saying, how strangely everything fell out to torment her, how something always occurred to cross every plan of hers. She talked about this to her mother, Sophia, and Hester, who were in the barouche with her, till the whole cavalcade stopped, just before reaching the farmhouse where Mr. Hope lay, and to which Mr. Grey rode on to make inquiries. Margaret was with Mr. Rowland in his gig. It was a breathless three minutes till Mr. Grey brought the news. Margaret wondered how Hester was bearing it: it would have pleased her to have known that Mrs. Rowland was holding forth so strenuously upon her disappointment about a dress at the last Buckley ball, and about her children having had the measles on the only occasion when Mr. Rowland could have taken her to the races in the next county, that Hester might sit in silence, and bear the suspense unobserved. Mr. Grey reappeared, quite as soon as he could be looked for. There might have been worse news. Mr. Hope was no longer in a stupor: he was delirious. His medical attendants could not pronounce any judgment upon the case further than that it was not hopeless. They had known recovery in similar cases. As Mr. Grey bore his report from carriage to carriage, every one strove to speak cheerfully, and to make the best of the case; and those who were not the most interested really satisfied themselves with the truth that the tidings were better than they might have been.

      The damp upon the spirits of the party was most evident, when all had descended from the carriages, and were collected in the woods. There was a general tremor about accidents. If one of the gentlemen had gone forward to explore, or the children had lagged behind for play, there was a shouting, and a general stop, till the missing party appeared. Miss Young would fain have declined her pony, which was duly in waiting for her. It was only because she felt that no individual could well be spared from the party that she mounted at all. Mr. Hope was to have had the charge of her; and though she had requested Sydney to take his place, as far as was necessary, Mr. Enderby insisted on doing so; a circumstance which did not add to her satisfaction. She was not altogether so heart-sick as her friends, the Ibbotsons; but even to her, everything was weariness of spirit:—the landscape seemed dull; the splendid dinner on the grass tiresome; the sunshine sickly; and even the children, with their laughter and practical jokes, fatiguing and troublesome. Even she could easily have spoken sharply to each and all of the little ones. If she felt so, what must the day have been to Hester? She bore up well under any СКАЧАТЬ