The Woman in White / Женщина в белом

”

We set our faces towards London, and walked on together in the first still hour of the new day – I, and this woman, whose name, whose character, whose story, whose objects in life, whose very presence by my side, at that moment, were mysteries to me. It was like a dream. Was I Walter Hartright? Who was this mysterious woman?

“I want to ask you something,” she said suddenly. “Do you know many people in London?”

“Yes, a great many.”

“And do you know anybody in London with the title of Baronet?[12 - Baronet – баронет, владелец наследуемого титула, выдаваемого британской Короной.

]”

As she asked me this, she was staring hard into my face. I was astonished by her question.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I hope, there is one Baronet that you don’t know.”

“Will you tell me his name?”

“I can’t – I daren’t – I forget myself when I mention it.” She spoke loudly. “I hope you don’t know him!”

“No,” I said, “I don’t know any baronets.

I’m only a drawing-master. I am afraid the baronet, whose name you are unwilling to mention to me, has done you something wrong. Who is this wicked baronet?”

“Thank God!” she said to herself. “I may trust him. I can’t tell you any more.”

The woman was looking very upset.

“Please don’t ask me any more questions.”

We walked forward again at a quick pace;[13 - at a quick pace – поспешно] and for half an hour, at least, not a word passed on either side.

We had reached the first houses.

“Do you live in London?” she said.

“Yes,” I answered. And I added, “But tomorrow I shall be away from London for some time. I am going into the country.”

“Where?” she asked. “North or south?”

“North – to Cumberland.”

“Cumberland!” she repeated the word tenderly. “How I wish I was going there too. I was once happy in Cumberland.

”

I tried again to lift the veil that hung between this woman and me.

“Perhaps you were born,” I said, “in the beautiful Lake country.”

“No,” she answered. “I was born in Hampshire; but I once went to school for a little while in Cumberland. Lakes? I don’t remember any lakes. Mrs Fairlie was my good friend. Mrs Fairlie’s husband was very rich and they lived in a big house, called Limmeridge House, just outside the village.