Читать книгу The White Prior - Fergus Hume - Страница 7

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By these extracts from Gilbert’s diary it can be easily seen how he was affected by his environment. There was no possibility of ennui while he remained at the Priory. His existence there, simple even to dullness, seemed to him to be but the prelude to some tragedy. The apparent placidity of successive days concealed a constant unrest, an indescribable menace; there was an uneasy feeling in the air, a sense of mystery, of danger, which strung up his nerves, and rendered him expectant of a bolt from the blue. In such wise does Fate prepare the stage for the enacting of her tragedies.

Yet despite this unhealthy frame of mind, which was alien to his temperament, he by no means neglected his duties. Indeed he found himself less averse to teaching than he expected, but this was due to the nature of his pupils. He had two, for Fay, notwithstanding some faint objections on the part of her father, insisted upon studying with Gilbert, on learning the lessons of her brother, and leading him to a comprehension thereof. Tresham was rather glad than otherwise, as Felix was a difficult child to manage, and only Fay, to whom he was deeply attached, could guide him in the right way. The lad inclined to poetry and day-dreams; so it needed all Gilbert’s tact to induce an abandonment of such unhealthy leanings. Had it not been for the sister’s aid he would have failed with the brother.

As it was, he gradually weaned the child from poems, and pictures, and abstract musings; he gave him easy tasks which, being rapidly mastered, stirred him to an ambition to conquer more difficult lessons. While teaching him Latin, Gilbert fired the boy’s imagination with the stirring tales of the Roman sway, and so led him on to study, in the hope that he might read these stories for himself. For mathematics Felix evinced a strong distaste, but when Fay gallantly took up the study of Euclid, and pored over algebra, Felix, dominated by so excellent an example, followed in her wake. His weaker mind was subjugated by the stronger will of his sister, and while it was Gilbert who placed Felix on the path of learning, it was Fay who induced him to progress thereon. Often and often did Tresham confess to himself that without this girl he would be able to do nothing with the boy.

One hopeful sign was the pleasure Felix now took in out-door sports. Tresham taught him to swim, and many a good plunge had they in the river while yet the dawn reddened the sky. Swimming led to rowing, and every afternoon Felix of his own free will would ask his tutor to take him out in Fay’s dingy. Sometimes Tresham would go out with her alone, and talk of many subjects as she laid her strong young arms to the oars. In lawn-tennis Miss Harley was an expert, and between her and Gilbert the little lad began to take pleasure in the game. This constant indulgence in out-door life led to the result anticipated by Tresham, for Felix, his body strengthened by exercise, no longer cared to creep in-doors to read a book, but much preferred being with his sister and tutor in the open air. So far had Gilbert succeeded with his unpromising subject.

Fay was greatly pleased with the tutor, and showed her liking by a constant wish to be in his society. In many ways she was very childlike, and talked so freely to the young tutor, that even had he had the will, he would not have dared to open his heart to her; she was in a state of primeval innocence, and he was unwilling to be the serpent to induce her to eat of the tree of knowledge. That he loved her was patent to himself; but she was quite unaware of his passion, and indeed, in her present state of mind, she would not have understood even had he told her of his feelings.

That two young people should be so constantly together without rousing the passion of love in the heart of one or the other was not to be expected. Fay was too unsophisticated to understand the danger, and indeed entirely escaped it, for she treated Gilbert with a frank friendship which at once pleased and annoyed the young man. He had fallen deeply in love with her, but he saw plainly enough that she had no understanding of the situation. To her he was but a pleasant companion; to him, she was the one woman in the world. Yet he was afraid to tell her the truth lest it should put an end to their companionship; but he made an effort to see if her heart was capable of understanding his passion, by introducing the subject of Barstone.

On the morning that he did so, Fay had finished a set of tennis with him, and they were now seated together under the shade of the oaks fronting the west wing. Felix was knocking the balls about in the hot sunshine, and seemed so alert and bright that his sister could not forbear commenting on his changed disposition.

“I am sure father ought to be greatly obliged to you, Mr. Tresham,” said she, fanning herself with her straw hat. “Felix is another being since you took him in hand.”

“I think he is,” replied Gilbert; “but I should have done little with him had you not assisted me.”

“I could do nothing before, at all events. It needed some one like you to wake him up; in fact, to wake us all up,” continued Fay, with a burst of confidence. “Oh, you can have no idea how dull life is here.”

“I don’t think it is, Miss Harley.”

“Oh, I don’t mean now; it is very jolly at present. But before you came I thought I should go melancholy mad. I was at school near London you know, and there I had plenty of companions, but when I was finished and came home a year ago I found things awfully slow: my father always shut up in the library, Felix buried in his poetry books, and that horrid old Jasper prowling about like a ghost.”

“But your neighbours?”

“Oh, they only call when my father comes out of his shell. Once in a while he behaves like a Christian and gives parties.”

“Is that what you call behaving like a Christian?” asked Gilbert, unable to suppress a smile.

Fay burst out laughing.

“I call it behaving like a sensible man,” she replied briskly. “Why should he live like a hermit? If he doesn’t care for society himself, he should at least remember that he has a daughter to marry.”

Gilbert looked down at the turf and abstractedly plucked a few blades of grass, as he answered in a low tone. Her careless remark troubled him more nearly than he cared to admit.

“Are you then anxious to be married, Miss Harley?”

“Oh, I suppose so,” was the careless answer. “All women should marry, shouldn’t they? I don’t want to stay here all my life.”

“You might find a worse place: this is very peaceful.”

“And very dull. I don’t like the Priory! Father is so gloomy, and infects everybody else with his misery. You are the first human being I have had to speak to since leaving school.”

Here was Gilbert’s opportunity, which he seized at once.

“Nonsense; you know my friend Barstone,” said he significantly.

“Oh, Percy Barstone? Yes, he lives yonder,” replied the girl, pointing across the river. “Sometimes he pays us a visit and talks rubbish.”

“What kind of rubbish?”

“Oh, about poetry and love, and the union of hearts. I believe he wants to marry me.”

“Well, you said it was women’s mission to marry,” muttered Gilbert ironically.

“Only to marry the man she loves,” retorted Miss Harley, with great dignity, “and I don’t love Mr. Barstone. If he wants to take a wife there’s Jemima Carr?”

“Who is Jemima Carr?”

“Oh, she’s a neighbour of ours. Manages her own farms, you know. Not pretty, and over thirty years of age. A clever ugly old maid she is, and I love her very—very much.”

“Ah! but you see, Mr. Barstone doesn’t. Evidently he loves you.”

“He may save himself the trouble. I wouldn’t marry him if he was made of gold. A silly thing who only talks of dogs and horses.”

“And of the union of hearts,” laughed Gilbert, relieved to find that he had no rival in his friend.

“Isn’t it nonsense?” said Fay, with supreme disdain. “I don’t understand half he says. But then I’m not in love. Have you ever been in love, Mr. Tresham?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so,” said Gilbert, still keeping his eyes on the ground, fearful lest they should betray him. “I’ve been in love at least a dozen times.”

“Oh, you wicked person! What does it feel like?”

“I can hardly explain.”

“Do you feel worn and anguished?” asked Fay, with great intensity. “Do you refuse your meals, and groan by night? Do you walk under her window and say your heart is broken?”

Notwithstanding his feelings, Gilbert could not help laughing at the picture of love drawn by this unsophisticated girl. Evidently Miss Harley had studied surreptitious novels at school, and was imbued with sentiment.

“No! I was never so bad as that,” he said, laughing. “I don’t think men make fools of themselves now-adays.”

“I don’t call it making a fool of oneself,” cried Miss Harley indignantly; “I think it is beautiful. How hard-hearted you are, Mr. Tresham—you would never die for a woman. Oh, how I wish some one would die for me!”

“You wouldn’t like that surely!”

“Yes, I would. If he pined for my love and I refused him, and he went to India, and died with his face to the foe, and my name on his lips. Beautiful!”

“Very!—for you; but rather hard on the man. But why not ask Barstone to die for you?”

“He wouldn’t!” admitted Fay, with great scorn; “he’s too fond of living. Now don’t laugh at me, Mr. Tresham, or I shall be angry.”

“I won’t laugh. You have my sincerest sympathy. But, see, here comes Felix. He looks tired out with play. Come, Felix, and sit down here,” added Gilbert quietly. “You must rest for a time. It is not wise for you to exhaust yourself.”

Without a word Felix, who was pale with weariness, slid down on the grass, and laid his head on Fay’s knee with a contented sigh.

“Are you tired, dear?” she said, smoothing his hair with gentle fingers.

“Very. Tell me a story, Fay.”

“I am not good at stories. Ask Mr. Tresham.”

“Tell me a story, Mr. Tresham,” said Felix, in an eager tone—“about the Romans, you know. The three who kept the bridge.”

“I don’t feel inclined to tell stories,” replied Gilbert, yawning. “Suppose Miss Fay gives us the history of ‘The Priory.’ ”

“Ah, you are thinking of the west wing.”

“Yes; I am anxious to hear the legend connected with it.”

Fay expressed her willingness to relate the tale, and was about to begin, when her father walked feebly across the lawn. He looked pale and ill, almost like a shadow in the bright sunshine, and seated himself on the seat by Fay without a word.

In the distance hovered Jasper, anxiously looking after his master. Had the dumb man known what would be the consequence of that interview, he would never have let Harley join the trio under the oaks. But no one knew the danger, no one saw the shadow in the bright sunshine. To all appearances the four were happy, but their conversation sowed the seeds of future danger, their careless words were pregnant with coming terrors. With characteristic irony, Fate brought them together to weave the web of their lives, and she must have laughed grimly at their fancied security. Only the dumb man was fearful of the future; but he had no power to stay the hand of Fate.