“It’s rather late in the day,” he said, “but possibly better late than never. Sydney, will you write a letter for me?”
She thought of another letter she had written for him more than two months ago, but there was a considerable difference in the subject matter of that letter and to-day’s.
“Dear Fane,”—he dictated—“we must have five hundred pounds’ worth of timber down as soon as possible, as I want fresh cottages to replace those in Water Lane and Foxholes1. Have workmen over immediately. This rebuilding is by the wish of my heir, Miss Lisle.”
“Now bring it me to sign,” her cousin said.
She brought it, and, as she gave him his pen, she did what she had never done before, she stooped and kissed his forehead.
[206]
“I didn’t like to tell you before,” she cried, “because you said you could do nothing for the cottages, but Mrs. Sawyer is ill, and when I went to see her this afternoon she said she never would be better while she lived in that cottage. Will she have one of the new ones, St. Quentin?”
“Yes, and I’ll mark hers for pulling down. We’ll do this business thoroughly2 while we’re about it, beginning with Lislehurst, but going on to the rest.”
He wrote his signature large and clearly. As he did so, Sir Algernon came back into the room. He glanced at the letter.
“So you’ve done it. I say, my dear fellow, philanthropy is all very well, but you can’t afford it at present.”
“Since when did I give you leave to read my private letters?” asked St. Quentin drily. As he spoke3 he placed the letter in an envelope, directed it, and put it into Sydney’s hand.
“One of the men is to take it over to Fane’s place at once,” he said.
Sir Algernon stood between the girl and the door. “You’re mad, Quin! You’ll have enough to do to raise my screw, without attempting any more.”
“Let Miss Lisle pass,” said St. Quentin
[207]
quietly. “On the proverbial second thoughts, which we all know to be not only better, but best, I have changed my mind. Publish Duncombe’s letter if you choose! I’ll not pay a farthing more to stop you, nor will Miss Lisle when she comes of age. That’s all. Sydney,”—the girl was at the door—“tell somebody to let Bridge’s man know that he finds he has to catch the 8.15 to town to-night.”
The girl went out, the precious note in her hand and a tumult4 of joy in her heart.
That horrible Sir Algernon was leaving, and St. Quentin, of his own freewill, was going to rebuild his neglected cottages. She felt she could have danced, despite the dignity of her eighteen years.
In the entrance hall she met the old doctor, struggling out of his wet mackintosh and goloshes. “What a night!” he exclaimed. “But this disgusting weather seems to suit you, my dear Miss Lisle. You are looking blooming, if you will allow an old man to say so. How is your cousin, eh? Moped a bit this dreary5 day, no doubt? Meant to look in upon him earlier to see if he fancied a chat, but I was kept in the village. And that reminds me, my dear young lady, I shouldn’t
[208]
go to Loam6 for a day or two, if I were you; they’ve got something about there that I don’t quite like the look of. I’ve been warning the Vicar; that boy of his follows him about like a dog to all the cottages. Not that this kind of low fever is infectious, but you may take my word for it that where there’s fever there’s a reason for it. So don’t you go to Loam till I give you leave. Not that I’m anxious, you know, not at all.”
Sydney thought the old doctor was rather more anxious than he cared to own. His face was considerably7 graver than usual as he walked across the hall to the door of the library.
As he reached it, Sydney, who had followed him, caught his hand with a cry of terror. “Oh, go in quickly!” she cried.
Sir Algernon had been almost stunned8 by astonishment9 for the first few minutes after Sydney had left the room with the letter which practically spelt defeat to him. There was a changed, drawn10 look about his face, when at length he recovered himself sufficiently11 to speak.
“You don’t mean what you said just now?” he demanded hoarsely12.
“I do. Will you dine before you leave, Bridge?”
[209]
“Oh, confound you!”
“Don’t make a scene, it is quite unnecessary.”
Sir Algernon laughed rather wildly, and played his last card.
“You won’t be able to take that high line much longer, my good fellow!” he snarled13, fumbling14 in his pocket-book. “I’ll just refresh your memory on the subject of the expressions used by you in that precious letter before it—goes to press!”
St. Quentin’s tone was calm enough. “Do.”
Sir Algernon drew out the dirty envelope on which “Re Duncombe” was scrawled15 in his own hand, and pulled from it a letter in the cramped16 left-hand writing.
“Here we are. Some of these expressions will look rather fine in print, I fancy; the Society papers will have a treat. Why——”
A violent exclamation17 burst from him, as he stared wildly, first at the letter in his hand, then at the envelope, and back at the letter again.
“What is it?” asked St. Quentin.
Sir Algernon came quickly towards him. “You made me do it!” he hissed18. “You made me burn your note to Duncombe. Your letter to me and to Duncombe were in each
[210]
other’s envelopes, and you made me burn the wrong one!” His voice, loud, harsh, and grating in his fury, rang out into the hall, despite the heavy curtain over the door of the library. “You made me do it, and I’ll——”
“Don’t touch me,” said St. Quentin, vaguely19 aware as he spoke that all might well be over before Dickson had the time to answer his ring. “It wouldn’t take a great deal to finish me, you see, and Lorry would require an explanation.”
“He does!” the old doctor cried, hurrying into the room with Sydney at his heels. “May I ask what you’re doing, Sir Algernon? Get a little farther off from my patient, if you please.”
“Oh, it’s all right,” said St. Quentin, “Bridge and I were only discussing my new scheme for rebuilding the cottages. But, interesting as I find his views, I am afraid we shall have to close the discussion, as he has a train to catch. Good-bye, Bridge.”
Sir Algernon turned fiercely upon him.
“You think you’ve won the game and can keep your secret in your hands. You can’t! Miss Morrell read the letter. I showed it to her, and she read it and asked what it meant.
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I told her and she believed in me—not you! not you!”
“She did not!” said Sydney, “for she told me all about it. She believed in it just at first, because she did not know how wicked you could be, Sir Algernon. But by-and-by, when she grew older, she knew that St. Quentin could not possibly have done what you accused him of. She didn’t understand about the letter to the jockey; but she just knew that St. Quentin could not possibly be mean or dishonourable. And she knows you are both!”
“Hear, hear!” said Dr. Lorry, in a very audible aside, and Sir Algernon, muttering some indistinguishable remark about his train, went out.
“Lord St. Quentin, your heir is a trump20!” the old doctor said enthusiastically, and St. Quentin, as he bade good-night to Sydney, agreed.
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收听单词发音
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1
foxholes
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| n.散兵坑( foxhole的名词复数 ) | |
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2
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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3
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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4
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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5
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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6
loam
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| n.沃土 | |
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7
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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8
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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9
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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10
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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11
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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12
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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13
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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14
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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15
scrawled
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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17
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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18
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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19
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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20
trump
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| n.王牌，法宝；v.打出王牌，吹喇叭 | |
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