A Terrible Temptation (Fiscle Part 3) - Charles Reade (recommended ebook reader txt) 📗

Part 3 Chapter 1 Pg 1

The Morning-Room Of A Large House In Portman Square,  London.

 

A Gentleman In The Prime Of Life Stood With His Elbow On The Broad

Mantel-Piece,  And Made Himself Agreeable To A Young Lady,  Seated A

Little Way Off,  Playing At Work.

 

To The Ear He Was Only Conversing,  But His Eyes Dwelt On Her With

Loving Admiration All The Time. Her Posture Was Favorable To This

Furtive Inspection,  For She Leaned Her Fair Head Over Her Work With A

Pretty,  Modest,  Demure Air,  That Seemed To Say,  "I Suspect I Am Being

Admired: I Will Not Look To See: I Might Have To Check It."

 

The Gentleman's Features Were Ordinary,  Except His Brow--That Had Power

In It--But He Had The Beauty Of Color; His Sunburned Features Glowed

With Health,  And His Eye Was Bright. On The Whole,  Rather Good-Looking

When He Smiled,  But Ugly When He Frowned; For His Frown Was A Scowl,

And Betrayed A Remarkable Power Of Hating.

 

Miss Arabella Bruce Was A Beauty. She Had Glorious Masses Of Dark Red

Hair,  And A Dazzling White Neck To Set It Off; Large,  Dove-Like Eyes,

And A Blooming Oval Face,  Which Would Have Been Classical If Her Lips

Had Been Thin And Finely Chiseled; But Here Came In Her Anglo-Saxon

Breed,  And Spared Society A Minerva By Giving Her Two Full And Rosy

Lips. They Made A Smallish Mouth At Rest,  But Parted Ever So Wide When

They Smiled,  And Ravished The Beholder With Long,  Even Rows Of Dazzling

White Teeth.

 

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Her Figure Was Tall And Rather Slim,  But Not At All Commanding. There

Are People Whose Very Bodies Express Character; And This Tall,  Supple,

Graceful Frame Of Bella Bruce Breathed Womanly Subservience; So Did Her

Gestures. She Would Take Up Or Put Down Her Own Scissors Half Timidly,

And Look Around Before Threading Her Needle,  As If To See Whether Any

Soul Objected. Her Favorite Word Was "May I?" With A Stress On The

"May," And She Used It Where Most Girls Would Say "I Will," Or Nothing,

And Do It.

 

Mr. Richard Bassett Was In Love With Her,  And Also Conscious That Her

Fifteen Thousand Pounds Would Be A Fine Addition To His Present Income,

Which Was Small,  Though His Distant Expectations Were Great. As He Had

Known Her But One Month,  And She Seemed Rather Amiable Than

Inflammable,  He Had The Prudence To Proceed By Degrees; And That Is

Why,  Though His Eyes Gloated On Her,  He Merely Regaled Her With The

Gossip Of The Day,  Not Worth Recording Here. But When He Had Actually

Taken His Hat To Go,  Bella Bruce Put Him A Question That Had Been On

Her Mind The Whole Time,  For Which Reason She Had Reserved It To The

Very Last Moment.

 

"Is Sir Charles Bassett In Town?" Said She,  Mighty Carelessly,  But

Bending A Little Lower Over Her Embroidery.

 

"Don't Know," Said Richard Bassett,  With Such A Sudden Brevity And

Asperity That Miss Bruce Looked Up And Opened Her Lovely Eyes. Mr.

Richard Bassett Replied To This Mute Inquiry,  "We Don't Speak." Then,

After A Pause,  "He Has Robbed Me Of My Inheritance."

 

"Oh,  Mr. Bassett!"

 

"Yes,  Miss Bruce,  The Bassett And Huntercombe Estates Were Mine By

Right Of Birth. My Father Was The Eldest Son,  And They Were Entailed On

Him. But Sir Charles's Father Persuaded My Old,  Doting Grandfather To

Cut Off The Entail,  And Settle The Estates On Him And His Heirs; And So

They Robbed Me Of Every Acre They Could. Luckily My Little Estate Of

Highmore Was Settled On My Mother And Her Issue Too Tight For The

Villains To Undo."

 

These Harsh Expressions,  Applied To His Own Kin,  And The Abruptness And

Heat They Were Uttered With,  Surprised And Repelled His Gentle

Listener. She Shrank A Little Away From Him. He Observed It. She

Replied Not To His Words,  But To Her Own Thought:

 

"But,  After All,  It Does Seem Hard." She Added,  With A Little Fervor,

"But It Wasn't Poor Sir Charles's Doing,  After All."

 

"He Is Content To Reap The Benefit," Said Richard Bassett,  Sternly.

 

Then,  Finding He Was Making A Sorry Impression,  He Tried To Get Away

From The Subject. I Say Tried,  For Till A Man Can Double Like A Hare He

Will Never Get Away From His Hobby. "Excuse Me," Said He; "I Ought

Never To Speak About It. Let Us Talk Of Something Else. You Cannot

Enter Into My Feelings; It Makes My Blood Boil. Oh,  Miss Bruce! You

Can't Conceive What A Disinherited Man Feels--And I Live At The Very

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Door: His Old Trees,  That Ought To Be Mine,  Fling Their Shadows Over My

Little Flower Beds; The Sixty Chimneys Of Huntercombe Hall Look Down On

My Cottage; His Acres Of Lawn Run Up To My Little Garden,  And Nothing

But A Ha-Ha Between Us."

 

"It _Is_ Hard," Said Miss Bruce,  Composedly; Not That She Entered Into

A Hardship Of This Vulgar Sort,  But It Was Her Nature To Soothe And

Please People.

 

"Hard!" Cried Richard Bassett,  Encouraged By Even This Faint Sympathy;

"It Would Be Unendurable But For One Thing--I Shall Have My Own Some

Day."

 

"I Am Glad Of That," Said The Lady; "But How?"

 

"By Outliving The Wrongful Heir."

 

Miss Bruce Turned Pale. She Had Little Experience Of Men's Passions.

"Oh,  Mr. Bassett!" Said She--And There Was Something Pure And Holy In

The Look Of Sorrow And Alarm She Cast On The Presumptuous

Speaker--"Pray Do Not Cherish Such Thoughts. They Will Do You Harm. And

Remember Life And Death Are Not In Our Hands. Besides--"

 

"Well?"'

 

"Sir Charles Might--"

 

"Well?"

 

"Might He Not--Marry--And Have Children?" This With More Hesitation And

A Deeper Blush Than Appeared Absolutely Necessary.

 

"Oh,  There's No Fear Of That. Property Ill-Gotten Never Descends.

Charles Is A Worn-Out Rake. He Was Fast At Eton--Fast At Oxford--Fast

In London. Why,  He Looks Ten Years Older Than I,  And He Is Three Years

Younger. He Had A Fit Two Years Ago. Besides,  He Is Not A Marrying Man.

Bassett And Huntercombe Will Be Mine. And Oh! Miss Bruce,  If Ever They

Are Mine--"

 

"Sir Charles Bassett!" Trumpeted A Servant At The Door; And Then

Waited,  Prudently,  To Know Whether His Young Lady,  Whom He Had Caught

Blushing So Red With One Gentleman,  Would Be At Home To Another.

 

"Wait A Moment," Said Miss Bruce To Him. Then,  Discreetly Ignoring What

Bassett Had Said Last,  And Lowering Her Voice Almost To A Whisper,  She

Said,  Hurriedly: "You Should Not Blame Him For The Faults Of Others.

There--I Have Not Been Long Acquainted With Either,  And Am Little

Entitled To Inter--But It Is Such A Pity You Are Not Friends. He Is

Very Good,  I Assure You,  And Very Nice. Let Me Reconcile You Two. _May_

I?"

 

This Well-Meant Petition Was Uttered Very Sweetly; And,  Indeed--If I

May Be Permitted--In A Way To Dissolve A Bear.

 

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But This Was Not A Bear,  Nor Anything Else That Is Placable; It Was A

Man With A Hobby Grievance; So He Replied In Character:

 

"That Is Impossible So Long As He Keeps Me Out Of My Own." He Had The

Grace,  However,  To Add,  Half Sullenly,  "Excuse Me; I Feel I Have Been

Too Vehement."

 

Miss Bruce,  Thus Repelled,  Answered,  Rather Coldly:

 

"Oh,  Never Mind _That;_ It Was Very Natural.--I Am At Home,  Then," Said

She To The Servant.

 

Mr. Bassett Took The Hint,  But Turned At The Door,  And Said,  With No

Little Agitation,  "I Was Not Aware He Visits You. One Word--Don't Let

His Ill-Gotten Acres Make You Quite Forget The Disinherited One." And

So He Left Her,  With An Imploring Look.

 

She Felt Red With All This,  So She Slipped Out At Another Door,  To Cool

Her Cheeks And Imprison A Stray Curl For Sir Charles.

 

He Strolled Into The Empty Room,  With The Easy,  Languid Air Of Fashion.

His Features Were Well Cut,  And Had Some Nobility; But His Sickly

Complexion And The Lines Under His Eyes Told A Tale Of Dissipation. He

Appeared Ten Years Older Than He Was,  And Thoroughly _Blase._

 

Yet When Miss Bruce Entered The Room With A Smile And A Little Blush,

He Brightened Up And Looked Handsome,  And Greeted Her With Momentary

Warmth.

 

After The Usual Inquiries She Asked Him If He Had Met Any Body.

 

"Where?"

 

"Here; Just Now."

 

"No."

 

"What,  Nobody At All?"

 

"Only My Sulky Cousin; I Don't Call Him Anybody," Drawled Sir Charles,

Who Was Now Relapsing Into His Normal Condition Of Semi-Apathy.

 

"Oh," Said Miss Bruce Gayly,  "You Must Expect Him To Be A Little Cross.

It Is Not So Very Nice To Be Disinherited,  Let Me Tell You."

 

"And Who Has Disinherited The Fellow?"

 

"I Forget; But You Disinherited Him Among You. Never Mind; It Can't Be

Helped Now. When Did You Come Back To Town? I Didn't See You At Lady

D'arcy's Ball,  Did I?"

 

"You Did Not,  Unfortunately For Me; But You Would If I Had Known You

Were To Be There. But About Richard: He May Tell You What He Likes,  But

He Was Not Disinherited; He Was Bought Out. The Fact Is,  His Father Was

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Uncommonly Fast. My Grandfather Paid His Debts Again And Again; But At

Last The Old Gentleman Found He Was Dealing With The Jews For His

Reversion. Then There Was An Awful Row. It Ended In My Grandfather

Outbidding The Jews. He Bought The Reversion Of His Estate From His Own

Son For A Large Sum Of Money (He Had To Raise It By Mortgages);