the heir of redclyffe-第125部分

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Thorndale；　saying　that　his　brother；　the　member　for　Moorworth；　had　long　

been　thinking　of　giving　up　his　seat；　and　latterly　had　only　waited　in　

hopes　that　the　succession　at　Redclyffe　might　come　to　Philip　Morville。　　

Moorworth　was　entirely　under　the　Thorndale　and　Morville　interest；　and　

Lord　Thorndale　wrote　to　propose　that　Philip　should　come　forward　at　

once；　inviting　him　to　Thorndale　instead　of　going　to　his　own　empty　

house。



To　be　in　parliament　had　been　one　of　the　favourite　visions　of　Philip's　

youth；　and　for　that　very　reason　he　hesitated；　taking　it　as　one　of　the　

strange　fulfilments　of　his　desires　that　had　become　punishments。　　He　

could　not　but　feel　that　as　this　unhappy　load　of　wealth　had　descended　on　

him；　he　was　bound　to　make　it　as　beneficial　as　he　could　to　others；　and　

not　seeking　for　rest　or　luxury；　to　stand　in　the　gap　where　every　good　

man　and　true　was　needed。　　But　still　he　dreaded　his　old　love　of　

distinction。　　He　disliked　a　London　life　for　Laura；　and　he　thought　that；　

precarious　as　his　health　had　become；　it　might　expose　her　to　much　

anxiety；　since　he　was　determined　that　if　he　undertook　it　at　all；　he　

would　never　be　an　idle　member。



It　ended　in　his　referring　the　decision　to　Laura；　who；　disliking　London；　

fearful　for　his　health；　eager　for　his　glory；　and　reluctant　to　keep　back　

such　a　champion　from　the　battle；　was　much　perplexed；　only　desirous　to　

say　what　he　wished；　yet　not　able　to　make　out　what　that　might　be。　　She　

carried　her　doubts　to　Charles　and　Amabel；　who　both　pronounced　that　the　

thought　of　going　to　Redclyffe　seemed　far　worse　for　him　than　any　degree　

of　employmentthat　occupation　of　the　mind　was　the　best　thing　for　his　

spirits；　and　ended　by　recommending　that　Dr。　Mayerne　should　be　

consulted。



He　was　of　the　same　opinion。　　He　said　a　man　could　hardly　have　two　fevers　

following；　and　one　of　them　upon　the　brain；　without　having　reason　to　

remember　them。　　That　his　constitution　had　been　seriously　weakened；　and　

there　was　an　excitability　of　brain　and　nerves　which　made　care　

requisite；　but　depression　of　spirits　was　the　chief　thing　to　guard　

against；　and　a　London　life；　provided　he　did　not　overwork　himself；　was　

better　for　him　than　solitude　at　Redclyffe。



Accordingly　Philip　went　to　Thorndale；　and　was　returned　for　Moorworth　

without　opposition。　　Markham　sent　his　nephew　to　transact　business　with　

him　at　Thorndale；　for　he　could　not　bear　to　meet　him　himself；　and　while　

there　was　any　prospect　of　his　coming　to　Redclyffe；　walked　about　in　

paroxysms　of　grunting　and　ill…humour。　　The　report　that　Mr。　Morville　was　

engaged　to　the　other　Miss　Edmonstone　did　but　render　him　more　furious；　

for　he　regarded　it　as　a　sort　of　outrage　to　Lady　Morville's　feelings　

that　a　courtship　should　be　carried　on　in　the　house　with　her。　　She　was　

at　present　the　object　of　all　his　devoted　affection　for　the　family；　and　

he　would　not　believe；　but　that　she　had　been　as　much　disappointed　at　the　

birth　of　her　daughter；　as　he　was　himself。　　He　would　not　say　one　word　

against　Mr。　Morville；　but　looked　and　growled　enough　to　make　Mr。　Ashford　

afraid　that　the　new　squire　would　find　him　very　troublesome。



The　Ashfords　were　in　a　state　of　mind　themselves　to　think　that　Mr。　

Morville　ought　to　be　everything　excellent　to　make　up　for　succeeding　Sir　

Guy；　but　having　a　very　high　opinion　of　him　to　begin　with；　they　were　

very　sorry　to　find　all　Redclyffe　set　against　him。　　In　common　with　the　

parish；　they　were　very　anxious　for　the　first　report　of　his　arrival　and　

at　length　he　came。　　James　Thorndale；　as　before；　drove　him　thither；　

coming　to　the　Ashfords　while　he　was　busy　with　Markham。　　He　would　not　go　

up　to　the　Park；　he　only　went　through　some　necessary　business　with　

Markham；　and　then　walked　down　to　the　Cove；　afterwards　sitting　for　about　

ten　minutes　in　Mrs。　Ashford's　drawing…room。



The　result　of　the　visit　was　that　old　James　Robinson　reported　that　the　

new　squire　took　on　as　much　about　poor　Sir　Guy　as　any　one　could　do；　and　

turned　as　pale　as　if　he　had　been　going　into　a　swoon；　when　he　spoke　his　

name　and　gave　Ben　his　message。　　And　as　to　poor　Ben；　the　old　man　said；　

he　regularly　did　cry　like　a　child；　and　small　blame　to　him；　to　hear　that　

Sir　Guy　had　took　thought　of　him　at　such　a　time　and　so　far　away；　and　he　

verily　believed　Ben　could　never　take　again　to　his　bad　ways；　after　such　

a　message　as　that。



Markham　was　gruff　with　the　Robinsons　for　some　time　after　and　was　even　

heard　to　mutter　something　about　worshipping　the　rising　sun；　an　act　of　

idolatry　of　which　he　could　not　be　accused；　since　it　was　in　the　most　

grudging　manner　that　he　allowed；　that　Mr。　Morville's　sole　anxiety　

seemed　to　be　to　continue　all　Sir　Guy　had　undertaken；　while　Mrs。　

Ashford；　on　the　other　hand　was　much　affected　by　the　account　her　cousin　

James　had　been　giving　her　of　the　grief　that　he　had　suffered　at　Sir　

Guy's　death；　his　long　illness；　his　loss　of　spirits；　the　reluctance　he　

had　shown　to　come　here　at　all；　and　his　present　unconquerable　dread　of　

going　to　the　Park。



He　was　soon　after　in　London；　where；　as　far　as　could　be　judged　in　such　

early　days；　he　seemed　likely　to　distinguish　himself　according　to　the　

fondest　hopes　that　Margaret　or　Laura　could　ever　have　entertained。　　

Laura　was　only　afraid　he　was　overworking　himself；　especially　as；　having　

at　present　little　command　of　ready　money；　he　lived　in　a　small　lodging；　

kept　no　horse；　and　did　not　enter　into　society；　but　she　was　reassured　

when　he　came　to　Hollywell　for　a　day　or　two　at　Whitsuntide；　not　having　

indeed　regained　flesh　or　colour；　but　appearing　quite　well；　in　better　

spirits；　and　very　eager　about　political　affairs。



All　would　have　been　right　that　summer；　but　that；　as　Philip　observed；　

the　first　evening　of　his　arrival；　Amabel　was　not　looking　as　well　as　she　

had　done　at　the　time　of　the　christening。　　She　had；　just　after　it；　tried　

her　strength　and　spirits　too　much；　and　had　ever　since　been　not　exactly　

unwell；　but　sad　and　weary；　more　dejected　than　ever　before；　unable　to　

bear　the　sight　of　flowers　or　the　sound　of　music；　and　evidently　

suffering　much　under　the　recurrence　of　the　season；　which　had　been　that　

of　her　great　happinessthe　summer　sunshine；　the　long　evenings；　the　

nightingale's　songs。　　She　was　fatigued　by　the　most　trifling　exertion；　

and　seemed　able　to　take　interest　in　nothing　but　her　baby；　and　a　young　

widow　in　the　village；　who　was　in　a　decline；　and　though　she　was　willing　

to　do　all　that　was　asked　of　her；　it　was　in　a　weary；　melancholy　manner；　

as　if　she　had　no　peace　but　in　being　allowed　to　sit　alone；　drooping　over　

her　child。



From　society　she　especially　shrunk；　avoiding　every　chance　of　meeting　

visitors；　and　distressed　and　harassed　when　her　father　brought　home　some　

of　his　casual　dinner　guests；　and　was　vexed　not　to　see　her　come　into　the　

drawing…room　in　the　evening。　　If　she　did　make　the　effort　of　coming；　to　

please　him；　she　was　so　sure　to　be　the　worse　for　it；　that　her　mother　

would　keep　her　up…stairs　the　next　time；　and　try　to　prevent　her　from　

knowing　that　her　father　was　put　out；　and　declared　it　was　nonsense　to　

expect　poor　Amy　to　get　up　her　spirits；　while　she　never　saw　a　living　

soul；　and　only　sat　moping　in　the　dressing…room。



A　large　dinner…party　did　not　interfere　with　her；　for　even　he　could　not　

expect　her　to　appear　at　it；　and　one　of　these　he　gave　during　Philip's　

visit；　for　the　pleasure　of　exhibiting　such　company　as　the　M。P。　for　

Moorworth。　　After　dinner；　Charlotte　told　Mary　Ross　to　go　and　see　Amy。　　

Not　finding　her　in　the　dressing…room；　she　knocked　at　her　own　door。　　

'Come　in；'　answered　the　low　soft　voice；　and　in　the　window；　overhung　by　

the　long　shoots　of　the　roses；　Amabel's　close　cap　and　small　head　were　

seen　against　the　deep…blue　evening　sky；　as　she　sat　in　the　summer　

twilight；　her　little　one　asleep　in　her　cot。



'Thank　you　for　coming；'　said　she。　　'I　thought　you　would　not　mind　

sitting　here　with　baby　and　me。　　I　have　sent　Anne　out　walking。'



'How　pretty　she　looks！'　said　Mary；　stooping　over　the　infant。　　'Sleep　is　

giving　her　quite　a　colour；　and　how　fast　she　grows！'



'Poor　little　woman！'　said　Amy；　sighing。



'Tired；　Amy？'　said　Mary；　sitting　down；　and　taking　up　the　little　

lambswool　shoe；　that　Amy　had　been　knitting。



'Nno；　thank　you；'　said　Amy；　with　another　sigh。



'I　am　afraid　you　are。　　You　have　been　walking　to　Alice　Lamsden's　again。'



'I　don't　think　that　tires　me。　　Indeed；　I　believe　the　truth　is；'　and　her　

voice　sounded　especially　sad　in　the　subdued　tone　in　which　she　spoke；　

that　she　might　not　disturb　the　child；　'I　am　not　so　much　tired　with　what　

I　do；　which　is　little　enough；　as　of　the　long；　long　life　that　is　before　

me。'



Mary's　heart　was　full；　but　she　did　not　show　her　thought　otherwise　than　

by　a　look　towards　the　babe。



'Yes；　poor　little　darling；'　said　Amabel；　'I　know　there　is　double　

quantity　to　be　done　for　her；　but　I　am　so　sorry　for　her；　when　I　think　

she　must　grow　up　without　knowing　him。'



'She　has　you；　though；'　Mary　could　not　help　saying；　as　she　felt　that　

Amabel　was　superior　to　all　save　her　husband。



Perhaps　Amy　did　not　hear；　she　went　up　to　the　cot；　and　went　on：'If　he　

had　but　once　seen　her；　if　she　had　but　had　one　kiss；　one　touch　that　I　

could　tell　her　of　by　and　by；　it　would　not　seem　as　if　she　was　so　very　

fatherless。　　Oh　no；　baby；　I　must　wait；　that　you　may　know　something　

about；　him；　for　no　one　else　can　tell　you　so　well　what　he　was；　though　I　

can't　tell　much！'　　She　presently　returned　to　her　seat。　　'No；　I　don't　

believe　I　really　wish　I　was　like　poor　Alice；'　said　she；　'I　hope　not；　I　

am　sure　I　don't　for　her　sake。　　But；　Mary；　I　never　knew　till　I　was　well　

again　how　much　I　had　reckoned　on　dying　when　she　was　born。　　I　did　not　

think　I　was　wishing　it；　but　it　seemed　likely；　and　I　was　obliged　to　

arrange　things　in　case　of　it。　　Then　somehow；　as　he　came　back　last　

spring；　after　that　sad　winter；　it　seemed　as　if　this　spring；　though　he　

would　not　come　back　to　me；　I　might　be　going　to　him。'