Uncle Silas by J. Sheridan Le Fanu (ebook voice reader TXT) 📕

door, and made some affectionate enquiries about me in a whisper; and then she stole to the window and peeped out, standing back some way; after which she came to my bedside, murmured some tender sentences, drew the curtain a little, and making some little fidgety adjustments about the room; among the rest she took the key from the lock, quietly, and put it into her pocket.

This was so odd a procedure that honest Mary Quince rose stoutly from her chair, pointing to the lock, with her frank little blue eyes fixed on Madame, and she whispered⁠—“Won’t you put the key in the lock, please?”

“Oh, certainly, Mary Queence; but it is better it shall be locked, for I think her uncle he is coming to see her, and I am sure she would be very much frightened, for he is very much displease, don’t you see? and we can tell him she is not well enough, or asleep, and so he weel go away again, without any trouble.”

I heard nothing of this, which was conducted in close whispers; and Mary, although she did not give Madame credit for caring whether I was frightened or not, and suspected her motives in everything, acquiesced grudgingly, fearing lest her alleged reason might possibly be the true one.

So Madame hovered about the door, uneasily; and of what went on elsewhere during that period Lady Knollys afterwards gave me the following account:⁠—

“We were very much disappointed; but of course I was glad to see Silas, and your little hobgoblin butler led me upstairs to his room a different way, I think, from that I came before; but I don’t know the house of Bartram well enough to speak positively. I only know that I was conducted quite across his bedroom, which I had not seen on my former visit, and so into his sitting-room, where I found him.

“He seemed very glad to see me, came forward smiling⁠—I disliked his smile always⁠—with both hands out, and shook mine with more warmth than I ever remembered in his greeting before, and said⁠—

“ ‘My dear, dear Monica, how very good of you⁠—the very person I longed to see! I have been miserably ill, the sad consequence of still more miserable anxiety. Sit down, pray, for a moment.’

“And he paid me some nice little French compliment in verse.

“ ‘And where is Maud?’ said I.

“ ‘I think Maud is by this time about halfway to Elverston,’ said the old gentleman. ‘I persuaded her to take a drive, and advised a call there, which seemed to please her, so I conjecture she obeyed.’

“ ‘How very provoking!’ cried I.

“ ‘My poor Maud will be sadly disappointed, but you will console her by a visit⁠—you have promised to come, and I shall try to make you comfortable. I shall be happier, Monica, with this proof of our perfect reconciliation. You won’t deny me?’

“ ‘Certainly not. I am only too glad to come,’ said I; ‘and I want to thank you, Silas.’

“ ‘For what?’ said he.

“ ‘For wishing to place Maud in my care. I am very much obliged to you.’

“ ‘I did not suggest it, I must say, Monica, with the least intention of obliging you,’ said Silas.

“I thought he was going to break into one of his ungracious moods.

“ ‘But I am obliged to you⁠—very much obliged to you, Silas; and you shan’t refuse my thanks.’

“ ‘I am happy, at all events, Monica, in having won your goodwill; we learn at last that in the affections only are our capacities for happiness; and how true is St. Paul’s preference of love⁠—the principle that abideth! The affections, dear Monica, are eternal; and being so, celestial, divine, and consequently happy, deriving happiness, and bestowing it.’

“I was always impatient of his or anybody else’s metaphysics; but I controlled myself, and only said, with my customary impudence⁠—

“ ‘Well, dear Silas, and when do you wish me to come?’

“ ‘The earlier the better,’ said he.

“ ‘Lady Mary and Ilbury will be leaving me on Tuesday morning. I can come to you in the afternoon, if you think Tuesday a good day.’

“ ‘Thank you, dear Monica. I shall be, I trust, enlightened by that day as to my enemies’ plans. It is a humiliating confession, Monica, but I am past feeling that. It is quite possible that an execution may be sent into this house tomorrow, and an end of all my schemes. It is not likely, however⁠—hardly possible⁠—before three weeks, my attorney tells me. I shall hear from him tomorrow morning, and then I shall ask you to name a very early day. If we are to have an unmolested fortnight certain, you shall hear, and name your own day.’

“Then he asked me who had accompanied me, and lamented ever so much his not being able to go down to receive them; and he offered luncheon, with a sort of Ravenswood smile, and a shrug, and I declined, telling him that we had but a few minutes, and that my companions were walking in the grounds near the house.

“I asked whether Maud was likely to return soon?

“ ‘Certainly not before five o’clock.’ He thought we should probably meet her on our way back to Elverston; but could not be certain, as she might have changed her plans.

“So then came⁠—no more remaining to be said⁠—a very affectionate parting. I believe all about his legal dangers was strictly true. How he could, unless that horrid woman had deceived him, with so serene a countenance tell me all those gross untruths about Maud, I can only admire.”

In the meantime, as I lay in my bed, Madame, gliding hither and thither, whispering sometimes, listening at others, I suddenly startled them both by saying⁠—

“Whose carriage?”

“What carriage, dear?” inquired Quince, whose ears were not so sharp as mine.

Madame peeped from the window.

“ ’Tis the physician, Doctor Jolks. He is come to see your uncle, my dear,” said Madame.

“But I hear a female voice,” I said, sitting up.

“No, my dear; there is only the doctor,” said Madame. “He is come to your uncle. I tell you he is getting