Luigi, from the opposite side of the table, was watching him with furtive3 eyes, and wondering whether it would be possible to obtain a sly glance over the letter which had had such an unusual effect upon his "grandfather."
Could he have had his wish, he would have read as follows:
"The Shrublands, Tuesday.
"My Dear Gilbert.--Please turn to the signature before reading further and satisfy yourself that it is really I who am writing to you after all this long time; for indeed, cousin, it must be nearly, if not quite, a score of years since we met last (it was shortly after my marriage, I remember), and no communication of any kind has passed between us in the interim4.
"As you may perhaps recollect5, I was always afflicted6 with a restless and roving disposition7, and since poor dear Sir Thomas's death (now eight years ago) I have felt no disposition to permanently8 settle anywhere, but have preferred to live a wandering, Bedouin kind of life, pitching my tent here, there, or anywhere, but never for very long at a time. It is a species of existence which, although it is lacking in those elements of stability so precious to the majority of my home-clinging, hearth-loving sex, has yet about it certain elements of variety and entertainment which, in my estimation, more than serve to counterbalance its shortcomings.
"Finding myself here at the Shrublands in fulfilment of a promise of long-standing, and within half-a-dozen miles of your place, it has seemed to me (old memories even now not being quite dormant9 within me) that I could not do otherwise than make you aware of my propinquity and, further, intimate that if you can 'put me up' for a couple of nights--no longer--(together with my companion and maid), I shall be pleased to find myself once more under a roof which is associated in my mind with so many pleasant memories of the days that are no more.
"Your affectionate cousin,
"Louisa Pell."
Between Sir Gilbert and Lady Pell, when they were young people, there had been a something which, if it could not in strictness be termed a romantic episode, yet had in it the possibilities of one, and, had the fates proved propitious10, would probably have eventuated in a way which would have changed the current of both their lives.
It was during the lifetime of Sir Gilbert's father and mother that Louisa Grayson, a tall, dashing, somewhat hoydenish11 girl of eighteen, was invited on a long visit to Withington Chase. Mr. Gilbert Clare, as he was then, who had just returned from a journey in Central America, had felt himself drawn12 towards his high-spirited, bright-eyed cousin, who, although few people would have called her handsome, was possessed13 of some singularly attractive qualities; while she, on her side, fell frankly14 in love with him. But it was not to be. Miss Grayson was summoned home by the dangerous illness of a relative, and her cousin let her go without putting to her the one definite question which her heart was hungering to be asked; after which quite a number of years passed before they met again. On his part, at least, it could have been nothing more than a passing fancy, seeing that within a twelvemonth of their parting, Sir Gilbert had seen, fallen in love with, and married his first wife. Whether in Lady Pell's case it had proved to be more than a passing fancy was a question which she alone could have answered.
"I shall be very glad to see Louisa, very glad indeed," murmured Sir Gilbert under his breath when he had read her letter for the second time, "and I take it as a favour on her part that she has offered to come to the Chase. Of course at our time of life--although I don't forget that she is a number of years younger than I--she cannot be so foolish as to imagine---- No, no; I will give her credit for more sense than that. She is no longer a flighty romantic schoolgirl; indeed, I remember that when I saw her last, she impressed me as having developed into quite a woman of the world. Still, a widow---- Um--um."
With that, as already related, he lapsed into one of his musing15 fits, which lasted till the entrance of Trant, who coughed and gazed reproachfully at his master on finding that he had not yet poured out his first cup of tea.
The first thing the Baronet did on retiring to his study after breakfast was to reply to Lady Pell's letter.
"My Dear Louisa," he wrote,--"Come to the Chase by all means--you ought to have come years ago--and stay as long as it suits you--the longer the better. You may rely upon receiving the heartiest16 of welcomes from
"Your affectionate cousin,
"Gilbert Clare."
This missive he at once despatched by a mounted groom17 to the Shrublands.
Now, in the course of the forenoon of the day preceding the arrival of Lady Pell's note, Giovanna had driven over from Maylings and had asked to see Sir Gilbert. The proceeding18 was such an unusual one on her part that it was not without a spice of anxiety that he joined her in the morning-room. But she at once reassured19 him that, as far as he was concerned, nothing serious was the matter.
"I have this morning received a letter from home," began Giovanna, "that is to say, from Catanzaro," she added by way of correcting herself, "which informs me that my grandmother (my father's mother), who is over ninety years of age, is dangerously ill and has expressed a strong desire to see me. Under the circumstances, Sir Gilbert, you will probably agree with me that it is my duty to hasten to her side. It will doubtless be the last opportunity I shall have of seeing her, but I did not care to set out on so long a journey without first taking your opinion in the matter."
"That was very thoughtful of you, my dear madam, very thoughtful indeed," replied the Baronet with a gratified air. "It is clearly your duty to lose no time in carrying out your venerable relative's wish. Is it your desire that your son should accompany you?"
"Oh dear, no, Sir Gilbert," replied Mrs. Clare hastily. "In cases where there is sickness in a house I have always found that young men are only in the way. They are not merely uncomfortable themselves but a source of discomfort20 to others."
"Very possibly you are right, madam. But my idea in mentioning your son was that he would be in a position to act as your travelling escort."
"But I am quite used to travelling alone, I assure you, Sir Gilbert, and am not in the least timid. For instance, when I returned from America I was quite alone."
"Possibly so, madam, possibly so," returned the Baronet stiffly. "That is a matter which pertains21 to the past and with which I have nothing to do. But it seemed to me that, in the position you now occupy as my daughter-in-law, you ought not to----"
"Pardon me, Sir Gilbert," interposed Giovanna in her smoothest tones, the blunder of which she had been guilty dawning on her with a rush, "my remark had reference to an escort of the male sex only. It was far from my intention to travel alone. As a matter of course my maid will accompany me."
The Baronet's brow cleared in some measure. "Um--um. I had not thought about your maid. Of course--of course. But what, now, if Mrs. Tew were also to keep you company? In such a case expense need be no consideration."
"It is very kind of you to say so, sir. My first thought was to ask Mrs. Tew to share my journey, but then I called to mind that she is no longer so young as she has been, and that she is far from strong; and as it is my intention to get through to Catanzaro without stopping anywhere longer than may be necessitated22 by the change from one train or vehicle to another, I would not willingly run the risk of her breaking down by the way."
"Probably you are right, madam; the affair had not struck me in that light. As you say, at Mrs. Tew's time of life such a long and hurried journey might overtask her strength."
Speaking thus, he crossed to a side table where were pen and ink, and having extracted his cheque book from his breast pocket, he proceeded with the deliberation of old age to fill up a cheque for thirty guineas. Giovanna rose as he recrossed the room. She understood that the interview was at an end.
"Here is something towards defraying the expenses of your journey," he said as he pressed the cheque into her hand. "I trust that you will find your aged23 relative much improved by the time you reach her and that she may be spared to you for several years to come. Should you wish to see Lewis before setting out, as I presume you will, you will find him at the vicarage, which you will drive past on your way home. We shall miss you greatly and shall hope to see you again as speedily as may be. And, by the way, will you inform Mrs. Tew, with my compliments, that during your unavoidable absence we shall expect her at the Chase as usual."
Sir Gilbert escorted Giovanna to the door, where her brougham was waiting. As they shook hands and bade each other adieu no slightest prevision was in the mind of either that, as far as this world was concerned, it was their final farewell. For, like so many of us, they were the slaves of events, already in process of evolution, of which they had no cognisance and in the bringing about of which they had no share. They never met again.
Giovanna did not fail to deliver Sir Gilbert's message to Mrs. Tew, adding, "And of course the brougham will be wholly at your disposal while I am away."
Tears came into the little lady's eyes. "Both you and Sir Gilbert are most kind," she said, "and I am at a loss how to thank you sufficiently24."
There had been no thought or intention on Giovanna's part of taking either Mrs. Tew or Lucille with her to Italy, and although, the moment her oversight25 was made patent to her, she hastened to assure Sir Gilbert that she had all along meant her maid to accompany her, the statement had merely emanated26 from her on the spur of the moment as being the only way in which she could extricate27 herself from the difficulty. Putting aside the additional expense to which she would have been put, which she felt she could ill afford, there existed other and more cogent28 reasons why neither Lucille nor anyone else who knew her as Sir Gilbert Clare's daughter-in-law should accompany her to Catanzaro. For one thing, certain of her relatives on her father's side were little removed above the rank of peasants, while none of them were of a kind that would have reflected credit on her new position. Further, to none of them, for certain prudential reasons, had the secret of that position been divulged29. Nobody at Catanzaro, when she should reappear among them, would know her as other than the daughter of the late Giuseppe Rispani, landlord of the Golden Fig30, who, because she had the misfortune to have an Englishwoman for her mother, had chosen to take up her abode31 in that mother's native country. It was plainly imperative32 that on no account must Lucille be allowed to keep her company on her journey; but, for all that, after what she had told Sir Gilbert, it would not do to leave the girl behind at Maylings.
The letter from Catanzaro had, in the first instance, been addressed to Captain Verinder's lodgings33, and had been reposted by him to Vanna, who now telegraphed to her uncle that she should leave Mapleford by a certain train, and requested him to meet her at the London terminus, which he accordingly did. Taking him out of earshot of her maid, Vanna in very few words put him in possession of the facts of the case. He quite agreed with her that her journey must be undertaken alone. So presently the girl was given half-a-sovereign and told that she could go back to her parents; in other words, take a holiday till she should hear from Captain Verinder, and that meanwhile her wages would go on as usual. It was an arrangement which suited Lucille to a nicety. Then Captain Verinder escorted his niece from one terminus to the other, and a little later saw her off by the Continental34 night mail.
But there were certain features in connection with Giovanna's proposed visit to Catanzaro which she had not deemed it advisable to reveal to anyone. The fact was that old Signora Rispani was quite a wealthy person for one in her station of life, and Vanna, who had always been her favourite granddaughter, was drawn to her death-bed more by the hope of inheriting, if not the whole, then a very considerable portion of her money, than by any real affection which she entertained for the old lady. In telling Sir Gilbert that her grandmother had expressed a strong desire to see her she had stated more than she was warranted in doing. In reality it was the signora's medical attendant who, in accordance with an arrangement Giovanna had made with him before coming to England, had informed her by letter of her grandmother's critical condition. It will be enough to state here that the signora held out for several weeks after her granddaughter's arrival, so that it was not till towards the middle of October that Mrs. Clare, richer by some hundreds of pounds than she had been on her arrival, once more set her face Englandwards, with a devout35 hope in her heart that she should never be under the necessity of setting eyes on Catanzaro or any of its inhabitants again.
But many strange things had happened while she had been away.
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1
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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2
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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4
interim
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| adj.暂时的，临时的；n.间歇，过渡期间 | |
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5
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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8
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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propitious
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| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
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11
hoydenish
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| adj.顽皮的，爱嬉闹的，男孩子气的 | |
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12
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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13
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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14
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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15
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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16
heartiest
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| 亲切的( hearty的最高级 )； 热诚的； 健壮的； 精神饱满的 | |
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17
groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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18
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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19
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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21
pertains
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| 关于( pertain的第三人称单数 )； 有关； 存在； 适用 | |
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necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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oversight
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| n.勘漏，失察，疏忽 | |
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26
emanated
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的过去式和过去分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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27
extricate
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| v.拯救，救出；解脱 | |
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28
cogent
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| adj.强有力的，有说服力的 | |
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29
divulged
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| v.吐露，泄露( divulge的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
fig
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| n.无花果(树) | |
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31
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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32
imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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33
lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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34
continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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35
devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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