Croker Quicksands

1. Auflage 2022
ISBN: 978-3-98744-920-8
Verlag: OTB eBook publishing
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection

E-Book, Englisch, 265 Seiten

Reihe: Classics To Go

Excerpt: One sultry September afternoon, some years ago, my brother Ronald and I, being tired and dusty, found a temporary resting-place on the parapet of a little old bridge that spanned a sleepy stream. Through a thin silk blouse a comforting sun beat upon my back, and I was serenely conscious of an unusual sense of happiness and well-being - though I owed little to my surroundings. In all England it would have been difficult to find a more featureless and monotonous outlook than the prospect that lay stretched before us. A series of flat, marshy fields, exhibiting here a space of willowy green, and there a patch of black soil, enclosed by ragged hedges or deep, dark dykes. Occasionally a few lonely and distorted trees, or a humped-up cluster of red roofs, varied the scene, which gradually faded until sky and horizon seemed to melt away into one pale blur. What a region! exclaimed Ronnie, as he tossed away the stump of a cigarette.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Croker, B. M.

Leseproben

CHAPTER I
THE BRIDGE OF DREAMS
One sultry September afternoon, some years ago, my brother Ronald and I, being tired and dusty, found a temporary resting-place on the parapet of a little old bridge that spanned a sleepy stream. Through a thin silk blouse a comforting sun beat upon my back, and I was serenely conscious of an unusual sense of happiness and well-being—though I owed little to my surroundings. In all England it would have been difficult to find a more featureless and monotonous outlook than the prospect that lay stretched before us. A series of flat, marshy fields, exhibiting here a space of willowy green, and there a patch of black soil, enclosed by ragged hedges or deep, dark dykes. Occasionally a few lonely and distorted trees, or a humped-up cluster of red roofs, varied the scene, which gradually faded until sky and horizon seemed to melt away into one pale blur. “What a region!” exclaimed Ronnie, as he tossed away the stump of a cigarette. “The back of beyond, the Land of Never Never! Never again, so far as I am concerned! Who discovered it?” “It was discovered by the Danes, I believe,” I answered; “they say it was once under the sea.” “A pity it did not stay there!” “It’s rather cheerful now, and the air is splendid; but you should see it in winter, when it has a grey, weird, starving sort of look, and the face of the country is like a dead thing.” “Well, thank goodness, I am spared that,” rejoined Ronnie. “I shall be out in the nice sultry East, sunning myself among the big red boulders that are scattered round Secunderabad.” “And you start on Friday? Oh, Ronnie, I believe you are glad to go back!” “Yes; I am jolly glad, only for leaving you, old girl—and in such a hole as Beke. My leave has gone like a flash; just a month at home. I must say it is a beastly shame they did not ask you to Torrington when I was there.” “Aunt Mina sees as little of me as possible—she does not like me, and is at no pains to conceal the fact. The girls and I have never what you call ‘got on’; we have nothing in common. You see I am much younger than they are.” “And so much better looking,” supplemented my brother. Waving aside his compliment, I continued: “You know, when I first went to Torrington I was a small child, and by all accounts dreadfully spoiled; later on, in the holidays, I was too young to appear in company, and was generally hustled out of sight. My goodness, but it was dull, all alone, in the old nursery! Coming down to lunch as a treat, cross-examined and snubbed by the girls, and overawed by Aunt Mina—she had a way of looking at me that made me feel as if I had no clothes on!” “My dear Eva, don’t be improper!” “You see,” I resumed—now comfortably embarked on a flowing tide of talk, and eager to impart my confidence to a sympathetic ear—“I can realise what a nuisance I was in those days. The house was full of grown-ups and smart people, and I was just a lanky girl who slunk in to lunch or was met roaming about the grounds! Then twice I brought home infection, and gave most of the establishment mumps and chicken-pox—so you can’t wonder that I was not popular! After all, I am only Aunt Mina’s niece by marriage; Uncle is nice to me in his cheery, vague, irresponsible way, but he has no say. Living in the nursery, I naturally heard a good deal of backstairs talk, and gathered that Aunt manages everything—even to evicting tenants and arranging the shoots.” “Oh, come! I don’t think it is as bad as all that,” protested Ronnie; “though of course a man who marries half a million must pay some sort of interest. The family were in very deep water, when potted meat came along and hauled them out. When were you last at Torrington?” “Two years ago this Christmas.” Ronnie was about to exclaim, but I put my hand over his mouth. “Do let me talk,” I pleaded. “I want to tell you things I can’t write. It was the Christmas before last. I was in long frocks with my hair up, and had just left Cheltenham. I caught a slight cold on the journey, but was nevertheless in the wildest spirits, full of anticipation of the delights that awaited me now that I was officially fledged.” “Yes, yes,” interrupted Ronnie impatiently; “that is all stale news.” “The evening after I arrived there was a dinner party, and I happened by good luck to sit next to a charming man, who was very agreeable, and no doubt drew me out. A lively girl sat opposite to us; she had a loud voice, and talked the most ridiculous nonsense, much appreciated by Beverley, her neighbour. “‘What is your family disease?’ she asked him; ‘ours is softening of the bones.’ And Bev replied: “‘Our hereditary disease is gambling.’ “‘Which leads,’ said the girl, ‘to softening of the brain!’” I paused, turned to my brother, and said: “Did you ever hear that there was gambling in the Lingard family?” “There’s a taste for gambling in every family,” he answered evasively. “Well, go on about your dinner party. What happened?” “I am afraid I allowed my spirits to get the better of me, for I laughed and chattered incessantly. I know I always talk too much.” “No doubt of that—when you get the chance,” corroborated my listener. “I pulled crackers, put on paper caps, exchanged mottoes and poetry, and in short enjoyed myself enormously. Afterwards, when the men came into the drawing-room, my dinner friend found me out at once, and at his suggestion we retired into an obscure corner, in order to cement our acquaintance. All at once I began to notice that the surrounding atmosphere was chilly: I saw my cousins whispering together, and I believe Clara summoned her mother, for presently Aunt Mina swooped upon us, and told my companion that she had something she particularly wished to show him, and, in spite of his obvious reluctance, she took him in charge, and marched him off. A significant glance assured me that I was in deep disgrace, and when people had settled down to music or bridge I stole away to bed.” “Best place for you,” interposed Ronnie. “I was woke out of my first sleep by Clara, who came into my room, candle in hand, wearing her most venomous expression; the visit was on purpose to inform me that she ‘was really sorry I had made such a dreadful exhibition of myself at dinner, laughing and screaming at the top of my voice, pulling crackers, sticking things in my hair, altogether behaving like a shop girl’! I heard no more beyond a murmur, as I covered up my head with the bed clothes. When at last I was compelled to emerge from want of air, the room was in darkness, and my cousin had disappeared. As my cold was pretty bad I was confined to my old quarters, the nursery, and there I remained for several days. Beverley, just home from Eton, used to come and sit with me, and bring me the news. He informed me that Major Halliday, my charming friend, had been making tender inquiries after me, adding: ‘I suppose you didn’t happen to know that he is by way of being Clara’s young man—she had all but landed him!’ “Bev befriended me—supplied me with magazines and chocolates, but when he began to make love to me—that was another pair of shoes!” “So I should think—the moon-faced idiot!” commented Ronnie. “Well, one afternoon he tried to kiss me, and was actually chasing me round the table, when Aunt Mina entered. She was furious. Bev fled headlong, and on me she poured all the vials of her wrath. She said I was a bold, designing minx, a disgrace to the family. For once I protested, and protested with fury—assured her that I loathed the sight of Bev, and never wished to see him again—no, nor anyone at Torrington! Naturally I was soon squashed. Aunt was too strong for me, and the scene ended in humiliation and tears. Possibly my prolonged weeping increased my cold, which presently developed alarmingly. The local doctor (Aunt Mina’s slave) was summoned. He talked gravely about pneumonia, and my lungs, and announced that I had a delicate chest, and must on no account remain at Torrington—the place was too low and enervating—so I was promptly packed off to Beke, where I have been ever since!” “Great Scott!” exclaimed Ronnie. “Why, it is a sort of countrified Bastille. How on earth did Aunt Mina discover it?” “Quite easily,” I replied. “Miss Puckle was the girls’ governess when I was small. I remember her well; so trim and punctual, and authoritative, with a trick of pulling down her belt if she was going to be disagreeable, but always indulgent to me. When I was in trouble I used to sit on her lap and just sob and sob.” “I wonder you don’t do it now,” said Ronnie. “I am afraid I am a size too large. As for Beke, some years ago an old relation died and left a fine legacy and ‘The Roost’ between Lizzie and her uncle the professor, so they retired together, and are now in what is called ‘easy circumstances.’ I contribute a hundred a year.” “You are humbugging! Why, they ought to pay you as companion—and lady help.” “Aunt arranged everything; she declared I could not be better off than at ‘The Roost.’ The doctor particularly recommended this marshy air, with a dash of sea, she said, and I might continue my music and sketching with Lizzie—who would finish me properly.” “Finish you indeed!” cried Ronnie, “I wonder Beke...