Poor Miss Finch by Wilkie Collins (heaven official's blessing novel english txt) đ
- Author: Wilkie Collins
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The German stretched out his hairy hands, and took hold of the knot of the bandage to undo it.
Lucilla trembled from head to foot.
Herr Grosse hesitatedâlooked at herâlet go of the bandage-and lifting one of her hands, laid his fingers on her pulse.
In the moment of silence that followed, I had one of my inspirations. The missing idea turned up in my brains at last.
âSoh!â cried Grosse, dropping her hand with a sudden outbreak of annoyance and surprise. Who has been frightening my pretty Feench? Why these cold trembles? these sinking pulses? Some of you tell meâwhat does it mean?â
Here was my opportunity! I tried my idea on the spot.
âIt means,â I said, âthat there are too many people in this room. We confuse her, and frighten her. Take her into her bedroom, Herr Grosse; and only let the rest of us in, when you think rightâone at a time.â
Our excellent surgeon instantly seized on my idea, and made it his own.
âYou are a phenix among womens,â he said, paternally patting me on the shoulder. âWhich is most perfectest, your advice or your Mayonnaise, I am at a loss to know.â He turned to Lucilla, and raised her gently from her chair. âCome into your own rooms with me, my poor little Feench. I shall see if I dare take off your bandages to-day.â
Lucilla clasped her hands entreatingly.
âYou promised!â she said. âOh, Herr Grosse, you promised to let me use my eyes to-day!â
âAnswer me this!â retorted the German. âDid I know, when I promised, that I should find you all shaky-pale, as white as my shirts when he comes back from the wash?â
âI am quite myself again,â she pleaded faintly. âI am quite fit to have the bandage taken off.â
âWhat! you know better than I do? Which of us is surgeon-opticâyou or me? No more of this. Come under my arms! Come into the odder rooms!â
He put her arm in his, and walked with her to the door. There, her variable humour suddenly changed. She rallied on the instant. Her face flushed; her courage came back. To my horror, she snatched her arm away from the surgeon, and refused to leave the room.
âNo!â she said. âI am quite composed again; I claim your promise. Examine me here. I must and will have my first look at Oscar in this room.â
(I was afraidâliterally afraidâto turn my eyes Oscarâs way. I glanced at Nugent instead. There was a devilish smile on his face that it nearly drove me mad to see.)
âYou must and weel?â repeated Grosse. âNow, mind!â He took out his watch. âI give you one little minutes, to think in. If you donât come with me in that time, you shall find it is I who must and weel. Now!â
âWhy do you object to go into your room?â I asked.
âBecause I want everybody to see me,â she answered. âHow many of you are there here?â
âThere are five of us. Mr. and Mrs. Finch; Mr. Nugent Dubourg; Oscar, and myself.â
âI wish there were five hundred of you, instead of five?â she burst out.
âWhy?â
âBecause you would see me pick out Oscar from all the rest, the instant the bandage was off my eyes!â
Still holding to her own fatal conviction that the image in her mind of Oscar was the right one! For the second time, though I felt the longing in me to look at him, I shrank from doing it.
Herr Grosse put his watch back in his pocket.
âThe minutes is passed,â he said. âWill you come into the odder rooms? Will you understand that I cannot properly examine you before all these peoples? Say, my lofely FeenchâYes? or No?â
âNo!â she cried obstinately, with a childish stamp of her foot. âI insist on showing everybody that I can pick out Oscar, the moment I open my eyes.â
Herr Grosse buttoned his coat, settled his owlish spectacles firmly on his nose, and took up his hat. âGoot morning,â he said. âI have nothing more to do with you or your eyes. Cure yourself, you little-spitfire-Feench. I am going back to London.â
He opened the door. Even Lucilla was obliged to yield, when the surgeon in attendance on her threatened to throw up the case.
âYou brute!â she said indignantlyâand took his arm again.
Grosse indulged himself in his diabolical grin. âWait till you are able to use your eyes, my lofe. Then you will see what a brutes I am!â With those words he took her out.
We were left in the sitting-room, to wait until the surgeon had decided whether he would, or would not, let Lucilla try her sight on that day.
While the others were, in their various ways, all suffering the same uneasy sense of expectation, I was as quiet in my mind as the baby now sleeping in his motherâs arms. Thanks to Grosseâs resolution to act on the hint that I had given to him, I had now made it impossibleâeven if the bandage was removed on that dayâfor Nugent to catch Lucillaâs first look when she opened her eyes. Her betrothed husband might certainly, on such a special occasion as this, be admitted into her bedchamber, in company with her father or with me. But the commonest sense of propriety would dictate the closing of the door on Nugent. In the sitting-room he must wait (if he still persisted in remaining at the rectory) until she was allowed to join him there. I privately resolved, having the control of the matter in my own hands, that this should not happen until Lucilla knew which of the twins was Nugent, and which was Oscar. A delicious inward glow of triumph diffused itself all through me. I resisted the strong temptation that I felt to discover how Nugent bore his defeat. If I had yielded to it, he would have seen in my face that I gloried in having outwitted him. I sat down, the picture of innocence, in the nearest chair, and crossed my hands on my lap, a composed and ladylike person, edifying to see.
The slow minutes followed each otherâand still we waited the event in silence. Even Mr. Finchâs tongue was, on this solitary occasion, a tongue incapable of pronouncing a single word. He sat by his wife at one end of the room. Oscar and I were at the other. Nugent stood by himself at one of the windows, deep in his own thoughts, plotting how he could pay me out.
Oscar was the first of the party who broke the silence. After looking all round the room, he suddenly addressed himself to me.
âMadame Pratolungo!â he exclaimed. âWhat has become of Jicks?â
I had completely forgotten the child. I too looked round the room, and satisfied myself that she had really disappeared. Mrs. Finch, observing our astonishment, timidly enlightened us. The maternal eye had seen Jicks slip out cunningly at Herr Grosseâs heels. The childâs object was plain enough. While there was any probability of the presence of more gingerbread in the surgeonâs pocket, the wandering Arab of the family (as stealthy and as quick as a cat) was certain to keep within reach of her friend. Nobody who knew her could doubt that she had stolen into Lucillaâs bedchamber, under cover of Herr Grosseâs ample coat-tails.
We had just accounted in this way for the mysterious absence of Jicks, when we heard the bedchamber door opened, and the surgeonâs voice calling for Zillah. In a minute more the nurse appeared, the bearer of a message from the next room.
We all surrounded her, with one and the same question to ask. What had Herr Grosse decided to do? The answer informed us that he had decided on forbidding Lucilla to try her eyes that day.
âIs she very much disappointed?â Oscar inquired anxiously.
âI can hardly say, sir. She isnât like herself. I never knew Miss Lucilla so quiet when she was crossed in her wishes, before. When the doctor called me into the room, she said: âGo in, Zillah, and tell them.â Those words, sir, and no more.â
âDid she express no wish to see me?â I inquired.
âNo, maâam. I took the liberty of asking her if she wished to see you. Miss Lucilla shook her head, and sat herself down on the sofa, and made the doctor sit by her. âLeave us by ourselves.â Those were the last words she said to me, before I came in here.â
Reverend Finch put the next question. The Pope of Dimchurch was himself again: the man of many words saw his chance of speaking once more.
âGood woman,â said the rector with ponderous politeness, âstep this way. I wish to address an inquiry to you. Did Miss Finch make any remark, in your hearing, indicating a desire to be comforted by My Ministrationsâas one bearing the double relation towards her of pastor and parent?â
âI didnât hear Miss Lucilla say anything to that effect, sir.â
Mr. Finch waved his hand with a look of disgust, intimating that Zillahâs audience was over. Nugent, upon that, came forward, and stopped her as she was leaving the room.
âHave you nothing more to tell us?â he asked.
âNo, sir.â
âWhy donât they come back here? What are they doing in the other room?â
âThey were doing what I mentioned just now, sirâthey were sitting side by side on the sofa. Miss Lucilla was talking, and the doctor was
listening to her. And Jicks,â added Zillah, addressing herself confidentially to me, âwas behind them, picking the doctorâs pocket.â
Oscar put in a word thereâby no means in his most gracious manner.
âWhat was Miss Lucilla saying to the doctor?â
âI donât know, sir.â
âYou donât know?â
âI couldnât hear, sir. Miss Lucilla was speaking to him in a whisper.â
After that, there was no more to be said. Zillahâdisturbed over her domestic occupations and eager to get back to her kitchenâseized the first chance of leaving the room; going out in such a hurry that she forgot to close the door after her. We all looked at each other. To what conclusion did the nurseâs strange answers point? It was plainly impossible for Oscar (no matter how quick his temper might be) to feel jealous of a man of Grosseâs age and personal appearance. Still, the prolonged interview between patient and surgeonâafter the decision had been pronounced and the trial of the eyes definitely deferred to a future dayâhad a strange appearance, to say the least of it.
Nugent returned to his place at the windowâpuzzled, suspicious, deep in his own thoughts. Reverend Finch, swelling with unspoken words, rose portentously from his chair by his wifeâs side. Had he discovered another chance of inflicting his eloquence on us? It was only too evident that he had! He looked at us with his ominous smile. He addressed us in his biggest voice.
âMy Christian friendsâ-â
Nugent, unassailable by eloquence, persisted in looking out of the window. Oscar, insensible to every earthly consideration except the one consideration of Lucilla, drew me aside unceremoniously out of the rectorâs hearing. Mr. Finch resumed.
âMy Christian friends, I could wish to say a few appropriate words.â
âGo to Lucilla!â whispered Oscar, taking me entreatingly by both hands. âYou neednât stand on ceremony with her. Do, do see what is going on in the next room!â
Mr. Finch resumed.
âThe occasion seems to call upon one in my position for a little sustaining advice on Christian dutyâI would say, the duty of being cheerful under disappointment.â
Oscar persisted.
âDo me the greatest of all favors! Pray find out what is keeping Lucilla with that man!â
Mr. Finch cleared his throat, and lifted his right hand persuasively by way of
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