The Complete Works of Frances Hodgson Burnett. Frances Hodgson BurnettЧитать онлайн книгу.
live at the lodge and her little boy at the castle; they knew all about the great fortune he was to inherit, and about the savage old grandfather and his gout and his tempers.
“He’ll have no easy time of it, poor little chap,” they had said among themselves.
But they did not know what sort of a little lord had come among them; they did not quite understand the character of the next Earl of Dorincourt.
He pulled off his overcoat quite as if he were used to doing things for himself, and began to look about him. He looked about the broad hall, at the pictures and stags’ antlers and curious things that ornamented it. They seemed curious to him because he had never seen such things before in a private house.
“Dearest,” he said, “this is a very pretty house, isn’t it? I am glad you are going to live here. It’s quite a large house.”
It was quite a large house compared to the one in the shabby New York street, and it was very pretty and cheerful. Mary led them upstairs to a bright chintz-hung bedroom where a fire was burning, and a large snow-white Persian cat was sleeping luxuriously on the white fur hearthrug.
“It was the house-kaper up at the Castle, ma’am, sint her to yez,” explained Mary. “It’s herself is a kind-hearted lady an’ has had iverything done to prepar’ fur yez. I seen her meself a few minnits, an’ she was fond av the Capt’in, ma’am, an’ graivs fur him; and she said to say the big cat slapin’ on the rug moight make the room same homeloike to yez. She knowed Capt’in Errol whin he was a bye—an’ a foine handsum’ bye she ses he was, an’ a foine young man wid a plisint word fur every one, great an’ shmall. An’ ses I to her, ses I: ‘He’s lift a bye that’s loike him, ma’am, fur a foiner little felly niver sthipped in shoe-leather.”’
When they were ready, they went downstairs into another big bright room; its ceiling was low, and the furniture was heavy and beautifully carved, the chairs were deep and had high massive backs, and there were queer shelves and cabinets with strange, pretty ornaments on them. There was a great tiger-skin before the fire, and an armchair on each side of it. The stately white cat had responded to Lord Fauntleroy’s stroking and followed him downstairs, and when he threw himself down upon the rug, she curled herself up grandly beside him as if she intended to make friends. Cedric was so pleased that he put his head down by hers, and lay stroking her, not noticing what his mother and Mr. Havisham were saying.
They were, indeed, speaking in a rather low tone. Mrs. Errol looked a little pale and agitated.
“He need not go tonight?” she said. “He will stay with me tonight?”
“Yes,” answered Mr. Havisham in the same low tone; “it will not be necessary for him to go tonight. I myself will go to the Castle as soon as we have dined, and inform the Earl of our arrival.”
Mrs. Errol glanced down at Cedric. He was lying in a graceful, careless attitude upon the black-and-yellow skin; the fire shone on his handsome, flushed little face, and on the tumbled, curly hair spread out on the rug; the big cat was purring in drowsy content,—she liked the caressing touch of the kind little hand on her fur.
Mrs. Errol smiled faintly.
“His lordship does not know all that he is taking from me,” she said rather sadly. Then she looked at the lawyer. “Will you tell him, if you please,” she said, “that I should rather not have the money?”
“The money!” Mr. Havisham exclaimed. “You can not mean the income he proposed to settle upon you!”
“Yes,” she answered, quite simply; “I think I should rather not have it. I am obliged to accept the house, and I thank him for it, because it makes it possible for me to be near my child; but I have a little money of my own,—enough to live simply upon,—and I should rather not take the other. As he dislikes me so much, I should feel a little as if I were selling Cedric to him. I am giving him up only because I love him enough to forget myself for his good, and because his father would wish it to be so.”
Mr. Havisham rubbed his chin.
“This is very strange,” he said. “He will be very angry. He won’t understand it.”
“I think he will understand it after he thinks it over,” she said. “I do not really need the money, and why should I accept luxuries from the man who hates me so much that he takes my little boy from me—his son’s child?”
Mr. Havisham looked reflective for a few moments.
“I will deliver your message,” he said afterward.
And then the dinner was brought in and they sat down together, the big cat taking a seat on a chair near Cedric’s and purring majestically throughout the meal.
When, later in the evening, Mr. Havisham presented himself at the Castle, he was taken at once to the Earl. He found him sitting by the fire in a luxurious easy-chair, his foot on a gout-stool. He looked at the lawyer sharply from under his shaggy eyebrows, but Mr. Havisham could see that, in spite of his pretense at calmness, he was nervous and secretly excited.
“Well,” he said; “well, Havisham, come back, have you? What’s the news?”
“Lord Fauntleroy and his mother are at Court Lodge,” replied Mr. Havisham. “They bore the voyage very well and are in excellent health.”
The Earl made a half-impatient sound and moved his hand restlessly.
“Glad to hear it,” he said brusquely. “So far, so good. Make yourself comfortable. Have a glass of wine and settle down. What else?”
“His lordship remains with his mother tonight. Tomorrow I will bring him to the Castle.”
The Earl’s elbow was resting on the arm of his chair; he put his hand up and shielded his eyes with it.
“Well,” he said; “go on. You know I told you not to write to me about the matter, and I know nothing whatever about it. What kind of a lad is he? I don’t care about the mother; what sort of a lad is he?”
Mr. Havisham drank a little of the glass of port he had poured out for himself, and sat holding it in his hand.
“It is rather difficult to judge of the character of a child of seven,” he said cautiously.
The Earl’s prejudices were very intense. He looked up quickly and uttered a rough word.
“A fool, is he?” he exclaimed. “Or a clumsy cub? His American blood tells, does it?”
“I do not think it has injured him, my lord,” replied the lawyer in his dry, deliberate fashion. “I don’t know much about children, but I thought him rather a fine lad.”
His manner of speech was always deliberate and unenthusiastic, but he made it a trifle more so than usual. He had a shrewd fancy that it would be better that the Earl should judge for himself, and be quite unprepared for his first interview with his grandson.
“Healthy and well-grown?” asked my lord.
“Apparently very healthy, and quite well-grown,” replied the lawyer.
“Straight-limbed and well enough to look at?” demanded the Earl.
A very slight smile touched Mr. Havisham’s thin lips. There rose up before his mind’s eye the picture he had left at Court Lodge,—the beautiful, graceful child’s body lying upon the tiger-skin in careless comfort—the bright, tumbled hair spread on the rug—the bright, rosy boy’s face.
“Rather a handsome boy, I think, my lord, as boys go,” he said, “though I am scarcely a judge, perhaps. But you will find him somewhat different from most English children, I dare say.”
“I haven’t a doubt of that,” snarled the Earl, a twinge of gout seizing him. “A lot of impudent little beggars, those American children; I’ve heard that often enough.”
“It is not exactly impudence