书城公版Letters on Literature
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第44章 Volume 2(8)

I stood staring at him for many minutes after he had ceased to speak,fascinated by the terrible serpent-like gaze,until he continued with a welcome change of countenance:'I will not speak again to you upon this --topic until one month has passed.You shall have time to consider the relative advantages of the two courses which are open to you.I should be sorry to hurry you to a decision.I am satisfied with having stated my feelings upon the subject,and pointed out to you the path of duty.

Remember this day month--not one word sooner.'

He then rose,and I left the room,much agitated and exhausted.

This interview,all the circumstances attending it,but most particularly the formidable expression of my uncle's countenance while he talked,though hypothetically,of murder,combined to arouse all my worst suspicions of him.I dreaded to look upon the face that had so recently worn the appalling livery of guilt and malignity.I regarded it with the mingled fear and loathing with which one looks upon an object which has tortured them in a nightmare.

In a few days after the interview,the particulars of which I have just related,Ifound a note upon my toilet-table,and on opening it I read as follows:

'MY DEAR LADY MARGARET,'You will be perhaps surprised to see a strange face in your room to-day.Ihave dismissed your Irish maid,and secured a French one to wait upon you--a step rendered necessary by my proposing shortly to visit the Continent,with all my family.

'Your faithful guardian,'ARTHUR T--N.'

On inquiry,I found that my faithful attendant was actually gone,and far on her way to the town of Galway;and in her stead there appeared a tall,raw-boned,ill-looking,elderly Frenchwoman,whose sullen and presuming manners seemed to imply that her vocation had never before been that of a lady's-maid.I could not help regarding her as a creature of my uncle's,and therefore to be dreaded,even had she been in no other way suspicious.

Days and weeks passed away without any,even a momentary doubt upon my part,as to the course to be pursued by me.

The allotted period had at length elapsed;the day arrived on which I was to communicate my decision to my uncle.

Although my resolution had never for a moment wavered,I could not shake of the dread of the approaching colloquy;and my heart sunk within me as I heard the expected summons.

I had not seen my cousin Edward since the occurrence of the grand eclaircissment;he must have studiously avoided me--I suppose from policy,it could not have been from delicacy.I was prepared for a terrific burst of fury from my uncle,as soon as I should make known my determination;and I not unreasonably feared that some act of violence or of intimidation would next be resorted to.

Filled with these dreary forebodings,I fearfully opened the study door,and the next minute I stood in my uncle's presence.He received me with a politeness which I dreaded,as arguing a favourable anticipation respecting the answer which I was to give;and after some slight delay,he began by saying:

'It will be a relief to both of us,I believe,to bring this conversation as soon as possible to an issue.You will excuse me,then,my dear niece,for speaking with an abruptness which,under other circumstances,would be unpardonable.You have,I am certain,given the subject of our last interview fair and serious con-sideration;and I trust that you are now prepared with candour to lay your answer before me.A few words will suffice--we perfectly understand one another.'

He paused,and I,though feeling that I stood upon a mine which might in an instant explode,nevertheless answered with perfect composure:

'I must now,sir,make the same reply which I did upon the last occasion,and Ireiterate the declaration which I then made,that I never can nor will,while life and reason remain,consent to a union with my cousin Edward.'

This announcement wrought no apparent change in Sir Arthur,except that he became deadly,almost lividly pale.He seemed lost in dark thought for a minute,and then with a slight effort said:

'You have answered me honestly and directly;and you say your resolution is unchangeable.Well,would it had been otherwise--would it had been otherwise--but be it as it is--I am satisfied.'

He gave me his hand--it was cold and damp as death;under an assumed calmness,it was evident that he was fearfully agitated.He continued to hold my hand with an almost painful pressure,while,as if unconsciously,seeming to forget my presence,he muttered:

'Strange,strange,strange,indeed! fatuity,helpless fatuity!'there was here a long pause.'Madness INDEED to strain a cable that is rotten to the very heart--it must break--and then--all goes.'

There was again a pause of some minutes,after which,suddenly changing his voice and manner to one of wakeful alacrity,he exclaimed:

'Margaret,my son Edward shall plague you no more.He leaves this country on to-morrow for France--he shall speak no more upon this subject--never,never more--whatever events depended upon your answer must now take their own course;but,as for this fruitless proposal,it has been tried enough;it can be repeated no more.'

At these words he coldly suffered my hand to drop,as if to express his total abandonment of all his projected schemes of alliance;and certainly the action,with the accompanying words,produced upon my mind a more solemn and depressing effect than I believed possible to have been caused by the course which I had determined to pursue;it struck upon my heart with an awe and heaviness which WILL accompany the accomplishment of an important and irrevocable act,even though no doubt or scruple remains to make it possible that the agent should wish it undone.

'Well,'said my uncle,after a little time,'we now cease to speak upon this topic,never to resume it again.Remember you shall have no farther uneasiness from Edward;he leaves Ireland for France on to-morrow;this will be a relief to you.

May I depend upon your HONOUR that no word touching the subject of this interview shall ever escape you?'