Мертвая комната. Уровень 2 / The Dead Secret. Уилки Коллинз
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about people's future destinies in the pulpit. He never quarreled with anybody out of the pulpit. In short, he was the most unclerical of clergymen.
As soon as the vicar entered the parlor, the children assailed him with a chorus of shouts.
“I'm sorry. I'm late, Miss Sturch,” said the vicar; “but I have a good excuse.”
“Pray don't mention it, Sir,” said Miss Sturch. “A beautiful morning. I fear we shall have another warm day. Robert, my love, your elbow is on the table. A beautiful morning, indeed!”
“Guess why I am late this morning,” said the vicar.
“You were lying in bed, papa,” cried the three children.
“What do you say, Miss Sturch?” asked Doctor Chennery.
Miss Sturch smiled as usual, rubbed her hands as usual, cleared her throat softly as usual, and excused.
“Phippen,” said the vicar. “Come, guess!”
“My dear friend,” said Mr. Phippen, “don't ask me to guess – I know! I saw what you were eating at dinner yesterday. I saw what you drank after dinner. Pooh! I know. You dear, good soul, you were taking medicine!”
“No!” said Doctor Chennery, with a look of devout gratitude. “No, no; you're all wrong. The fact is, I have been to church. Why? Listen, Miss Sturch – listen, girls, with all your ears. Poor blind young Frankland is a happy man at last – I have married him to our dear Rosamond Treverton this very morning!”
“Without telling us, papa!” cried the two girls together. “We wanted to see it!”
“That was the very reason why I did not tell you, my dears,” answered the vicar. “Young Frankland doesn't like it. He doesn't like to be a blind bridegroom. So we settled to have the wedding at an hour in the morning when no idlers were nearby. I was bound over to the secrecy about the day, and so was my clerk Thomas. Excepting us two, and the bride and bridegroom, and the bride's father, Captain Treverton, nobody knew – ”
“Treverton!” exclaimed Mr. Phippen. “Treverton! (No more tea, dear Miss Sturch). How remarkable! I know the name. (Fill up with water, if you please.) Tell me, my dear doctor (please no sugar), is this Miss Treverton (many thanks; no milk, either) one of the Cornish Trevertons?”
“Yes, she is!” rejoined the vicar. “Her father, Captain Treverton, is the head of the family. The Captain, and Rosamond, and that whimsical old brute of an uncle of hers, Andrew Treverton, are the last members of this rich family.”
“Ah! The bride – the interesting bride! And so she is one of the Cornish Trevertons? I knew something of Andrew years ago. He was a bachelor, like myself, Miss Sturch. Not at all like his brother, the Captain, I suppose? And so she is married? A charming girl, I have no doubt. A charming girl!”
“No better, truer, prettier girl in the world,” said the vicar.
“A very lively, energetic person,” remarked Miss Sturch.
“How I shall miss her!” cried Miss Louisa. “Nobody else amused me as Rosamond did, when I was ill.”
“She was the only girl who played with boys,” said Master Robert. “She caught a ball, Mr. Phippen, Sir, with one hand.”
“Bless me!” said Mr. Phippen. “What an extraordinary wife for a blind man! You said he was blind from his birth, my dear doctor, did you not? Let me see, what was his name? Mr. Frank Something, was it not?”
“No, no – Frankland,” answered the vicar, “Leonard Frankland. And not blind from his birth. It is not much more than a year ago since he could see almost as well as any of us.”
“An accident, I suppose!” said Mr. Phippen. “So an accident happened to his eyes?”
“Not exactly,” said Doctor Chennery. “Leonard Frankland was a difficult child: great constitutional weakness, you know, at first. Well, he liked mechanics, and soon he began to make watches. Curious amusement for a boy. His last work, poor fellow, was the repairing of my watch – here it is. He said he was getting a bad pain at the back of his head, and he saw spots before his eyes. They sent for doctors from London, and blistered him behind the ears and between the shoulders, and drenched the lad with mercury. No use. The sight got worse and worse, flickered and flickered, and went out at last like the flame of a candle. His mother died – luckily for her, poor soul – before that happened. His father took him to oculists in London and oculists in Paris. Some said it was the result of the long weaknesses. Some said it was an apoplectic effusion in his brain. So he is blind now; and blind he will remain, poor dear fellow.”
“You shock me; my dear Chennery, you shock me dreadfully,” said Mr. Phippen. “Especially when you say about weakness after illness. Why, I have had long weaknesses – I have got them now. And I see spots, black spots, dancing black bilious spots. I feel this story in every nerve of my body; I do, indeed!”
“You will hardly know that Leonard is blind,” said Miss Louisa. “Except that his eyes look quieter than other people's.”
“Poor young Frankland!” said the vicar, warmly. “That good, tender, noble creature is a consolation to him in his affliction. Rosamond Treverton is the girl to do it.”
“She has made a sacrifice,” said Mr. Phippen; “but I like her for that. I made a sacrifice, too. Did she cry much, Chennery, when you were marrying her?”
“Cry!” exclaimed the vicar, contemptuously. “Rosamond Treverton is a fine, buxom, warm-hearted, quick-tempered girl. She might marry anybody she pleased. But she married him! They were engaged long before this cruel affliction befell young Frankland – their fathers, on both sides, were neighbors. Well, when the blindness came, Leonard offered to release Rosamond from her engagement. And she wrote to him a letter. Phippen, I blubbered like a baby over it when they showed it to me. I wanted to marry them immediately. But old Frankland was a fidgety, punctilious man, and he insisted on a six months' probation. He died soon, and the marriage was put off again. But no delays altered Rosamond – six years, instead of six months, did not change her. We'll drink her health after dinner, Miss Sturch – we'll drink both their healths, Phippen!”
“But, my dear Chennery,” said Mr. Phippen, mournfully, “when you were talking of the fathers of these two interesting young people, you mentioned they were neighbors here, at Long Beckley. I thought Captain Treverton was the eldest of the two brothers, and that he always lived, when he was on shore, at the family place in Cornwall?”
“So he did,” returned the vicar, “in his wife's lifetime. But since her death, which happened – let me see-”
The vicar stopped for an instant to calculate, and looked at Miss Sturch.
“Fifteen years ago, Sir,” said Miss Sturch, with her smile.
“Of course,” continued Doctor Chennery. “Well, since Mrs. Treverton died, fifteen years ago, Captain Treverton has never been near Porthgenna Tower. And at the first opportunity he sold the place – sold it, mine, fisheries, and all – for forty thousand pounds.”
“You don't say so![12]” exclaimed Mr. Phippen. “Did he find the air unhealthy? Who bought the place?”
“Leonard Frankland's father,” said the vicar. “It is rather a long story, that sale of Porthgenna Tower, with some curious circumstances involved in it. Suppose we take a turn in the garden, Phippen? I'll tell you all about it later. Miss Sturch, I shall be on the lawn somewhere. Come, Phippen!”
“My dear fellow, I will say yes. Just lend me an umbrella, and allow me to carry my camp-stool in my hand,” said Mr. Phippen. “I am too weak to encounter the sun. And I can't go far. The moment I feel fatigued, Miss Sturch, I open my camp-stool, and sit down anywhere. I am ready, Chennery, my good friend, for the garden and the story about the sale of Porthgenna Tower. You said it was a curious story, did you not?”
“I said about some curious circumstances connected with it,” replied the vicar. “And when you hear about them, I think you will say so too. Come
You don't say so! – Не может быть!