Читать книгу The Rejuvenation of Miss Semaphore - Charlotte O'Conor Eccles - Страница 6

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That evening, a little shamefacedly, Miss Semaphore told Prudence how she had answered the advertisement in The Pictorial, and received a reply from Mrs. Geldheraus.

Prudence was very much surprised and delighted, being in one of her rare spasms of remembrance that she no longer was a girl. She expressed herself as not only willing but ready and anxious to help in raising half of the money required, if the explorer’s widow persisted in demanding a thousand pounds.

The sisters resolved, however, that Miss Augusta should endeavour to persuade her to accept £600, advancing to £800, and only paying the full sum if she remained obdurate. They decided, too, that despite her excellent references, it would be only judicious to postdate the cheque offered her, that they might have an opportunity of personally testing the efficacy of the water before the draft was presented.

“She is very emphatic as to its genuineness,” said Miss Semaphore; “but of course we do not know her, and she may not speak the truth. If she is an honest person—and certainly her references are all that can be desired—she will be quite willing to give us a chance of first finding out whether the water is really any good. A thousand pounds is a great deal of money, and we ought to run no risks.”

“She says she is willing to give you a proof before purchase.”

“I wonder what sort of proof?”

“Perhaps take some herself.”

“I shouldn’t like that. It would be a pity to waste any of it.”

“I tell you what,” said Miss Semaphore, after consideration, “I’ll take Toutou and make her give him a little, just for an experiment. You see he would require much less than a human being, unless we had quite a young girl at hand, and on her it might not show. The poor darling is nearly fifteen. A mere sip should suffice for him.”

“Perhaps it does not act on animals,” suggested Miss Prudence.

“Why should it not? I once read something about the Water of Youth before in a book, and my belief is that they said it acted not only on people, but on insects, and on flowers; then why not on a dog?”

“Augusta dear! what will you do when you are young again?” asked Prudence softly.

“Oh, lots of things,” said Miss Semaphore. “She did not like to own, even to her sister, the golden dreams that floated before her, and that she felt would be slightly ridiculous for a mature woman to confess.

“How old will you be?”

“Well, if the thing can be regulated, I should like to be about eight-and-twenty. You see that is considered young, but not too young. At eight-and-twenty a woman has sense, if ever she is going to have it, and is old enough then to know her own mind. Eight-and-twenty, and stay at it, is my idea.”

“I should like to be eighteen,” said Prudence.

“Too young. At eighteen one is generally either a fool or a pert Miss, and therefore unattractive to the best sort of men. However, I should not mind standing at twenty if that is more convenient; but I must first find out how the water works.”

“Just fancy you twenty and me eighteen! What young creatures we shall be! Oh, Augusta dear, do you know I feel quite frightened. What shall we do alone in London with no one to look after us?”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” said Miss Semaphore crossly. “We have only to consider our appearance. We shan’t really be so ridiculously young, you know. I have no doubt we shall retain our present minds and experience, and be perfectly well able to manage for ourselves. Of course I shall make all enquiries to-morrow as to the effects and act accordingly. And for goodness sake, Prudie, if it is successful, don’t keep remembering and talking about things that you could not possibly have seen or known if you were really only eighteen. That is just the sort of stupid thing you are likely to do. We must carefully look out the proper date and avoid remembering anything before that.”

“Don’t you think, dear,” said Miss Prudence after a pause, “it will be well to go away from here before trying the experiment, away to some place where we are not known? It will be so awkward else.”

“Yes,” said Miss Semaphore reflectively, “I suppose it would be better; but we can consider that to-morrow, and now I am quite tired. It is time for us both to go to bed.”

The sisters duly undressed and sought repose, but for a long time none came. The future was too full of bewildering possibilities. Each felt that she ought not to let her mind dwell on what might never come to pass. Mrs. Geldheraus might be an imposter, the Water of Youth a fraud. Still, supposing—there was no harm in supposing—supposing both were genuine, what a delightful prospect. To be at once young and experienced; could anything surpass it? Pitfalls might be avoided, amusement sought, courses of conduct followed after a fashion impossible to anyone who was eighteen or twenty for the first and only time in life. To get all one’s chances over again, and to be assured of missing none of them, what luck! what unexampled good fortune!

Rosy visions of what they would do intruded on both of them, but we grieve to state that the wildest and flightiest of these visions were those of the elder Miss Semaphore. Were her eyes or those of her sister ever to light on these lines, were there a chance that her acquaintances might see this veracious history, we should hesitate to set her fancies down, and this for two reasons. First, because Miss Semaphore herself would be confused and confounded to a painful degree, and this, as she is an excellent if somewhat hard woman, we have no wish to bring about. Second, because her sister and friends would write lengthy and indignant letters denying our statements, and citing her reputation for propriety, not to say rigidity, of conduct, and her severely religious tone, her want of sympathy with flightiness of any kind, as proof positive that she never could, would, or should have thought what we assert was in her mind.

Fortunately we need not fear either danger, and so in all truthfulness may state exactly what Miss Semaphore hoped to do with her renewed youth.

In her secret soul she had come to think that it was rather a pity she had not had a past to reflect upon. She had gathered no roses while she might. She had been only too well brought up, and she was determined, en tout bien et en tout honneur be it understood, to change all that. Someone has said, il n’y a aucune austerité supérieure qui ne laisse pas quelques régrets. She would try the delights of an impeccable but more frivolous existence. She would be fascinating, coquettish, would avoid the misplaced gravity of her inexperienced youth, that had been not only afraid to enjoy itself, but had not known how to set about it, and had never got the chance.

As a preliminary to a dazzling career of conquest she decided that as soon as she was twenty she would take lessons in stage dancing and have her voice trained. Her father, or any of the worthy inhabitants of Pillsborough known to her, would have fainted at mention of the stage. Indeed, when young, Miss Semaphore shared their views; but she had been gradually coming round since she moved to London and found that even amongst the Philistines “the profession” was not in such bad odour as in the country. She felt it to be wicked but fascinating, believed she had genuine, if uncultivated, dramatic talent, and actually regretted that circumstances had kept her from cultivating it.

Now, she thought, she would not be stopped. This goes to prove that the most proper and severe persons often think a course of action suitable for themselves which they would reprehend in others.

She argued, and with truth, that dangerous though the stage might be, she would have the experience of over fifty years to guide her, and would therefore be in a different position from other girls of twenty. In a lurid but delightful vision she saw herself gay, beautiful, famous, the delight of the stalls, the admiration of the gallery, the recipient of bouquets and billets-doux, her photograph in every shop window, offers of marriage coming by every post. At last she fell asleep, a beatific smile on her face.

She had quite forgotten how two or three years before she had brought pressure to bear on Mrs. Wilcox to give notice to a girl who had gone on the stage. Englishwomen are often shocked at others doing what they would do themselves, if they had the chance or the aptitude.

Miss Prudence meanwhile, in her little white room adjoining, thought kindly of Major Jones and yearningly of the Rev. Harry Lyndon, Curate of St. Botolph’s, a consumptive young man of twenty-eight. She had always admired the Reverend Harry, though reluctantly admitting in her heart of hearts that he was somewhat too young for her. But now what would there be to prevent their union? She fell into a train of reverie as to how the matter should be managed. Would she let him think she had always been no more than eighteen, or would she tell him of the wonderful water? Sleep came to her while deliberating.