Читать книгу Like Another Helen - Sydney C. Grier - Страница 5

“I fear, sir,” she said, “that Miss Freyne han’t exhibited to you the full merit of her conduct in undertaking this voyage to the Indies. You must know that she and I are not bent upon seeking pleasure for ourselves, but on laying out what my aunt Hamlin calls our fortunes to the best advantage. Our parents (or guardians) intend—and we are fully determined to second their efforts—to marry us to a couple of frightful old Nabobs, each with a face as yellow as his guineas, and a liver as large as his money-bags. Now pray, miss,” turning suddenly to me, “shriek out and fall into a fit at the indelicacy of my language; pray do!”

I was ready enough to faint, though not for that reason; but meeting her eye, I forced a smile, and she went on:—

“Sure you don’t know, sir, that Miss Freyne is of so provident a constitution that she has even brought her wedding clothes with her, like myself. Her wedding-suit is of silver tissue, and the dear creature has embroidered it with her own fair hands in wreaths of violets. Thus, you see, her native modesty exhibits itself in a transaction against which both her heart and her punctilio must revolt. Now my gown is of a light pink, worked so stiff (but not by my fingers, oh no!) with gold flowers that it would stand up of itself.”

“Pray, miss, how will these clothes interest Mr Fraser?” I asked, though I felt as if my lips and throat were parched with thirst.

“You should allow the gentleman to declare his want of interest for himself, miss. Shall we see you as bride-man at that wedding, sir? I would claim you as my partner if I were to be bride-maid; but Miss Freyne and I are resolved to deny ourselves that pleasure, since both could not enjoy it, and neither of us would be favoured at the expense of the other, and therefore we are to be married on the same day. You look pale, Mr Fraser. I fear I have wearied you. Perhaps, after all, you won’t be at the wedding? But you will—you must—be present when the happy pair first show themselves in church on the Sunday after. ’Twill be a sight not to be missed. Pray figure to yourself the fortunate spouse—shall we call him Mr Solmes, miss?—in his new laced clothes, making him look yellower than ever, handing in his lady, in the largest hoop and the richest lace and the finest diamonds in Calcutta! And Madam will pretend to hide her blushes with a fan painted all over with cupids, while the entire time she will be watching through the sticks to see what effect her clothes are producing on the other ladies of the congregation. Did you speak, miss?”

I think I had cried out to her to stop. I know I tried to rise, but she put her hand on my shoulder and kept me down. “Hold your tongue, miss,” she said in a whisper; “if you have to endure it, what harm can there be in speaking of it beforehand?”

I sat down again, but I had dropped my fan, and Mr Fraser restored it to me. His hand as it touched mine was cold, and he moved further away from me before he spoke, with difficulty, as it seemed to me.

“Sure, madam,” he said, “the friends of a lady of Miss Freyne’s high merits need have no fear as to her future course. If she’ll follow the dictates of her own heart, they will be found to be those of reason and virtue.”

“By no means, sir,” says Miss Hamlin, quickly. “The dictates of reason and virtue will be found to be those of Miss Freyne’s papa. Sure you are forgetting, as was pointed out to Miss Freyne and me before we embarked on this adventure, the huge sums of money which have been spent on our education, and which must be proved to have been put out at good interest. No, no, sir; we have the sad history of the divine Clarissa to warn us of the fate of an undutiful daughter, even though she behave so from the highest motives. The Lovelaces don’t have it all their own way nowadays. Miss Freyne will marry her Solmes, and with the air of a martyr will feel that she has done her duty.”

She laughed again, and beckoning to Mr Ranger with her fan, tripped away. I would have accompanied her, if I had found strength to rise. I seemed so strangely tired, Amelia. But Mr Fraser, who had been leaning against the mast, turned suddenly towards me, and said hastily, though with some measure of hesitation, like a man who takes a resolution at the moment—

“I would not, madam, have presumed to touch on such delicate matters as Miss Hamlin has thought fit to introduce; but since that has been done, I’ll make bold to enlist your sympathy on behalf of a lady who is in a like case with yourself—that is, she is the daughter of wealthy parents at Bengall, who will, questionless, desire to make up a good marriage for her.”

I felt myself grow cold all over, though I had thought I was cold already. “You—you cherish an interest in this lady, sir?”

“Madam, I adore her. My whole life and endeavour—saving only my duty to his Majesty—had gone to make her happy, if she would have permitted it.”

“And she refuses to accept of your devotion, sir? But in what way can I assist you? Is it likely I shall meet the lady?”

“I imagine you’ll often be in company with her, madam.”

“And what is her name, sir?”

“Her surname, madam, I think ’twould be scarce delicate in me to reveal, even to a lady of your discernment. Her given name I don’t know, but to me she’ll always be the peerless Araminta.”

“But how am I to plead your cause with her, sir, if you won’t tell me her name?” I may have laughed, Amelia, but I felt as though I had died an hour ago.

“I’ll hope to plead my own cause, madam, when I make that journey to Calcutta to visit my cousin of which we have been talking. I was rather desirous to engage your help for myself, and during the remainder of our voyage here. I can’t help, madam, being conscious that I am a sadly rough and clumsy creature to pretend to the hand of so fine a lady as my Araminta, and you have shown me so much kindness that I would venture to ask you to assist me in rendering myself less unfit to approach her.”

“I hope you’ll command me, sir.” I could not help being struck with the oddity of the notion, and the coolness of the young gentleman, even at such a moment.

“Why, madam, if you’d be so good, I would entreat you to take—in so far as may be—the part of my Araminta, so long as our voyage lasts. She is still unaware of my passion, but I understand there’s many ways in which a lover may recommend himself to the object of his respectful adoration, even before he presume to declare his devotion by word of mouth. If Miss Freyne would condescend to suffer my awkward attempts to serve her, and would do me the favour of suggesting any improvement in my carriage that she might think called for, ’twould set my mind more at ease when I come at last to face the lovely and awful presence of my charmer. Am I asking too much, madam?”

“Why, no, sir; only it seems to me I have been doing what you ask all the voyage already.”

“Precisely, madam. It did not strike me until to-night that perhaps I ought to have revealed to you earlier the existence of my Araminta.”

“Indeed, sir, I don’t desire to pry into your private concerns.” I spoke with much severity, but seeing the Lieutenant’s visage fall, I called up a smile, and giving him my hand, promised heartily to render him all the service in my power. Could I have said less, Amelia? Had I displayed any reluctance to oblige him, he might have thought—well, who can tell what the fellow might have thought?

Going below to the ladies’ cabin, I found Miss Hamlin there alone. She came to meet me with a face full of curiosity.

“Well, miss, and don’t you hate me now?” she said.

“Why should I hate you, miss? You desired to spoil the pleasure you saw me take in Mr Fraser’s company, and you’ve done it, but it don’t advantage you in any way that I can see.”

“You don’t add that you yourself gave me permission to do it if I found it necessary, miss, but you did. I was sorry that I had no time to prepare you, but I saw that if I waited any longer Fraser would have declared his passion, and laid his heart at your feet.”

“Indeed, miss, you was mistaken, then. Mr Fraser worships at the shrine of another lady.”

“Impossible, miss! Who has put such a notion into your head?”

“Mr Fraser himself, miss;” I told her what he had said.

“It sounds likely enough,” she said, “but I must question him. If it be true, I shall recommend to the other lady to look after him better. There’s just the possibility——” she shook her head and looked wise. “But pray, miss, where did you get that book?” She pointed to the first volume of Mr Henry Fielding’s ‘History of Amelia,’ which I had seen Mr Fraser reading, and had taken up from the table of the cuddy as I passed. “Have you read much of it?”

“Only the first chapter,” I said. “I was charmed by the title, which recalled to me my dear Miss Turnor.”

She said no more, but after she had left the cabin again I missed the book. When she returned, I had climbed to my shelf, and was, I fear, feigning sleep, but she came and whispered to me—

“I have asked your Fraser about the divine Araminta, and he confesses to the truth. But such a sweet pretty name! Why did you not tell it me, miss? And how do you like the thought of playing Araminta to Araminta’s humble adorer? ’Twill be as good as a play for us who look on.”

With that she left me, and I won’t grieve my Amelia’s tender heart by telling her how I spent the hours of that night. But I must close this huge letter, and tell you more of my misfortunes in the next.