Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (1188 page)

“There, I came to a full stop; having something yet to say, but not knowing how to express myself with the necessary delicacy.

“‘Why do you wish me to read the letter?’ she asked, quietly.

“I think there is something in it which might — .’

“There, like a fool, I came to another full stop. She was as patient as ever; she only made a little sign to me to go on.

“‘I think Father Patrizio’s letter might put you in a better frame of mind,’ I said; ‘it might keep you from despising yourself.’

“She went back to her chair, and read the letter. You have permitted me to keep the comforting words of the good Father, among my other treasures. I copy his letter for you in this place — so that you may read it again, and see what I had in my mind, and understand how it affected poor Miss Minerva.

“‘Teresa, my well-beloved friend, — I have considered the anxieties that trouble you, with this result: that I can do my best, conscientiously, to quiet your mind. I have had the experience of forty years in the duties of the priesthood. In that long time, the innermost secrets of thousands of men and women have been confided to me. From such means of observation, I have drawn many useful conclusions; and some of them may be also useful to you. I will put what I have to say, in the plainest and fewest words: consider them carefully, on your side. The growth of the better nature, in women, is perfected by one influence — and that influence is Love. Are you surprised that a priest should write in this way? Did you expect me to say, Religion? Love, my sister,
is
Religion, in women. It opens their hearts to all that is good for them; and it acts independently of the conditions of human happiness. A miserable woman, tormented by hopeless love, is still the better and the nobler for that love; and a time will surely come when she will show it. You have fears for Carmina — cast away, poor soul, among strangers with hard hearts! I tell you to have no fears. She may suffer under trials; she may sink under trials. But the strength to rise again is in her — and that strength is Love.’

“Having read our old friend’s letter, Miss Minerva turned back, and read it again — and waited a little, repeating some part of it to herself.

“‘Does it encourage you?’ I asked.

“She handed the letter back to me. ‘I have got one sentence in it by heart,’ she said.

“You will know what that sentence is, without my telling you. I felt so relieved, when I saw the change in her for the better — I was so inexpressibly happy in the conviction that we were as good friends again as ever — that I bent down to kiss her, on saying goodnight.

“She put up her hand and stopped me. ‘No,’ she said, ‘not till I have done something to deserve it. You are more in need of help than you think. Stay here a little longer; I have a word to say to you about your aunt.’

“I returned to my chair, feeling a little startled. Her eyes rested on me absently — she was, as I imagined, considering with herself, before she spoke. I refrained from interrupting her thoughts. The night was still and dark. Not a sound reached our ears from without. In the house, the silence was softly broken by a rustling movement on the stairs. It came nearer. The door was opened suddenly. Mrs. Gallilee entered the room.

“What folly possessed me? Why was I frightened? I really could not help it — I screamed. My aunt walked straight up to me, without taking the smallest notice of Miss Minerva. ‘What are you doing here, when you ought to be in your bed?’ she asked.

“She spoke in such an imperative manner — with such authority and such contempt — that I looked at her in astonishment. Some suspicion seemed to be roused in her by finding me and Miss Minerva together.

“No more gossip!’ she called out sternly. ‘Do you hear me? Go to bed!’

“Was it not enough to rouse anybody? I felt my pride burning in my face. ‘Am I a child, or a servant?’ I said. ‘I shall go to bed early or late as I please.’

“She took one step forward; she seized me by the arm, and forced me to my feet. Think of it, Teresa! In all my life I have never had a hand laid on me except in kindness. Who knows it better than you! I tried vainly to speak — I saw Miss Minerva rise to interfere — I heard her say, ‘Mrs. Gallilee, you forget yourself!’ Somehow, I got out of the room. On the landing, a dreadful fit of trembling shook me from head to foot. I sank down on the stairs. At first, I thought I was going to faint. No; I shook and shivered, but I kept my senses. I could hear their voices in the room.

“Mrs. Gallilee began. ‘Did you tell me just now that I had forgotten myself?’

“Miss Minerva answered, ‘Certainly, madam. You
did
forget yourself.’

“The next words escaped me. After that, they grew louder; and I heard them again — my aunt first.

“‘I am dissatisfied with your manner to me, Miss Minerva. It has latterly altered very much for the worse.’

“‘In what respect, Mrs. Gallilee?’

“‘In this respect. Your way of speaking to me implies an assertion of equality — ’

“‘Stop a minute, madam! I am not so rich as you are. But I am at a loss to know in what other way I am not your equal. Did you assert your superiority — may I ask — when you came into my room without first knocking at the door?’

“‘Miss Minerva! Do you wish to remain in my service?’

“‘Say employment, Mrs. Gallilee — if you please. I am quite indifferent in the matter. I am equally ready, at your entire convenience, to stay or to go.’

“Mrs. Gallilee’s voice sounded nearer, as if she was approaching the door. ‘I think we arranged,’ she said, ‘that there was to be a month’s notice on either side, when I first engaged you?’

“‘Yes — at my suggestion.’

“‘Take your month’s notice, if you please.’

“‘Dating from to-morrow?’

“‘Of course!’

“My aunt came out, and found me on the stairs. I tried to rise. It was not to be done. My head turned giddy. She must have seen that I was quite prostrate — and yet she took no notice of the state I was in. Cruel, cruel creature! she accused me of listening.

“‘Can’t you see that the poor girl is ill?’

“It was Miss Minerva’s voice. I looked round at her, feeling fainter and fainter. She stooped; I felt her strong sinewy arms round me; she lifted me gently. ‘I’ll take care of you,’ she whispered — and carried me downstairs to my room, as easily as if I had been a child.

“I must rest, Teresa. The remembrance of that dreadful night brings it all back again. Don’t be anxious about me, my old dear! You shall hear more to-morrow.”

CHAPTER XXVII.

On the next day events happened, the influence of which upon Carmina’s excitable nature urged her to complete her unfinished letter, without taking the rest that she needed. Once more — and, as the result proved, for the last time — she wrote to her faithful old friend in these words:

“Don’t ask me to tell you how the night passed! Miss Minerva was the first person who came to me in the morning.

“She had barely said a few kind words, when Maria interrupted us, reminding her governess of the morning’s lessons. ‘Mrs. Gallilee has sent her,’ Miss Minerva whispered; ‘I will return to you in the hour before the children’s dinner.’

“The next person who appeared was, as we had both anticipated, Mrs. Gallilee herself.

“She brought me a cup of tea; and the first words she spoke were words of apology for her conduct on the previous night. Her excuse was that she had been ‘harassed by anxieties which completely upset her.’ And — can you believe it? — she implored me not to mention ‘the little misunderstanding between us when I next wrote to her son!’ Is this woman made of iron and stone, instead of flesh and blood? Does she really think me such a wretch as to cause Ovid, under any provocation, a moment’s anxiety while he is away? The fewest words that would satisfy her, and so send her out of my room, were the only words I said.

“After this, an agreeable surprise was in store for me. The familiar voice of good Mr. Gallilee applied for admission — through the keyhole!

“‘Are you asleep, my dear? May I come in?’ His kind, fat old face peeped round the door when I said Yes — and reminded me of Zo, at dinner, when she asks for more pudding, and doesn’t think she will get it. Mr. Gallilee had something to ask for, and some doubt of getting it, which accounted for the resemblance. ‘I’ve taken the liberty, Carmina, of sending for our doctor. You’re a delicate plant, my dear — ’ (Here, his face disappeared and he spoke to somebody outside) — ’You think so yourself, don’t you, Mr. Null? And you have a family of daughters, haven’t you?’ (His face appeared again; more like Zo than ever.) ‘Do please see him, my child; I’m not easy about you. I was on the stairs last night — nobody ever notices me, do they, Mr. Null? — and I saw Miss Minerva — good creature, and, Lord, how strong! — carrying you to your bed. Mr. Null’s waiting outside. Don’t distress me by saying No!’

“Is there anybody cruel enough to distress Mr. Gallilee? The doctor came in — looking like a clergyman; dressed all in black, with a beautiful frill to his shirt, and a spotless white cravat. He stared hard at me; he produced a little glass-tube; he gave it a shake, and put it under my arm; he took it away again, and consulted it; he said, ‘Aha!’ he approved of my tongue; he disliked my pulse; he gave his opinion at last. ‘Perfect quiet. I must see Mrs. Gallilee.’ And there was an end of it.

“Mr. Gallilee observed the medical proceedings with awe. ‘Mr. Null is a wonderful man,’ he whispered, before he followed the doctor out. Ill and wretched as I was, this little interruption amused me. I wonder why I write about it here? There are serious things waiting to be told — am I weakly putting them off?

“Miss Minerva came back to me as she had promised. ‘It is well,’ she said gravely, ‘that the doctor has been to see you.’

“I asked if the doctor thought me very ill.

“He thinks you have narrowly escaped a nervous fever; and he has given some positive orders. One of them is that your slightest wishes are to be humoured. If he had not said that, Mrs. Gallilee would have prevented me from seeing you. She has been obliged to give way; and she hates me — almost as bitterly, Carmina, as she hates you.’

“This called to my mind the interruption of the previous night, when Miss Minerva had something important to tell me. When I asked what it was, she shook her head, and said painful subjects of conversation were not fit subjects in my present state.

“Need I add that I insisted on hearing what she had to say? Oh, how completely my poor father must have been deceived, when he made his horrible sister my guardian! If I had not fortunately offended the music-master, she would have used Mr. Le Frank as a means of making Ovid jealous, and of sowing the seeds of dissension between us. Having failed so far, she is (as Miss Minerva thinks) at a loss to discover any other means of gaining her wicked ends. Her rage at finding herself baffled seems to account for her furious conduct, when she discovered me in Miss Minerva’s room.

“You will ask, as I did, what has she to gain by this wicked plotting and contriving, with its shocking accompaniments of malice and anger?

“Miss Minerva answered, ‘I still believe that money is the motive. Her son is mistaken about her; her friends are mistaken; they think she is fond of money — the truer conclusion is, she is short of money. There is the secret of the hard bargains she drives, and the mercenary opinions she holds. I don’t doubt that her income would be enough for most other women in her position. It is not enough for a woman who is jealous of her rich sister’s place in the world. Wait a little, and you will see that I am not talking at random. You were present at the grand party she gave some week’s since?’

“‘I wish I had stayed in my own room,’ I said. ‘Mrs. Gallilee was offended with me for not admiring her scientific friends. With one or two exceptions, they talked of nothing but themselves and their discoveries — and, oh, dear, how ugly they were!’

“‘Never mind that now, Carmina. Did you notice the profusion of splendid flowers, in the hall and on the staircase, as well as in the reception-rooms?’

“‘Yes.’