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

Wife's

Divine Caresses; With The Honey Of Her Voice,  And The Liquid Sunshine

Of Her Loving Eyes. Sir Charles Slept Peacefully That Night,  And Forgot

His One Grief And His One Enemy For A Time.

 

Not So Lady Bassett. She Lay Awake All Night And Thought Deeply Of

Richard Bassett And "His Unrelenting,  Impenitent Malice." Women Of Her

Fine Fiber,  When They Think Long And Earnestly On One Thing,  Have Often

Divinations. The Dark Future Seems To Be Lit A Moment At A Time By

Flashes Of Lightning,  And They Discern The Indistinct Form Of Events To

Come,  And So It Was With Lady Bassett: In The Stilly Night A Terror Of

The Future And Of Richard Bassett Crept Over Her--A Terror

Disproportioned To His Past Acts And Apparent Power. Perhaps She Was

Oppressed By Having An Enemy--She,  Who Was Born To Be Loved. At All

Events,  She Was Full Of Feminine Divinations And Forebodings,  And Saw,

By Flashes,  Many A Poisoned Arrow Fly From That Quiver And Strike The

Beloved Breast. It Had Already Discharged One That Had Parted Them For

A Time,  And Nearly Killed Sir Charles.

 

Daylight Cleared Away Much Of This Dark Terror,  But Left A Sober Dread

And A Strange Resolution. This Timid Creature,  Stimulated By Love,

Determined To Watch The Foe,  And Defend Her Husband With All Her Little

Power. All Manner Of Devices Passed Through Her Head,  But Were

Rejected,  Because,  If Love Said "Do Wonders," Timidity Said "Do Nothing

That You Have Not Seen Other Wives Do." So She Remained,  Scheming,  And

Longing,  And Fearing,  And Passive,  All Day. But The Next Day She

Conceived A Vague Idea,  And,  All In A Heat,  Rang For Her Maid. While

The Maid Was Coming She Fell To Blushing At Her Own Boldness,  And,  Just

As The Maid Opened The Door,  Her Thermometer Fell So Low That--She Sent

Her Upstairs For A Piece Of Work. Oh,  Lame And Impotent Conclusion!

 

Just Before Luncheon She Chanced To Look Through A Window,  And To See

The Head Gamekeeper Crossing The Park,  And Coming To The House. Now

This Was The Very Man She Wanted To Speak To. The Sudden Temptation

Surprised Her Out Of Her Timidity. She Rang The Bell Again,  And Sent

For The Man.

 

That Colossus Wondered In His Mind,  And Felt Uneasy At An Invitation So

Novel. However,  He Clattered Into The Morning-Room,  In His Velveteen

Coat,  And Leathern Gaiters Up To His Thigh,  Pulled His Front Hair,

Bobbed His Head,  And Then Stood Firm In Body As Was He Of Rhodes,  But

In Mind Much Abashed At Finding Himself In Her Ladyship's Presence.

 

The Lady,  However,  Did Not Prove So Very Terrible. "May I Inquire Your

Name,  Sir?" Said She,  Very Respectfully.

 

"Moses Moss,  My Lady."

 

"Mr. Moss,  I Wish To Ask You A Question Or Two. _May_ I?"

 

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"That You May,  My Lady."

 

"I Want You To Explain,  If You Will Be So Good,  How The Proprietor Of

'Splatchett's' Can Shoot All Sir Charles's Pheasants."

 

"Lord! My Lady,  We Ain't Come Down To That. But He Do Shoot More Than

His Share,  That's Sure An' Sartain. Well,  My Lady,  If You Please,  Game

Is Just Like Christians: It Will Make For Sunny Spots. Highmore Has Got

A Many Of Them There,  With Good Cover; So We Breeds For Him. As For

'Splatchett's,' That Don't Hurt We,  My Lady; It Is All Arable Land And

Dead Hedges,  With No Bottom; Only There's One Little Tongue Of It Runs

Into North Wood,  And Planted With Larch; And,  If You Please,  My Lady,

There Is Always A Kind Of Coarse Grass Grows Under Young Larches,  And

Makes A Strong Cover For Game. So,  Beat North Wood Which Way You Will,

Them Artful Old Cocks Will Run Ahead Of Ye,  Or Double Back Into Them

Larches. And You See Mr. Bassett Is Not A Gentleman,  Like Sir Charles;

He Is Always A-Mouching About,  And The Biggest Poacher In The Parish;

And So He Drops On To 'Em Out Of Bounds."

 

"Is There No Way Of Stopping All This,  Sir?"

 

"We Might Station A Dozen Beaters Ahead. They Would Most Likely Get

Shot; But I Don't Think As They'd Mind That Much If You Had Set Your

Heart On It,  My Lady. Dall'd If I Would,  For One."

 

"Oh,  Mr. Moss! Heaven Forbid That Any Man Should Be Shot For Me. No,

Not For All The Pheasants In The World. I'll Try And Think Of Some

Other Way. I Should Like To See The Place. _May_ I?"

 

"Yes,  My Lady,  And Welcome."

 

"How Shall I Get To It,  Sir?"

 

"You Can Ride To The 'Woodman's Rest,' My Lady,  And It Is Scarce A

Stone's-Throw From There; But 'Tis Baddish Traveling For The Likes Of

You."

 

She Appointed An Hour,  Rode With Her Groom To The Public-House,  And

Thence Was Conducted Through Bush,  Through Brier,  To The Place Where

Her Husband Had Been So Annoyed.

 

Moss's Comments Became Very Intelligible To Her The Moment She Saw The

Place. She Said Very Little,  However,  And Rode Home.

 

Next Day She Blushed High,  And Asked Sir Charles For A Hundred Pounds

To Spend Upon Herself.

 

Sir Charles Smiled,  Well Pleased,  And Gave It Her,  And A Kiss Into The

Bargain.

 

"Ah! But," Said She,  "That Is Not All."

 

"I Am Glad Of It. You Spend Too Little Money On Yourself--A Great Deal

Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 71

Too Little."

 

"That Is A Complaint You Won't Have Long To Make. I Want To Cut Down A

Few Trees. _May_ I?"

 

"Going To Build?"

 

"Don't Ask Me. It Is For Myself."

 

"That Is Enough. Cut Down Every Stick On The Estate If You Like. The

Barer It Leaves Us The Better."

 

"Ah,  Charles,  You Promised Me Not. I Shall Cut With Great Discretion,  I

Assure You."

 

"As You Please," Said Sir Charles. "If You Want To Make Me Happy,  Deny

Yourself Nothing. Mind,  I Shall Be Angry If You Do."

 

 Soon After This A Gaping Quidnunc Came To Sir Charles And Told Him

Lady Bassett Was Felling Trees In North Wood.

 

"And Pray Who Has A Better Right To Fell Trees In Any Wood Of Mine?"

 

"But She Is Building A Wall."

 

"And Who Has A Better Right To Build A Wall?"

 

With The Delicacy Of A Gentleman He Would Not Go Near The Place After

This Till She Asked Him; And That Was Not Long,  She Came Into His

Study,  All Beaming,  And Invited Him To A Ride. She Took Him Into North

Wood,  And Showed Him Her Work. Richard Bassett's Plantation,  Hitherto

Divided From North Wood Only By A Boundary Scarcely Visible,  Was Now

Shut Off By A Brick Wall: On Sir Charles's Side Of That Wall Every

Stick Of Timber Was Felled And Removed For A Distance Of Fifty Yards,

And About Twenty Yards From The Wall A Belt Of Larches Was Planted,  A

Little Higher Than Cabbages.

 

Sir Charles Looked Amazed At First,  But Soon Observed How Thoroughly

His Enemy Was Defeated. "My Poor Bella," Said He,  "To Think Of Your

Taking All This Trouble About Such A Thing!" He Stopped To Kiss Her

Very Tenderly,  And She Shone With Joy And Innocent Pride. "And I Never

Thought Of This! You Astonish Me,  Bella."

 

"Ay," Said She,  In High Spirits Now; "And,  What Is More,  I Have

Astonished Mr. Moss. He Said,  'I Wish I Had Your Head-Piece,  My Lady.'

I Could Have Told Him Love Sharpens A Woman's Wits; But I Reserved That

Little Adage For You."

 

"It's All Mighty Fine,  Fair Lady,  But You Have Told Me A Fib. You Said

It Was To Be All For Yourself,  And Got A Hundred Pounds Out Of Me."

 

"And So It Was For Myself,  You Silly Thing. Are You Not Myself? And The

Part Of Myself I Love The Best?" And Her Supple Wrist Was Round His

Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 72

Neck In A Moment.

 

They Rode Home Together,  Like Lovers,  And Comforted Each Other.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Richard Bassett,  With Wheeler's Assistance,  Had Borrowed Money On

Highmore To Buy "Splatchett's"; He Now Borrowed Money On

"Splatchett's," And Bought Dean's Wood--A Wood,  With Patches Of Grass,

That Lay On The East Of Sir Charles's Boundary. He Gave Seventeen

Hundred Pounds For It,  And Sold Two Thousand Pounds' Worth Of Timber

Off It The First Year. This Sounds Incredible; But,  Owing To The Custom

Of Felling Only Ripe Trees,  Landed Proprietors Had No Sure Clew To The

Value Of All The Timber On An Acre. Richard Bassett Had Found This Out,

And Bought Dean's Wood Upon The Above Terms--_I.E.,_ The Vender Gave

Him The Soil And Three Hundred Pounds Gratis. He Grubbed The Roots And

Sold Them For Fuel,  And Planted Larches To Catch The Overflow Of Sir

Charles's Game. The Grass Grew Beautifully,  Now The Trees Were Down,

And He Let It For Pasture.

 

He Then,  Still Under Wheeler's Advice,  Came Out Into The World Again,

Improved His Dress,  And Called On Several County Families,  With A View

To Marrying Money.

 

Now In The Country They Do Not Despise A Poor Gentleman Of Good

Lineage,  And Bassett Was One Of The Oldest Names In The County; So

Every Door Was Open To Him; And,  Indeed,  His Late Hermit Life Had

Stimulated Some Curiosity. This He Soon Turned To Sympathy,  By Telling

Them That He Was Proud But Poor. Robbed Of The Vast Estates That

Belonged To Him By Birth,  He Had Been Unwilling To Take A Lower

Position. However,  Heaven Had Prospered Him; The Wrongful Heir Was

Childless; He Was The Heir At Law,  And Felt He Owed It To The Estate,

Which Must Return To His Line,  To Assume A Little More Public

Importance Than He Had Done.

 

Wherever He Was Received He Was Sure To Enlarge Upon His Wrongs; And He

Was Believed; For He Was Notoriously The Direct Heir To Bassett And

Huntercombe,  But The Family Arrangement By Which His Father Had Been

Bought Out Was Known Only To A Few. He Readily Obtained Sympathy,  And

Many Persons Were Disgusted At Sir Charles's Illiberality In Not Making

Him Some Compensation. To Use The Homely Expression Of Govett,  A Small

Proprietor,  The Baronet Might As Well Have Given Him Back One Pig Out

Of His Own Farrow--_I.E.,_ One Of The Many Farms Comprised In That

Large Estate.

 

Sir Charles Learned That Richard Was Undermining Him In The County,  But

Was Too Proud To Interfere; He Told Lady Bassett He Should Say Nothing

Until Some _Gentleman_ Should Indorse Mr. Bassett's Falsehoods.

 

One Day Sir Charles And Lady Bassett Were Invited To Dine And Sleep At

Mr. Hardwicke's,  Distance Fifteen