Незнакомка из Уайлдфелл-Холла. Уровень 2 / The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. Энн Бронте

will know some time – but not now – my head aches terribly,” she said, “and I must have some repose.”

      “But if you tell me,” I persisted: “it will ease your mind; and I shall then know how to comfort you.”

      She shook her head despondingly.

      “You will blame me – perhaps even more than I deserve.”

      “You, Helen? Impossible!”

      “I did not know the strength and depth of your feelings.”

      She clasped her hands upon her knee, and calmly said,

      “Tomorrow, if you meet me on the moor about midday, I will tell you all.”

      “I will; but answer me this one question first. Do you love me?”

      “I will not answer it!”

      “Then I will conclude you do; and so good-night.”

      She turned from me. I took her hand and fervently kissed it.

      “Gilbert, do leave me!” she cried.

      It was cruel to disobey. I left.

      I went up to the garden wall, and stood there. Then I vaulted over the barrier, unable to resist the temptation: I wanted to see her one more time.

      I looked. Her chair was vacant: so was the room. But at that moment someone opened the door, and a voice – her voice! said,

      “Let's come out. I want to see the moon, and breathe the evening air.”

      I stood in the shadow of the tall bush, which was standing between the window and the porch. I saw two figures in the moonlight: Mrs. Graham and another, a young man, slender and rather tall. O heavens, how my temples throbbed! It was Mr. Lawrence!

      “I must leave this place, Frederick,” she said, “I never can be happy here, nor anywhere else, indeed.”

      “But where can you find a better place?” replied he, “so secluded – so near me, if you think anything of that.”

      “Yes,” interrupted she, “it is all I wish, if they only leave me alone.”

      “But wherever you go, Helen, there will be the same sources of annoyance. I cannot lose you:I must go with you, or come to you. There are fools elsewhere, as well as here.”

      They sauntered slowly past me, and I heard no more of their discourse. But he put his arm round her waist, while she lovingly rested her hand on his shoulder. Then a tremulous darkness obscured my sight, my heart sickened and my head burned like fire. I dashed myself on the ground and lay there in a paroxysm of anger and despair – how long, I cannot say. Then I rose and journeyed homewards.

      “Oh, Gilbert! Where have you been? Do come in and take your supper, ” my mother said. “But you look ill! Oh, gracious! What is the matter?”

      “Nothing, nothing – give me a candle.”

      “But won't you take some supper?”

      “No; I want to go to bed,” said I.

      “Oh, Gilbert, how you tremble!” exclaimed she. “How white you look! Tell me what it is? Has anything happened?”

      “It's nothing!” cried I.

      What a miserable night it was! I was deceived, duped, hopeless, my angel was not an angel!

      Chapter XIII

      “My dear Gilbert, can you be a little more amiable?” said my mother one morning. “You say nothing has happened to grieve you, and yet I never saw anyone so altered as you within these last few days. You haven't a good word for anybody. You don't know how it spoils you.”

      I took up a book, and opened it on the table before me. My mischievous brother suddenly called out,

      “Don't touch him, mother! He'll bite! He's a tiger in human form. He nearly fractured my skull because I was singing a pretty, inoffensive love-song, on purpose to amuse him.”

      “I told you to hold your noise, Fergus,” said I.

      I recollected that I had business with Robert Wilson. I was going to buy his field.

      He was absent; and I stepped into the parlour and waited. Mrs. Wilson was busy in the kitchen, but the room was not empty. There sat Miss Wilson, she was chattering with Eliza Millward. However, I determined to be cool and civil. Eliza asked:

      “Have you seen Mrs. Graham lately?”

      “Not lately,” I replied.

      “What! Are you beginning to tire already?”

      “I prefer not to speak of her now.”

      “Ah! You have at length discovered that your divinity is not quite the immaculate – ”

      “I desired you not to speak of her, Miss Eliza.”

      “Oh, I beg your pardon! I perceive Cupid's arrows are too sharp for you:the wounds are not yet healed and bleed afresh.”

      “Mr. Markham feels,” interposed Miss Wilson, “that this name is unworthy to be mentioned.”

      I rose and walked to the window. Mr. Wilson soon arrived. I quickly concluded the bargain. Then I gladly quitted the house.

      I ascended the hill. Then I beheld Mrs. Graham and her son. They saw me; and Arthur already was running to meet me; but I immediately turned back and walked steadily homeward. I determined never to encounter his mother again.

      This incident agitated and disturbed me. Cupid's arrows were not too sharp for me, but they were barbed and deeply rooted. I was not able to wrench them from my heart. So I was miserable for the remainder of the day.

      Chapter XIV

      Next morning I mounted my horse. It was a dull, drizzly day. As I trotted along, I heard another horse at no great distance behind me. It was Mr. Lawrence! He began to talk about the weather and the crops. I gave the briefest possible answers to his queries and observations. He asked if my horse was lame. I replied with a look, at which he placidly smiled.

      “Markham,” said he, “why do you quarrel with your friends? Your hopes are defeated; but how am I to blame for it? I warned you beforehand, you know, but you – ”

      I seized my whip by the small end, and brought the other down upon his head. He reeled a moment in his saddle, and then fell backward to the ground.

      I left the fellow to his fate, and galloped away. Shortly, however, the effervescence began to abate, and I turned and went back. It was no generous impulse; it was, simply, the voice of conscience.

      Mr. Lawrence and his pony both altered their positions in some degree. The pony wandered eight or ten yards further away; and he managed, somehow, to remove himself from the middle of the road. He was looking very white and sickly, and holding his cambric handkerchief (now more red than white) to his head.

      I dismounted, fastened my horse to the nearest tree, and picked up his hat. I was going to clap it on his head. But he took it from my hand, and scornfully cast it aside.

      “It's good enough for you,” I muttered.

      Then I wanted to catch his pony and bring it to him.

      “Here, you fellow – scoundrel – dog – give me your hand, and I'll help you to mount.”

      No; he turned from me in disgust. I attempted to take him by the arm. He shrank away.

      “Well! You may sit there till doomsday.”

      “Let me alone, if you please.”

      “Humph; with all my heart. You may go to the devil – and say I sent you.”

      I threw him my handkerchief, as his own was saturated with blood. He took it and cast it back to me in abhorrence and contempt. I remounted my horse and trotted away to the town.

      Bad news flies fast. It was hardly four o'clock when I got home, but my mother gravely accosted me with,

      “Oh,