The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. Энн БронтеЧитать онлайн книгу.
by whom I was collared in the passage, on coming down, and wellnigh jerked off my equilibrium, and who, in correction for his impudence, received a resounding whack over the sconce, which, however, sustained no serious injury from the infliction; as, besides being more than commonly thick, it was protected by a redundant shock of short, reddish curls, that my mother called auburn.
On entering the parlour, we found that honoured lady seated in her armchair at the fireside, working away at her knitting, according to her usual custom, when she had nothing else to do. She had swept the hearth, and made a bright blazing fire for our reception; the servant had just brought in the tea-tray; and Rose was producing the sugar-basin and tea-caddy, from the cupboard in the black, oak sideboard, that shone like polished ebony, in the cheerful parlour twilight.
‘Well! here they both are,’ cried my mother, looking round upon us without retarding the motion of her nimble fingers, and glittering needles. ‘Now shut the door, and come to the fire, while Rose gets the tea ready; I’m sure you must be starved; – and tell me what you’ve been about all day; – I like to know what my children have been about.’
‘I’ve been breaking in the grey colt – no easy business that – directing the ploughing of the last wheat stubble – for the ploughboy has not the sense to direct himself – and carrying out a plan for the extensive and efficient draining of the low meadow-lands.’
‘That’s my brave boy! – and Fergus – what have you been doing?’
‘Badger-baiting.’
And here he proceeded to give a particular account of his sport, and the respective traits of prowess evinced by the badger and the dogs; my mother pretending to listen with deep attention, and watching his animated countenance with a degree of maternal admiration I thought highly disproportioned to its object.
‘It’s time you should be doing something else, Fergus,’ said I, as soon as a momentary pause in his narration allowed me to get in a word.
‘What can I do?’ replied he, ‘my mother won’t let me go to sea or enter the army; and I’m determined to do nothing else – except make myself such a nuisance to you all, that you will be thankful to get rid of me, on any terms.’
Our parent soothingly stroked his stiff, short curls. He growled, and tried to look sulky, and then, we all took our seats at the table, in obedience to the thrice repeated summons of Rose.
‘Now take your tea,’ said she; ‘and I’ll tell you what I’ve been doing. I’ve been to call on the Wilsons; and it’s a thousand pities you didn’t go with me, Gilbert, for Eliza Millward was there!’
‘Well! what of her?’
‘Oh nothing! – I’m not going to tell you about her; – only that she’s a nice, amusing little thing, when she is in a merry humour, and I shouldn’t mind calling her –’
‘Hush, hush, my dear! your brother has no such idea!’ whispered my mother earnestly, holding up her finger.
‘Well,’ resumed Rose; ‘I was going to tell you an important piece of news I heard there – I’ve been bursting with it ever since. You know it was reported a month ago, that somebody was going to take Wildfell Hall – and – what do you think? It has actually been inhabited above a week! – and we never knew!’
‘Impossible!’ cried my mother.
‘Preposterous!!!’ shrieked Fergus.
‘It has indeed! – and by a single lady!’
‘Good gracious, my dear! The place is in ruins!’
‘She has had two or three rooms made habitable; and there she lives, all alone – except an old woman for a servant!’
‘Oh dear! that spoils it – I’d hoped she was a witch,’ observed Fergus, while carving his inch-thick slice of bread and butter.
‘Nonsense, Fergus! But isn’t it strange mamma?’
‘Strange! I can hardly believe it.’
‘But you may believe it; for Jane Wilson has seen her. She went with her mother, who, of course, when she heard of a stranger being in the neighbourhood, would be on pins and needles till she had seen her and got all she could out of her. She is called Mrs Graham, and she is in mourning – not widow’s weeds, but slightish mourning – and she is quite young, they say, – not above five or six and twenty, – but so reserved! They tried all they could to find out who she was, and where she came from, and all about her, but neither Mrs Wilson, with her pertinacious and impertinent home thrusts, nor Miss Wilson, with her skilful manoeuvering, could manage to elicit a single satisfactory answer, or even a casual remark, or chance expression calculated to allay their curiosity, or throw the faintest ray of light upon her history, circumstances, or connections. Moreover, she was barely civil to them, and evidently better pleased to say “goodbye,” than “how do you do.” But Eliza Millward says her father intends to call upon her soon, to offer some pastoral advice, which he fears she needs, as, though she is known to have entered the neighbourhood early last week, she did not make her appearance at church on Sunday; and she – Eliza, that is – will beg to accompany him, and is sure she can succeed in wheedling something out of her – you know, Gilbert, she can do anything. And we should call some time, mamma; it’s only proper, you know.’
‘Of course, my dear. Poor thing! how lonely she must feel!’
‘And pray be quick about it; and mind you bring me word how much sugar she puts in her tea, and what sort of caps and aprons she wears, and all about it; for I don’t know how I can live till I know,’ said Fergus, very gravely.
But if he intended the speech to be hailed as a masterstroke of wit, he signally failed, for nobody laughed. However, he was not much disconcerted at that; for when he had taken a mouthful of bread and butter, and was about to swallow a gulp of tea, the humour of the thing burst upon him with such irresistible force, that he was obliged to jump up from the table, and rush snorting and choking from the room; and a minute after, was heard screaming in fearful agony in the garden.
As for me, I was hungry, and contented myself with silently demolishing the tea, ham, and toast, while my mother and sister went on talking, and continued to discuss the apparent, or non-apparent circumstances, and probable or improbable history of the mysterious lady; but I must confess that, after my brother’s misadventure, I once or twice raised the cup to my lips, and put it down again without daring to taste the contents, lest I should injure my dignity by a similar explosion.
The next day, my mother and Rose hastened to pay their compliments to the fair recluse; and came back but little wiser than they went; though my mother declared she did not regret the journey, for, if she had not gained much good, she flattered herself she had imparted some, and that was better: she had given some useful advice, which, she hoped, would not be thrown away; for Mrs Graham, though she said little to any purpose, and appeared somewhat self-opinionated, seemed not incapable of reflection, – though she did not know where she had been all her life, poor thing, for she betrayed a lamentable ignorance on certain points, and had not even the sense to be ashamed of it.
‘On what points, mother?’ asked I.
‘On household matters, and all the little niceties of cookery, and such things, that every lady ought to be familiar with, whether she be required to make a practical use of her knowledge or not. I gave her some useful pieces of information, however, and several excellent receipts, the value of which she evidently could not appreciate, for she begged I would not trouble myself, as she lived in such a plain, quiet way, that she was sure she should never make use of them. “No matter, my dear,” said I; “it is what every respectable female ought to know; – and besides, though you are alone now, you will not be always so; you have been married, and probably – I might say almost certainly – will be again.” “You are mistaken there ma’am,” said she, almost haughtily; “I am certain I never shall.” – But I told her I knew better.’
‘Some romantic young widow,