poor miss finch-第72节

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that　moment；　and　must　stand　on　ceremony。　Delicate　minds　will　understand
why　I　accepted　the　check　she　had　administered　to　me；　and　said　no　more。

I　went　into　the　village　alone。　Managing　matters　so　as　to　excite　no
surprise；　I　contrived　to　have　a　little　gossip　about　Nugent　with
Gootheridge　at　the　inn；　and　with　the　servant　at　Browndown。　If　Nugent　had
returned　secretly　to　Dimchurch；　one　of　those　two　men；　in　our　little
village；　must　almost　certainly　have　seen　him。　Neither　of　them　had　seen
him。

I　inferred　from　this　that　he　had　not　tried　to　communicate　with　her
personally。　Had　he　attempted　it　（more　cunningly　and　more　safely）　by
letter？

I　went　back　to　the　rectory。　It　was　close　on　the　hour　which　I　had
appointed　with　Lucillanow　that　the　responsibility　rested　on　my
shouldersfor　allowing　her　to　use　her　eyes。　On　taking　off　the　bandage；　I
noticed　a　circumstance　which　confirmed　the　conclusion　at　which　I　had
already　arrived。　Her　eyes　deliberately　avoided　looking　into　mine。
Suppressing　as　well　as　I　could　the　pain　which　this　new　discovery　caused
me；　I　repeated　Grosse's　words；　prohibiting　her　from　attempting　to　look
into　a　book；　or　to　use　a　pen；　until　he　had　seen　her　again。

〃There　is　no　need　for　him　to　forbid　me　to　do　that；〃　she　said。

〃Have　you　attempted　it　already？〃　I　inquired。

〃I　looked　into　a　little　book　of　engravings；〃　she　answered。　〃But　I　could
distinguish　nothing。　The　lines　all　mingled　together　and　swam　before　my
eyes。〃

〃Have　you　tried　to　write？〃　I　asked　next。　（I　was　ashamed　of　myself　for
laying　that　trap　for　heralthough　the　serious　necessity　of　discovering
whether　she　was　privately　in　correspondence　with　Nugent；　might　surely
have　excused　it？）

〃No；〃　she　replied。　〃I　have　not　tried　to　write。〃

She　changed　color　when　she　made　that　answer。　It　is　necessary　to　own　that；
in　putting　my　question；　I　was　too　much　excited　to　call　to　mind；　what　I
should　have　remembered　in　a　calmer　state。　There　was　no　necessity　for　her
trying　to　use　her　eyeseven　if　she　was　really　carrying　on　a
correspondence　which　she　wished　to　keep　secret　from　me。　Zillah　had　been
in　the　habit　of　reading　her　letters　to　her；　before　I　appeared　at　the
rectory；　and　she　could　write　short　notes　（as　I　have　already　mentioned）　by
feeling　her　way　on　the　paper　with　her　finger。　Besides；　having　learnt　to
read　by　touch　（that　is　to　say　with　raised　characters）；　just　as　she　had
learnt　to　writeeven　if　her　eyes　had　been　sufficiently　recovered　to
enable　her　to　distinguish　small　objects；　nothing　but　practice　could　have
taught　her　to　use　them　for　purposes　of　correspondence。

These　considerations；　though　they　did　not　strike　me　at　the　time；　occurred
to　me　later　in　the　day；　and　altered　my　opinion　to　a　certain　extent。　I　now
interpreted　the　change　of　color　which　I　had　noticed　in　her　as　the　outward
sign　of　suspicion　on　her　sidesuspicion　that　I　had　a　motive　of　my　own　in
interrogating　her。　For　the　rest；　my　doubts　of　Nugent　remained　unmoved。
Try　as　I　might；　I　could　not　divest　my　mind　of　the　idea　that　he　was
playing　me　false；　and　that　in　one　way　or　another　he　had　contrived；　not
only　to　communicate　with　Lucilla；　but　to　persuade　her　to　keep　me　in
ignorance　of　what　he　had　done。

I　deferred　to　the　next　day　any　attempt　at　making　further　discoveries。

The　last　thing　at　night；　I　had　a　momentary　impulse　to　question　Zillah。
Reflection　soon　checked　it。　My　experience　of　the　nurse's　character　told
me　that　she　would　take　refuge　in　flat　denialand　would　then　inform　her
mistress　of　what　had　happened。　I　knew　enough　of　Lucilla　to　know　（after
what　had　already　passed　between　us）　that　a　quarrel　with　me　would　follow。
Things　were　bad　enough　already；　without　making　them　worse　in　that　way。
When　the　morning　came；　I　resolved　to　keep　a　watchful　eye　on　the　village
post…office；　and　on　the　movements　of　the　nurse。

When　the　morning　came；　there　was　a　letter　for　me　from　abroad。

The　address　was　in　the　handwriting　of　one　of　my　sisters。　We　usually　wrote
to　each　other　at　intervals　of　a　fortnight　or　three　weeks。　This　letter　had
followed　its　predecessor　after　an　interval　of　less　than　one　week。　What
did　it　mean？　Good　news　or　bad？

I　opened　the　letter。

It　enclosed　a　telegram；　announcing　that　my　poor　dear　father　was　lying
dangerously　wounded　at　Marseilles。　My　sisters　had　already　gone　to　him：
they　implored　me　to　follow　them　without　one　moment　of　needless　delay。　Is
it　necessary　to　tell　the　story　of　this　horrible　calamity？　Of　course　it
begins　with　a　woman　and　an　elopement。　Of　course　it　ends　with　a　young　man
and　a　duel。　Have　I　not　told　you　already？Papa　was　so　susceptible；　Papa
was　so　brave。　Oh；　dear；　dear！　the　old　story　over　again。　You　have　an
English　proverb：　〃What　is　bred　in　the　bone〃　etcetera；　etcetera。　Let　us
drop　the　veil。　I　mean；　let　us　end　the　chapter。

CHAPTER　THE　FORTY…FIRST

A　Hard　Time　for　Madame　Pratolungo

OUGHT　I　to　have　been　prepared　for　the　calamity　which　had　now　fallen　on　my
sisters　and　myself？　If　I　had　looked　my　own　experience　of　my　poor　father
fairly　in　the　face；　would　it　not　have　been　plain　to　me　that　the　habits　of
a　life　were　not　likely　to　be　altered　at　the　end　of　a　life？　Surelyif　I
had　exerted　my　intelligenceI　might　have　foreseen　that　the　longer　his
reformation　lasted；　the　nearer　he　was　to　a　relapse；　and　the　more
obviously　probable　it　became　that　he　would　fail　to　fulfill　the　hopeful
expectations　which　I　had　cherished　of　his　conduct　in　the　future？　I　grant
it　all。　But　where　are　the　pattern　people　who　can　exert　their
intelligencewhen　their　intelligence　points　to　one　conclusion；　and　their
interests　to　another？　Ah；　my　dear　ladies　and　gentlemen；　there　is　such　a
fine　strong　foundation　of　stupidity　at　the　bottom　of　our　common
humanityif　we　only　knew　it！

I　could　feel　no　hesitationas　soon　as　I　had　recovered　myselfabout　what
it　was　my　duty　to　do。　My　duty　was　to　leave　Dimchurch　in　time　to　catch　the
fast　mail…train　from　London　to　the　Continent；　at　eight　o'clock　that
night。

And　leave　Lucilla？

Yes！　not　even　Lucilla's　interestsdearly　as　I　loved　her；　alarmed　as　I
felt　about　herwere　as　sacred　as　the　interests　which　called　me　to　my
father's　bedside。　I　had　some　hours　to　spare　before　it　would　be　necessary
for　me　to　leave　her。　All　I　could　do　was　to　employ　those　hours　in　taking
the　strictest　precautions　I　could　think　of　to　protect　her　in　my　absence。
I　could　not　be　long　parted　from　her。　One　way　or　the　other；　the　miserable
doubt　whether　my　father　would　live　or　die；　would；　at　his　age；　soon　be
over。

I　sent　for　her　to　see　me　in　my　room；　and　showed　her　my　letter。

She　was　honestly　grieved　when　she　read　it。　For　a　momentwhen　she　spoke
her　few　words　of　sympathythe　painful　constraint　in　her　manner　towards
me　passed　away。　It　returned　again；　when　I　announced　my　intention　of
starting　for　France　that　day；　and　expressed　the　regret　I　felt　at　being
obliged　to　defer　our　visit　to　Ramsgate　for　the　present。　She　not　only
answered　restrainedly　（forming；　as　I　fancied；　some　thought　at　the　moment
in　her　own　mind）she　left　me；　with　a　commonplace　excuse。　〃You　must　have
much　to　think　of　in　this　sad　affliction：　I　won't　intrude　on　you　any
longer。　If　you　want　me；　you　know　where　to　find　me。〃　With　no　more　than
those　words；　she　walked　out　of　the　room。

I　never　remember；　at　any　other　time；　such　a　sense　of　helplessness　and
confusion　as　came　over　me　when　she　had　closed　the　door。　I　set　to　work　to
pack　up　the　few　things　I　wanted　for　the　journey；　feeling　instinctively
that　if　I　did　not　occupy　myself　in　doing　something；　I　should　break　down
altogether。　Accustomed　in　all　the　other　emergencies　of　my　life；　to　decide
rapidly；　I　was　not　even　clear　enough　in　my　mind　to　see　the　facts　as　they
were。　As　to　resolving　on　anything；　I　was　about　as　capable　of　doing　that
as　the　baby　in　Mrs。　Finch's　arms。

The　effort　of　packing　aided　me　to　rally　a　littlebut　did　no　more　towards
restoring　me　to　my　customary　tone　of　mind。

I　sat　down　helplessly；　when　I　had　done；　feeling　the　serious　necessity　of
clearing　matters　up　between　Lucilla　and　myself；　before　I　went　away；　and
still　as　ignorant　as　ever　how　to　do　it。　To　my　own　indescribable　disgust；
I　actually　felt　tears　beginning　to　find　their　way　into　my　eyes！　I　had
just　enough　of　Pratolungo's　widow　left　in　me　to　feel　heartily　ashamed　of
myself。　Past　vicissitudes　and　dangers；　in　the　days　of　my　republican　life
with　my　husband；　had　made　me　a　sturdy　walkerwith　a　gypsy　relish　（like
my　little　Jicks）　for　the　open　air。　I　snatched　up　my　hat；　and　went　out；　to
see　what　exercise　would　do　for　me。

I　tried　the　garden。　No！　the　garden　was　（for　some　inscrutable　reason）　not
big　enough。　I　had　still　some　hours　to　spare。　I　tried　the　hills　next。

Turning　towards　the　left；　and　passing　the　church；　I　heard　through　the
open　windows　the　_boom…boom_　of　Reverend　Finch's　voice；　catechizing　the
village　children。　Thank　Heaven；　he　was　out　of　my　way　at　any　rate！　I
mounted　the　hills；　hurrying　on　as　fast　as　I　could。　The　air　and　the
movement　cleared　my　mind。　After　more　than　an　hour　of　hard　walking；　I
returned　to　the　rectory；　feeling　like　my　old　self　again。

Perhaps；　there　were　some　dregs　of　irresolution　still　left　in　me。　Or；
perhaps；　there　was　some　enervating　influence　in　my　affliction；　which　made
me　feel　more　sensitively　than　ever　the　change　in　the　relati