LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

that! I never think of his dying. He is only fifty-five. But till – in short, till events offer other occupations for me."

      "A remarkably vague prospect! Are you content with it?"

      "I used to be, formerly. Children, you know, have little reflection, or rather their reflections run on ideal themes. There are moments now when I am not quite satisfied."

      "Why?"

      "I am making no money – earning nothing."

      "You come to the point, Lina. You too, then, wish to make money?"

      "I do. I should like an occupation; and if I were a boy, it would not be so difficult to find one. I see such an easy, pleasant way of learning a business, and making my way in life."

      "Go on. Let us hear what way."

      "I could be apprenticed to your trade – the cloth-trade. I could learn it of you, as we are distant relations. I would do the counting-house work, keep the books, and write the letters, while you went to market. I know you greatly desire to be rich, in order to pay your father's debts; perhaps I could help you to get rich."

      "Help me? You should think of yourself."

      "I do think of myself; but must one for ever think only of oneself?"

      "Of whom else do I think? Of whom else dare I think? The poor ought to have no large sympathies; it is their duty to be narrow."

      "No, Robert – "

      "Yes, Caroline. Poverty is necessarily selfish, contracted, grovelling, anxious. Now and then a poor man's heart, when certain beams and dews visit it, may smell like the budding vegetation in yonder garden on this spring day, may feel ripe to evolve in foliage, perhaps blossom; but he must not encourage the pleasant impulse; he must invoke Prudence to check it, with that frosty breath of hers, which is as nipping as any north wind."

      "No cottage would be happy then."

      "When I speak of poverty, I do not so much mean the natural, habitual poverty of the working-man, as the embarrassed penury of the man in debt. My grub-worm is always a straitened, struggling, care-worn tradesman."

      "Cherish hope, not anxiety. Certain ideas have become too fixed in your mind. It may be presumptuous to say it, but I have the impression that there is something wrong in your notions of the best means of attaining happiness, as there is in – " Second hesitation.

      "I am all ear, Caroline."

      "In (courage! let me speak the truth) – in your manner – mind, I say only manner– to these Yorkshire workpeople."

      "You have often wanted to tell me that, have you not?"

      "Yes; often – very often."

      "The faults of my manner are, I think, only negative. I am not proud. What has a man in my position to be proud of? I am only taciturn, phlegmatic, and joyless."

      "As if your living cloth-dressers were all machines like your frames and shears. In your own house you seem different."

      "To those of my own house I am no alien, which I am to these English clowns. I might act the benevolent with them, but acting is not my forte. I find them irrational, perverse; they hinder me when I long to hurry forward. In treating them justly I fulfil my whole duty towards them."

      "You don't expect them to love you, of course?"

      "Nor wish it."

      "Ah!" said the monitress, shaking her head and heaving a deep sigh. With this ejaculation, indicative that she perceived a screw to be loose somewhere, but that it was out of her reach to set it right, she bent over her grammar, and sought the rule and exercise for the day.

      "I suppose I am not an affectionate man, Caroline. The attachment of a very few suffices me."

      "If you please, Robert, will you mend me a pen or two before you go?"

      "First let me rule your book, for you always contrive to draw the lines aslant. There now. And now for the pens. You like a fine one, I think?"

      "Such as you generally make for me and Hortense; not your own broad points."

      "If I were of Louis's calling I might stay at home and dedicate this morning to you and your studies, whereas I must spend it in Skyes's wool-warehouse."

      "You will be making money."

      "More likely losing it."

      As he finished mending the pens, a horse, saddled and bridled, was brought up to the garden-gate.

      "There, Fred is ready for me; I must go. I'll take one look to see what the spring has done in the south border, too, first."

      He quitted the room, and went out into the garden ground behind the mill. A sweet fringe of young verdure and opening flowers – snowdrop, crocus, even primrose – bloomed in the sunshine under the hot wall of the factory Moore plucked here and there a blossom and leaf, till he had collected a little bouquet. He returned to the parlour, pilfered a thread of silk from his sister's work-basket, tied the flowers, and laid them on Caroline's desk.

      "Now, good-morning."

      "Thank you, Robert. It is pretty; it looks, as it lies there, like sparkles of sunshine and blue sky. Good-morning."

      He went to the door, stopped, opened his lips as if to speak, said nothing, and moved on. He passed through the wicket, and mounted his horse. In a second he had flung himself from his saddle again, transferred the reins to Murgatroyd, and re-entered the cottage.

      "I forgot my gloves," he said, appearing to take something from the side-table; then, as an impromptu thought, he remarked, "You have no binding engagement at home perhaps, Caroline?"

      "I never have. Some children's socks, which Mrs. Ramsden has ordered, to knit for the Jew's basket; but they will keep."

      "Jew's basket be – sold! Never was utensil better named. Anything more Jewish than it – its contents and their prices – cannot be conceived. But I see something, a very tiny curl, at the corners of your lip, which tells me that you know its merits as well as I do. Forget the Jew's basket, then, and spend the day here as a change. Your uncle won't break his heart at your absence?"

      She smiled. "No."

      "The old Cossack! I dare say not," muttered Moore.

      "Then stay and dine with Hortense; she will be glad of your company. I shall return in good time. We will have a little reading in the evening. The moon rises at half-past eight, and I will walk up to the rectory with you at nine. Do you agree?"

      She nodded her head, and her eyes lit up.

      Moore lingered yet two minutes. He bent over Caroline's desk and glanced at her grammar, he fingered her pen, he lifted her bouquet and played with it; his horse stamped impatient; Fred Murgatroyd hemmed and coughed at the gate, as if he wondered what in the world his master was doing. "Good-morning," again said Moore, and finally vanished.

      Hortense, coming in ten minutes after, found, to her surprise, that Caroline had not yet commenced her exercise.

      CHAPTER VI.

      CORIOLANUS

      Mademoiselle Moore had that morning a somewhat absent-minded pupil. Caroline forgot, again and again, the explanations which were given to her. However, she still bore with unclouded mood the chidings her inattention brought upon her. Sitting in the sunshine near the window, she seemed to receive with its warmth a kind influence, which made her both happy and good. Thus disposed, she looked her best, and her best was a pleasing vision.

      To her had not been denied the gift of beauty. It was not absolutely necessary to know her in order to like her; she was fair enough to please, even at the first view. Her shape suited her age: it was girlish, light, and pliant; every curve was neat, every limb proportionate; her face was expressive and gentle; her eyes were handsome, and gifted at times with a winning beam that stole into the heart, with a language that spoke softly to the affections. Her mouth was very pretty; she had a delicate skin, and a fine flow of brown hair, which she knew how to arrange with taste; curls became her, and she possessed them in picturesque profusion. Her style of dress announced

Скачать книгу