The Legacy of Cain. Уилки Коллинз
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This is what comes of being a Congregationalist. If I had belonged to the Church of England, I should have forgotten the market-place, and remembered the cathedral. Not that I want to belong to the Church of England. Papa’s chapel is good enough for me.
The song sung by the lady with the small voice was so pretty that the audience encored it. Didn’t Philip and I help them! With the sweetest smiles the lady sang it all over again. The people behind us left the concert.
He said: “Do you know, I take the greatest interest in cathedrals. I propose to enjoy the privilege and pleasure of seeing your cathedral early next week.”
I had only to look at him to see that I was the cathedral. It was no surprise to hear next that he thought of “paying his respects to Mr. Gracedieu.” He begged me to tell him what sort of reception he might hope to meet with when he called at our house. I got so excited in doing justice to papa that I quite forgot to whisper when the next question came. Philip wanted to know if Mr. Gracedieu disliked strangers. When I answered, “Oh dear, no!” I said it out loud, so that the people heard me. Cruel, cruel people! They all turned round and stared. One hideous old woman actually said, “Silence!” Miss Staveley looked disgusted. Even kind Mrs. Staveley lifted her eyebrows in astonishment.
Philip, dear Philip, protected and composed me.
He held my hand devotedly till the end of the performance. When he put us into the carriage, I was last. He whispered in my ear: “Expect me next week.” Miss Staveley might be as ill-natured as she pleased, on the way home. It didn’t matter what she said. The Eunice of yesterday might have been mortified and offended. The Eunice of to-day was indifferent to the sharpest things that could be said to her.
… . …
All through yesterday’s delightful evening, I never once thought of Philip’s father. When I woke this morning, I remembered that old Mr. Dunboyne was a rich man. I could eat no breakfast for thinking of the poor girl who was not allowed to marry her young gentleman, because she had no money.
Mrs. Staveley waited to speak to me till the rest of them had left us together. I had expected her to notice that I looked dull and dismal. No! her cleverness got at my secret in quite another way.
She said: “How do you feel after the concert? You must be hard to please indeed if you were not satisfied with the accompaniments last night.”
“The accompaniments of the Oratorio?”
“No, my dear. The accompaniments of Philip.”
I suppose I ought to have laughed. In my miserable state of mind, it was not to be done. I said: “I hope Mr. Dunboyne’s father will not hear how kind he was to me.”
Mrs. Staveley asked why.
My bitterness overflowed at my tongue. I said: “Because papa is a poor man.”
“And Philip’s papa is a rich man,” says Mrs. Staveley, putting my own thought into words for me. “Where do you get these ideas, Eunice? Surely, you are not allowed to read novels?”
“Oh no!”
“And you have certainly never seen a play?”
“Never.”
“Clear your head, child, of the nonsense that has got into it—I can’t think how. Rich Mr. Dunboyne has taught his heir to despise the base act of marrying for money. He knows that Philip will meet young ladies at my house; and he has written to me on the subject of his son’s choice of a wife. ‘Let Philip find good principles, good temper, and good looks; and I promise beforehand to find the money.’ There is what he says. Are you satisfied with Philip’s father, now?”
I jumped up in a state of ecstasy. Just as I had thrown my arms round Mrs. Staveley’s neck, the servant came in with a letter, and handed it to me.
Helena had written again, on this last day of my visit. Her letter was full of instructions for buying things that she wants, before I leave London. I read on quietly enough until I came to the postscript. The effect of it on me may be told in two words: I screamed. Mrs. Staveley was naturally alarmed. “Bad news?” she asked. Being quite unable to offer an opinion, I read the postscript out loud, and left her to judge for herself.
This was Helena’s news from home:
“I must prepare you for a surprise, before your return. You will find a strange lady established at home. Don’t suppose there is any prospect of her bidding us good-by, if we only wait long enough. She is already (with father’s full approval) as much a member of the family as we are. You shall form your own unbiased opinion of her, Eunice. For the present, I say no more.”
I asked Mrs. Staveley what she thought of my news from home. She said: “Your father approves of the lady, my dear. I suppose it’s good news.”
But Mrs. Staveley did not look as if she believed in the good news, for all that.
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