Лучшие романы сестер Бронте / The best of the Brontë sisters - Шарлотта Бронте

Here our conference ended, for it was now high time to prepare for church. Everyone attended the morning service, except my uncle, who hardly ever goes, and Mr. Wilmot, who stayed at home with him to enjoy a quiet game of cribbage. In the afternoon Miss Wilmot and Lord Lowborough likewise excused themselves from attending; but Mr. Huntingdon vouchsafed to accompany us again. Whether it was to ingratiate himself with my aunt I cannot tell, but, if so, he certainly should have behaved better. I must confess, I did not like his conduct during service at all. Holding his prayer-book upside down, or open at any place but the right, he did nothing but stare about him, unless he happened to catch my aunt’s eye or mine, and then he would drop his own on his book, with a puritanical air of mock solemnity that would have been ludicrous, if it had not been too provoking. Once, during the sermon, after attentively regarding Mr. Leighton for a few minutes, he suddenly produced his gold pencil-case and snatched up a Bible. Perceiving that I observed the movement, he whispered that he was going to make a note of the sermon; but instead of that, as I sat next him, I could not help seeing that he was making a caricature of the preacher, giving to the respectable, pious, elderly gentleman, the air and aspect of a most absurd old hypocrite. And yet, upon his return, he talked to my aunt about the sermon with a degree of modest, serious discrimination that tempted me to believe he had really attended to and profited by the discourse.

Just before dinner my uncle called me into the library for the discussion of a very important matter, which was dismissed in few words.

‘Now, Nell,’ said he, ‘this young Huntingdon has been asking for you: what must I say about it? Your aunt would answer “no” – but what say you?’

‘I say yes, uncle,’ replied I, without a moment’s hesitation; for I had thoroughly made up my mind on the subject.

‘Very good!’ cried he. ‘Now that’s a good honest answer – wonderful for a girl! – Well, I’ll write to your father to-morrow. He’s sure to give his consent; so you may look on the matter as settled. You’d have done a deal better if you’d taken Wilmot, I can tell you; but that you won’t believe. At your time of life, it’s love that rules the roast[191]: at mine, it’s solid, serviceable gold. I suppose now, you’d never dream of looking into the state of your husband’s finances, or troubling your head about settlements, or anything of that sort?’

‘I don’t think I should.’

‘Well, be thankful, then, that you’ve wiser heads to think for you. I haven’t had time, yet, to examine thoroughly into this young rascal’s affairs, but I see that a great part of his father’s fine property has been squandered away; – but still, I think, there’s a pretty fair share of it left, and a little careful nursing may make a handsome thing of it yet; and then we must persuade your father to give you a decent fortune, as he has only one besides yourself to care for; – and, if you behave well, who knows but what I may be induced to remember you in my will!’ continued he, putting his fingers to his nose, with a knowing wink.

‘Thanks, uncle, for that and all your kindness,’ replied I.

‘Well, and I questioned this young spark on the matter of settlements,’ continued he; ‘and he seemed disposed to be generous enough on that point – ’

‘I knew he would!’ said I. ‘But pray don’t trouble your head – or his, or mine about that; for all I have will be his, and all he has will be mine; and what more could either of us require?’ And I was about to make my exit, but he called me back.

‘Stop, stop!’ cried he; ‘we haven’t mentioned the time yet. When must it be? Your aunt would put it off till the Lord knows when, but he is anxious to be bound as soon as may be: he won’t hear of waiting beyond next month; and you, I guess, will be of the same mind, so – ’

‘Not at all, uncle; on the contrary, I should like to wait till after Christmas, at least.’

‘Oh! pooh, pooh! never tell me that tale – I know better,’ cried he; and he persisted in his incredulity. Nevertheless, it is quite true. I am in no hurry at all. How can I be, when I think of the momentous change that awaits me, and of all I have to leave? It is happiness enough to know that we are to be united; and that he really loves me, and I may love him as devotedly, and think of him as often as I please. However, I insisted upon consulting my aunt about the time of the wedding, for I determined her counsels should not be utterly disregarded; and no conclusions on that particular are come to yet.

Chapter XXI

October 1st. – All is settled now. My father has given his consent, and the time is fixed for Christmas, by a sort of compromise between the respective advocates for hurry and delay. Milicent Hargrave is to be one bridesmaid and Annabella Wilmot the other – not that I am particularly fond of the latter, but she is an intimate of the family, and I have not another friend.

When I told Milicent of my engagement, she rather provoked me by her manner of taking it. After staring a moment in mute surprise, she said, – ‘Well, Helen, I suppose I ought to congratulate you – and I am glad to see you so happy; but I did not think you would take him; and I can’t help feeling surprised that you should like him so much.’

‘Why so?’

‘Because you are so superior to him in every way, and there’s something so bold and reckless about him – so, I don’t know how – but I always feel a wish to get out of his way when I see him approach.’

‘You are timid, Milicent; but that’s no fault of his.’

‘And then his look,’ continued she. ‘People say he’s handsome, and of course he is; but I don’t like that kind of beauty, and I wonder that you should.’

‘Why so, pray?’

‘Well, you know, I think there’s nothing noble or lofty in his appearance.’

‘In fact, you wonder that I can like anyone so unlike the stilted heroes of romance. Well, give me my flesh and blood lover, and I’ll leave all the Sir Herberts and Valentines to you – if you can find them.’

‘I don’t want them,’ said she. ‘I’ll be satisfied with flesh and blood too – only the spirit must shine through and predominate. But don’t you think Mr. Huntingdon’s face is too red?’

‘No!’ cried I, indignantly. ‘It is not red at all. There is just a pleasant glow, a healthy freshness in his complexion – the warm, pinky tint of the whole harmonising with the deeper colour of the cheeks, exactly as it ought to do. I hate a man to be red and white, like a painted doll, or all sickly white, or smoky black, or cadaverous yellow.’

‘Well, tastes differ – but I like pale or dark,’ replied she. ‘But, to tell you the truth, Helen, I had been deluding myself with the hope that you would one day be my sister. I expected Walter would be introduced to you next season; and I thought you would like him, and was certain he would like you; and I flattered myself I should thus have the felicity of seeing the two persons I like best in the world – except mamma – united in one. He mayn’t be exactly what you would call handsome, but he’s far more distinguished-looking, and nicer and better than Mr. Huntingdon; – and I’m sure you would say so, if you knew him.’

‘Impossible, Milicent! You think so, because you’re his sister; and, on that account, I’ll forgive you; but nobody else should so disparage Arthur Huntingdon to me with impunity.’

Miss Wilmot expressed her feelings on the subject almost as openly.

‘And so, Helen,’ said she, coming up to me with a smile of no amiable import, ‘you are to be Mrs. Huntingdon, I suppose?’

‘Yes,’ replied I. ‘Don’t you envy me?’

‘Oh, dear, no!’ she exclaimed. ‘I shall probably be Lady Lowborough some day, and then you know, dear, I shall be in a capacity to inquire, “Don’t you envy me?”’

‘Henceforth I shall envy no one,’ returned I.

‘Indeed! Are you so happy then?’ said she, thoughtfully; and something very like a cloud of disappointment shadowed her face. ‘And does he love you – I mean, does he idolise you as much as you do him?’ she added, fixing her eyes upon me with ill-disguised anxiety for the reply.

‘I don’t want to be idolised,’ I answered; ‘but I am well assured that he loves me more than anybody else in the world – as I do him.’

‘Exactly,’ said she, with a nod. ‘I wish – ’ she paused.

‘What do you wish?’ asked I, annoyed at the vindictive expression of her countenance.

‘I wish,’ returned, she, with a short laugh, ‘that all the attractive points and desirable qualifications of the two gentlemen were united in one – that Lord Lowborough had Huntingdon’s handsome face and good temper, and all his wit, and mirth and charm, or else that Huntingdon had Lowborough’s pedigree, and title, and delightful old family seat, and I had him; and you might have the other and welcome.’

‘Thank you, dear Annabella: I am better satisfied with things as they are, for my own part; and for you, I wish you were as well content with your intended as I am with mine,’ said I; and it was true enough; for, though vexed at first at her unamiable spirit, her frankness touched me, and the contrast between our situations was such, that I could well afford to pity her and wish her well.

Mr. Huntingdon’s acquaintances appear to be no better pleased with our approaching union than mine. This morning’s post brought him letters from several of his friends, during the perusal of which, at the breakfast-table, he excited the attention of the company by the singular variety of his grimaces. But he crushed them all into his pocket, with a private laugh, and said nothing till the meal was concluded. Then, while the company were hanging over the fire or loitering through the room, previous to settling to their various morning avocations, he came and leant over the back of my chair, with his face in contact with my curls, and commencing with a quiet little kiss, poured forth the following complaints into my ear: –

‘Helen, you witch, do you know that you’ve entailed upon me the curses of all my friends? I wrote to them the other day, to tell them of my happy prospects, and now, instead of a bundle of congratulations, I’ve got a pocketful of bitter execrations and reproaches. There’s not one kind wish for me, or one good word for you, among them all. They say there’ll be no more fun now, no more merry days and glorious nights – and all my fault – I am the first to break up the jovial band, and others, in pure despair, will follow my example. I was the very life and prop of the community, they do me the honour to say, and I have shamefully betrayed my trust – ’

‘You may join them again, if you like,’ said I, somewhat piqued at the sorrowful tone of his discourse. ‘I should be sorry to stand between any man – or body of men, and so much happiness; and perhaps I can manage to do without you, as well as your poor deserted friends.’

‘Bless you, no,’ murmured he. ‘It’s “all for love or the world well lost,” with me. Let them go to – where they belong, to speak politely. But if you saw how they abuse me, Helen, you would love me all the more for having ventured so much for your sake.’

He pulled out his crumpled letters. I thought he was going to show them to me, and told him I did not wish to see them.

‘I’m not going to show them to you, love,’ said he. ‘They’re hardly fit for a lady’s eyes – the most part of them. But look here. This is Grimsby’s scrawl – only three lines, the sulky dog! He doesn’t say much, to be sure, but his very silence implies more than all the others’ words, and the less he says, the more he thinks – and this is Hargrave’s missive. He is particularly grieved at me, because, forsooth he had fallen in love with you from his sister’s reports, and meant to have married you himself, as soon as he had sown his wild oats[192].’

‘I’m vastly obliged to him,’ observed I.

‘And so am I,’ said he. ‘And look at this. This is Hattersley’s – every page stuffed full of railing accusations, bitter curses, and lamentable complaints, ending up with swearing that he’ll get married himself in revenge: he’ll throw himself away on the first old maid that chooses to set her cap at him[193], – as if I cared what he did with himself.’

‘Well,’ said I, ‘if you do give up your intimacy with these men, I don’t think you will have much cause to regret the loss of their society; for it’s my belief they never did you much good.’

‘Maybe not; but we’d a merry time of it, too, though mingled with sorrow and pain, as Lowborough knows to his cost – Ha, ha!’ and while he was laughing at the recollection of Lowborough’s troubles, my uncle came and slapped him on the shoulder.

‘Come, my lad!’ said he. ‘Are you too busy making love to my niece to make war with the pheasants? – First of October, remember! Sun shines out – rain ceased – even Boarham’s not afraid to venture in his waterproof boots; and Wilmot and I are going to beat you all. I declare, we old ’uns are the keenest sportsmen of the lot!’

‘I’ll show you what I can do to-day, however,’ said my companion. ‘I’ll murder your birds by wholesale, just for keeping me away from better company than either you or them.’

And so saying he departed; and I saw no more of him till dinner. It seemed a weary time; I wonder what I shall do without him.

It is very true that the three elder gentlemen have proved themselves much keener sportsmen than the two younger ones; for both Lord Lowborough and Arthur Huntingdon have of late almost daily neglected the shooting excursions to accompany us in our various rides and rambles. But these merry times are fast drawing to a close. In less than a fortnight the party break up, much to my sorrow, for every day I enjoy it more and more – now that Messrs. Boarham and Wilmot have ceased to tease me, and my aunt has ceased to lecture me, and I have ceased to be jealous of Annabella – and even to dislike her – and now that Mr. Huntingdon is become my Arthur, and I may enjoy his society without restraint. What shall I do without him, I repeat?

Chapter XXII

October 5th. – My cup of sweets is not unmingled: it is dashed with a bitterness that I cannot hide from myself, disguise it as I will. I may try to persuade myself that the sweetness overpowers it; I may call it a pleasant aromatic flavour; but say what I will, it is still there, and I cannot but taste it. I cannot shut my eyes to Arthur’s faults; and the more I love him the more they trouble me. His very heart, that I trusted so, is, I fear, less warm and generous than I thought it. At least, he gave me a specimen of his character to-day that seemed to merit a harder name than thoughtlessness. He and Lord Lowborough were accompanying Annabella and me in a long, delightful ride; he was riding by my side, as usual, and Annabella and Lord Lowborough were a little before us, the latter bending towards his companion as if in tender and confidential discourse.

‘Those two will get the start of us, Helen, if we don’t look sharp,’ observed Huntingdon. ‘They’ll make a match of it, as sure as can be. That Lowborough’s fairly besotted. But he’ll find himself in a fix when he’s got her, I doubt.’