poor miss finch-第84章

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servant's　hands。

It　was　a　bitter　moment　when　I　found　myself　pulling　down　my　veil；　in　the
fear　that　Lucilla　might　be　at　the　window　and　see　me！　Nobody　was　visible
but　the　man　who　answered　the　door。　If　pen；　ink；　and　paper　had　been　within
my　reach　at　the　moment；　I　think　I　should　have　written　to　her　on　my　own
account；　after　all！　As　it　was；　I　could　only　forgive　her　the　injury　she
had　done　me。　From　the　bottom　of　my　heart；　I　forgave　her；　and　longed　for
the　blessed　time　which　should　unite　us　again。　In　the　meanwhile；　having
done　everything　that　I　could　to　guard　and　help　her；　I　was　now　free　to
give　to　Oscar　all　the　thoughts　that　I　could　spare　from　my　poor　misguided
father。

Being　bound　for　the　Continent；　I　determined　（though　the　chances　were　a
hundred　to　one　against　me）　to　do　all　that　I　could；　in　my　painful
position；　to　discover　the　place　of　Oscar's　retreat。　The　weary　hours　of
suspense　at　my　father's　bedside　would　be　lightened　to　me；　if　I　could　feel
that　the　search　for　the　lost　man　was　being　carried　on　at　my　instigation；
and　that　from　day　to　day　there　was　a　bare　possibility　of　my　hearing　of
him；　if　there　was　no　more。

The　office　of　the　lawyer　whom　I　had　consulted　during　my　previous　visit　to
London；　lay　in　my　way　to　the　terminus。　I　drove　there　next；　and　was
fortunate　enough　to　find　him　still　at　business。

No　tidings　had　yet　been　heard　of　Oscar。　The　lawyer；　however；　proved　to　be
useful　by　giving　me　a　letter　of　introduction　to　a　person　at　Marseilles；
accustomed　to　conduct　difficult　confidential　inquiries；　and　having　agents
whom　he　could　employ　in　all　the　great　cities　of　Europe。　A　man　of　Oscar's
startling　personal　appearance　would　be　surely　more　or　less　easy　to　trace；
if　the　right　machinery　to　do　it　could　only　be　set　at　work。　My　savings
would　suffice　for　this　purpose　to　a　certain　extentand　to　that　extent　I
resolved　that　they　should　be　used　when　I　reached　my　journey's　end。

It　was　a　troubled　sea　on　the　channel　passage　that　night。　I　remained　on
deck；　accepting　any　inconvenience　rather　than　descend　into　the　atmosphere
of　the　cabin。　As　I　looked　out　to　sea　on　one　side　and　on　the　other；　the
dark　waste　of　tossing　waters　seemed　to　be　the　fit　and　dreary　type　of　the
dark　prospect　that　was　before　me。　On　the　trackless　path　that　we　were
ploughing；　a　faint　misty　moonlight　shed　its　doubtful　ray。　Like　the
doubtful　light　of　hope；　faintly　flickering　on　my　mind　when　I　thought　of
the　coming　time！

CHAPTER　THE　FORTY…SECOND

The　Story　of　Lucilla：　told　by　Herself

IN　my　description　of　what　Lucilla　said　and　did；　on　the　occasion　when　the
surgeon　was　teaching　her　to　use　her　sight；　it　will　be　remembered　that　she
is　represented　as　having　been　particularly　anxious　to　be　allowed　to　try
how　she　could　write。

The　motive　at　the　bottom　of　this　was　the　motive　which　is　always　at　the
bottom　of　a　woman's　conduct　when　she　loves。　Her　one　ambition　is　to
present　herself　to　advantage；　even　in　the　most　trifling　matters；　before
the　man　on　whom　her　heart　is　fixed。　Lucilla's　one　ambition　with　Oscar；
was　this　and　no　more。

Conscious　that　her　handwritingthus　far；　painfully　and　incompletely
guided　by　her　sense　of　touchmust　present　itself　in　sadly　unfavorable
contrast　to　the　handwriting　of　other　women　who　could　see；　she　persisted
in　petitioning　Grosse　to　permit　her　to　learn　to　〃write　with　her　eyes
instead　of　her　finger；〃　until　she　fairly　wearied　out　the　worthy　German's
power　of　resistance。　The　rapid　improvement　in　her　sight；　after　her
removal　to　the　sea…side；　justified　him　（as　I　was　afterwards　informed）　in
letting　her　have　her　way。　Little　by　little；　using　her　eyes　for　a　longer
and　longer　time　on　each　succeeding　day；　she　mastered　the　serious
difficulty　of　teaching　herself　to　write　by　sight　instead　of　by　touch。
Beginning　with　lines　in　copybooks；　she　got　on　to　writing　easy　words　to
dictation。　From　that　again；　she　advanced　to　writing　notes；　and　from
writing　notes　to　keeping　a　journalthis　last；　at　the　suggestion　of　her
aunt；　who　had　lived　in　the　days　before　penny　postage；　when　people　kept
journals；　and　wrote　long　lettersin　short；　when　people　had　time　to　think
of　themselves；　and；　more　wonderful　still；　to　write　about　it　too。

Lucilla's　Journal　at　Ramsgate　lies　before　me　as　I　trace　these　lines。

I　had　planned　at　first　to　make　use　of　it；　so　as　to　continue　the　course　of
my　narrative　without　a　check；　still　writing　in　my　own　personas　I　have
written　thus　far；　and　as　I　propose　to　write　again；　at　the　time　when　I
reappear　on　the　scene。

But　on　thinking　over　it　once　more；　and　after　reading　the　Journal　again；
it　strikes　me　as　the　wiser　proceeding　to　let　Lucilla　tell　the　story　of
her　life　at　Ramsgate；　herself：　adding　notes　of　my　own　occasionally；　where
they　appear　to　be　required。　Variety；　freshness；　and　realityI　believe　I
shall　secure　them　all　three　by　following　this　plan。　Why　is　History　in
general　（I　know　there　are　brilliant　exceptions　to　the　rule）　such　dull
reading？　Because　it　is　the　narrative　of　events；　written　at　second　hand。
Now　I　will　be　anything　else　you　please；　except　dull。　You　may　say　I　have
been　dull　already？　As　I　am　an　honest　woman；　I　don't　agree　with　you。　There
are　some　people　who　bring　dull　minds　to　their　readingand　then　blame　the
writer　for　it。　I　say　no　more。

Consider　it　as　arranged；　then。　During　my　absence　on　the　Continent；
Lucilla　shall　tell　the　story　of　events　at　Ramsgate。　（And　I　will　sprinkle
a　few　notes　over　it；　here　and　there；　signed　P。）


　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Lucilla's　Journal

_East　Cliff　Ramsgate；　August_　28th。A　fortnight　to…day　since　my　aunt　and
I　arrived　at　this　place。　I　sent　Zillah　back　to　the　rectory　from　London。
Her　rheumatic　infirmities　trouble　her　tenfold；　poor　old　soul；　in　the
moist　air　of　the　seaside。

How　has　my　writing　got　on　for　the　last　week？　I　am　becoming　a　little
better　satisfied　with　it。　I　use　my　pen　more　easily；　my　hand　is　less　like
the　hand　of　a　backward　child　than　it　was。　I　shall　be　able　to　write　as
well　as　other　ladies　do　when　I　am　Oscar's　wife。

＇Note。She　is　easily　satisfied；　poor　dear。　Her　improved　handwriting　is
sadly　crooked。　Some　of　the　letters　embrace　each　other　at　close　quarters
like　dear　friends；　and　some　start　asunder　like　bitter　enemies。　This　is
not　to　reflect　on　Lucillabut　to　excuse　myself；　if　I　make　any　mistakes
in　transcribing　the　Journal。　Now　let　her　go　on。P。＇

Oscar's　wife！　when　shall　I　be　Oscar's　wife？　I　have　not　so　much　as　seen
him　yet。　SomethingI　am　afraid　a　difficulty　with　his　brotherstill
keeps　him　on　the　Continent。　The　tone　in　which　he　writes　continues　to　have
a　certain　reserve　in　it　which　disquiets　and　puzzles　me。　Am　I　quite　as
happy　as　I　expected　to　be　when　I　recovered　my　sight？　Not　yet！

It　is　not　Oscar's　fault；　if　I　am　out　of　spirits　every　now　and　then。　It　is
my　own　fault。　I　have　offended　my　father；　and　I　sometimes　fear　I　have　not
acted　justly　towards　Madame　Pratolungo。　These　things　vex　me。

It　seems　to　be　my　fate　to　be　always　misunderstood。　My　sudden　flight　from
the　rectory　meant　no　disrespect　to　my　father。　I　left　as　I　did；　because　I
was　quite　incapable　of　facing　the　woman　whom　I　had　once　dearly
lovedthinking　of　her　as　I　think　now。　It　is　so　unendurable　to　feel　that
your　confidence　is　lost　in　a　person　whom　you　once　trusted　without　limit；
and　to　go　on　meeting　that　person　every　hour　in　the　day　with　a　smooth
face；　as　if　nothing　had　happened！　The　impulse　to　escape　more　meetings
（when　I　discovered　that　she　had　left　the　house　for　a　walk）　was
irresistible。　I　should　do　it　again；　if　I　was　in　the　same　position　again。
I　have　hinted　at　this　in　writing　to　my　father；　telling　him　that　something
unpleasant　had　happened　between　Madame　Pratolungo　and　me；　and　that　I　went
away　so　suddenly；　on　that　account　alone。　No　use！　He　has　not　answered　my
letter。　I　have　written　since　to　my　step…mother。　Mrs。　Finch's　reply　has
informed　me　of　the　unjust　manner　in　which　he　speaks　of　my　aunt。　Without
the　slightest　reason　for　it；　he　is　even　more　deeply　offended　with　Miss
Batchford　than　he　is　with　me！

Sad　as　this　estrangement　is；　there　is　one　consolationso　far　as　I　am
concerned；　it　will　not　last。　My　father　and　I　are　sure；　sooner　or　later；
to　come　to　an　understanding　together。　When　I　return　to　the　rectory；　I
shall　make　my　peace　with　him；　and　we