Janet presided at the breakfast-table. She always did preside there. Thomas, Bessy, and Cecil were disposed around her; leaving the side next the windows vacant, that nothing might come between them and the view of the summer’s morning. A summer that would soon be on the wane2, for September was approaching.
“She ought to be here by four o’clock,” observed Bessy, continuing the conversation. “Otherwise, she cannot be here until seven. No train comes in from Farnley between four o’clock and seven, does it, Thomas?”
“I think not,” replied Thomas Godolphin. “But I really know very little about their branch lines. Stay. Farnley? No: I remember: I am sure that nothing comes in between four and seven.”
“Don’t fash yourselves,” said Janet with composure, who had been occupied with the urn3. “When Mrs. Briscow sends me word she will arrive by the afternoon train, I know she can only mean the one that gets here at four o’clock: and I shall be there at four in the carriage to meet her. She is early in her ideas, and she would have called seven the night train.”
Cecil, who appeared to be more engaged in toying with the black ribbons that were flowing from the white sleeves round her pretty wrists, than in taking her breakfast, looked up at her sister. “How long is it since she was here last, Janet?”
“She was here the summer after your mother died.”
“All that time!” exclaimed Cecil. “It is very good of her to leave her home at her age, and come amongst us once again.”
“It is George who is bringing her here; I am sure of that,” returned Janet. “She was so concerned about his illness. She wants to see him now he is getting better. George was always her favourite.”
“How is George this morning?” inquired Thomas Godolphin.
“George is alive and pretty well,” replied a voice from the door, which had opened. There stood George himself.
“If I don’t make an effort—as somebody says, in that bookcase—I may remain a puny5 invalid6 for ever, like a woman. I thought I’d try and surprise you.”
They made a place for him, and placed a chair, and set good things before him; all in affectionate eagerness. But George Godolphin could not accomplish much breakfast yet. “My appetite is capricious,[126] Janet,” he observed. “I think to-morrow I will try chocolate and milk.”
“A cup can be made at once, George, if you would like it.”
“No, I don’t care about it now. I suppose the doctors are right that I can’t get into proper order again, without change. A dull time of it, I shall have, whatever place they may exile me to.”
A question had been mooted7, bringing somewhat of vexation in its discussion, as to who should accompany George. Whether he should be accompanied at all, in what he was pleased to term his exile: and if so, which of them should be chosen. Janet could not go; or thought she could not; Ashlydyat wanted her. Bessy was deep in her schools, her district-visiting, in parish affairs generally, and openly said she did not care to quit them just now. Cecil was perfectly9 ready and willing. Had George been going to the wilds of Africa, Cecil would have entered on the journey with enthusiasm: the outer world had attractions for Cecil and her inexperience. But Janet did not deem it expedient10 to trust pretty Cecil to the sole guardianship11 of thoughtless George, and that was put down ere Cecil had well spoken of it. George’s private opinion was—and he spoke12 it publicly—that he should be better without any of them than with them; that they would “only be a trouble.” On one point, he turned restive13. Janet’s idea had been to despatch14 Margery with him; to see after his comforts, his medicines, his well-aired beds, and his beef-tea. Not if he knew it, George answered. Why not set him up at once with a lady’s-maid, and a nurse from the hospitals, in addition to Margery? And he was pleased to indulge in so much ridicule15 upon the point, as to anger Janet and offend Margery.
“I wish I knew some fellow who was going yachting for the next six months, and would give me boat-room,” observed George, stirring his tea listlessly.
“That would be an improvement!” said Janet, speaking in satire16. “Six months’ sea-sickness and sea-drenching would about do for you what the fever has left undone17.”
“So it might,” said George. “Only that we get over sea-sickness in a couple of days, and sea-drenchings are wholesome18. However, don’t let it disturb your placidity19: the yacht is wanting, and I am not likely to have the opportunity of trying it. No, thank you, Janet”—rejecting a plate she was offering him—“I cannot eat anything.”
“Mrs. Briscow comes to-day, George,” observed Bessy. “Janet is going to meet her at the station at four. She is coming purposely to see you.”
“I have promised Mrs. Verrall to get as far as the Folly22 this afternoon, and stay and dine with them. En famille, you know.”
“Mr. Verrall is not at home,” said Bessy.
“But she and Charlotte are,” responded George.
“You know you must not be out in the night air, George.”
“I shall be home by sundown, or thereabouts. Not that the night air would hurt me now.”
[127]“You cannot take rich dishes yet,” urged Bessy again.
“Bien entendu. Mrs. Verrall has ordered an array of invalid ones: mutton-broth à l’eau, and boiled whiting au naturel,” responded George, who appeared to have an answer ready for all dissentient propositions.
Janet interposed, looking and speaking very gravely. “George, it will be a great mark of disrespect to Mrs. Briscow, the lifelong friend of your father and your mother, not to be at home to sit at table with her the first day she is here. Only one thing could excuse your absence—urgent business. And, that, you have not to plead.”
George answered tartly23. He was weak from his recent illness, and like many others under the same circumstances, did not like being crossed in trifles. “Janet, you are unreasonable24. As if it were necessary that I should break a promise, just for the purpose of dining with an old woman! There will be plenty of other days to dine with her. And I shall be at home this evening before you have risen from table.”
“I beg you to speak of Mrs. Briscow with more respect, George. It cannot matter whether you dine at the Verralls’ to-day or another day,” persisted Janet. “I would not say a word against it, were it an engagement of consequence. You can go to the Folly any day.”
“But I choose to go to-day,” said George.
Janet fixed25 her deep eyes upon him, her gaze full of sad penetration26, her voice changed to one of mourning. “Have those women cast a spell upon you, lad?”
It drove away George’s ill-humour. He burst into a laugh, and returned the gaze: openly enough. “Not they, Janet. Mrs. Verrall may have spells to cast, for aught I know: it’s Verrall’s business, not mine: but they have certainly not been directed to me. And Charlotte——”
“Ay,” put in Janet in a lower tone, “what of Charlotte Pain?”
“This, Janet. That I can steer27 clear of any spells cast by Charlotte Pain. Not but that I admire Charlotte very much,” he added in a spirit of mischief28. “I assure you I am quite a slave to her fascinations29.”
“Keep you out of her fascinations, lad,” returned Janet in a tone of solemn meaning. “It is my first and best advice to you.”
“I will, Janet, when I find them growing dangerous.”
Janet said no more. There was that expression on her countenance30 which they well knew; telling of grievous dissatisfaction.
Rising earlier than his strength was as yet equal to, told upon George Godolphin: and by the middle of the day he felt so full of weariness and lassitude, that he was glad to throw himself on to the sofa in the large drawing-room, quiet and unoccupied then, wheeling the couch first of all with his feeble strength, close to the window, that he might be in the sunshine. Its warmth was grateful to him. He dropped asleep, and only woke considerably31 later, at the entrance of Cecil.
Cecil was dressed for the day, in a thin, flowing black dress, a jet necklace on her slender neck, jet bracelets32 on her fair arms. A fair flower was Cecilia Godolphin: none fairer within all the precincts of Prior’s Ash. She knelt down by George and kissed him.
[128]“We have been in to glance at you two or three times, George. Margery has prepared something nice for you, and would have aroused you to take it, only she says sleep will do you as much good as food.”
“What’s the time?” asked George, too indolent to take his own watch from his pocket.
“Half-past three.”
“It is, indeed. Janet has just driven off to the station. Don’t rise this minute: you are hot.”
“I wonder Janet let me sleep so long!”
“Why should she not? Janet has been very busy all day, and very——”
“Cross?” put in George.
“There was nothing that she need have been vexed at,” responded Mr. George.
Cecil remained for a few moments without speaking. “I think Janet is afraid of Charlotte Pain,” she presently said.
“Afraid of Charlotte Pain! In what way?”
“George”—lowering her voice, and running her fingers caressingly35 through his bright hair as he lay—“I wish you would let me ask you something.”
“Ask away,” replied George.
“Ay, but will you answer me?”
“That depends,” he laughed. “Ask away, Cely.”
“Is there anything between you and Charlotte Pain?”
“Plenty,” returned George in the lightest possible tone. “As there is between me and a dozen more young ladies. Charlotte, happening to be the nearest, gets most of me just now.”
“Plenty of what?”
“Talking and laughing and gossip. That’s about the extent of it, pretty Cely.”
Cecil wished he would be more serious. “Shall you be likely to marry her?” she breathed.
“Just as likely as I shall be to marry you,” and he spoke seriously now.
Cecil drew a sigh of relief. “Then, George, I will tell you what it is that has helped to vex8 Janet. You know our servants get talking to Mrs. Verrall’s, and her servants to ours. And the news was brought here that Charlotte Pain has said she should probably be going on a journey: a journey abroad, for six months or so: to some place where she should remain the winter. Margery told Janet: and—and——”
“You construed36 it, between you, that Charlotte was going to be a partner in my exile! What droll37 people you must all be!”
“There’s no doubt, George, that Charlotte Pain was heard to say it.”
“I don’t know what she may have been heard to say. It could have borne no reference to my movements. Cecil?”
[129]“Well?”
“No—I don’t know. What do you mean?”
And while George Godolphin was laughing at her puzzled look, Margery came in. “Are you almost famished39, Mr. George? How could you think of dropping off to sleep till you had had something to sustain you?”
“We often do things that we don’t ‘think’ to do, Margery,” quoth he, as he rose from the sofa.
Nothing more true, Mr. George Godolphin.
Ere long he was on his way to Mrs. Verrall’s. Notwithstanding Janet’s displeasure, he had no idea of foregoing his engagement. The society of two attractive women had more charms for listless George than quiet Ashlydyat. It was a lovely afternoon, less hot than it had been of late, and George really enjoyed it. He was beginning to walk so much better. That long sleep had rested and refreshed him, and he believed that he could walk well into Prior’s Ash. “I’ll try it to-morrow,” thought George.
Up the steps, over the terrace, across to the open windows of the Folly. It was the easiest way in, and George was not given to unnecessary ceremony. He supposed he might find the ladies in the drawing-room, and he stepped over the threshold.
Only one was there. Charlotte. She did not see him enter. She was before a pier-glass, holding up her dog, King Charley, that he might snarl40 and bark at the imaginary King Charley in the glass. That other dog of hers, the ugly Scotch41 terrier which you have heard of before, and a third, looking something like a bull-dog, were leaping and howling at her feet. It would appear that nothing pleased Charlotte better than putting her dogs into a fury. Charlotte wore a dark blue silk dress with shaded flounces, and a lighter42 blue silk jacket: the latter, ornamented43 with braidings and buttons of silver, somewhat after the fashion of her green riding-habit, and fitting as tightly to the shape. A well-formed shape!—and George Godolphin thought so, as she stood with her arms lifted, setting the dogs at the glass.
“Hi, King! Seize him, Charley! Go at him!—hiss! Tear him! bite him!—hiss-ss-ss!——”
The noisy reception by the other dogs of Mr. George Godolphin, brought the young lady’s words and her pretty employment to a standstill. She released the imprisoned44 dog from her arms, letting him drop anywhere, and turned to George Godolphin.
“Have you come at last? I had given you up! I expected you an hour and a half ago.”
“And, to while away the time, you set your dogs on to snarl and fight!” returned he, as he took her hand. “I wonder you don’t go distracted with the noise, Charlotte!”
“You don’t like dogs! I often tell you so.”
“Yes, I do—in their proper places.”
[130]“At the yard’s length, if you please, Charlotte,” corrected George, who did not feel inclined to compromise his opinion. “Hark at them! they might be heard at Prior’s Ash.”
“And his name’s George Godolphin, good Pluto!” went on Charlotte, doing all she possibly could, in a quiet way, to excite the dogs. “Down, then, Pluto! down!”
“I should muzzle47 you, Mr. Pluto, if you were mine,” cried George, as the dog jumped up at him furiously, and then turned to attack his former adversary48. “Pluto!” he continued, meaningly: “who gave him that name, Charlotte?”
“I did,” avowed49 Charlotte. “And I named this other one King Charley, after his species. And this one is Deuce. What have you to say against the names?”
“Nothing,” said George. “I think them very good, appropriate names,” he added, his lips parting.
They were certainly very good dogs—if to make a most excruciating noise constitutes merit. George Godolphin, his nerves still in a shattered condition, lifted his hand wearily to his forehead. It brought Charlotte Pain to her recollection.
“Oh, George, I forgot! I did, really! I forgot you were not as strong yet as the rest of us. Be quiet, then, you three horrid50 brutes51! Be quiet, will you! Go off, and quarrel outside.”
Using her pointed52 toe rather liberally, Charlotte set herself to scatter53 the dogs. They were not very obedient. As soon as one was got out another sprang in, the noise never ceasing. Charlotte snatched up a basket of macaroons that happened to be on a side-table, and scattered54 the cakes on the terrace. “There, quarrel and fight over those!”
She put down the empty basket, closed the window to shut out the noise, and turned to George. Spreading out her dress on either side, after the manner once in vogue55 in ancient ballrooms56 she dropped him an elaborate curtsey.
“Mr. George Godolphin, what honour do you suppose is thrust upon me to-day?”
“You must tell me, Charlotte, if it’s one you wish me to know,” he answered. “I can never attempt to guess when I feel tired; as I do now.”
“Your walk has tired you?”
“I suppose it has. Though I thought how well I felt as I came along.”
“The great honour of entertaining you all by my own self is delegated to me,” cried Charlotte gaily57, dropping another curtsey. “I hope we shall not quarrel, as those dogs are doing.”
“The honour of entertaining me!” he repeated, not grasping her meaning. “Entertaining me for what?”
“For dinner, sir. Mrs. Verrall has gone to London.”
“No!” he exclaimed. He did not believe her.
Charlotte nodded. “She went at midday.”
“But what took her away so suddenly?” exclaimed George, in surprise. “She had no intention yesterday of going.”
“A freak. Or, impulse—if you like the word better. Kate rarely acts upon anything else. She has been expecting Verrall home these[131] last three days; but he has neither come nor written: and this morning, after the post was in, she suddenly declared she’d go to town, and see what was keeping him.”
“They may cross each other on the road.”
“Of course they may: and Kate have her journey for her pains. That’s nothing to her: she likes travelling. ‘What am I to do with Mr. George Godolphin? Entertain him?’ I said to her. ‘I suppose you can contrive58 to do it,’ she answered. ‘I suppose I could,’ I said. ‘But, what about its being proper?’ I asked,” added Charlotte, with a demure59 glance at George. “‘Oh,’ said Kate, ‘it’s proper enough, poor sick fellow: it would never do to disappoint him.’ Therefore, sir, please take care that you behave properly, considering that a young lady is your hostess.”
She threw a laughing glance at George; and, sitting down at the table, took a pack of beautifully painted cards from an ivory box, and began that delectable60 game that the French call “Patience.” George watched her from the sofa where he was sitting. A certain thought had darted61 into his mind. What fit of prudence62 called it up? Did he think of Charlotte’s good?—or of his own? Did the recollection of what Cecil had whispered actuate him? It cannot be told. It was very far indeed from George Godolphin’s intention to make a wife of Charlotte Pain, and he may have deemed it well to avoid all situations where he might compromise himself by a hasty word. Such words are more easily dropped than taken up again. Or perhaps George, free and careless though he was, reflected that it was not altogether the thing for Charlotte Pain to entertain him alone. With all his faults, George Godolphin was a gentleman: and Charlotte was not altogether fitted for a gentleman’s wife.
“I am glad of it, Charlotte,” he remarked. “I shall now have to make excuses to one only, instead of to two. I came to ask Mrs. Verrall to allow me to break through my engagement.”
Charlotte had a knave63 in her hand, pondering where she could place it. She dropped it in her surprise.
“I must dine at home to-day, Charlotte. An old friend of my father and mother’s, Mrs. Briscow, is arriving for dinner. I cannot be absent.”
The flush deepened on Charlotte’s face. “It is unkind of you!” she resentfully said. “But I knew before what your promises are worth.”
“Unkind? But, Charlotte, I did not know until this morning that Mrs. Briscow was coming to-day. There’s nothing unkind about it.”
“It is unkind!” flashed Charlotte. “If you were not unkind, you would not leave me here alone, to pass a solitary64 evening and play at this wretched ‘patience.’”
“But I am not going to leave you here. I wish to take you back with me to Ashlydyat to dinner. If you will put on your bonnet65, we can be walking thither66 at once.”
“You did not come intending to ask me.”
“I did not. I did not know that Mrs. Verrall would be absent. But I ask you now, being alone as you say. And I intend to take you.”
[132]“What will Miss Godolphin say?”
“Miss Godolphin will be very happy to see you.” Which little assertion Mr. George knew to contain more politeness than truth. “Will you get ready, Charlotte? I must be returning.”
Charlotte pushed the cards from her in a heap, and came and stood before George Godolphin, turning herself about for his inspection67. “Shall I do without further embellishment?” she asked.
Charlotte marched to the glass and surveyed herself. “Just something in my hair,” she said, ringing the bell.
A maid came in by her desire, and fastened some blue and silver flowers in her hair. Charlotte Pain wore her hair capriciously: rarely two days alike. To-day it was all strained back from the face, that most trying of all styles, let the features be ever so pretty. A shawl was thrown over her shoulders, and then she turned to George.
“I am ready now.”
“But your bonnet?” returned that gentleman, who had looked on with laughing eyes at the mysteries of the hair-dressing69.
“I shall not put on a bonnet,” she said. “They can bring it to me to Ashlydyat, for returning at night. People won’t meet us: the road’s not a public road. And if they should meet us,” she added, laughing, “they will rejoice in the opportunity of seeing me abroad like this. It will be food for Prior’s Ash.”
So they started. Charlotte would not take his arm: she said he must take hers: he needed support and she did not. That, George would not agree to: and they strolled on, side by side, resting on benches occasionally. George found he had not much to boast of yet, in the way of strength.
“Who’s this, coming up?” exclaimed Charlotte, when they had almost gained Ashlydyat, and were resting for the last time.
George followed the direction of her eyes. Advancing towards Ashlydyat was a lady, her grey silk dress gleaming in the sun, a light Cashmere shawl folded round her. There was no mistaking the ladylike figure of Mrs. Hastings.
“Is she to be one of your dinner-party?”
“Not that I am aware of.”
Mrs. Hastings joined them. She sat down on a bench by George’s side, affectionately inquiring into his state of health, speaking kindly70 and truthfully her pleasure at seeing him, so far, well again. Whatever prejudice may have been taken against George Godolphin by the Rector of All Souls’, it did not extend to his wife. She liked him much.
“I am getting on famously,” said George, in a merry tone. “I have promoted myself now to one stick: until yesterday I was forced to use two. You are going to Ashlydyat, Mrs. Hastings?”
“I wish to say a few words to Bessy. We have discovered something unpleasant relating to one of the schools, in which the under-mistress is mixed up. A good deal of deceit has been going on, in fact. Mr. Hastings says Bessy ought to hear of it at once, for she was as much interested in it as we are. So I came up.”
[133]Mrs. Hastings, in speaking, had taken two or three glances at Charlotte’s head. That young lady set herself to explain. Mr. George Godolphin had given her an impromptu71 invitation to go back with him to dine at Ashlydyat.
Then George explained. He had been engaged to dine at the Folly: but found, on arriving, that Mrs. Verrall had departed for London. “My friends are all kind to me, Mrs. Hastings,” he observed. “They insist upon it that a change of a few hours must benefit me, and encumber72 themselves with the trouble of a fanciful invalid.”
“I am sure there’s nothing like change and amusement for one growing convalescent,” said Charlotte.
“Will you let us contribute in some little way to it?” asked Mrs. Hastings of George. “If a few hours’ sojourn73 in our quiet house would be agreeable to you, you know that we should only be too happy for you to try it.”
“I should like it of all things,” cried George, impulsively74, “I cannot walk far yet without resting, and it is pleasant to sit a few hours at my walk’s end, before I begin to start back again. I shall soon extend my journeys to Prior’s Ash.”
“Then come to us the first day that you feel able to get as far. You will always find some of us at home. We will dine at any hour you like, and you shall choose your own dinner.”
“A bargain,” said George.
They rose to pursue their way to Ashlydyat. Mrs. Hastings offered her arm to George, and he took it with thanks. “He would not take mine!” thought Charlotte, and she flashed an angry glance at him.
The fact was, that for some considerable time Charlotte Pain had put Maria Hastings almost out of her head, as regarded her relations to George Godolphin. Whatever reason she may have seen at Broomhead to believe he was attached to Maria, the impression had since faded away. In the spring, before his illness, George had been much more with her than with Maria. This was not entirely75 George’s fault: the Rectory did not court him: Charlotte Pain and the Folly did. A week had now passed since Mr. Verrall’s departure for town, when George and his sticks appeared at the Folly for the first time after his illness; and, not a day of that week since but George and Charlotte had met. Altogether, her hopes of winning the prize had gone up to enthusiastic heat; and Charlotte believed the greatest prize in the world—taking all his advantages collectively—to be George Godolphin. George went at once to his sister Janet’s chamber76. She was in it, dressing for dinner, after bringing her aged4 guest, Mrs. Briscow, from the station. He knocked at the door with his stick, and was told to enter.
Janet was before the glass in her black silk dress, trimmed heavily with crape still. She was putting on her sober cap, a white one, with black ribbons. Janet Godolphin had taken to wear caps at thirty years of age: her hair, like Thomas’s, was thin; and she was not troubled with cares of making herself appear younger than she was.
“Come in, George,” she said, turning to him without any appearance of surprise.
“See how good I am, Janet!” he cried, throwing himself wearily into a chair. “I have come back to dine with you.”
[134]“I saw you from the window. You have been walking too far!”
“Only to the Folly and back. But I sauntered about, looking at the flowers, and that tires one far worse than bearing on steadily77.”
“Ay. Lay yourself down on that couch at full length, lad. Mrs. Hastings is here, I see. And—was that other Charlotte Pain?”
“Yes,” replied George, disregarding the injunction to lie down.
“Did she come from the Folly in that guise78?—Nothing on her head but those flowers? I could see no bonnet even in her hand.”
“It is to be sent after her. Janet”—passing quickly from the other matter—“she has come to dine with us.”
Miss Godolphin turned in amazement79, and fixed her eyes reproachfully on George. “To dine with us?—to-day? Have you been asking her?”
“Janet, I could not well help myself. When I got to Lady Godolphin’s Folly, I found Charlotte alone: Mrs. Verrall has departed for town. To break through my engagement there, I proposed that Charlotte should come here.”
“Nay,” said Janet, “your engagement was already broken, if Mrs. Verrall was away.”
“Not so. Charlotte expected me to remain.”
“Herself your sole entertainer?”
“I suppose so.”
A severe expression arose to Miss Godolphin’s lips, and remained there. “It is most unsuitable, Charlotte Pain’s being here to-day,” she resumed. “The changes which have taken place render our meeting with Mrs. Briscow a sad one; no stranger ought to be at table. Least of all, Charlotte Pain. Her conversation is at times unfeminine.”
“How can you say so, Janet?” he involuntarily exclaimed.
“Should she launch into some of her favourite topics, her horses and her dogs, it will sound unfeminine to Mrs. Briscow’s ears. In her young days—in my days also, George, for the matter of that—these subjects were deemed more suitable to men’s lips than to young women’s. George, had your mother lived, it would have been a sore day to her, the one that brought the news that you had fixed your mind on Charlotte Pain.”
“It was not so to my father, at any rate,” George could not help saying.
“And was it possible that you did not see how Charlotte Pain played her cards before your father?” resumed Janet. “Not a word, that could offend his prejudices as a refined gentleman, did she ever suffer herself to utter. I saw; if you did not.”
“You manage to see a great deal that the rest of us don’t see, Janet. Or you fancy that you do.”
“It is no fancy, lad. I would not like to discourage a thing that you have set your heart upon; I would rather go a mile out of my way than do it: but I stand next door to a mother to you, and I can but warn you that you will repent80 it, if you ever suffer Charlotte Pain to be more to you than she now is.”
George rose. “Set your mind at rest, Janet. It has never been my intention to marry Charlotte Pain: and—so far as I believe at present—it never will be.”
[135]The dinner went off pleasantly. Mrs. Briscow was a charming old lady, although she was of the “antediluvian” school, and Charlotte was on her best behaviour, and half fascinated Mrs. Briscow. George, like a trespassing81 child, received several hints from Janet that bed might be desirable for him, but he ingeniously ignored them, and sat on. Charlotte’s bonnet and an attendant arrived, and Thomas Godolphin put on his hat to see her to the Folly.
“I need not trouble you, Mr. Godolphin. I shall not be run away with.”
“I think it will be as well that I should see you do not,” said he, smiling.
It was scarcely dark. The clock had not struck ten, and the night was starlight. Thomas Godolphin gave her his arm, and the maid walked behind them. Arrived at Ashlydyat, he left her. Charlotte stood for a few moments, then turned on her heel and entered the hall. The first thing that caught her notice was a hat; next a travelling coat. They had not been there when she left in the afternoon.
“Then Verrall’s back!” she mentally exclaimed.
Hastening into the dining-room, she saw, seated at a table, drinking brandy and water, not Mr. Verrall, but Rodolf Pain.
“Good gracious!” exclaimed Charlotte, with more surprise in her tone than satisfaction, “have you come?”
“Come to find an empty house,” rejoined Mr. Pain. “Where’s Mrs. Verrall? They tell me she is gone to London.”
“She is,” replied Charlotte. “Verrall neither came back nor wrote; she had a restless fit upon her, and started off this morning to him.”
“Verrall won’t thank her,” observed Mr. Pain. “He is up to his eyes in business.”
“Good or bad business?” asked Charlotte.
“Both. We have got into a mess, and Verrall’s not yet out of it.”
“Through what? Through whom?” she questioned.
Rodolf Pain gave his shoulders a jerk, as if he had been a Frenchman. “It need not trouble you, Charlotte.”
“Some one came down here from London a week ago; a Mr. Appleby. Is it through him? Verrall seemed strangely put out at his coming.”
Mr. Pain nodded his head. “They were such idiots in the office as to give Appleby the address here. I have seen Verrall in a tolerable passion once or twice in my life, but I never saw him in such a one as he went into when he came up. They’ll not forget it in a hurry. He lays the blame on me, remotely; says I must have left a letter about with the address on it. I know I have done nothing of the sort.”
“But what is it, Rodolf? Anything very bad?”
“Bad enough. But it can be remedied. Let Verrall alone for getting out of pits, however deep they may be. I wish, though, we had never set eyes on that fellow, Appleby!”
“Tell me about it, Rodolf.”
Mr. Rodolf declined. “You could do no good,” said he, “and business is not fitted for ladies’ ears.”
“I don’t care to know it,” said Charlotte. “It’s no concern of mine: but, somehow, that man Appleby interested me. As to business not[136] being fitted for my ears, I should make a better hand at business than some of you men make.”
“Upon my word, I think you would, Charlotte. I have often said it. But you are one in a thousand.”
“Have you had anything to eat since you came in?”
“They brought me some supper. It has just gone away.”
“I had better inquire whether there’s a room ready for you?” she remarked, moving towards the bell.
“It’s all done, Charlotte. I told them I had come to stay. Just sit down, and let me talk to you.”
“Shall you stay long?”
“I can’t tell until I hear from Verrall to-morrow. I may be leaving again to-morrow night, or I may be here for interminable weeks. The office is to be clear of Mr. Verrall just now, do you understand?”
Charlotte apparently83 did understand. She took her seat in a chair listlessly enough. Something in her manner would have told an accurate observer that she could very well have dispensed84 with the company of Rodolf Pain. He, however, saw nothing of that. He took his cigar-case from his pocket, selected a cigar, and then, by way of sport, held the case out to Charlotte.
“Will you take one?”
For answer, she dashed it out of his hand half way across the room. And she did it in anger, too.
“How uncertain you are!” he exclaimed, as he rose to pick up his property. “There are times when you can take a joke pleasantly, and laugh at it.”
He sat down again, lighted his cigar, and smoked a few minutes in silence. Then he turned to her. “Don’t you think it is time, Charlotte, that you and I brought ourselves to an anchor?”
“No, I don’t,” she bluntly answered.
“But I say it is,” he resumed. “And I mean it to be done.”
“You mean!”
Something in the tone roused him, and he gazed at her with surprise. “You are not going from your promise, Charlotte?”
“I don’t remember that I made any distinct promise,” said she.
Mr. Rodolf Pain grew heated. “You know that you did, Charlotte. You know that you engaged yourself irrevocably to me——”
“Irrevocably!” she slightingly interrupted. “How you misapply words!”
“It was as irrevocable as promise can be. Have you not led me on, this twelvemonth past, believing month after month that you would be my wife the next? And, month after month, you have put me off upon the most frivolous85 pretexts86!”
He rose as he spoke, drew up his little figure to its utmost height in his excitement, and pushed back his light hair from his small, insignificant87 face. A face that betrayed not too much strength of any sort, physical, moral, or intellectual; but a good-natured face withal. Charlotte retained unbroken calmness.
“Rodolf, I don’t think it would do,” she said, with an air of candid88 reasoning. “I have thought it over and over, and that’s why I have put you off. It is not well that we should all be so closely con[137] nected together. Better get new ties, that will shelter us, in case a—a——”
“In case a smash comes. That—if we are all in the same boat—would ruin the lot. Better that you and I should form other connections.”
“You are talking great nonsense,” he angrily said. “A smash!—to us! Can’t you trust Verrall better than that?”
“Why, you say that, even at this present moment——”
“You are wrong, Charlotte,” he vehemently90 interrupted; “you entirely misunderstand me. Things go wrong in business temporarily; they must do so in business of all sorts; but they right themselves again. Why! do you know what Verrall made last year?”
“A great deal.”
“My little petty share was two thousand pounds: and that is as a drop of water to the ocean compared with his. What has put you upon these foolish fancies?”
“Prudence,” returned Charlotte.
“I don’t believe it,” was the plain answer. “You are trying to blind me. You are laying yourself out for higher game; and to shut my eyes, and gain time to see if you can play it out, you concoct91 a story of ‘prudence’ to me. It’s one or the other of those Godolphins.”
“The Godolphins!” mockingly repeated Charlotte. “You are clever! The one will never marry as long as the world lasts; the other’s dead.”
“Dead!” echoed Rodolf Pain.
“As good as dead. He’s like a ghost, and he is being sent off for an everlasting92 period to some warmer climate. How ridiculous you are, Rodolf!”
“Charlotte, I’ll take care of ways and means. I’ll take care of you and your interests. Only fix the time when you will be mine.”
“Then I won’t, Rodolf. I don’t care to marry yet awhile. I’ll see about it when the next hunting season shall be over.”
Rodolf Pain opened his eyes. “The hunting season!” he cried. “What has that to do with it?”
“Were you my husband, you would be forbidding me to hunt; you don’t like my doing it now. So for the present I’ll remain mistress of my own actions.”
“Another lame82 excuse,” he said, knitting his brow. “You will take very good care always to remain mistress of your own actions, whether married or single.”
Charlotte laughed, a ringing laugh of power. It spoke significantly enough to Mr. Rodolf Pain. He would have renewed the discussion, but she peremptorily93 declined, and shaking hands with him, wished him good night.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
wan
|
|
| (wide area network)广域网 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
wane
|
|
| n.衰微，亏缺，变弱；v.变小，亏缺，呈下弦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
urn
|
|
| n.（有座脚的）瓮；坟墓；骨灰瓮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
aged
|
|
| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
puny
|
|
| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
invalid
|
|
| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
mooted
|
|
| adj.未决定的，有争议的，有疑问的v.提出…供讨论( moot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
vex
|
|
| vt.使烦恼，使苦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
expedient
|
|
| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
guardianship
|
|
| n. 监护, 保护, 守护 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
restive
|
|
| adj.不安宁的，不安静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
despatch
|
|
| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
ridicule
|
|
| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
satire
|
|
| n.讽刺，讽刺文学，讽刺作品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
undone
|
|
| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
wholesome
|
|
| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
placidity
|
|
| n.平静，安静，温和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
folly
|
|
| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
tartly
|
|
| adv.辛辣地，刻薄地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
unreasonable
|
|
| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
penetration
|
|
| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
steer
|
|
| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
mischief
|
|
| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
fascinations
|
|
| n.魅力( fascination的名词复数 )；有魅力的东西；迷恋；陶醉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
considerably
|
|
| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
bracelets
|
|
| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
partially
|
|
| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
vexed
|
|
| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
caressingly
|
|
| 爱抚地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
construed
|
|
| v.解释（陈述、行为等）( construe的过去式和过去分词 )；翻译，作句法分析 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
droll
|
|
| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
scent
|
|
| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
famished
|
|
| adj.饥饿的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
snarl
|
|
| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
scotch
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
lighter
|
|
| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
ornamented
|
|
| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
imprisoned
|
|
| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
pout
|
|
| v.撅嘴；绷脸；n.撅嘴；生气，不高兴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
Pluto
|
|
| n.冥王星 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
muzzle
|
|
| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
adversary
|
|
| adj.敌手，对手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
avowed
|
|
| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
brutes
|
|
| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
scatter
|
|
| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
Vogue
|
|
| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
ballrooms
|
|
| n.舞厅( ballroom的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
gaily
|
|
| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
contrive
|
|
| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
demure
|
|
| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
delectable
|
|
| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
darted
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
prudence
|
|
| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
knave
|
|
| n.流氓；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
bonnet
|
|
| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
thither
|
|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
inspection
|
|
| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
gallant
|
|
| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
dressing
|
|
| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
impromptu
|
|
| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
encumber
|
|
| v.阻碍行动，妨碍，堆满 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
sojourn
|
|
| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
impulsively
|
|
| adv.冲动地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
guise
|
|
| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
repent
|
|
| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
trespassing
|
|
| [法]非法入侵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
lame
|
|
| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
dispensed
|
|
| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
frivolous
|
|
| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
pretexts
|
|
| n.借口，托辞( pretext的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
insignificant
|
|
| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
candid
|
|
| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
lashes
|
|
| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
vehemently
|
|
| adv. 热烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
concoct
|
|
| v.调合，制造 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
everlasting
|
|
| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
peremptorily
|
|
| adv.紧急地，不容分说地，专横地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |