Уилки Коллинз - Heart and Science - A Story of the Present Time

She was not for a moment deceived by the clumsy affectation of good humour with which he told his story. Her penetration discovered the vindictive feeling towards Carmina, which offered him, in case of necessity, as an instrument ready made to her hand. By fine degrees, she presented herself in the new character of a sympathising friend.

“I know now, Mr. Le Frank, why you declined to be my niece’s music-master. Allow me to apologise for having ignorantly placed you in a false position. I appreciate the delicacy of your conduct—I understand, and admire you.”

Mr. Le Frank’s florid cheeks turned redder still. His cold blood began to simmer, heated by an all-pervading glow of flattered self-esteem.

“My niece’s motives for concealment are plain enough,” Mrs. Gallilee proceeded. “Let me hope that she was ashamed to confess the total want of taste, delicacy, and good manners which has so justly offended you. Miss Minerva, however, has no excuse for keeping me in the dark. Her conduct, in this matter, offers, I regret to say, one more instance of her habitual neglect of the duties which attach to her position in my house. There seems to be some private understanding between my governess and my niece, of which I highly disapprove. However, the subject is too distasteful to dwell on. You were speaking of your song—the last effort of your genius, I think?”

His “genius”! The inner glow in Mr. Le Frank grew warmer and warmer. “I asked for the honour of an interview,” he explained, “to make a request.” He took up his leaves of music. “This is my last, and, I hope, my best effort at composition. May I dedicate it—?”

“To me!” Mrs. Gallilee exclaimed with a burst of enthusiasm.

Mr. Le Frank felt the compliment. He bowed gratefully.

“Need I say how gladly I accept the honour?” With this gracious answer Mrs. Gallilee rose.

Was the change of position a hint, suggesting that Mr. Le Frank might leave her to her studies, now that his object was gained? Or was it an act of homage offered by Science to Art? Mr. Le Frank was incapable of placing an unfavourable interpretation on any position which a woman—and such a woman—could assume in his presence. He felt the compliment again. “The first copy published shall be sent to you,” he said—and snatched up his hat, eager to set the printers at work.

“And five-and-twenty copies more, for which I subscribe,” cried his munificent patroness, cordially shaking hands with him.

Mr. Le Frank attempted to express his sense of obligation. Generous Mrs. Gallilee refused to hear him. He took his leave; he got as far as the hall; and then he was called back—softly, confidentially called back to the library.

“A thought has just struck me,” said Mrs. Gallilee. “Please shut the door for a moment. About that meeting between you and my niece? Perhaps, I am taking a morbid view?”

She paused. Mr. Le Frank waited with breathless interest.

“Or is there something out of the common way, in that apology of hers?” Mrs. Gallilee proceeded. “Have you any idea what the motive might be?”

Mr. Le Frank’s ready suspicion was instantly aroused. “Not the least idea,” he answered. “Can you tell me?”

“I am as completely puzzled as you are,” Mrs. Gallilee rejoined.

Mr. Le Frank considered. His suspicions made an imaginative effort, assisted by his vanity. “After my refusal to teach her,” he suggested, “that proposal to shake hands may have a meaning—” There, his invention failed him. He stopped, and shook his head ominously.

Mrs. Gallilee’s object being attained, she made no attempt to help him. “Perhaps, time will show,” she answered discreetly. “Good-bye again—with best wishes for the success of the song.”

The solitude of her own room was no welcome refuge to Carmina, in her present state of mind. She went on to the schoolroom.

Miss Minerva was alone. The two girls, in obedience to domestic regulations, were making their midday toilet before dinner. Carmina described her interview with Mrs. Gallilee, and her meeting with Mr. Le Frank. “Don’t scold me,” she said; “I make no excuse for my folly.”

“If Mr. Le Frank had left the house, after you spoke to him,” Miss Minerva answered, “I should not have felt the anxiety which troubles me now. I don’t like his going to Mrs. Gallilee afterwards—especially when you tell me of that change in her manner towards you. Yours is a vivid imagination, Carmina. Are you sure that it has not been playing you any tricks?”

“Perfectly sure.”

Miss Minerva was not quite satisfied. “Will you help me to feel as certain about it as you do?” she asked. “Mrs. Gallilee generally looks in for a few minutes, while the children are at dinner. Stay here, and say something to her in my presence. I want to judge for myself.”

The girls came in. Maria’s perfect toilet, reflected Maria’s perfect character. She performed the duties of politeness with her usual happy choice of words. “Dear Carmina, it is indeed a pleasure to see you again in our schoolroom. We are naturally anxious about your health. This lovely weather is no doubt in your favour; and papa thinks Mr. Null a remarkably clever man.” Zo stood by frowning, while these smooth conventionalities trickled over her sister’s lips. Carmina asked what was the matter. Zo looked gloomily at the dog on the rug. “I wish I was Tinker,” she said. Maria smiled sweetly. “Dear Zoe, what a very strange wish! What would you do, if you were Tinker?” The dog, hearing his name, rose and shook himself. Zo pointed to him, with an appearance of the deepest interest. “He hasn’t got to brush his hair, before he goes out for a walk; his nails don’t took black when they’re dirty. And, I say!” (she whispered the next words in Carmina’s ear) “he hasn’t got a governess.”

The dinner made its appearance; and Mrs. Gallilee followed the dinner. Maria said grace. Zo, always ravenous at meals, forgot to say Amen. Carmina, standing behind her chair, prompted her. Zo said “Amen; oh, bother!” the first word at the top of her voice, and the last two in a whisper. Mrs. Gallilee looked at Carmina as she might have looked at an obtrusive person who had stepped in from the street. “You had better dress before luncheon,” she suggested, “or you will keep the carriage waiting.” Hearing this, Zo laid down her knife and fork, and looked over her shoulder. “Ask if I may go with you,” she said. Carmina made the request. “No,” Mrs. Gallilee answered, “the children must walk. My maid will accompany you.” Carmina glanced at Miss Minerva on leaving the room. The governess replied by a look. She too had seen the change in Mrs. Gallilee’s manner, and was at a loss to understand it.

Mrs. Gallilee’s maid Marceline belonged to a quick-tempered race: she was a Jersey woman. It is not easy to say which of the two felt most oppressed by their enforced companionship in the carriage.

The maid was perhaps the most to be pitied. Secretly drawn towards Carmina like the other servants in the house, she was forced by her mistress’s private instruction, to play the part of a spy. “If the young lady changes the route which the coachman has my orders to take, or if she communicates with any person while your are out, you are to report it to me.” Mrs. Gallilee had not forgotten the discovery of the travelling bag; and Mr. Mool’s exposition of the law had informed her, that the superintendence of Carmina was as much a matter of serious pecuniary interest as ever.

But recent events had, in one respect at least, improved the prospect.

If Ovid (as his mother actually ventured to hope!) broke off his engagement, when he heard the scandalous story of Carmina’s birth, there was surely a chance that she, like other girls of her sensitive temperament, might feel the calamity that had fallen on her so acutely as to condemn herself to a single life. Misled, partly by the hope of relief from her own vile anxieties; partly by the heartless incapability of appreciating generous feeling in others, developed by the pursuits of her later life, Mrs. Gallilee seriously contemplated her son’s future decision as a matter of reasonable doubt.