Джон Стейнбек - Cup of Gold [Золотая чаша]

"That much ransom? How did she happen to bring so much?"

"Why, on investigation, I found that she was an heiress. And as I say, she was nice looking, but still-the legend flattered her."

Meanwhile, in another room Lady Moddyford was earnestly talking to Elizabeth.

"I find I must speak to you as a mother, my dear, a mother who is looking to your future. There is absolutely no doubt that your cousin will look out for you; but would you be happy that way? — just hanging to his purse-strings, I mean? Look at him in another light. He is rich, well-favored. You understand, my dear, that it is impossible to be delicate about this, and I do not know that it would be desirable even if it were possible. Why don't you marry your cousin? If nothing else came of it, you would be the one woman on earth who could not criticize her husband's relatives."

"But what are you suggesting, Lady Moddyford?" Elizabeth put in meekly. "Isn't it some kind of crime to marry one's Cousin?"

"Not a bit of it, my dear. There is nothing in church or state to forbid it, and I, myself, would favor such a marriage.

Sir Charles and your cousin have been ordered to England. Sir Charles thinks a knighthood might be arranged.

Then you would be Lady Morgan, and you would be rich."

Elizabethmused: "I only saw him once, for a moment, and then I don't think I quite liked him. He was excited and red. But he was very respectful and gentle. I think he wanted to be friends with me, but my father-you know how Papa was. Perhaps he would make a good husband," she said.

"My dear, any man makes a good husband if he is properly looked after."

"Yes, it might be the best way out. I am tired of being pitied for my poverty. But with this new popularity, do you think he would notice me? He might be too proud to marry a penniless cousin."

"Dear Elizabeth," Lady Moddyford said firmly, "don't you know by now that almost any woman can marry almost any man as long as some other woman doesn't interfere? And I shall arrange matters so that no one will get in your way. You may trust me for that."

Elizabethhad made up her mind. "I know; I shall play for him. I have heard how music affects these fierce men. I shall play him my new pieces-'The Elves' Concourse,' and 'God Bears the Weary Soul to Rest.' "

"No," broke in Lady Moddyford. "No, I wouldn't do that if I were you. He might not like fine music.

There are better ways."

"But you said those pieces were very pretty; you said it yourself. And haven't I read how music soothes men until they can hardly bear it?"

"Very well, my dear; play for him, then, if you will. Perhaps he-But play for him. Such things may run in the family-the love of music, I mean. Of course, you know, you must admire him and at the same time be a little afraid of him. Make him feel that you are a poor, helpless little creature completely hemmed in with tigers. But you must arrange it in your own way. You have a good start, for you may appeal to him for protection from the beginning."

She sighed, "I don't know what we should do without protection. I don't know when Sir Charles would have proposed to me. The dear was frightened out of his life to begin. One afternoon we sat on a bench and I positively searched the landscape for something to frighten me. We must have been there three hours before a little water-snake ambled along the path and terrified me into his arms. No, I can't think what we should do without protection. Sir Charles has a man in the garden all the time looking for snakes. And do you know, I have always liked snakes. I had three of them for pets when I was a little girl."

The next morning Lady Moddyford brought them together, and, as soon as she gracefully could, left them alone.

Elizabethlooked fearfully at her cousin.

"You have done great, terrible things on the ocean, Captain Morgan-enough to freeze one thinking about them," she said falteringly.

"The deeds were not great, nor very dreadful. Nothing is as good or as bad as the telling of it."

And he thought, "I was wrong about her-very wrong. She is not supercilious at all. It must have been her father-the devil-who gave me a wrong impression of her. She is quite nice."

"I am sure yours were great, if your modesty would let you admit it," she was saying demurely. "Do you know, I used to tremble at the tales they told of you, and hope that you were not in need or trouble."

"Did you? Why did you? I didn't think you ever noticed me."

Her eyes had filled with tears. "I have had trouble, too."

"I know. They told me about your trouble, and I was sorry for you, little cousin Elizabeth. I hope you will let me help you in your trouble. Won't you sit here beside me, Elizabeth?"

She looked shyly at him. "I'll play for you, if you like," she said.

"Yees-yes, do."

"Now this is 'The Elves' Concourse.' Listen! You can hear their little feet pattering on the grass.

Everybody says it is very sweet and pretty." Her fingers methodically worked at the strings.

Henry thought her hands lovely as they flew about. He forgot about the music in watching her hands.

They were like little white moths, so delicate and restless. One would hesitate in touching them because handling might ruin them, and yet one wanted to stroke them. The piece was ending with loud bass notes.

Now it was finished. When the last string had ceased its vibration, he observed: "You play very-precisely, Elizabeth."

"Oh, I play the notes as they come," she said. "I always think the composer knew his business better than I do."

"I know, and it is a comfort to hear you. It is nice to know that everything is to be in its place-even notes. You have eradicated a certain obnoxious freedom I have noticed in the playing of some young women. That kind is very lovable and spontaneous and human, of course, but given to carelessness in the interest of passion. Yes, as I become older, I grow to be taking satisfaction in seeing the thing I expected come about. Unsure things are distracting. Chance has not the tug on me it once had. I was a fool, Elizabeth. I went sailing and sailing looking for something-well, something that did not exist, perhaps.

And now that I have lost my unnamable desires, I may not be happier, but there is more content on me."

"That sounds wise and worldly, and a little bit cynical," she observed.

"But if it is wisdom, then wisdom is experience beating about in an orderly brain, kicking over the files.

And how could I be otherwise than worldly. And cynicism is the moss which collects on a rolling stone."

"That is clever, anyway," she agreed. "I suppose you have known a great many of those young women you spoke of."

"What young women, Elizabeth?"

"The ones who played badly."

"Oh! Yes, I have met a few."

"And did you-did you-like them?"

"I tolerated them because they were friends of my friends. "

"Did any of them fall in love with you? I know I am not delicate, but you are my cousin, and almost my-my brother. "

"Oh, some said they did-but I suspect they wanted my money. "

"Surely not! But I shall play for you again. This will be a sad piece-'God Bears the Weary Soul to Rest.' I always think it is better to have seriousness with the lighter music. "

"Yes," he said. "Yes; so it is. "

Again her fingers worked over the strings.

"It is very beautiful, and sad," said Henry, when it was finished. "I liked it wonderfully well, but don't you think, Elizabeth-don't you think that sixth string from the end might be a little-tighter? "

"Oh, I wouldn't have it touched for the world!" she cried. "Before we came out from England, Papa had a man-a harp man-go over the whole thing thoroughly. I wouldn't feel just right with Papa if it were tampered with. He hated people who fiddled with things."