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Original
Capítulo V
Todavía no están aclaradas todas las equivocaciones
Continuaba el padre de Glanville desabridísimo por la creída injuria que el caballero Jorge había hecho a su sobrina y buscaba resueltamente ocasión de informarse de lo que había sido: temía que Glanville lo supiese y que resultasen fatales consecuencias. Después de comer insinuó el barón a su sobrina dar un paseo, porque tenía algo que decirla. Arabela, inquietísima de ver la seriedad de su anciano tío, no puso duda en que deseaba declararse con ella. Fijó en tierra los ojos, encendiósela el color y dio a sospechar a Carlota que su padre quería interesarse eficazmente con ella a favor de Glanville. El barón no observó aquella conmoción y, viendo que no respondía, añadió, con semblante risueño:
—Creo, sobrina mía, que no tendrás reparo en estar sola con tu tío.
—No, señor; siempre que mi tío no aspire a otro nombre.
Pasmado el barón con tal respuesta, dio por sentado que le reprochaba el demasiado uso de su autoridad.
—Nunca abusaré, querida sobrina, del poder que me confió tu difunto padre y aun te aseguro que siempre tendré más gusto en verte seguir mis consejos como amigo que como tutor; ruégote que no atribuyas las inquietudes que me causas a otra cosa que la amistad que te consagro.
—Agradezco como debo, señor, el afecto con que me honráis, pero deseo mucho que os atengáis únicamente a esta sencilla demostración.
El barón se quedó sin entender lo que oía.
—Tengo que decirte algo sobrina, pero, pues que son necesarias tantas precauciones para hablarte, aguardaré a que estés mejor dispuesta a oírme.
Detuvo Carlota a su padre, que ya se iba, diciéndole:
—Mi hermano y yo nos retiraremos.
Ella se fue, en efecto; también Glanville la seguía, pero Arabela se lo estorbó.
—Mi tío no tendrá ciertamente cosa de importancia que decirme y, cuando así fuera, nunca estaríais de más... Y si es necesario emplear la autoridad, os mando que os quedéis. p. 132
—Me habéis rehusado, prima mía, satisfacer mi curiosidad sobre una cosa que me concierne. Para castigaros, pues, porque soy vengativo –continuó Glanville yéndose–, no os obedeceré y escucharéis lo que mi padre tiene que deciros.
Como no pudo Arabela evitar la conversación de su tío, se mostró afligidísima.
—Paréceme, sobrina mía, que estás desasosegada; tranquilízate por Dios: lo que voy a decirte, no...
—Tío, hay casos en que conviene el silencio.
—Te repito, sobrina, que vives engañada; mi edad debería asegurarte de las consecuencias que temes: no he formado el proyecto ridículo de reñir con el caballero Jorge, pero he de saber cómo te ha ofendido.
—No os conviene, tío, ser mi vengador; dispensaos de un paso que...
—Basta con eso, sobrina mía: lo precisaré seguramente a que se disculpe contigo y todo quedará como debe. Te tengo por muy prudente y no querrás que mi hijo se mezcle en este asunto.
Dicho esto, salió el barón y dejó a Arabela persuadida a que estaba celoso de un competidor más peligroso que su hijo. Salió a pasearse al jardín, a donde fueron a encontrarla los dos hermanos. Glanville, creído en que su padre acababa de abogar por él, tomó por mal agüero la tristeza de su prima.
—¿Me atreveré a preguntaros, querida prima, si es mi venida la causa del pesar que noto en vuestros ojos o si procede de la conversación que acabáis de tener con mi padre?
—De ambas cosas procede, porque si os hubierais quedado, como os lo mandé, no me hubierais expuesto a oír cosas desagradables.
—Me pareció que adivinaba lo que mi padre quería deciros y pensé que mi presencia le incomodaba. ¿Había yo de impedirle, prima mía, que hiciese de abogado en una causa en que interesa su felicidad y la mía?
—Me sorprendéis –repuso Arabela–. ¿Estáis ya noticioso de la conversación que acabo de tener?
—A lo menos la sospecho.
—Pues no comprendo, siendo así, cómo pudisteis ausentaros.
—No me reprendáis, os lo suplico: conozco vuestra severidad y sé que me castigaríais si me atreviera a tomar las mismas libertades que mi padre… Pero estáis agitada: ¿he dicho algo que pueda…?
—No, Glanville –replicó Arabela, con tranquilidad fingida–. Veo, al contrario, que merecéis muchos elogios. Contentaos, en lo venidero, con el título de hijo sumiso y respetuoso, porque os honra y no aspiréis al de amante.
Retirose Arabela después de pronunciada esta frase enigmática y dejó a Glanville como pasmado.
Así que estuvo sola en su cuarto, pensó, como acostumbraba, en cuanto acababa de oír y se afligió tanto de la indiferencia de Glanville como de la facilidad con que la cedía a su padre. Quería disimularse a sí misma que lo amaba y atribuía su dolor a la vergüenza de verse abandonada; y como no hallase ejemplo de semejante perfidia, se juzgaba la mujer más infeliz de cuantas existían en el mundo.
Chapter VII
In which the mistakes are not yet cleared up.
The baronet, who had been put into a bad humour by Arabella’s insinuations that Sir George had affronted her, appeared reserved and uneasy; and, being resolved to question her about it, was willing first to know exactly what it was his niece had been offended at. But as he feared if it came to his son’s knowledge, it would produce a quarrel between the young gentlemen that might have dangerous consequences, he was desirous of speaking to her alone; and, as soon as dinner was over, asked her to take a walk with him upon the terrace, telling her he had something to say to her in private. Arabella, whose fears had been considerably increased by the pensiveness* which appeared in her uncle’s looks during dinner, and supposing he wanted a private conversation only to explain himself more clearly to her than he had yet done, was excessively alarmed at this request; and casting her eyes down to the ground, blushed in such [256] a manner as betrayed her confusion; and made Miss Glanville and her brother believe that she suspected her uncle had a design to press her soon to give her hand to Mr. Glanville, which occasioned her apparent disorder.
Sir Charles, however, who had not so heedfully observed her behaviour, repeated his request, adding, with a smile, upon her giving him no answer:
“Sure, Lady Bella, you are not afraid to be alone with your uncle.”
“No, sir,” replied Arabella, giving him a piercing look. “I am not afraid of being alone with my uncle; and, as long as he pretends to be no more than my uncle, I shall not scruple to hear what he has to say to me.”
Sir Charles, a little vexed at an answer which insinuated, as he thought, a complaint of his having pretended to more authority over her than he ought, told her, he hoped she had no cause to believe he would displease her by any improper exertion of that power over her with which her father had entrusted him:
“For I assure you,” added he, “I would rather you should follow my advice as an uncle than obey me as a guardian; and, since my affection for you is, perhaps, greater than what many people have for a niece, my solicitude ought to be imputed to that motive.”
“I have all the sense I ought to have of that affection you honour me with,” replied Arabella. “And since I hope it will be always what it should be, without wishing for its increase, I am contented with those testimonies I have already received of it, and do not desire any other.”
[257] Sir Charles, a little puzzled to understand the meaning of these words, which the grave looks of Arabella made yet more mysterious, rose from his seat with an air of discontent:
“I should have been glad to have spoken a word in private to you, niece,” said he.* “But since you think proper to make so much ceremony in such a trifle, I’ll defer it till you are in a better humour.”p. 170
Miss Glanville, seeing her father going out of the room, stepped before him:
“Nay, papa,” said she, “if you want to speak with my cousin, my brother and I will go out, and leave you to yourselves.”
“You will do me a very great displeasure,” said Arabella. “For I am sure my uncle has not anything of consequence to say to me. However,” added she, seeing Miss Glanville go away, “I am resolved I will not be left alone; and therefore, Mr. Glanville, since I can pretend to* some power over you, I command you to stay.”
“You may remember, madam,” said Mr. Glanville, with a smile, “you refused to gratify my curiosity with regard to something you hinted to me some time ago; and to punish you,” added he, going out of the room, “I am resolved you shall listen to what my father has to say to you; for, by your unwillingness to hear it, I imagine you suspect already what it is.”
Arabella, finding she had no way to avoid hearing what she dreaded so much, and observing her uncle had resumed his chair,* prepared to give him audience; but, in order to deprive him of all hope that she would receive his discourse favourably, she assumed the severest [258] look she was capable of; and, casting her eyes on the ground, with a mixture of anger and shame, waited with a kind of fear and impatience for what he had to say.
“I see, madam,” said the baronet, observing her confusion, “that you apprehend what I am going to say to you; but I beseech you, do not fear I have any intentions but such as you’ll approve.”
“You are certainly in the right, sir,” said Arabella, “in the interpretation you have put on my looks. I am really in pain about the purport* of your discourse; and you would particularly oblige me if you would dispense with me from hearing it.”
“I see,” replied Sir Charles, “that, out of a mistaken fear, you are unwilling to hear me, in order to avoid coming to the explanation I desire. But I tell you, once again, you have nothing to apprehend.”
“I have everything to apprehend, sir,” resumed Arabella, tartly, “while you persist in your design of disobliging me; and you cannot give me a greater proof of the badness of your intentions than by thus forcing me to listen to discourses I ought to avoid.”
“Since my word has no weight with you,” replied Sir Charles, “I’ll condescend to assure you, by the most sacred oath, that I do not mean to come to any extremities with Sir George concerning what you already told me. All I desire to know is if you think you had any reason to be offended with him for anything he said. And, in that case, I cannot dispense with myself from expostulating with him about it.”
[259] “You would do me a favour, sir,” resumed Arabella, “if you would interest yourself a little less in what Sir George said to me. The offence was committed against me only, and none but myself has any right to resent it.”
“It is enough, niece,” said Sir Charles, rising. “You acknowledge sufficient to make me resolve to oblige him to ask pardon for the affront you have received. However, I beg you may make yourself easy; no ill consequences will happen from this affair, provided my son does not know it. And I know you have too much discretion to acquaint him with it.”p. 171
Saying this, he went out of the room, leaving Arabella in great confusion at what he had said, which, in her opinion, had amounted almost to a plain declaration of his passion; and his design of putting an end to Sir George’s pretensions, whom, it was probable, he looked upon as a more dangerous rival than his son, confirmed her in the opinion of his resolution to persecute her.
Full of the reflections this accident had occasioned, she went to walk in the garden, where Mr. Glanville, his sister having just left him, joined her.
As he imagined his father’s design, in speaking to her alone, was to prevail upon her to consent to marry him before she left the country, which was what he most earnestly wished, he drew a bad omen from the discontent which appeared in her eyes.
“Is it with me, cousin,” said he, “or with what my father has been saying to you that you are angry?”
[260] “With both,” replied Arabella, hastily. “For if you had stayed in the room, as I commanded you, I should not have been exposed to the pain of hearing things so disagreeable.”
“Since I knew what would be the purport of my father’s discourse,” said Mr. Glanville, “you ought not to be surprised I could not resolve to give any interruption to it by my presence. And being so much interested in the success of his solicitations, I could not choose but give him an opportunity of speaking to you alone, as he desired.”
“It seems then,” resumed Arabella, “you know what was the subject of his conversation.”
“I believe I can guess,” interrupted Mr. Glanville, smiling.
“Is it possible,” cried Arabella, starting back in great surprise, “that, knowing, as you say you do, your father’s intentions, you would resolve to furnish him with an opportunity of disclosing them?”
“Can you blame me,” said Mr. Glanville, “for suffering him to undertake what I durst not myself? I know your delicacy, or rather your severity, so well that I am sensible if I had taken the liberty to say what my father has said, you would have been extremely offended; and punished me as you have often done, with a banishment from your presence. Nay,” pursued he, seeing astonishment and anger in her countenance, “I perceive you are, at this moment, going to pronounce some terrible sentence against me.”
“You are deceived,” said Arabella, with a forced calmness. “I am so far from being offended [261] with you that I am ready to acknowledge, you merit very extraordinary praises for the perfect resignation you show to the will, and for your credit, I will suppose, the commands, of your father. But I would advise you to be contented with the reputation of being a dutiful son; and, for the future, never aspire to that of being a faithful lover.”
Speaking these words, which were wholly unintelligible to her amazed admirer, she left him, and went to her own apartment, strangely surprised at the indifference of Mr. Glanville, who, as she understood what he had said, was not only willing to resign her to his father, but also took upon him to mediate in his behalf.
As she was unwilling to acknowledge, even to herself, that the grief she felt at this discovery proceeded from any affection for her cousin, she imputed it to the shame of seeing herself so basely forsaken and neglected; and, not being able to find a precedent for such an indignity offered to the charms of any lady in her romances, the singularity of her fate, in this respect, seemed to demand all her uneasiness.