To add to the agitation6 of my thoughts, Sara Cresswell chose to take that day for one of her odd visits. She came in the afternoon to stay with me till evening. She was clearly quite beyond her father’s control; not even subject to a wholesome7 restriction8 of hours and meal-times; for she never said her father was out to dinner on the occasions of her coming, nor accounted in any way for her liberty at his dinner-hour. The little brougham used to come for her at night, and her little maid in it—a sign, I suppose, that the father did not disapprove9; but that was all. Only wilful10 as she was, I confess I had grown to like her very much. I sometimes lectured her; and once or twice we quarrelled; but she always came back next time just the same as ever. So quarrelling with her was evidently useless. I must say I had a very strange sensation in welcoming her to-day. Could she know her father’s base purposes about the Park which, according to all appearances, ought to be mine? Could she have been paying her court to those ladies with the hope of supplanting11 the true heir? A glance at her face, only too frank and daring always, might have{203} undeceived me; but of course, I was bucklered up in my own thoughts, and could see nothing else.
“You are ill,” said Sara, “or you are worried; or ’tis I have done something. If I have, I don’t mind; that is to say, I am very sorry, of course, and I will never do it again. But if you think you will get rid of me by looking glum12, you are sadly mistaken. I shan’t go. If you won’t have me for a friend, I shall come for a servant, and fight it out with Lizzie. Lizzie, will you have me for ‘a neebor?’ Ah, I’m learning Scotch14.”
“Eh, that’s no Scotch!” cried Lizzie; “ye dinna ken13 what it is. I’m, maybe, no that good at learning folk now, for I have to speak English mysel’.”
“And Italian, Lizzie!” cried Sara, clapping her hands, and forgetting all about my “glum” face.
Lizzie’s elbows and ankles fell almost immediately, and the most extraordinary blush rose on the girl’s face. “Eh, but it’s funny to hear twa speaking’t,” cried Lizzie, evading16 the subject eagerly. The truth is, she had got overmuch involved in the delightful17 excitement of the new language, and in consequence of the ludicrous fascination18 of the dictionary, by means of which Domenico and she conducted their conversations, had come to like the society of that worthy19. When I found him escorting my child-maid and the baby out-of-doors, I thought it was time to remonstrate20 on the subject; and my remonstrance21 had woke a certain womanly consciousness in the awkward-sensitive girlish bosom22 of Lizzie. She was overwhelmed with shame.
Fortunately, the mention of the “twa” diverted Sara’s thoughts. She had never ceased to be interested in Mr. Luigi, and I saw a world of questions in her eye immediately. I hurried her downstairs, not feeling able, really, for random23 talk; and troubled, more than I could express, to think how disappointed Harry would be when he came home full of one subject, expecting to talk it over with me, and found me occupied entertaining a stranger,—a stranger, too, who had something to do with it, who was our rival, and plotting against us, all unaware of who we were.
However, as it happened, one of the first things Sara’s eye lighted upon when we entered the room, was that old drawing of poor papa’s, which lay on the table. She was the quickest creature imaginable. She had it in her hand before I knew what she was about. Her exclamation24 made me start and tremble as if I had been found out in something.{204} Here was another witness giving evidence freely, without any wish or contrivance of mine.
“Why, here is the Park!” cried Sara, “actually the very house! Where, in all the world, did you get it? Have you been there? Do you know them? Why, I thought you were quite strangers to Chester! I never knew anything so odd. Who did it? It is frightfully bad, to be sure, but a staring likeness25. Dear Mrs. Langham, where did you get this?”
“I got it out of an old book,” said I, with a guilty faltering26 which I could not quite conceal27. “What Park is it? where is it? I do not know the place.”
But I am sure if ever anybody looked guilty and the possessor of an uncomfortable secret, it was me at that moment. I turned away from Sara, putting away that envelope with the certificates which Harry (how careless!) had also left on the table. I am sure she must have felt there was something odd in my voice.
“What Park? why, the Park, to be sure. Everybody in Chester knows the Park; and here is an inscription28, I declare!” she cried, running with it to the window. “Oh, look here; do look here! It must have been some old lover of godmamma Sarah’s. I never saw anything so funny in my life. ‘Sarah as I saw her last.’ Oh, Mrs. Langham! do come and look at this comical, delightful thing! Isn’t it famous? She’s as old—as old as any one’s grandmother. Who could it be? who could it possibly be?”
“Did you say your godmother?” said I. This was another novel aggravation29. Of course I had heard Sara speak of her godmothers; but, somehow, I had not identified them with the ladies who were expected to make her their heir.
But Sara was too much excited and delighted, and full of glee and ridicule30, to answer me. She kept dancing about and clapping her hands over the drawing; always returning to it, and indulging in criticisms as free and as depreciatory31 as Harry’s had been. It was getting dark, and I confess I was very glad to sit down a little in the half light, and repose32 myself as well as I could while she was thus engaged and wanted no attention from me. Just then, however, I heard Harry’s foot coming upstairs, and, to my great wonder and almost alarm, somebody else entered with Harry. I could scarcely see him as I rose to receive my husband’s companion. Somebody else, however, saw{205} him quicker than I did. In a moment Sara had dropped into the shadow of the curtains, and became perfectly33 silent. An inconceivable kind of sympathy with her (it could be nothing but mesmerism) somehow cleared up the twilight34 in a moment, and made me aware who the stranger was. It was Domenico’s master, Mr. Luigi, the Italian gentleman downstairs.
I cannot tell how the first preliminaries were got over. Of all times in the world to make acquaintance with anybody, think of the twilight, just before the candles came in, and when you could scarcely make out even the most familiar face! We got on somehow, however; we three—Sara sitting all the time dropt down, and nestling like a bird among the curtains, struck into the most unaccountable silence. I suppose she thought nobody saw her; whereas, on the contrary, Mr. Luigi, looking out of the darkness where he was sitting towards the window, saw the outline of her pretty head against a bit of green-blue sky as distinct as possible; and looked at it too, as I can testify.
When candles came at last (Mrs. Goldsworthy had a lamp; but it smoked, and the chimney broke, and all sorts of things happened to it), after the first dazzled moment we all looked at each other. Then Sara became clearly visible, and was forced out of her corner to let the blind be drawn35 down. She came forward to the light at once, with just the least bravado36 in her manner, ashamed of hiding herself. She had still the drawing in her hand.
“Mr. Langham,” said Sara, “do you know this wonderful drawing? I never was so amused and amazed in my life. Do you know it’s the Park? and my godmamma Sarah when she was a young lady and a great beauty. To think you should find it accidentally! And it must have been one of her old lovers who did it. Oh, please give it to me, and let me show it her. She would be pleased. She would soon find out whose it was.”
Here Mr. Luigi, who had taken up one of those old books of my father’s, which Harry in his carelessness had left upon the table, uttered a very brief instantly suppressed exclamation. I wonder what he could have discovered! It was the copy of Racine, which I have before mentioned as among papa’s books, on which was written the name of Sarah Mortimer. Sarah Mortimer! Here were we all strangers, or almost strangers, to each other, all apparently37 startled by the sound and sight of this name. What could the Italian have to do with Sarah{206} Mortimer? she who broke poor papa’s heart, and whom we had found out so suddenly to-day?
“This lady?” said Mr. Luigi, holding up the book to me with a slight tremulousness, “Madame will not think me impertinent; does she live?”
“Indeed,” said I, with a shiver of agitation, “I cannot tell. I do not know anything about her; her name on that book and the drawing is all we know. I think she is a ghost. Do you too know her name? Sara, tell us, for pity’s sake, who is this Sarah Mortimer of the Park?”
Sara stared at the book with still greater amazement38 than she had shown at the drawing. “She is my godmamma,” said the girl, in a disturbed, amazed tone. “She is Miss Mortimer of the Park. Since you all know her name, you all know that certainly. How is it you know her? why did you not tell me? Is there any mystery? it all seems very strange to me.”
“Then it is that lady,” exclaimed Mr. Luigi—“it is that lady I did meet in the village.”
“No,” said Sara, recovering herself in a moment; “you met my other godmamma, her sister. She told me she had met you. May I ask if you found the lady in Manchester? Godmamma was very much interested and anxious to know. Did you find her? have you heard where she is to be found?”
Mr. Luigi looked at the book once more; then closed it down firmly with his hand; then gazed a little anxiously in Sara’s face. “Have I found the lady?” he repeated like an echo. “Mademoiselle, I do not know.”
Then the Italian, as if with an instinctive39 motion, laid his other hand over the book, and clasped them both upon it as though to hold something fast. Then to my amazement and to Sara’s—but to something more than amazement on Sara’s part—something very much like pique40 and offence—he turned towards Harry and began to talk on indifferent matters. I had noticed a half-weary, half-impatient sigh escape him as he laid his hands over that book; but he showed no other symptom of emotion. The next moment he was talking in very good English, slightly, very slightly, broken with now and then a foreign idiom, something about public affairs. I confess I felt disappointed as well as Sara. He had recognised that name; somehow it was familiar to him; and his enigmatical answer had naturally stimulated41 our curiosity. He left us behind him staring and wondering, when he suddenly glided42 from the brink43 of some revelation to those quiet remarks upon English politics. Harry, full of his share of the common{207} excitement, did not enter into it with half so much heart as Mr. Luigi. Harry blundered and was awkward, his thoughts being elsewhere. Mr. Luigi was quite undisturbed and at his ease. Sara scarcely spoke44 again while he remained; she did all but turn her back upon him; she showed her pique quite clearly enough to catch the quick eye of the Italian. Altogether he did not stay very long, thinking us, I daresay, rather an uncomfortable party; and Harry, disappointed, as I had expected, not to find me alone, and be able to hold a comfortable consultation45, went downstairs with him to smoke a cigar.
“Now they are gone,” cried Sara; “now the man in the iron mask has left us. I wonder if that is what one would call a romantic Italian? ah! I’d rather have fat Domenico. Now they’re gone, do tell me, once for all, what is godmamma Sarah to you?”
“Nothing in the world that I know of,” said I, faltering a little; “we have only that drawing and her name in the old book.”
“I know there is something between her and him,” said Sara, returning, to my great dismay to the other books on the table; “she knows about him, or he knows about her, or something. You know she was a long time abroad. What funny old books! Was it among those you found the drawing? But, stop, here is another Mortimer—Richard A. Mortimer—who is he? Papa has been their agent for centuries, and I have known them all my life, but I never heard of a Richard Mortimer. Do tell me, who was he?”
“Indeed, it is all very odd,” cried I, really fluttered out of my self-possession. “I wonder what will come of it? It is very strange and bewildering. Richard Mortimer was my father.”
“Then you are a relation!” cried Sara; “you must be a relation, there are so few Mortimers; and your father must have been her lover. Are you sure, are you quite sure? Why, your name must be Mortimer too! and Milly! Mr. Langham calls you Milly—Milly Mortimer! Oh, dear, dear! I never can get to the Park to tell them to-night, and how shall I contain myself till to-morrow? I knew there must be something that made me love you so much at first sight. To be sure, that explains everything. Milly Mortimer! oh, you dear, pretty, good, delightful Mrs. Langham! I am so glad, so happy! They are my godmothers, and so to be sure we are relations too!”{208}
Upon which Sara threw her arms round me in a wild, rapid embrace. I was so very much shaken and disturbed with all that had happened, that I could scarcely bear this last. I remember using all my remaining power to convince her that the relationship was by no means certain still, and that it was not to be communicated to the ladies at the Park without further assurance. Sara, however, only overpowered me with caresses46 and exclamations47. She entirely48 upset all the remaining strength I had. She kept us from that consultation which Harry and I were both so much longing49 for. She left us at last in terror lest we should be brought into immediate15 contact with those unknown relatives. This day of great news, excitement, and perplexity, was, I think, the most exhausted50, uncomfortable day I ever met with in all my life.
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1
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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restriction
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| n.限制，约束 | |
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disapprove
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| v.不赞成，不同意，不批准 | |
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wilful
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| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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supplanting
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| 把…排挤掉，取代( supplant的现在分词 ) | |
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glum
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| adj.闷闷不乐的，阴郁的 | |
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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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evading
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| 逃避( evade的现在分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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17
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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remonstrate
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| v.抗议，规劝 | |
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remonstrance
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| n抗议，抱怨 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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aggravation
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| n.烦恼，恼火 | |
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ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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depreciatory
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| adj.贬值的，蔑视的 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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pique
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| v.伤害…的自尊心，使生气 n.不满，生气 | |
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stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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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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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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46
caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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47
exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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48
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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49
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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