Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Paying Guest by George Gissing (bookreader .TXT) 📖
- Author: George Gissing
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Book online «The Paying Guest by George Gissing (bookreader .TXT) 📖». Author George Gissing
‘I’m serious enough,’ said Louise, trying to hold the umbrella over her companion, and only succeeding in directing moisture down the back of his neck. ‘And it’s partly through you that I’ve got into such difficulties.’
‘How do you make that out?’
‘If it wasn’t for you, I should very likely marry Mr. Bowling.’
‘Oh, he’s asked you, has he?’ cried Cobb, staring at her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that before?—Don’t let me stand in your way. I dare say he’s just the kind of man for you. At all events, he’s like you in not knowing his own mind.’
‘Go on! Go on!’ Louise exclaimed carelessly. ‘There’s plenty of time. Say all you’ve got to say.’
From the gloom of the eastward sky came a rattling of thunder, like quick pistol-shots. Cobb checked his steps.
‘We mustn’t go any further. You’re getting wet, and the rain isn’t likely to stop.’
‘I shall not go back,’ Louise answered, ‘until something has been settled.’ And she stood before him, her eyes cast down, whilst Cobb looked at the darkening sky. ‘I want to know what’s going to become of me. The Mumfords won’t keep me much longer, and I don’t wish to stay where I’m not wanted.’
‘Let us walk down the hill.’
A flash of lightning made Louise start, and the thunder rattled again. But only light drops were falling. The girl stood her ground.
‘I want to know what I am to do. If you can’t help me, say so, and let me go my own way.’
‘Of course I can help you. That is, if you’ll be honest with me. I want to know, first of all, whether you’ve been encouraging that man Bowling.’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Very well, I believe you. And now I’ll make you a fair offer. Marry me as soon as I can make the arrangements, and I’ll pay all you owe, and see that you are in comfortable lodgings until I’ve time to get a house. It could be done before I go to Bristol, and then, of course, you could go with me.’
‘You speak,’ said Louise, after a short silence, ‘just as if you were making an agreement with a servant.’
‘That’s all nonsense, and you know it. I’ve told you how I think, often enough, in letters, and I’m not good at saying it. Look here, I don’t think it’s very wise to stand out in the middle of the Common in a thunderstorm. Let us walk on, and I think I would put down your umbrella.’
‘It wouldn’t trouble you much if I were struck with lightning.’
‘All right, take it so. I shan’t trouble to contradict.’
Louise followed his advice, and they began to walk quickly down the slope towards Streatham. Neither spoke until they were in the high road again. A strong wind was driving the rain-clouds to other regions and the thunder had ceased; there came a grey twilight; rows of lamps made a shimmering upon the wet ways.
‘What sort of a house would you take?’ Louise asked suddenly.
‘Oh, a decent enough house. What kind do you want?’
‘Something like the Mumfords’. It needn’t be quite so large,’ she added quickly; ‘but a house with a garden, in a nice road, and in a respectable part.’
‘That would suit me well enough,’ answered Cobb cheerfully. ‘You seem to think I want to drag you down, but you’re very much mistaken. I’m doing pretty well, and likely, as far as I can see, to do better. I don’t grudge you money; far from it. All I want to know is, that you’ll marry me for my own sake.’
He dropped his voice, not to express tenderness, but because other people were near. Upon Louise, however, it had a pleasing effect, and she smiled.
‘Very well,’ she made answer, in the same subdued tone. ‘Then let us settle it in that way.’
They talked amicably for the rest of the time that they spent together. It was nearly an hour, and never before had they succeeded in conversing so long without a quarrel. Louise became light-hearted and mirthful; her companion, though less abandoned to the mood of the moment, wore a hopeful countenance. Through all his roughness, Cobb was distinguished by a personal delicacy which no doubt had impressed Louise, say what she might of pretended fears. At parting, he merely shook hands with her, as always.
Glad of a free evening, Emmeline, after dinner, walked round to Mrs. Fentiman’s. Louise had put a restraint upon the wonted friendly intercourse between the Mumfords and their only familiar acquaintances at Sutton. Mrs. Fentiman liked to talk of purely domestic matters, and in a stranger’s presence she was never at ease. Coming alone, and when the children were all safe in bed, Emmeline had a warm welcome. For the first time she spoke of her troublesome guest without reserve. This chat would have been restful and enjoyable but for a most unfortunate remark that fell from the elder lady, a perfectly innocent mention of something her husband had told her, but, secretly, so disturbing Mrs. Mumford that, after hearing it, she got away as soon as possible, and walked quickly home with dark countenance.
It was ten o’clock; Louise had not yet returned, but might do so any moment. Wishing to be sure of privacy in a conversation with her husband, Emmeline summoned him from his book to the bedroom.
‘Well, what has happened now?’ exclaimed Mumford. ‘If this kind of thing goes on much longer I shall feel inclined to take a lodging in town.’
‘I have heard something very strange. I can hardly believe it; there must have been a mistake.’
‘What is it? Really, one’s nerves—’
‘Is it true that, on Thursday evening, you and Miss Derrick were seen talking together at the station? Thursday: the day she went off and came back again after dinner.’
Mumford would gladly have got out of this scrape at any expense of mendacity, but he saw at once how useless such an attempt would prove. Exasperated by the result of his indiscretion, and resenting, as all men do, the undignified necessity of defending himself, he flew into a rage. Yes, it was true, and what next? The girl had waylaid him, begged him to intercede for her with his wife. Of course it would have been better to come home and reveal the matter; he didn’t do so because it seemed to put him in a silly position. For Heaven’s sake, let the whole absurd business be forgotten and done with!
Emmeline, though not sufficiently enlightened to be above small jealousies, would have been ashamed to declare her feeling with the energy of unsophisticated female nature. She replied coldly and loftily that the matter, of course, was done with; that it interested her no more; but that she could not help regretting an instance of secretiveness such as she had never before discovered in her husband. Surely he had put himself in a much sillier position, as things turned out, than if he had followed the dictates of honour.
‘The upshot of it is this,’ cried Mumford: ‘Miss Derrick has to leave the house, and, if necessary, I shall tell her so myself.’
Again Emmeline was cold and lofty. There was no necessity whatever for any further communication between Clarence and Miss Derrick. Let the affair be left entirely in her hands. Indeed, she must very specially request that Clarence would have nothing more to do with Miss Derrick’s business. Whereupon Mumford took offence. Did Emmeline wish to imply that there had been anything improper in his behaviour beyond the paltry indiscretion to which he had confessed? No; Emmeline was thankful to say that she did not harbour base suspicions. Then, rejoined Mumford, let this be the last word of a difference as hateful to him as to her. And he left the room.
His wife did not linger more than a minute behind him, and she sat in the drawing-room to await Miss Derrick’s return; Mumford kept apart in what was called the library. To her credit, Emmeline tried hard to believe that she had learnt the whole truth; her mind, as she had justly declared, was not prone to ignoble imaginings; but acquitting her husband by no means involved an equal charity towards Louise. Hitherto uncertain in her judgment, she had now the relief of an assurance that Miss Derrick was not at all a proper person to entertain as a guest, on whatever terms. The incident of the railway station proved her to be utterly lacking in self-respect, in feminine modesty, even if her behaviour merited no darker description. Emmeline could now face with confidence the scene from which she had shrunk; not only was it a duty to insist upon Miss Derrick’s departure, it would be a positive pleasure.
Louise very soon entered; she came into the room with her brightest look, and cried gaily:
‘Oh, I hope I haven’t kept you waiting for me. Are you alone?’
‘No. I have been out.’
‘Had you the storm here? I’m not going to keep you talking; you look tired.’
‘I am rather,’ said Emmeline, with reserve. She had no intention of allowing Louise to suspect the real cause of what she was about to say—that would have seemed to her undignified; but she could not speak quite naturally. ‘Still, I should be glad if you would sit down for a minute.’
The girl took a chair and began to draw off her gloves. She understood what was coming; it appeared in Emmeline’s face.
‘Something to say to me, Mrs. Mumford?’
‘I hope you won’t think me unkind. I feel obliged to ask you when you will be able to make new arrangements.’
‘You would like me to go soon?’ said Louise, inspecting her finger-nails, and speaking without irritation.
‘I am sorry to say that I think it better you should leave us. Forgive this plain speaking, Miss Derrick. It’s always best to be perfectly straightforward, isn’t it?’
Whether she felt the force of this innuendo or not, Louise took it in good part. As if the idea had only just struck her, she looked up cheerfully.
‘You’re quite right, Mrs. Mumford. I’m sure you’ve been very kind to me, and I’ve had a very pleasant time here, but it wouldn’t do for me to stay longer. May I wait over tomorrow, just till Wednesday morning, to have an answer to a letter?’
‘Certainly, if it is quite understood that there will be no delay beyond that. There are circumstances—private matters—I don’t feel quite able to explain. But I must be sure that you will have left us by Wednesday afternoon.’
‘You may be sure of it. I will write a line and post it to-night, for it to go as soon as possible.’
Therewith Louise stood up and, smiling, withdrew. Emmeline was both relieved and surprised; she had not thought it possible for the girl to conduct herself at such a juncture with such perfect propriety. An outbreak of ill-temper, perhaps of insolence, had seemed more than likely; at best she looked for tears and entreaties. Well, it was over, and by Wednesday the house would be restored to its ancient calm. Ancient, indeed! One could not believe that so short
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