"Hawthorne, Nathaniel - Lady Eleanores Mantle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hawthorne Nathaniel)

At different periods of the evening the liveried servants of the
Province House passed among the guests, bearing huge trays of
refreshments and French and Spanish wines. Lady Eleanore Roch-
cliffe, who refused to wet her beautiful lips even with a bubble of
Champagne, had sunk back into a large damask chair, apparently
overwearied either with the excitement of the scene or its tedium, and
while, for an instant, she was unconscious of voices, laughter, and
music, a young man stole forward, and knelt down at her feet. He
bore a salver in his hand, on which was a chased silver goblet, filled
to the brim with wine, which he offered as reverentially as to a
crowned queen, or rather with the awful devotion of a priest doing
sacrifice to his idol. Conscious that someone touched her robe, Lady
Eleanore started, and unclosed her eyes upon the pale, wild features
and dishevelled hair of Jervase Helwyse.

"Why do you haunt me thus?" said she, in a languid tone, but with a
kindlier feeling than she ordinarily permitted herself to express.
"They tell me that I have done you harm."

"Heaven knows if that be so," replied the young man solemnly. "But,
Lady Eleanore, in requital of that harm, if such there be, and for
your own earthly and heavenly welfare, I pray you to take one sip of
this holy wine, and then to pass the goblet round among the guests.
And this shall be a symbol that you have not sought to withdraw
yourself from the chain of human sympathies- which whoso would shake
off must keep company with fallen angels."

"Where has this mad fellow stolen that sacramental vessel?"
exclaimed the Episcopal clergyman.

This question drew the notice of the guests to the silver cup,
which was recognized as appertaining to the communion plate of the Old
South Church; and, for aught that could be known, it was brimming over
with the consecrated wine.

"Perhaps it is poisoned," half whispered the Governor's secretary.

"Pour it down the villain's throat!" cried the Virginian fiercely.

"Turn him out of the house!" cried Captain Langford, seizing
Jervase Helwyse so roughly by the shoulder that the sacramental cup
was overturned, and its contents sprinkled upon Lady Eleanore's
mantle. "Whether knave, fool, or Bedlamite, it is intolerable that the
fellow should go at large."

"Pray, gentlemen, do my poor admirer no harm," said Lady
Eleanore, with a faint and weary smile. "Take him out of my sight,
if such be your pleasure; for I can find in my heart to do nothing but
laugh at him; whereas, in all decency and conscience, it would
become me to weep for the mischief I have wrought!"