The Palliser Novels: Complete Series - All 6 Books in One Edition. Anthony TrollopeЧитать онлайн книгу.
that man?”
“No;—if I thought so, I would have no hand in doing it. She would be miserable with him, and make him miserable as well. She does not really love him. He loves her, but I’ve nothing to do with that. It’s nothing to me if he breaks his heart.”
“I shall break mine if you don’t let me go to bed.”
With that she went away and hurried along the corridor, till she came to her cousin’s room. She found Alice still seated at the window, or rather kneeling on the chair, with her head out through the lattice. “Why, you lazy creature,” said Kate; “I declare you haven’t touched a thing.”
“You said we’d do it together.”
“But he has kept me. Oh, what a man he is! If he ever does get married, what will his wife do with him?”
“I don’t think he ever will,” said Alice.
“Don’t you? I dare say you understand him better than I do. Sometimes I think that the only thing wanting to make him thoroughly good, is a wife. But it isn’t every woman that would do for him. And the woman who marries him should have high courage. There are moments with him when he is very wild; but he never is cruel and never hard. Is Mr Grey ever hard?”
“Never; nor yet wild.”
“Oh, certainly not that. I’m quite sure he’s never wild.”
“When you say that, Kate, I know that you mean to abuse him.”
“No; upon my word. What’s the good of abusing him to you? I like a man to be wild,—wild in my sense. You knew that before.”
“I wonder whether you’d like a wild man for yourself?”
“Ah! that’s a question I’ve never asked myself. I’ve been often curious to consider what sort of husband would suit you, but I’ve had very few thoughts about a husband for myself. The truth is, I’m married to George. Ever since—”
“Ever since what?”
“Since you and he were parted, I’ve had nothing to do in life but to stick to him. And I shall do so to the end,—unless one thing should happen.”
“And what’s that?”
“Unless you should become his wife after all. He will never marry anybody else.”
“Kate, you shouldn’t allude to such a thing now. You know that it’s impossible.”
“Well, perhaps so. As far as I’m concerned, it is all the better for me. If George ever married, I should have nothing to do in the world;—literally nothing—nothing—nothing—nothing!”
“Kate, don’t talk in that way,” and Alice came up to her and embraced her.
“Go away,” said she. “Go, Alice; you and I must part. I cannot bear it any longer. You must know it all. When you are married to John Grey, our friendship must be over. If you became George’s wife I should become nobody. I’ve nothing else in the world. You and he would be so all-sufficient for each other, that I should drop away from you like an old garment. But I’d give up all, everything, every hope I have, to see you become George’s wife. I know myself not to be good. I know myself to be very bad, and yet I care nothing for myself. Don’t Alice, don’t; I don’t want your caresses. Caress him, and I’ll kneel at your feet and cover them with kisses.” She had now thrown herself upon a sofa, and had turned her face away to the wall.
“Kate, you shouldn’t speak in that way.”
“Of course I shouldn’t,—but I do.”
“You, who know everything, must know that I cannot marry your brother,—even if he wished it.”
“He does wish it.”
“Not though I were under no other engagement.”
“And why not?” said Kate, again starting up. “What is there to separate you from George now, but that unfortunate affair, that will end in the misery of you all. Do you think I can’t see? Don’t I know which of the two men you like best?”
“You are making me sorry, Kate, that I have ventured to come here in your brother’s company. It is not only unkind of you to talk to me in this way, but worse than that—it is indelicate.”
“Oh, indelicate! How I do hate that word. If any word in the language reminds me of a whited sepulchre it is that;—all clean and polished outside with filth and rottenness within. Are your thoughts delicate? that’s the thing. You are engaged to marry John Grey. That may be delicate enough if you love him truly, and feel yourself fitted to be his wife; but it’s about the most indelicate thing you can do, if you love any one better than him. Delicacy with many women is like their cleanliness. Nothing can be nicer than the whole outside get-up, but you wouldn’t wish to answer for anything beneath.”
“If you think ill of me like that—”
“No; I don’t think ill of you. How can I think ill of you when I know that all your difficulties have come from him? It hasn’t been your fault; it has been his throughout. It is he who has driven you to sacrifice yourself on this altar. If we can, both of us, manage to lay aside all delicacy and pretence, and dare to speak the truth, we shall acknowledge that it is so. Had Mr Grey come to you while things were smooth between you and George, would you have thought it possible that he could be George’s rival in your estimation? It is Hyperion to Satyr.”
“And which is the Satyr?”
“I’ll leave your heart to tell you. You know what is the darling wish of my heart. But, Alice, if I thought that Mr Grey was to you Hyperion,—if I thought that you could marry him with that sort of worshipping, idolatrous love which makes a girl proud as well as happy in her marriage, I wouldn’t raise a little finger to prevent it.”
To this Alice made no answer, and then Kate allowed the matter to drop. Alice made no answer, though she felt that she was allowing judgement to go against her by default in not doing so. She had intended to fight bravely, and to have maintained the excellence of her present position as the affianced bride of Mr Grey, but she felt that she had failed. She felt that she had, in some sort, acknowledged that the match was one to be deplored;—that her words in her own defence would by no means have satisfied Mr Grey, if Mr Grey could have heard them;—that they would have induced him to offer her back her troth rather than have made him happy as a lover. But she had nothing further to say. She could do something. She would hurry home and bid him name the earliest day he pleased. After that her cousin would cease to disturb her in her career.
It was nearly one o’clock before the two girls began to prepare for their morning start, and Alice, when they had finished their packing, seemed to be worn out with fatigue. “If you are tired, dear, we’ll put it off,” said Kate. “Not for worlds,” said Alice. “For half a word we’ll do it,” continued Kate. “I’ll slip out to George and tell him, and there’s nothing he’d like so much.” But Alice would not consent.
About two they got into bed, and punctually at six they were at the railway station. “Don’t speak to me,” said George, when he met them at their door in the passage. “I shall only yawn in your face.” However, they were in time,—which means abroad that they were at the station half an hour before their train started,—and they went on upon their journey to Strasbourg.
There is nothing further to be told of their tour. They were but two days and nights on the road from Basle to London; and during those two days and nights neither George nor Kate spoke a word to Alice of her marriage, nor was any allusion made to the balcony at the inn, or to the bridge over the river.
Chapter VII.
Aunt Greenow
Kate