"Oscar Wilde. The Canterville Ghost" - читать интересную книгу автора

native land adopt an appearance of chronic ill-health, under the impression
that it is a form of European refinement, but Mrs. Otis had never fallen
into this error. She had a magnificent constitution, and a really wonderful
amount of animal spirits. Indeed, in many respects, she was quite English,
and was an excellent example of the fact that we have really everything in
common with America nowadays, except, of course, language. Her eldest son,
christened Washington by his parents in a moment of patriotism, which he
never ceased to regret, was a fair-haired, rather good-looking young man,
will known as an excellent dancer. Gardenias and the peerage were his only
weaknesses. Otherwise he was extremely sensible. Miss Virginia E. Otis was a
little girl of fifteen, lithe and lovely as a fawn, and with a fine freedom
in her large blue eyes. She was a wonderful amazon, and had once raced old
Lord Bilton on her pony twice round the park, winning by a length and a
half, just in front of the Achilles statue, to the huge delight of the young
Duke of Cheshire, who proposed for her on the spot, and was sent back to
Eton that very night by his guardians, in floods of tears. After Virginia
came the twins, who were usually called "The Stars and Stripes," as they
were always getting swished. They were delightful boys, and with the
exception of the worthy Minister the only true republicans of the family.
As Canterville Chase is seven miles from Ascot, the nearest railway
station, Mr. Otis had telegraphed for a waggonette to meet them, and they
started on their drive in high spirits. It was a lovely July evening, and
the air was delicate with the scent of the pine-woods. Now and then they
heard a wood pigeon brooding over its own sweet voice, or saw, deep in the
rustling fern, the burnished breast of the pheasant. Little squirrels peered
at them from the beech-trees as they went by, and the rabbits scudded away
through the brushwood and over the mossy knolls, with their white tails in
the air. As they entered the avenue of Canterville Chase, however, the sky
became suddenly overcast with clouds, a curious stillness seemed to hold the
atmosphere, a great flight of rooks passed silently over their heads, and,
before they reached the house, some big drops of rain had fallen.
Standing on steps to receive them was an old woman, neatly dressed in
black silk, with a white cap and apron. This was Mrs. Umney, the
housekeeper, whom Mrs. Otis, at Lady Canterville's earnest request, had
consented to keep on in her former position. She made them each a low
curtsey as they alighted, and said in a quaint, old-fashioned manner, "I bid
you welcome to Canterville Chase." Following her, they passed through the
fine Tudor hall into the library, a long, low room, panelled in black oak,
at the end of which was a large stained-glass window. Here they found tea
laid out for them, and, after taking off their wraps, they sat down and
began to look round, while Mrs. Umney waited on them.
Suddenly Mrs. Otis caught sight of a dull red stain on the floor just
by the fireplace and, quite unconscious of what it really signified, said to
Mrs. Umney, "I am afraid something has been spilt there."
"Yes, madam," replied the old housekeeper in a low voice, "blood has
been spilt on that spot."
"How horrid," cried Mrs. Otis; "I don't at all care for blood-stains in
a sitting room. It must be removed."
The old woman smiled, and answered in the same low, mysterious voice,
"It is the blood of Lady Eleanore de Canterville, who was murdered on that