Читать книгу Незнакомка из Уайлдфелл-Холла. Уровень 2 / The Tenant of Wildfell Hall - Эмили Бронте, Энн Бронте - Страница 3

On Tuesday I was out with my dog and gun. I turned my arms against the hawks and carrion crows. I mounted the steep acclivity of Wildfell, the wildest and the loftiest eminence in our neighbourhood. Near the top of this hill, about two miles from Linden-Car, stood Wildfell Hall, a mansion of the Elizabethan era, venerable and picturesque, but doubtless, cold and gloomy enough to inhabit.

I killed a hawk and two crows when I came to the mansion. I paused beside the garden wall, and looked. I beheld a tiny hand above the wall. It clung to the topmost stone, and then another little hand raised. Then appeared a small white forehead, with wreaths of light brown hair, with a pair of deep blue eyes beneath, and a diminutive ivory nose.

The eyes did not notice me, but beheld Sancho, my beautiful black and white setter. The child (a little boy, apparently about five years old) raised his face and called aloud to the dog. The dog looked up, and wagged his tail, but made no further advances. The boy called and called again and again; then he attempted to get over. But an old cherry-tree caught him by the frock. There was a silent struggle, and then a piercing shriek. I dropped my gun on the grass, and caught the little fellow in my arms.

I wiped his eyes with his frock, and called Sancho to pacify him. He was just putting little hand on the dog's neck and beginning to smile through his tears, when I heard behind me a click of the iron gate, and a rustle of female garments, and lo! Mrs. Graham darted upon me.

“Give me the child!” she said. She seized the boy and snatched him from me.

“I was not harming the child, madam,” said I; “he was tumbling off the wall there. I was so fortunate as to catch him, while he hung from that tree.”

“I beg your pardon, sir,” stammered she; “I did not know you; and I thought – ”

She stooped to kiss the child, and fondly clasped her arm round his neck.

“You thought I was going to kidnap your son, I suppose?”

She laughed and replied, -

“I did not know he was climbing the wall. You are Mr. Markham, I believe?” she added abruptly.

I bowed.

“Your sister called here, a few days ago, with Mrs. Markham.”

“Is the resemblance so strong then?” I asked, in some surprise.

“There is a likeness about the eyes and complexion I think,” replied she; “and I think I saw you at church on Sunday.”

I smiled.

“Good-morning, Mr. Markham,” said she; and without another word or glance, she withdrew, with her child, into the garden.

I returned home, angry and dissatisfied. Then I to the vicarage, to solace my spirit and soothe my temper with the company and conversation of Eliza Millward.

I found her, as usual, busy with embroidery.

“You're so unfortunate, Mr. Markham!” observed the younger sister. “Papa's just gone out into the parish!”

“Never mind[6]; I am going to a few minutes with his daughters,” said I.

We were mutually pleased with each other, maintained between us a cheerful and animated conversation. I tenderly squeezed Eliza's little hand at parting; and she repaid me with one of her softest smiles. I went home very happy. I was overflowing with love for Eliza.