Читать книгу Chetwynd Calverley - Ainsworth William Harrison - Страница 1

One summer evening, Mildred Calverley, accounted the prettiest girl in Cheshire, who had been seated in the drawing-room of her father’s house, Ouselcroft, near Daresbury, vainly trying to read, passed out from the open French window, and made her way towards two magnificent cedars of Lebanon, at the farther end of the lawn.

She was still pacing the lawn with distracted steps, when a well-known voice called out to her, and a tall figure emerged from the shade of the cedars, and Mildred uttered a cry of mingled surprise and delight.

“Is that you, Chetwynd?”

“Ay I don’t you know your own brother, Mildred?”

And as they met, they embraced each other affectionately.

“Have you been here long, Chetwynd?” she asked. “Why didn’t you come into the house?”

“I didn’t know whether I should be welcome, Mildred. Tell me how all is going on?”

“Then you have not received my letters, addressed to Bellagio and Milan? I wrote to tell you that papa is very seriously ill, and begged you to return immediately. Did you get the letters?”

“No; in fact, I have heard nothing at all from any one of you, directly nor indirectly, for more than two months.”

“How extraordinary! But how can the letters have miscarried?”

“I might give a guess, but you would think me unjustly suspicious. Is my father really ill, Mildred?”

“Really very seriously ill. About a month ago he caught a bad cold, and has never since been able to shake it off. Doctor Spencer, who has been attending him the whole time, didn’t apprehend any danger at first; but now he almost despairs of papa’s recovery.”

“Gracious heaven!” exclaimed the young man; “I didn’t expect to be greeted by this sad intelligence!”

“You have only just come in time to see papa alive! Within the last few days a great change for the worse has taken place in him. Mamma has been most attentive, and has scarcely ever left him.”

“She is acting her part well, it seems,” cried Chetwynd, bitterly. “But don’t call her mamma when you speak of her to me, Mildred. Let it be Mrs. Calverley, if you please.”

“I don’t wish to pain you, Chetwynd, but I must tell you the truth. Mrs. Calverley, as you desire me to call her, has shown the greatest devotion to her husband, and Doctor Spencer cannot speak too highly of her. She has had a great deal to go through, I assure you. Since his illness, poor papa has been very irritable and fretful, and would have tried anybody’s patience – but she has an angelic temper.”

“You give her an excellent character, Mildred,” he remarked, in a sceptical tone.

“I give her the character she deserves, Chetwynd. Everybody will tell you the same thing. All the servants idolise her. You know what my opinion of her is, and how dearly I love her. She is quite a model of a wife.”

“Don’t speak of her in those rapturous terms to me, Mildred, unless you desire to drive me away. I can’t bear it. I wish to think kindly of my father now. He has caused me much unhappiness, but I forgive him. I never can forgive her.”

“I own you have a good deal to complain of, Chetwynd, and I have always pitied you.”

“You are the only person who does pity me, I fancy, Mildred. It is not often that a man is robbed of his intended bride by his own father. It is quite true that Teresa and I had quarrelled, and that my father declared if I didn’t marry her, he would marry her himself. But I didn’t expect he would put his threats into execution – still less that she would accept him. I didn’t know the fickleness of your sex.”

“It is entirely your own fault, Chetwynd, that this has happened,” said his sister. “But I know how much you have suffered in consequence of your folly and hasty temper, and I won’t, therefore, reproach you. Whatever your feelings may be, it is your duty to control them now. Papa passed a very bad night, and sent this morning for Mr. Carteret, the attorney, and gave him instructions to prepare his will.”

“I always understood he had made his will, Mildred. He made a handsome settlement upon – his wife?”

“It is as I tell you, Chetwynd. Mr. Carteret was alone with him in his room for nearly two hours this morning; and I believe he was directed to prepare the will without delay, and to return with it this evening.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Chetwynd, gloomily. “That bodes ill to me – to both of us, in fact. He will leave all his property to Teresa – to his wife, I am certain of it.”

“Nothing of the sort, Chetwynd!” cried his sister. “Come into the house, and see him.”

“If he has made up his mind to commit this act of folly and injustice, all I can say won’t prevent it. Ah, here is Carteret!” he exclaimed, as a mail phaeton entered the lodge gate, and drove up to the hall door.

The attorney and his clerk descended; and, leaving his carriage to the care of a groom, Mr. Carteret rang the bell.

“Come in at once, Chetwynd, and you will be able to see papa before Mr. Carteret is admitted. Come with me – quick!”

Chetwynd suffered himself to be persuaded, and passed through the drawing-room window with his sister.

But he was too late. The attorney and his clerk had already gone upstairs.