THE COMPLETE SHORT STORIES OF WILKIE COLLINS. Уилки КоллинзЧитать онлайн книгу.
able to quote by this time almost as much as I can. I am going to try you with something quite new — suppose I had offered you the pinch of snuff (Mr Julius Caesar shall never have another, I can promise him); what would you have said from Shakespeare applicable to that? Just think now!’
‘But, grandfather, snuff wasn’t invented in Shakespeare’s time — was it?’ said Annie.
‘That’s of no consequence,’ retorted the old man: ‘Shakespeare was for all time: you can quote him for everything in the world, as long as the world lasts. Can’t you quote him for snuff? I can. Now, listen. You say to me, “I offer you a pinch of snuff?” I answer from Cymbeline (Act iv, scene 2): “Pisanio! I’ll now taste of thy drug.” There! won’t that do? What’s snuff but a drug for the nose? It just fits — everything of the divine Shakespeare’s does, when you know him by heart, as I do — eh, little Annie? And now give me some more sugar; I wish it was lump for your sake, dear; but I’m afraid we can only afford moist. Anybody called about the advertisement? a new pupil this morning — eh?’
No! no pupils at all: not a man, woman, or child in the town, to teach elocution to yet! Mr Wray was not at all despondent about this; he had made up his mind that a pupil must come in the course of the day; and that was enough for him. His little quibbling from Shakespeare about the snuff had put him in the best of good humours. He went on making quotations, talking elocution, and eating bread and butter, as brisk and happy, as if all Tidbury had combined to form one mighty class for him, and resolved to pay ready money for every lesson.
But after breakfast, when the things were taken away, the old man seemed suddenly to recollect something which changed his manner altogether. He grew first embarrassed; then silent; then pulled out his Shakespeare, and began to read with ostentatious assiduity, as if he were especially desirous that nobody should speak to him.
At the same time, a close observer might have detected Mr ‘Julius Caesar’ making various uncouth signs and grimaces to Annie, which the little girl apparently understood, but did not know how to answer. At last, with an effort, as if she were summoning extraordinary resolution, she said: —
‘Grandfather — you have not forgotten your promise?’
No answer from Mr Wray. Probably, he was too much absorbed over Shakespeare to hear.
‘Grandfather,’ repeated Annie, in a louder tone; ‘you promised to explain a certain mystery to us, on my birthday.’
Mr Wray was obliged to hear this time. He looked up with a very perplexed face.
‘Yes, dear,’ said he; ‘I did promise; but I almost wish I had not. It’s rather a dangerous mystery to explain, little Annie, I can tell you! Why should you be so very curious to know about it?’
‘I’m sure, grandfather,’ pleaded Annie, ‘you can’t say I am over-curious, or Julius Caesar either, in wanting to know it. Just recollect — we had been only three days at Stratford-upon-Avon, when you came in, looking so dreadfully frightened, and said we must go away directly. And you made us pack up; and we all went off in a hurry, more like prisoners escaping, than honest people.’
‘We did!’ groaned old Reuben, beginning to look like a culprit already.
‘Well,’ continued Annie; ‘and you wouldn’t tell us a word of what it was all for, beg as hard as we might. And then, when we asked why you never let that old cash box (which I used to keep my odds and ends in) out of your own hands, after we left Stratford — you wouldn’t tell us that, either, and ordered us never to mention the thing again. It was only in one of your particular good humours, that I just got you to promise you would tell us all about it on my next birthday — to celebrate the day, you said. I’m sure we are to be trusted with any secrets; and I don’t think it’s being very curious to want to know this.’
‘Very well,’ said Mr Wray, rising, with a sort of desperate calmness; ‘I’ve promised, and, come what may, I’ll keep my promise. Wait here; I’ll be back directly.’ And he left the room, in a great hurry.
He returned immediately, with the cash box. A very battered, shabby affair, to make such a mystery about! thought Annie, as he put the box on the table, and solemnly laid his hands across it.
‘Now, then,’ said old Wray, in his deepest tragedy tones, and with very serious looks; ‘Promise me, on your word of honour — both of you — that you’ll never say a word of what I’m going to tell, to anybody, on any account whatever — I don’t care what happens — on any account whatever!’
Annie and her lover gave their promises directly, and very seriously. They were getting a little agitated by all these elabourate preparations for the coming disclosure.
‘Shut the door!’ said Mr Wray, in a stage whisper. ‘Now sit close and listen; I’m ready to explain the mystery.’
IV
‘I suppose,’ said old Reuben, ‘you have neither of you forgotten that, on the second day of our visit to Stratford, I went out in the afternoon to dine with an intimate friend of mine, whom I’d known from a boy, and who lived at some little distance from the town — ’
‘Forget that!’ cried Annie! ‘I don’t think we ever shall — I was frightened about you, all the time you were gone.’
‘Frightened about what?’ asked Mr Wray sharply. ‘Do you mean to tell me, Annie, you suspected — ’
‘I don’t know what I suspected, grandfather; but I thought your going away by yourself, to sleep at your friend’s house (as you told us), and not to come back till the next morning, something very extraordinary. It was the first time we had ever slept under different roofs — only think of that!’
‘I’m ashamed to say, my dear’ — rejoined Mr Wray, suddenly beginning to look and speak very uneasily — ’that I turned hypocrite, and something worse, too, on that occasion. I deceived you. I had no friend to go and dine with; and I didn’t pass that night in any house at all.’
‘Grandfather!’ — cried Annie, jumping up in a fright — ’What can you mean!’
‘Beg pardon, sir,’ added ‘Julius Caesar’, turning very red, and slowly clenching both his enormous fists as he spoke — ’Beg pardon; but if you was put upon, or made fun of by any chaps that night, I wish you’d just please tell me where I could find ‘em.’
‘Nobody illused me,’ said the old man, in steady, and even solemn tones. ‘I passed that night by the grave of William Shakespeare, in Stratford-upon-Avon Church!’
Annie sank back into her seat, and lost all her pretty complexion in a moment. The worthy carpenter gave such a start, that he broke the back rail of his chair. It was a variation on his usual performances of this sort, which were generally confined to cups, saucers, and wineglasses.
Mr Wray took no notice of the accident. This was of itself enough to show that he was strongly agitated by something. After a momentary silence, he spoke again, completely forgetting the Kemble manner and the Kemble elocution, as he went on.
‘I say again, I passed all that night in Stratford Church; and you shall know for what. You went with me, Annie, in the morning — it was Tuesday: yes, Tuesday morning — to see Shakespeare’s bust in the church. You looked at it, like other people, just as a curiosity — I looked at it, as the greatest treasure in the world; the only true likeness of Shakespeare! It’s been done from a mask, taken from his own face, after death — I know it: I don’t care what people say, I know it. Well, when we went home, I felt as if I’d seen Shakespeare himself, risen from the dead! Strangers would laugh if I told them so; but it’s true — I did feel it. And this thought came across me, quick, like the shooting of a sudden pain: — I must make that face of Shakespeare mine; my possession, my companion, my great treasure that no money can pay for! And I’ve got it! — Here! — the only cast in the world from the Stratford bust is locked up in this old cash box!’
He paused a moment. Astonishment kept both his auditors silent.
‘You