Читать книгу The Shield of Love - B. L. Farjeon - Страница 6

CHARLOTTE rose, work in hand, and went toward the door, they following her with their eyes, desiring her obedience and approving of it, and yet curious to ascertain what was passing in her mind. For that she was unusually stirred was evident from her manner, which was that of one who had been beaten down all her life, and in whom the seeds of rebellion were struggling to force themselves into light. Suddenly she turned and faced them, and they saw in her eyes the spirit of a brave resolve.

"You have spoken plainly to me," she said. "I must speak plainly to you."

"Go to your room this instant," sternly said her mother.

That the hard cold voice should have given her fresh courage, was a novel experience to them; generally it compelled obedience, but now it had failed. It seemed, indeed, as if she had burst the bonds of oppression which had held her fast for so many years.

"Not till I have said what I have to say, mother. It is something you ought to hear." She paused a moment before she continued. "It is three years ago this very day since we had our last conversation about Mr. Dixon."

"Really!" exclaimed Mrs. Fox-Cordery, and would have expressed herself more violently had not her son restrained her with a warning look, which meant, "Let her go on; she will be sure to commit herself."

"Mr. Dixon was in the habit for some time of coming regularly to the house, and his visits formed the pleasantest remembrances in my life, with the exception of the happy years when my dear father was alive."

"Your dear father, indeed!" was Mrs. Fox-Cordery's scornful comment.

"From the date of my dear father's death," said Charlotte steadily; she was speaking now calmly and resolutely, "Mr. Dixon is the only gentleman who has shown me any consideration, and who has made me feel that I have some claim to a higher position in this house than that of a menial. I am ignorant of the nature of his business with Fox----"

"I will enlighten you," interposed Mr. Fox-Cordery; "he was in my employ, a paid servant."

"He served you faithfully, I am sure; it is not in his nature to be otherwise than faithful in all that he undertakes. He was received here as an equal, and he treated me as such. Neither you nor my mother ever did. I have no memory of one kind look I have received from either of you; and it is hardly to be wondered at that I should have felt grateful to the gentleman who spoke to me in a kind and gentle voice, and who showed in his manner toward me that he regarded me as a lady. He awoke within me a sense of self-respect which might have slept till I was an old woman, whose life, since the death of my father, had never been brightened by a ray of love. He awoke within me, also, a sense of shame; and I saw how humiliating it was that I should be dressed as I am dressed now, in clothes which a common servant would be ashamed to wear. But I had no choice. You gave me food, and you gave me nothing else, not even thanks. You pay your servants wages; you might have paid me something so that I could have bought clothes in which I should not feel degraded. I have not a shilling I can call my own----"

"Don't stop me, Fox," cried Mrs. Fox-Cordery, thoroughly enraged; "I must speak! You shameless creature, how dare you utter these falsehoods? You have a beautiful gown, and a hat, and boots, and everything a woman can wish for; and you stand there, and deny it to my face!"

"I do deny it, mother. Are these things really mine? If they are, why do you keep them locked up in your wardrobe, and why do you allow me to wear them only when I go out with you, or when any particular visitor comes to the house?"

"Because you are not fit to be trusted, you ungrateful child!"

"No, mother, it is not that. You allow me to put them on sometimes because you cannot with decency allow me to be seen as I am. You forget, mother; you have told me over and over again that the clothes I wear--even those I have on now--are not my own, and are only lent to me."

"And so they are. It was not your money that paid for them."

"It could not well have been, seeing I never had any. Will you give them to me to-day, so that I may put them on, and not feel ashamed when I look in the glass?"

"To enable you to go flaunting about, and disgracing yourself and us? No, I will not."

"You are at your shifty tricks again, Charlotte," said Mr. Fox-Cordery. "Finish with your Mr. Dixon."

"Yes, I will do so if you will let me. All the time he was visiting here you said nothing to me to show you did not wish me to be intimate with him."

"We were not aware of what was going on," said Mrs. Fox-Cordery.

"We concealed nothing from you. Three years ago he asked me to be his wife. I answered gladly, yes, and wondered what he could see in me to stoop so low."

"Upon my word!" ejaculated her mother. "And this from a Fox-Cordery!"

"He explained that he was not in good circumstances, and that I would have to wait till he could furnish a home. I said that I would wait for him all my life, and so we were engaged. Then he went from me to you, Fox, and to mother, and asked for your consent."

"And it so happened," said Mr. Fox-Cordery, "that it was the very day on which I discovered that he was not fit to be trusted."

"He is above doing a dishonorable action," said Charlotte, with generous warmth, "and whatever it was you discovered it was not to his discredit."

"That is as good as saying," cried Mrs. Fox-Cordery, advancing a step toward Charlotte, and would have advanced farther if her son had not laid his hand upon her arm, "that the discovery your brother speaks of was to _his_ discredit, and that it was _he_ who was guilty of a dishonorable action. You shall be punished for making these comparisons between your brother and such a creature as Mr. Dixon. My dear Fox, have we not heard enough?"

"No," replied Mr. Fox-Cordery, smiling blandly upon his sister. "We must not give Charlotte the opportunity of saying that she is unfairly treated. Speak freely, Charlotte; you are unbosoming yourself to your best friends. Do not be afraid. We will protect and take care of you. Charlotte harbors none but the most affectionate feelings for us, mother. If in a moment of excitement she says something that is not exactly loving and dutiful, we will excuse her. She will be sorry for it afterward, and that shall be her punishment. Go on, my dear."

"It is scarcely possible," said Charlotte, with a look of repugnance at her brother, "that we can be always right, not even the best of us; sometimes we are mistaken in our judgment, and Fox is when he speaks harshly of Mr. Dixon."

"Convince me of it, my dear," said Mr. Fox-Cordery, nodding genially at her, "and I will make the handsomest apology to him. I will have it written out and illuminated, and he shall hang it, framed, in his room. You cannot complain that I am unfair, after that."

"I was not present when Mr. Dixon spoke to you about our engagement, but I heard high words pass between you."

"Listening at keyholes!" exclaimed Mrs. Fox-Cordery scornfully. "What next?"

"No, no, mother," expostulated Mr. Fox-Cordery; "be just. It was quite natural that Charlotte should listen. Everybody would not have done so, but then Charlotte is not everybody."

"My happiness was at stake," said Charlotte, "and I was anxious."

"You hear, mother. Charlotte was anxious."

"I was not eavesdropping," said Charlotte. "I was downstairs, and your voices forced themselves upon me. Shortly afterward Mr. Dixon came down and told me that there had been a disagreeable scene between you, and that you would not listen to what he had to say about our engagement. 'But I will not give you up,' he said, 'unless you turn away from me.' I answered that it depended upon him, and that I should be very unhappy if our engagement were broken. He said it should not be broken, and that if I would remain true to him he would remain true to me."

"It has a pastoral sound," observed Mr. Fox-Cordery. "Such charming simplicity!"

"He suggested that, before he left the house, we should speak to you together of an agreement we had entered into, and we came up to you. You cannot have forgotten what passed at that interview."

"You were informed that we would not sanction the engagement."

"And Mr. Dixon, speaking for himself and for me, told you that we held to it, and that we had agreed not to think seriously of marriage for three years, during which time he hoped to so improve his position that he would be able to make a home for me. We bound ourselves to this in your presence, and Mr. Dixon said that he would not visit the house without some strong inducement. He has not done so. When he calls this afternoon you will learn why he has come now. During these three years we have corresponded, and have met occasionally in the streets, and have spoken together."

"I believe," remarked Mr. Fox-Cordery, "that servants and their young men are in the habit of meeting in this way."

"I have been no better than a servant," retorted Charlotte, "and many a poor girl has left service to enter into a happy marriage."

"As you are going to do?"

"I do not know. What I wish you and mother to understand is that the three years have expired, and that we do not consider ourselves bound to you any longer."

"Never in the whole course of my life," said Mrs. Fox-Cordery, "did I listen to anything so unladylike and indelicate."

"What it is necessary for you to understand," said Mr. Fox-Cordery, "is that Mr. Dixon will not be permitted to visit you here."

"He will not come to see me here."

"Where, then?"

"I prefer not to tell you."

"You have some idea of a place of meeting?"

"I have something better than an idea, Fox; I have almost a hope."

He repeated her words thoughtfully, "almost a hope," and fixed his eyes upon her face; but he could not read there what he desired to read.

"Have you given any consideration," he asked, "to your circumstances? Do you think that any man would receive you--as you are?"

It was a cruel taunt, and she felt it.

"Yes, I have thought of it," she answered sadly, "and it is a deep trouble to me. If I dared to make an appeal to you----"

"Make it," he said, during the pause that ensued.

"I am your sister, Fox. I have done nothing to disgrace you--nothing of which I should be ashamed. If Mr. Dixon tells me he has a home ready for me, how can I go to him--as I am?"

She looked down at her feet, she spread out her hands piteously, and the tears started to her eyes.

"Well?"

"I think," she said, in an imploring tone, "if father could have seen the future he would have made some provision for me, ever so little, that would enable me to enter a home of my own in a creditable manner."

"What is it, dear Charlotte, that you wish me to do for you?"

"Give me a little money, Fox, to buy a few decent clothes for myself."

"In other words," he said, "furnish you with the means to act in direct opposition to our wishes, to what we are convinced is best for your welfare."

"It is a hard way of expressing it, Fox."

"It is the correct way, Charlotte. I perceive that you are speaking more humbly now. You are not so defiant. You recognize, after all, that you cannot exactly do without us."

"You are my brother. Mother has only you and me."

"Your brother," said Mrs. Fox-Cordery, in a tone of relentless severity, "has been a blessing to me. It is more than I can say of you."

"I have worked hard, mother; I have had few pleasures; I have not cost you much."

"You have cost us too much. We have been overindulgent to you, and in return you insult your brother and set yourself in direct opposition to us. When your father died he left his property wisely. He knew you were not to be trusted; he knew that your ungrateful, willful nature would bring irreparable mischief upon us if it were left uncontrolled. He said as much to me. 'Charlotte will need a strong hand over her,' he said, 'to prevent her bringing shame to your door.'"

"No, no, mother!"

"His very words. I have never repeated them to you because I wished to spare your feelings. 'To prevent her bringing shame to your door. Keep a strict watch over her for all your sakes.' We have done so in fulfillment of our duty, and now it has come to this."

Mr. Fox-Cordery knew that these words had never been uttered by his father, and that there was not a grain of truth in them, but he thoroughly approved of the unworthy device. When he was working to gain a point, there was no trick that was not justifiable in his eyes; and although upon the present occasion he did not exhibit any consciousness of his mother's duplicity, neither of them was deceived by it or ashamed of it.

Charlotte was dismayed by this pretended voice from the grave. Was it possible that it could be true? Had the words really been spoken by the kind father who had left with her a cherished memory of kindness and love? But her experience of her mother was of such a nature that the doubt did not remain long to torture her. She swept it away; and except for the brief period of pain it caused her, it passed, and left no sting behind. She turned to her brother for a response to her appeal.

"Is the hope you referred to," he asked, "the hope of getting money out of me?"

"No," she replied.

"Oblige me by informing me what it is."

"Not till you answer me," she said firmly.

"Take your answer, then. You shall not have a farthing, not one farthing. Now for your hope, please."

"Will nothing move you, Fox?"

"Nothing."

"You leave me no alternative; I must appeal elsewhere. I think I know someone who will extend a helping hand to me. On the few occasions she has been here, and on which you have allowed me to see her, she has spoken to me with such unvarying kindness that I feel confident she will assist me. She has a tender heart, I am sure, and she will feel for me. I hope you will be happy with her; I hope it from my heart----"

She was not allowed to finish. Her brother, striding forward, seized her by the wrist so fiercely that she gave utterance to a cry of pain. The next moment she released herself--not a difficult matter, for, woman as she was, her strength exceeded his. Mr. Fox-Cordery had so effectually schooled himself that he had an almost perfect command over his features, and it was seldom that he was so forgetful as to show the fury of his soul. Even now, when a tempest was raging within him, there was little indication of it in his face, and but for the glittering of his blue eyes there was no evidence of his agitation. In a cold voice he said:

"No further subterfuge. Name the lady."

"Mrs. Grantham."

Mr. Fox-Cordery and his mother exchanged glances.

"Do you mean," he asked, "that you would go to her and beg?"

"I would go to her," replied Charlotte, "and relate the story of my life--of my outward and inward life, Fox--from beginning to end. If I do, it will be you who drive me to it."

"We now fully realize, my dear mother," said Mr. Fox-Cordery, seating himself and crossing his legs, "Charlotte's character. At length she has revealed her true nature."

"I have nourished a serpent in my bosom," said Mrs. Fox-Cordery.

"She would destroy the hope of my life," continued Mr. Fox-Cordery; "she would blight my happiness forever. Knowing that I love the lady she has named, and that it is the one wish of my heart to make her my wife, she would deliberately blacken my character with her lies, and, under the pretense of a womanly appeal to that lady's feelings, would do her best to wreck my future."

"If my cause is not a just one," said Charlotte, "no appeal of mine will avail with Mrs. Grantham. God forbid that I should step between you and her; but I have my future to look to, as you have yours, and I am weary of the life I have led. A happier life is offered to me, and I cannot relinquish it at your bidding without an effort. If I tamely submitted to your will I should be unworthy of the gentleman who has honored me with his love."

"We will leave that gentleman, as you call him, out of the question. The contention lies between you and me, and I am free to confess that you have the advantage of me. I am no match for you, Charlotte. You are far too clever and cunning for me, and the feelings I entertain for the lady whose name has been dragged into this unhappy discussion place me at your mercy. I have made no secret of these feelings; I have foolishly bared my breast to you and you tread upon it. I yield; I hold out a flag of truce. You will give me time to consider your proposition? It comes upon me as a surprise, you know. I was not prepared for it."

"Yes, Fox, I will give you time," said Charlotte, somewhat bewildered at finding herself master of the situation. She had not expected so sudden a victory. "But there is one thing I wish you would ask mother to do at once."

"What is it, Charlotte?"

"Let me have my clothes that are in her wardrobe. I am wretched and miserable in these."

"You will give them to her, mother," said Mr. Fox-Cordery; and his mother, taking the cue, replied: