The Black Robe. Уилки Коллинз

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ a word to Penrose—thus far, a silent listener to the discourse on Art.

      “Have you seen the famous portrait of the first Lady Loring, by Gainsborough?” he asked. Without waiting for a reply, he took Penrose by the arm, and led him away to the picture—which had the additional merit, under present circumstances, of hanging at the other end of the gallery.

      “How do you like Romayne?” Father Benwell put the question in low peremptory tones, evidently impatient for a reply.

      “He interests me already,” said Penrose. “He looks so ill and so sad, and he spoke to me so kindly—”

      “In short,” Father Benwell interposed, “Romayne has produced a favorable impression on you. Let us get on to the next thing. You must produce a favorable impression on Romayne.”

      Penrose sighed. “With the best will to make myself agreeable to people whom I like,” he said, “I don’t always succeed. They used to tell me at Oxford that I was shy—and I am afraid that is against me. I wish I possessed some of your social advantages, Father!”

      “Leave it to me, son! Are they still talking about the picture?”

      “Yes.”

      “I have something more to say to you. Have you noticed the young lady?”

      “I thought her beautiful—but she looks a little cold.”

      Father Benwell smiled. “When you are as old as I am,” he said, “you will not believe in appearances where women are concerned. Do you know what I think of her? Beautiful, if you like—and dangerous as well.”

      “Dangerous! In what way?”

      “This is for your private ear, Arthur. She is in love with Romayne. Wait a minute! And Lady Loring—unless I am entirely mistaken in what I observed—knows it and favors it. The beautiful Stella may be the destruction of all our hopes, unless we keep Romayne out of her way.”

      These words were whispered with an earnestness and agitation which surprised Penrose. His superior’s equanimity was not easily overthrown. “Are you sure, Father, of what you say?” he asked.

      “I am quite sure—or I should not have spoken.”

      “Do you think Mr. Romayne returns the feeling?”

      “Not yet, luckily. You must use your first friendly influence over him—what is her name? Her surname, I mean.”

      “Eyrecourt. Miss Stella Eyrecourt.”

      “Very well. You must use your influence (when you are quite sure that it is an influence) to keep Mr. Romayne away from Miss Eyrecourt.”

      Penrose looked embarrassed. “I am afraid I should hardly know how to do that,” he said “But I should naturally, as his assistant, encourage him to keep to his studies.”

      Whatever Arthur’s superior might privately think of Arthur’s reply, he received it with outward indulgence. “That will come to the same thing,” he said. “Besides, when I get the information I want—this is strictly between ourselves—I may be of some use in placing obstacles in the lady’s way.”

      Penrose started. “Information!” he repeated. “What information?”

      “Tell me something before I answer you,” said Father Benwell. “How old do you take Miss Eyrecourt to be?”

      “I am not a good judge in such matters. Between twenty and twenty-five, perhaps?”

      “We will take her age at that estimate, Arthur. In former years, I have had opportunities of studying women’s characters in the confessional. Can you guess what my experience tells me of Miss Eyrecourt?”

      “No, indeed!”

      “A lady is not in love for the first time when she is between twenty and twenty-five years old—that is my experience,” said Father Benwell. “If I can find a person capable of informing me, I may make some valuable discoveries in the earlier history of Miss Eyrecourt’s life. No more, now. We had better return to our friends.”

CHAPTER V.

       Table of Contents

FATHER BENWELL MISSES.

       Table of Contents

      THE group before the picture which had been the subject of dispute was broken up. In one part of the gallery, Lady Loring and Stella were whispering together on a sofa. In another part, Lord Loring was speaking privately to Romayne.

      “Do you think you will like Mr. Penrose?” his lordship asked.

      “Yes—so far as I can tell at present. He seems to be modest and intelligent.”

      “You are looking ill, my dear Romayne. Have you again heard the voice that haunts you?”

      Romayne answered with evident reluctance. “I don’t know why,” he said—“but the dread of hearing it again has oppressed me all this morning. To tell you the truth, I came here in the hope that the change might relieve me.”

      “Has it done so?”

      “Yes—thus far.”

      “Doesn’t that suggest, my friend, that a greater change might be of use to you?”

      “Don’t ask me about it, Loring! I can go through my ordeal—but I hate speaking of it.”

      “Let us speak of something else then,” said Lord Loring. “What do you think of Miss Eyrecourt?”

      “A very striking face; full of expression and character. Leonardo would have painted a noble portrait of her. But there is something in her manner—” He stopped, unwilling or unable to finish the sentence.

      “Something you don’t like?” Lord Loring suggested.

      “No; something I don’t quite understand. One doesn’t expect to find any embarrassment in the manner of a well-bred woman. And yet she seemed to be embarrassed when she spoke to me. Perhaps I produced an unfortunate impression on her.”

      Lord Loring laughed. “In any man but you, Romayne, I should call that affectation.”

      “Why?” Romayne asked, sharply.

      Lord Loring looked unfeignedly surprised. “My dear fellow, do you really think you are the sort of man who impresses a woman unfavorably at first sight? For once in your life, indulge in the amiable weakness of doing yourself justice—and find a better reason for Miss Eyrecourt’s embarrassment.”

      For the first time since he and his friend had been talking together, Romayne turned toward Stella. He innocently caught her in the act of looking at him. A СКАЧАТЬ