Elster's Folly - Mrs. Henry Wood (top android ebook reader .TXT) 📗

It Did Not Please Her To Have It Brought In Made--And

Knocked Down And Broke One Of The Delicate China Cups.

Chapter 14 (Another Patient)

It Was Eleven O'clock When Lord Hartledon Entered. Lady Kirton Was

Fanning Herself Vehemently. Maude Had Gone Upstairs For The Night.

 

"Where Have You Been?" She Asked,  Laying Down Her Fan. "We Waited Tea For

You Until Poor Maude Got Quite Exhausted."

 

"Did You? I Am Sorry For That. Never Wait For Me,  Pray,  Lady Kirton. I

Took Tea At The Rectory."

 

"Took--Tea--Where?"

 

"At The Rectory."

 

With A Shriek The Countess-Dowager Darted To The Far End Of The Room,

Turning Up Her Gown As She Went,  And Muffling It Over Her Head And Face,

So That Only The Little Eyes,  Round Now With Horror,  Were Seen. Lord

Hartledon Gazed In Amazement.

 

"You Have Been At The Rectory,  When I Warned You Not To Go! You Have Been

Inside That House Of Infection,  And Come Home--Here--To Me--To My Darling

Maude! May Heaven Forgive You,  Hartledon!"

 

"Why,  What Have I Done? What Harm Will It Do?" Exclaimed The Astonished

Man. He Would Have Approached Her,  But She Warned Him From Her Piteously

With Her Hands. She Was At The Upper End Of The Room,  And He Near The

Door,  So That She Could Not Leave It Without Passing Him. Hedges Came

In,  And Stood Staring In The Same Wondering Astonishment As His Master.

 

"For Mercy's Sake,  Take Off Every Shred Of Your Clothes!" She Cried. "You

May Have Brought Home Death In Them. They Shall Be Thrown Into The

Burning Tar. Do You Want To Kill Us? What Has Maude Done To You That You

Behave In This Way?"

 

"I Do Think You Must Be Going Mad!" Cried Lord Hartledon,  In

Bewilderment; "And I Hope You'll Forgive Me For Saying So. I--"

 

"Go And Change Your Clothes!" Was All She Could Reiterate. "Every Minute

You Stand In Them Is Fraught With Danger. If You Choose To Die Yourself,

It's Downright Wicked To Bring Death To Us. Oh,  Go,  That I May Get Out Of

Here."

 

Lord Hartledon,  To Pacify Her,  Left The Room,  And The Countess-Dowager

Rushed Forth And Bolted Herself Into Her Own Apartments.

 

Was She Mad,  Or Making A Display Of Affectation,  Or Genuinely Afraid?

Wondered Lord Hartledon Aloud,  As He Went Up To His Chamber. Hedges Gave

It As His Opinion That She Was Really Afraid,  Because She Had Been As Bad

As This When She First Heard Of The Illness,  Before His Lordship Arrived.

Val Retired To Rest Laughing: It Was A Good Joke To Him.

 

But It Was No Joke To The Countess-Dowager,  As He Found To His Cost When

The Morning Came. She Got Him Out Of His Chamber Betimes,  And Commenced A

"Fumigating" Process. The Clothes He Had Worn She Insisted Should Be

Burnt; Pleading So Piteously That He Yielded In His Good Nature.

 

But There Was To Be A Battle On Another Score. She Forbade Him,  In The

Most Positive Terms,  To Go Again To The Rectory--To Approach Within

Half-A-Mile Of It. Lord Hartledon Civilly Told Her He Could Not Comply;

He Hinted That If Her Alarms Were So Great,  She Had Better Leave The

Place Until All Danger Was Over,  And Thereby Nearly Entailed On Himself

Another War-Dance.

 

News That Came Up That Morning From The Rectory Did Not Tend To Assuage

Her Fears. The Poor Dairymaid Had Died In The Night,  And Another Servant,

One Of The Men,  Was Sickening. Even Lord Hartledon Looked Grave: And The

Countess-Dowager Wormed A Half Promise From Him,  In The Softened Feelings

Of The Moment,  That He Would Not Visit The Infected House.

 

Before An Hour Was Over He Came To Her To Retract It. "I Cannot Be So

Unfeeling,  So Unneighbourly,  As Not To Call," He Said. "Even Were My

Relations Not What They Are With Miss Ashton,  I Could Not Do It. It's Of

No Use Talking,  Ma'am; I Am Too Restless To Stay Away."

 

A Little Skirmish Of Words Ensued. Lady Kirton Accused Him Of Wishing To

Sacrifice Them To His Own Selfish Gratification. Lord Hartledon Felt

Uncomfortable At The Accusation. One Of The Best-Hearted Men Living,  He

Did Nothing In His Vacillation. He Would Go In The Evening,  He Said To

Himself,  When They Could Not Watch Him From The House.

 

But She Was Clever At Carrying Out Her Own Will,  That Countess-Dowager;

More Than A Match For The Single-Minded Young Man. She Wrote An Urgent

Letter To Dr. Ashton,  Setting Forth Her Own And Her Daughter's Danger If

Her Nephew,  As She Styled Him,  Was Received At The Rectory; And She

Despatched It Privately.

 

It Brought Forth A Letter From Dr. Ashton To Lord Hartledon; A Kind But

Peremptory Mandate,  Forbidding Him To Show Himself At The Rectory Until

The Illness Was Over. Dr. Ashton Reminded His Future Son-In-Law That It

Was Not Particularly On His Own Account He Interposed This Veto,  But For

The Sake Of The Neighbourhood Generally. If They Were To Prevent The

Fever From Spreading,  It Was Absolutely Necessary That No Chance Visitors

Should Be Running Into The Rectory And Out Of It Again,  To Carry Possible

Infection To The Parish.

 

Lord Hartledon Could Only Acquiesce. The Note Was Written In Terms So

Positive As Rather To Surprise Him; But He Never Suspected The

Undercurrent That Had Been At Work. In His Straightforwardness He Showed

The Letter To The Dowager,  Who Nodded Her Head Approvingly,  But Told No

Tales.

 

And So His Days Went On In The Society Of The Two Women At Hartledon;

And If He Found Himself Oppressed With _Ennui_ At First,  He Subsided

Into A Flirtation With Maude,  And Forgot Care. Elster's Folly! He Was Not

Hearing From Anne,  For It Was Thought Better That Even Notes Should Not

Pass Out Of The Rectory.

 

Curiously To Relate,  The First Person Beyond The Rectory To Take The

Illness Was The Man Pike. How He Could Have Caught It Was A Marvel To

Calne. And Yet,  If Lady Kirton's Theory Were Correct,  That Infection Was

Conveyed By Clothes,  It Might Be Accounted For,  And Clerk Gum Be Deemed

The Culprit. One Evening After The Clerk Had Been For Some Little Time At

The Rectory With Dr. Ashton,  He Met Pike In Going Out; Had Brushed Close

To Him In Passing,  As He Well Remembered. However It Might Have Been,  In

A Few Days After That Pike Was Found To Be Suffering From The Fever.

 

Whether He Would Have Died,  Lying Alone In That Shed,  Calne Did Not

Decide; And Some Thought He Would,  Making No Sign; Some Thought Not,  But

Would Have Called In Assistance. Mr. Hillary,  An Observant Man,  As

Perhaps It Was Requisite He Should Be In Time Of Public Danger,  Halted

One Morning To Speak To Clerk Gum,  Who Was Standing At His Own Gate.

 

"Have You Seen Anything Lately Of That Neighbour Of Yours,  Gum?"

 

"Which Neighbour?" Asked The Clerk,  In Tones That Seemed To Resent The

Question.

 

Mr. Hillary Pointed His Umbrella In The Direction Of The Shed. "Pike."

 

"No,  I've Seen Nothing Of Him,  That I Remember."

 

"Neither Have I. What's More,  I've Seen No Smoke Coming Out Of The

Chimney These Two Days. It Strikes Me He's Ill. It May Be The Fever."

 

"Gone Away,  Possibly," Remarked The Clerk,  After A Moment's Pause; "In

The Same Unceremonious Manner That He Came."

 

"I Think Somebody Ought To See. He May Be Lying There Helpless."

 

"Little Matter If He Is," Growled The Clerk,  Who Seemed Put Out About

Something Or Other.

 

"It's Not Like You To Say So,  Gum. You Might Step Over The Stile And See;

You're Nearest To Him. Nobody Knows What The Man Is,  Or What He May Have

Been; But Humanity Does Not Let Even The Worst Die Unaided."

 

"What Makes You Think He Has The Fever?" Asked The Clerk.

 

"I Only Say He May Have It; Having Seen Neither Him Nor His Smoke These

Two Days. Never Mind; If It Annoys You To Do This,  I'll Look In Myself

Some Time To-Day."

 

"You Wouldn't Get Admitted; He Keeps His Door Fastened," Returned Gum.

"The Only Way To Get At Him Is To Shout Out To Him Through That Glazed

Aperture He Calls His Window."

 

"Will You Do It--Or Shall I?"

 

"I'll Do It," Said The Clerk; "And Tell You If Your Services Are Wanted."

 

Mr. Hillary Walked Off At A Quick Pace. There Was A Good Deal Of Illness

In Calne At That Season,  Though The Fever Had Not Spread.

 

Whether Clerk Gum Kept His Word,  Or Whether He Did Not,  Certain It Was

That Mr. Hillary Heard Nothing From Him That Day. In The Evening The

Clerk Was Sitting In His Office In A Thoughtful Mood,  Busy Over Some

Accounts Connected With An Insurance Company For Which He Was Agent,  When

He Heard A Quick Sharp Knock At The Front-Door.

 

"I Wonder If It's Hillary?" He Muttered,  As He Took The Candle And Rose

To Open It.

 

Instead Of The Surgeon,  There Entered A Lady,  With Much Energy. It Was

The _Bete Noire_ Of Clerk Gum's Life,  Mrs. Jones.

 

"What's The House Shut Up For At This Early Hour?" She Began. "The Door

Locked,  The Shutters Up,  And The Blinds Down,  Just As If Everybody Was

Dead Or Asleep. Where's Nance?"

 

"She's Out," Said The Clerk. "I Suppose She Shut Up Before She Went,  And

I've Been In My Office All The Afternoon. Do You Want Anything?"

 

"Do I Want Anything!" Retorted Mrs. Jones. "I've Come In To Shelter From

The Rain. It's Been Threatening All The Evening,  And It's Coming Down Now

Like Cats And Dogs."

 

The Clerk Was Leading The Way To The Little Parlour; But She Ignored The

Movement,  And Went On To The Kitchen. He Could Only Follow Her. "It's A

Pity You Came Out When It Threatened Rain," Said He.

 

"Business Took Me Out," Replied Mrs. Jones. "I've Been Up To The Mill.

I Heard Young Rip Was Ill,  And Going To Leave; So I Went Up To Ask If

They'd Try Our Jim. But Young Rip Isn't Going To Leave,  And Isn't Ill,

Mother Floyd Says,  Though It's Certain He's Not Well. She Can't Think

What's The Matter With The Boy; He's Always Fancying He Sees Ghosts In

The River. I've Had My Trapes For Nothing."

 

She Had Given Her Gown A Good Shake From The Rain-Drops In The Middle Of

The Kitchen,  And Was Now Seated Before The Fire. The Clerk Stood By The

Table,  Occasionally Snuffing The Candle,  And Wishing She'd Take Herself

Off Again.

 

"Where's Nancy Gone?" Asked She.

 

"I Didn't Hear Her Say."

 

"And She'll Be Gone A Month Of Sundays,  I Suppose. I Shan't Wait For Her,

If The Rain Gives Over."

 

"You'd Be More Comfortable In The Small Parlour," Said The Clerk,  Who

Seemed Rather Fidgety; "There's A Nice Bit Of Fire There."

 

"I'm More Comfortable Here," Contradicted Mrs. Jones. "Where's The Good

Of A Bit Of Fire For A Gown As Wet As Mine?"

 

Jabez Gum Made No Response. There Was The Lady,  A Fixture; And He Could

Only Resign Himself To The Situation.

 

"How's Your Friend At The Next House--Pike?" She Began Again

Sarcastically.

 

"He's No Friend Of Mine," Said The Clerk.

 

"It Looks Like It,  At All Events; Or You'd Have Given Him Into Custody

Long Ago. _I_ Wouldn't Let A Man Harbour Himself So Close To Me. He's

Taken To A New Dodge Now: Going About With A Pistol To Shoot People."

 

"Who Says So?" Asked The Clerk.

 

"I Say So. He Frighted That Boy Ripper Pretty Near To Death. The Boy Tore

Home One Night In A State Of Terror,  And All They Could Get Out Of Him

Was That He'd Met Pike With A Pistol. It's Weeks Ago,  And He Hasn't Got

Over It Yet."

 

"Did Pike Level It At Him?"

 

"I Tell You That's All They Could Get Out Of The Boy. He's A Nice

Jail-Bird Too,  That Young Rip,  Unless I'm Mistaken. They Might As

Well Send Him Away,  And Make Room For Our Jim."

 

"I Think You Are About The Most Fanciful,  Unjust,  Selfish Woman In

Calne!" Exclaimed The Clerk,  Unable To Keep Down His Anger Any Longer.

"You'd Take Young Ripper's Character Away Without Scruple,  Just