Poor Miss Finch by Wilkie Collins (heaven official's blessing novel english txt) đ
- Author: Wilkie Collins
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What was to be done now? Two things were to be done. First thing:âTo cool myself down. Second thing:âTo follow Lucilla, and kiss and make it up.
Either I took some time to coolâor, in the irritation of the moment, Lucilla walked faster than usual. She had got to Browndown before I could overtake her. On opening the house-door, I heard them talking. It would hardly do to disturb themâespecially now I was in disgrace. While I was hesitating, and wondering what my next proceeding had better be, my eye was attracted by a letter lying on the hall-table. I looked (one is always inquisitive in those idle moments when one doesnât know what to do)âI looked at the address. The letter was directed to Nugent; and the post-mark was Liverpool.
I drew the inevitable conclusion. The German oculist was in England!
I WAS still in doubt, whether to enter the room, or to wait outside until she left Browndown to return to the rectoryâwhen Lucillaâs keen sense of hearing decided the question which I had been unable to settle for myself. The door of the room opened; and Oscar advanced into the hall.
âLucilla insisted that she heard somebody outside,â he said. âWho could have guessed it was you? Why did you wait in the hall? Come in! come in!â
He held open the door for me; and I went in. Oscar announced me to Lucilla. âIt was Madame Pratolungo you heard,â he said. She took no notice either of him or of me. A heap of flowers from Oscarâs garden lay in her lap. With the help of her clever fingers, she was sorting them to make a nosegay, as quickly and as tastefully as if she had possessed the sense of sight. In all my experience of that charming face, it had never looked so hard as it looked now. Nobody would have recognized her likeness to the Madonna of Raphaelâs picture. Offendedâmortally offended with meâI saw it at a glance.
âI hope you will forgive my intrusion, Lucilla, when you know my motive,â I said. âI have followed you here to make my excuses.â
âOh, donât think of making excuses!â she rejoined, giving three-fourths of her attention to the flowers, and one-fourth to me. âItâs a pity you took the trouble of coming here. I quite agree with what you said in the garden. Considering the object I had in view at Browndown, I could not possibly expect you to accompany me. True! quite true!â
I kept my temper. Not that I am a patient woman: not that I possess a meek disposition. Very far from it, I regret to say. Nevertheless, I kept my temperâso far.
âI wish to apologize for what I said in the garden,â I resumed. âI spoke thoughtlessly, Lucilla. It is impossible that I could intentionally offend you.â
I might as well have spoken to one of the chairs. The whole of her attention became absorbed in the breathless interest of making her nosegay.
âWas I offended?â she said, addressing herself to the flowers. âExcessively foolish of me, if I was.â She suddenly became conscious of my existence. âYou had a perfect right to express your opinion,â she said loftily. âAccept my excuses if I appeared to dispute it.â
She tossed her pretty head; she showed her brightest color; she tapped her nice little foot briskly on the floor. (Oh, Lucilla! Lucilla!) I still kept my temper. More, by this time (I admit,) for Oscarâs sake than for her sake. He looked so distressed, poor fellowâso painfully anxious to interfere, without exactly knowing how.
âMy dear Lucilla!â he began. âSurely you might answer Madame Pratolungoâ-â
She petulantly interrupted him, with another toss of the headâa little higher than the last.
âI donât attempt to answer Madame Pratolungo! I prefer admitting that Madame Pratolungo may have been quite right. I dare say I am ready to fall in love with the first man who comes my way. I dare sayâif I had met your brother before I met youâI should have fallen in love with him. Quite likely!â
âQuite likelyâas you say,ââanswered poor Oscar, humbly. âI am sure I think it very lucky for me, that you didnât meet Nugent first.â
She threw her lapful of flowers away from her on the table at which she was sitting. She became perfectly furious with him for taking my side. I permitted myself (the poor child could not see it, remember), the harmless indulgence of a smile.
âYou agree with Madame Pratolungo,â she said to him viciously. âMadame Pratolungo thinks your brother a much more agreeable man than you.â
Humble Oscar shook his head in melancholy acknowledgment of this self-evident fact. âThere can be no two opinions about that,â he said resignedly.
She stamped her foot on the carpetâand raised quite a little cloud of dust. My lungs are occasionally delicate. I permitted myself another harmless indulgenceâindulgence in a slight cough. She heard the second indulgenceâand suddenly controlled herself, the instant it reached her ears. I am afraid she took my cough as my commentary on what was going on.
âCome here, Oscar,â she said, with a complete change of tone and manner. âCome and sit down by me.â
Oscar obeyed.
âPut your arm round my waist.â
Oscar looked at me. Having the use of his sight, he was sensible of the absurd side of the demonstration required of himâin the presence of a third person. She, poor soul, strong in her blind insensibility to all shafts of ridicule shot from the eye, cared nothing for the presence of a third person. She repeated her commands, in a tone which said sharply, âEmbrace meâI am not to be trifled with.â
Oscar timidly put his arm round her waistâwith an appealing look at me. She issued another command instantly.
âSay you love me.â
Oscar hesitated.
âSay you love me!â
Oscar whispered it.
âOut loud!â
Endurance has its limits: I began to lose my temper. She could not have been more superbly indifferent to my presence, if there had been a cat in the room instead of a lady.
âPermit me to inform you,â I said, âthat I have not (as you appear to suppose) left the room.â
She took no notice. She went on with her commands, rising irrepressibly from one amatory climax to another.
âGive me a kiss!â
Unhappy Oscarâsacrificed between usâblushed. Stop! Donât revel prematurely in the greatest enjoyment a reader hasânamely, catching a writer out in a mistake. I have not forgotten that his disfigured complexion would prevent his blush from showing on the surface. I beg to say I saw it under the surfaceâsaw it in his expression: I repeatâhe blushed.
I felt it necessary to assert myself for the second time.
âI have only one object in remaining in the room, Miss Finch. I merely wish to know whether you refuse to accept my excuses.
âOscar! give me a kiss!â
He still hesitated. She threw her arm round his neck. My duty to myself was plainâmy duty was to go.
âGood afternoon, Mr. Dubourg,â I saidâand turned to the door. She heard me cross the room, and called to me to stop. I paused. There was a glass on the wall opposite to me. On the authority of the glass, I beg to mention that I paused in my most becoming manner. Grace tempered with dignity: dignity tempered with grace.
âMadame Pratolungo!â
âMiss Finch?â
âThis is the man who is not half so agreeable as his brother. Look!â
She tightened her hold round his neck, and gave himâostentatiously gave himâthe kiss which he was ashamed to give her. I advanced, in contemptuous silence, to the door. My attitude expressed disgust accompanied by sorrow: sorrow, accompanied by disgust.
âMadame Pratolungo!â
I made no answer.
âThis is the man whom I should never have loved if I had happened to meet his brother first. Look!â
She put both arms round his neck; and gave him a shower of kisses all in one. I indignantly withdrew. The door had been imperfectly closed when I had entered the room: it was ajar. I pulled it openâand found myself face to face with Nugent Dubourg, standing by the table, with his letter from Liverpool in his hand! He must have certainly heard Lucilla cast my own words back in my teethâif he had heard no more.
I stopped short; looking at him in silent surprise. He smiled, and held out the open letter to me. Before we could speak, we heard the door of the room closed. Oscar had followed me out (shutting the door behind him) to apologize for Lucillaâs behavior to me. He explained what had happened to his brother. Nugent nodded, and tapped his open letter smartly. âLeave me to manage it. I shall give you something better to do than quarreling among yourselves. You will hear what it is directly. In the meantime, I have got a message for our friend at the inn. Gootheridge is on his way here, to speak to me about altering the stable. Run and tell him I have other business on hand, and I canât keep my appointment to-day. Stop! Give him this at the same time, and ask him to leave it at the rectory.â
He took one of his visiting cards out of the case, wrote a few lines on it in pencil, and handed it to his brother. Oscar (always ready to go on errands for Nugent) hurried out to meet the landlord. Nugent turned to me.
âThe German is in England,â he said. âNow I may open my lips.â
âAt once!â I exclaimed.
âAt once. I have put off my own business (as you heard) in favor of this. My friend will be in London tomorrow. I mean to get my authority to consult him to-day, and to start tomorrow for town. Prepare yourself to meet one of the strangest characters you ever set eyes on! You saw me write on my card. It was a message to Mr. Finch, asking him to join us immediately (on important family business) at Browndown. As Lucillaâs father, he has a voice in the matter. When Oscar comes back, and when the rector joins us, our domestic privy council will be complete.â
He spoke with his customary spirit; he moved with his customary brisknessâhe had become quite himself again, since I had seen him last.
âI am stagnating in this place,â he went on, seeing that I noticed the change in him. âIt puts me in spirits again, having something to do. I am not like OscarâI must have action to stir my bloodâaction to keep me from fretting over my anxieties. How do you think I found the witness to my brotherâs innocence at the Trial? In that way. I said to myself, âI shall go mad if I donât do something.â I did somethingâand saved Oscar. I am going to do something again. Mark my words! Now I am stirring in it, Lucilla will recover her sight.â
âThis is a serious matter,â I said. âPray give it serious consideration.â
âConsideration?â he repeated. âI hate the word. I always decide on the instant. If I am wrong in my view of Lucillaâs case, consideration is of no earthly use. If I am right, every dayâs delay is a day of sight lost to the blind. Iâll wait for Oscar and Mr. Finch; and then Iâll open the business. Why are we talking in the hall? Come in!â
He led the way to the sitting-room. I had
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