the queen of hearts-第83章

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She　was　so　close　to　me　that　I　felt　her　breath　quiver　on　my　cheek。
Her　eyes　had　been　fixed　on　my　face　a　moment　before；　but　they　now
wandered　away　from　it　constrainedly。　One　of　her　hands　trembled　a
little　on　my　shoulder；　and　she　took　it　off。

〃Thank　you　for　trying　to　make　our　parting　easier　to　me；〃　she
said；　quickly；　and　in　a　lower　tone　than　she　had　spoken　in　yet。　I
made　no　answer；　but　still　looked　her　anxiously　in　the　face。　For　a
few　seconds　her　nimble　delicate　fingers　nervously　folded　and
refolded　the　letter　from　her　aunt；　then　she　abruptly　changed　her
position。

〃The　sooner　I　write；　the　sooner　it　will　be　over；〃　she　said；　and
hurriedly　turned　away　to　the　paper…case　on　the　side…table。

How　was　the　change　in　her　manner　to　be　rightly　interpreted？　Was
she　hurt　by　what　I　had　said；　or　was　she　secretly　so　much　affected
by　it；　in　the　impressionable　state　of　her　mind　at　that　moment；　as
to　be　incapable　of　exerting　a　young　girl's　customary
self…control？　Her　looks；　actions；　and　language　might　bear　either
interpretation。　One　striking　omission　had　marked　her　conduct　when
I　had　referred　to　George's　return。　She　had　not　inquired　when　I
expected　him　back。　Was　this　indifference？　Surely　not。　Surely
indifference　would　have　led　her　to　ask　the　conventionally　civil
question　which　ninety…nine　persons　out　of　a　hundred　would　have
addressed　to　me　as　a　matter　of　course。　Was　she；　on　her　side；
afraid　to　trust　herself　to　speak　of　George　at　a　time　when　an
unusual　tenderness　was　aroused　in　her　by　the　near　prospect　of
saying　farewell？　It　might　beit　might　not　beit　might　be。　My
feeble　reason　took　the　side　of　my　inclination；　and；　after
vibrating　between　Yes　and　No；　I　stopped　where　I　had　begunat
Yes。

She　finished　the　letter　in　a　few　minutes；　and　dropped　it　into　the
post…bag　the　moment　it　was　done。

〃Not　a　word　more；〃　she　said；　returning　to　me　with　a　sigh　of
relief〃not　a　word　about　my　aunt　or　my　going　away　till　the　time
comes。　We　have　two　more　days；　let　us　make　the　most　of　them。〃

Two　more　days！　Eight…and…forty　hours　still　to　pass；　sixty　minutes
in　each　of　those　hours；　and　every　minute　long　enough　to　bring
with　it　an　event　fatal　to　George's　future！　The　bare　thought　kept
my　mind　in　a　fever。　For　the　remainder　of　the　day　I　was　as
desultory　and　as　restless　as　our　Queen　of　Hearts　herself。　Owen
affectionately　did　his　best　to　quiet　me；　but　in　vain。　Even
Morgan；　who　whiled　away　the　time　by　smoking　incessantly；　was
struck　by　the　wretched　spectacle　of　nervous　anxiety　that　I
presented　to　him；　and　pitied　me　openly　for　being　unable　to
compose　myself　with　a　pipe。　Wearily　and　uselessly　the　hours　wore
on　till　the　sun　set。　The　clouds　in　the　western　heaven　wore　wild
and　tortured　shapes　when　I　looked　out　at　them；　and；　as　the
gathering　darkness　fell　on　us；　the　fatal　fearful　wind　rose　once
more。

When　we　assembled　at　eight；　the　drawing　of　the　lots　had　no　longer
any　interest　or　suspense；　so　far　as　I　was　concerned。　I　had　read
my　last　story；　and　it　now　only　remained　for　chance　to　decide　the
question　of　precedency　between　Owen　and　Morgan。　Of　the　two
numbers　left　in　the　bowl；　the　one　drawn　was　Nine。　This　made　it
Morgan's　turn　to　read；　and　left　it　appropriately　to　Owen；　as　our
eldest　brother；　to　close　the　proceedings　on　the　next　night。

Morgan　looked　round　the　table　when　he　had　spread　out　his
manuscript；　and　seemed　half　inclined　to　open　fire；　as　usual；　with
a　little　preliminary　sarcasm；　but　his　eyes　met　mine；　he　saw　the
anxiety　I　was　suffering；　and　his　natural　kindness；　perversely　as
he　might　strive　to　hide　it；　got　the　better　of　him。　He　looked　down
on　his　paper；　growled　out　briefly；　〃No　need　for　a　preface；　my
little　bit　of　writing　explains　itself；　let's　go　on　and　have　don　e
with　it；〃　and　so　began　to　read　without　another　word　from　himself
or　from　any　of　us。


BROTHER　MORGAN'S　STORY

of

FAUNTLEROY。

IT　was　certainly　a　dull　little　dinner…party。　Of　the　four　guests；
two　of　us　were　men　between　fifty　and　sixty；　and　two　of　us　were
youths　between　eighteen　and　twenty；　and　we　had　no　subjects　in
common。　We　were　all　intimate　with　our　host；　but　were　only
slightly　acquainted　with　each　other。　Perhaps　we　should　have　got
on　better　if　there　had　been　some　ladies　among　us；　but　the　master
of　the　house　was　a　bachelor；　and；　except　the　parlor…maids　who
assisted　in　waiting　on　us　at　dinner；　no　daughter　of　Eve　was
present　to　brighten　the　dreary　scene。

We　tried　all　sorts　of　subjects；　but　they　dropped　one　after　the
other。　The　elder　gentlemen　seemed　to　be　afraid　of　committing
themselves　by　talking　too　freely　within　hearing　of　us　juniors；
and　we；　on　our　side；　restrained　our　youthful　flow　of　spirits　and
youthful　freedom　of　conversation　out　of　deference　to　our　host；
who　seemed　once　or　twice　to　be　feeling　a　little　nervous　about　the
continued　propriety　of　our　behavior　in　the　presence　of　his
respectable　guests。　To　make　matters　worse；　we　had　dined　at　a
sensible　hour。　When　the　bottles　made　their　first　round　at
dessert；　the　clock　on　the　mantel…piece　only　struck　eight。　I
counted　the　strokes；　and　felt　certain；　from　the　expression　of　his
face；　that　the　other　junior　guest；　who　sat　on　one　side　of　me　at
the　round　table；　was　counting　them　also。　When　we　came　to　the
final　eight；　we　exchanged　looks　of　despair。　〃Two　hours　more　of
this！　What　on　earth　is　to　become　of　us？〃　In　the　language　of　the
eyes；　that　was　exactly　what　we　said　to　each　other。

The　wine　was　excellent；　and　I　think　we　all　came　separately　and
secretly　to　the　same　conclusionthat　our　chance　of　getting
through　the　evening　was　intimately　connected　with　our　resolution
in　getting　through　the　bottles。

As　a　matter　of　course；　we　talked　wine。　No　company　of　Englishmen
can　assemble　together　for　an　evening　without　doing　that。　Every
man　in　this　country　who　is　rich　enough　to　pay　income…tax　has　at
one　time　or　other　in　his　life　effected　a　very　remarkable
transaction　in　wine。　Sometimes　he　has　made　such　a　bargain　as　he
never　expects　to　make　again。　Sometimes　he　is　the　only　man　in
England；　not　a　peer　of　the　realm；　who　has　got　a　single　drop　of　a
certain　famous　vintage　which　has　perished　from　the　face　of　the
earth。　Sometimes　he　has　purchased；　with　a　friend；　a　few　last　left
dozens　from　the　cellar　of　a　deceased　potentate；　at　a　price　so
exorbitant　that　he　can　only　wag　his　head　and　decline　mentioning
it；　and；　if　you　ask　his　friend；　that　friend　will　wag　his　head；
and　decline　mentioning　it　also。　Sometimes　he　has　been　at　an
out…of…the…way　country　inn；　has　found　the　sherry　not　drinkable；
has　asked　if　there　is　no　other　wine　in　the　house；　has　been
informed　that　there　is　some　〃sourish　foreign　stuff　that　nobody
ever　drinks〃；　has　called　for　a　bottle　of　it；　has　found　it
Burgundy；　such　as　all　France　cannot　now　produce；　has　cunningly
kept　his　own　counsel　with　the　widowed　landlady；　and　has　bought
the　whole　stock　for　〃an　old　song。〃　Sometimes　he　knows　the
proprietor　of　a　famous　tavern　in　London；　and　he　recommends　his
one　or　two　particular　friends；　the　next　time　they　are　passing
that　way；　to　go　in　and　dine；　and　give　his　compliments　to　the
landlord；　and　ask　for　a　bottle　of　the　brown　sherry；　with　the
light　blueas　distinguished　from　the　dark　blueseal。　Thousands
of　people　dine　there　every　year；　and　think　they　have　got　the
famous　sherry　when　they　get　the　dark　blue　seal；　but　the　real
wine；　the　famous　wine；　is　the　light　blue　seal；　and　nobody　in
England　knows　it　but　the　landlord　and　his　friends。　In　all　these
wine…conversations；　whatever　variety　there　may　be　in　the　various
experiences　related；　one　of　two　great　first　principles　is
invariably　assumed　by　each　speaker　in　succession。　Either　he　knows
more　about　it　than　any　one　else；　or　he　has　got　better　wine　of　his
own　even　than　the　excellent　wine　he　is　now　drinking。　Men　can　get
together　sometimes　without　talking　of　women；　without　talking　of
horses；　without　talking　of　politics；　but　they　cannot　assemble　to
eat　a　meal　together　without　talking　of　wine；　and　they　cannot　talk
of　wine　without　assuming　to　each　one　of　themselves　an　absolute
infallibility　in　connection　with　that　single　subject　which　they
would　shrink　from　asserting　in　relation　to　any　other　topic　under
the　sun。

How　long　the　inevitable　wine…talk　lasted　on　the　particular　social
occas