A Laodicean : A Story of To-day. Thomas Hardy
Читать онлайн книгу.
so engrossed him.
Before his attention had long strayed over the incident which romanticized that utilitarian structure, he became aware that he was not the only person who was looking from the terrace towards that point of the compass. At the right-hand corner, in a niche of the curtain-wall, reclined a girlish shape; and asleep on the bench over which she leaned was a white cat – the identical Persian as it seemed – that had been taken into the carriage at the chapel-door.
Somerset began to muse on the probability or otherwise of the backsliding Baptist and this young lady resulting in one and the same person; and almost without knowing it he found himself deeply hoping for such a unity. The object of his inspection was idly leaning, and this somewhat disguised her figure. It might have been tall or short, curvilinear or angular. She carried a light sunshade which she fitfully twirled until, thrusting it back over her shoulder, her head was revealed sufficiently to show that she wore no hat or bonnet. This token of her being an inmate of the castle, and not a visitor, rather damped his expectations: but he persisted in believing her look towards the chapel must have a meaning in it, till she suddenly stood erect, and revealed herself as short in stature – almost dumpy – at the same time giving him a distinct view of her profile. She was not at all like the heroine of the chapel. He saw the dinted nose of the De Stancys outlined with Holbein shadowlessness against the blue-green of the distant wood. It was not the De Stancy face with all its original specialities: it was, so to speak, a defective reprint of that face: for the nose tried hard to turn up and deal utter confusion to the family shape.
As for the rest of the countenance, Somerset was obliged to own that it was not beautiful: Nature had done there many things that she ought not to have done, and left undone much that she should have executed. It would have been decidedly plain but for a precious quality which no perfection of chiselling can give when the temperament denies it, and which no facial irregularity can take away – a tender affectionateness which might almost be called yearning; such as is often seen in the women of Correggio when they are painted in profile. But the plain features of Miss De Stancy – who she undoubtedly was – were rather severely handled by Somerset’s judgment owing to his impression of the previous night. A beauty of a sort would have been lent by the flexuous contours of the mobile parts but for that unfortunate condition the poor girl was burdened with, of having to hand on a traditional feature with which she did not find herself otherwise in harmony.
She glanced at him for a moment, and showed by an imperceptible movement that he had made his presence felt. Not to embarrass her Somerset hastened to withdraw, at the same time that she passed round to the other part of the terrace, followed by the cat, in whom Somerset could imagine a certain denominational cast of countenance, notwithstanding her company. But as white cats are much alike each other at a distance, it was reasonable to suppose this creature was not the same one as that possessed by the beauty.
He descended the stone stairs to a lower story of the castle, in which was a crypt-like hall covered by vaulting of exceptional and massive ingenuity:
‘Built ere the art was known,
By pointed aisle and shafted stalk
The arcades of an alleyed walk
To emulate in stone.’
It happened that the central pillar whereon the vaults rested, reputed to exhibit some of the most hideous grotesques in England upon its capital, was within a locked door. Somerset was tempted to ask a servant for permission to open it, till he heard that the inner room was temporarily used for plate, the key being kept by Miss De Stancy, at which he said no more. But afterwards the active housemaid redescended the stone steps; she entered the crypt with a bunch of keys in one hand, and in the other a candle, followed by the young lady whom Somerset had seen on the terrace.
‘I shall be very glad to unlock anything you may want to see. So few people take any real interest in what is here that we do not leave it open.’
Somerset expressed his thanks.
Miss De Stancy, a little to his surprise, had a touch of rusticity in her manner, and that forced absence of reserve which seclusion from society lends to young women more frequently than not. She seemed glad to have something to do; the arrival of Somerset was plainly an event sufficient to set some little mark upon her day. Deception had been written on the faces of those frowning walls in their implying the insignificance of Somerset, when he found them tenanted only by this little woman whose life was narrower than his own.
‘We have not been here long,’ continued Miss De Stancy, ‘and that’s why everything is in such a dilapidated and confused condition.’
Somerset entered the dark store-closet, thinking less of the ancient pillar revealed by the light of the candle than what a singular remark the latter was to come from a member of the family which appeared to have been there five centuries. He held the candle above his head, and walked round, and presently Miss De Stancy came back.
‘There is another vault below,’ she said, with the severe face of a young woman who speaks only because it is absolutely necessary. ‘Perhaps you are not aware of it? It was the dungeon: if you wish to go down there too, the servant will show you the way. It is not at all ornamental: rough, unhewn arches and clumsy piers.’
Somerset thanked her, and would perhaps take advantage of her kind offer when he had examined the spot where he was, if it were not causing inconvenience.
‘No; I am sure Paula will be glad to know that anybody thinks it interesting to go down there – which is more than she does herself.’
Some obvious inquiries were suggested by this, but Somerset said, ‘I have seen the pictures, and have been much struck by them; partly,’ he added, with some hesitation, ‘because one or two of them reminded me of a schoolfellow – I think his name was John Ravensbury?’
‘Yes,’ she said, almost eagerly. ‘He was my cousin!’
‘So that we are not quite strangers?’
‘But he is dead now… He was unfortunate: he was mostly spoken of as “that unlucky boy.”… You know, I suppose, Mr. Somerset, why the paintings are in such a decaying state! – it is owing to the peculiar treatment of the castle during Mr. Wilkins’s time. He was blind; so one can imagine he did not appreciate such things as there are here.’
‘The castle has been shut up, you mean?’
‘O yes, for many years. But it will not be so again. We are going to have the pictures cleaned, and the frames mended, and the old pieces of furniture put in their proper places. It will be very nice then. Did you see those in the east closet?’
‘I have only seen those in the gallery.’
‘I will just show you the way to the others, if you would like to see them?’
They ascended to the room designated the east closet. The paintings here, mostly of smaller size, were in a better condition, owing to the fact that they were hung on an inner wall, and had hence been kept free from damp. Somerset inquired the names and histories of one or two.
‘I really don’t quite know,’ Miss De Stancy replied after some thought. ‘But Paula knows, I am sure. I don’t study them much – I don’t see the use of it.’ She swung her sunshade, so that it fell open, and turned it up till it fell shut. ‘I have never been able to give much attention to ancestors,’ she added, with her eyes on the parasol.
‘These ARE your ancestors?’ he asked, for her position and tone were matters which perplexed him. In spite of the family likeness and other details he could scarcely believe this frank and communicative country maiden to be the modern representative of the De Stancys.
‘O yes, they certainly are,’ she said, laughing. ‘People say I am like them: I don’t know if I am – well, yes, I know I am: I can see that, of course, any day. But they have gone from my family, and perhaps it is just as well that they should have gone… They are useless,’ she added, with serene conclusiveness.
‘Ah! they have gone, have they?’
‘Yes, castle and furniture went together: it was long ago – long before I was born. It