Всего за 5.99 руб. Купить полную версию
After that the two girls skedaddled; they had had enough of her, and I expect, Maggie, your little Puritan Prissie will be left in peace in the future.
Dont call her my little Puritan, said Maggie. I have nothing to say to her.
Maggie was leaning back again in her chair now; her face was still pale, and her soft eyes looked troubled.
I wish you wouldnt tell me heroic stories, Nancy, she remarked, after a pause. They make me feel so uncomfortable. If Priscilla Peel is going to be turned into a sort of heroine, shell be much more unbearable than in her former character.
Oh, Maggie, I wish you wouldnt talk in that reckless way, nor pretend that you hate goodness. You know you adore it you know you do! You know you are far and away the most lovable and bewitching, and the the very best girl at St. Benets.
No, dear little Nance, you are quite mistaken. Perhaps Im bewitching I suppose to a certain extent I am, for people always tell me so but Im not lovable, and Im not good. There, my dear, do let us turn from that uninteresting person Maggie Oliphant. And so, Nancy, you are going to worship Priscilla Peel in future?
Oh, dear no! thats not my way. But Im going to respect her very much. I think we have both rather shunned her lately, and I did feel sure at first that you meant to be very kind to her, Maggie.
Miss Oliphant yawned. It was her way to get over emotion very quickly. A moment before her face had been all eloquent with feeling; now its expression was distinctly bored, and her lazy eyes were not even open to their full extent.
Perhaps I found her stupid, she said, and so for that reason dropped her. Perhaps I would have continued to be kind if she had reciprocated attentions, but she did not. I am glad now, very glad, that we are unlikely to be friends, for, after what you have just told me, I should probably find her insupportable. Are you going, Nancy?
Yes, I promised to have cocoa with Annie Day. I had almost forgotten. Good-night, Maggie.
Nancy shut the door softly behind her, and Maggie closed her eyes for a moment with a sigh of relief.
Its nice to be alone, she said, softly, under her breath, its nice, and yet it isnt nice. Nancy irritated me dreadfully this evening. I dont like stories about good people. I dont wish to think about good people. I am determined that I will not allow my thoughts to dwell on that unpleasant Priscilla Peel, and her pathetic poverty, and her burst of heroics. It is too trying to hear footsteps in that room. No, I will not think of that room, nor of its inmate. Now, if I could only go to sleep!
Maggie curled herself up in her luxurious chair, arranged a soft pillow under her head, and shut her eyes. In this attitude she made a charming picture: her thick, black lashes lay heavily on her pale cheeks; her red lips were slightly parted; her breathing came quietly. By-and-by repose took the place of tension her face looked as if it were cut out of marble. The excitement and unrest, which her words had betrayed, vanished utterly; her features were beautiful, but almost expressionless.
This lasted for a short time, perhaps ten minutes; then a trivial circumstance, the falling of a coal in the grate, disturbed the light slumber
of the sleeper. Maggie stirred restlessly, and turned her head. She was not awake, but she was dreaming. A faint rose tint visited each check, and she clenched one hand, then moved it, and laid it over the other. Presently tears stoic from under the black eyelashes, and rolled down her cheeks. She opened her eyes wide; she was awake again; unutterable regret, remorse, which might never be quieted, filled her face.
Maggie rose from her chair, and, going across the room, sat down at her bureau. She turned a shaded lamp, so that the light might fall upon the pages of a book she was studying, and, pushing her hands through her thick hair, she began to read a passage from the splendid Prometheus Vinctus of Aeschylus
O divine ether, O swift-winged winds!
She muttered the opening lines to herself, then turning the page began to translate from the Greek with great ease and fluency:
A knock came at her door; she started and turned round petulantly.
Its just my luck, muttered Maggie. Id have got the sense of that whole magnificent passage in another hour. It was beginning to fill me: I was getting satisfied now its all over! Id have had a good night if that knock hadnt come but now now I am Maggie Oliphant, the most miserable girl at St. Benets, once again.
The knock was repeated. Miss Oliphant sprang to her feet.