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

Because

His Place Might Suit Your Jim!"

 

"I'm What?" Shrieked Mrs. Jones. "I'm Unjust,  Am I--"

 

An Interruption Occurred,  And Mrs. Jones Subsided Into Silence. The

Back-Door Suddenly Opened,  Not A Couple Of Yards From That Lady's Head,

And In Came Mrs. Gum In Her Ordinary Indoor Dress,  Two Basins In Her

Hand. The Sight Of Her Visitor Appeared To Occasion Her Surprise; She

Uttered A Faint Scream,  And Nearly Dropped The Basins.

 

"Lawk A Mercy! Is It Lydia Jones?"

 

Mrs. Jones Had Been Drawing A Quiet Deduction--The Clerk Had Said His

Wife Was Out Only To Deceive Her. She Rose From Her Chair,  And Faced Him.

 

"I Thought You Told Me She Was Gone Out?"

 

The Clerk Coughed. He Looked At His Wife,  As If Asking An Explanation.

The Meeker Of The Two Women Hastily Put Her Basins Down,  And Stood

Looking From One To The Other,  Apparently Recovering Breath.

 

"Didn't You Go Out?" Asked The Clerk.

 

"I Was Going,  Gum,  But Stepped Out First To Collect My Basins,  And Then

The Rain Came Down. I Had To Shelter Under The Wood-Shed,  It Was

Peppering So."

 

"Collect Your Basins!" Interjected Mrs. Jones. "Where From?"

 

"I Put Them Out With Scraps For The Cats."

 

"The Cats Must Be Well Off In Your Quarter; Better Than Some Children In

Others," Was The Rejoinder,  Delivered With An Unnecessary Amount Of

Spite. "What Makes You So Out Of Breath?" She Tartly Asked.

 

"I Had A Bit Of A Fright," Said The Woman,  Simply. "My Breath Seems To

Get Affected At Nothing Of Late,  Lydia."

 

"A Pity But You'd Your Hands Full Of Work,  As Mine Are: That's The Best

Remedy For Fright," Said Mrs. Jones Sarcastically. "What Might Your

Fright Have Been,  Pray?"

 

"I Was Standing,  Waiting To Dart Over Here,  When I Saw A Man Come Across

The Waste Land And Make For Pike's Shed," Said Mrs. Gum,  Looking At Her

Husband. "It Gave Me A Turn. We've Never Seen A Soul Go Near The Place Of

An Evening Since Pike Has Been There."

 

"Why Should It Give You A Turn?" Asked Mrs. Jones,  Who Was In A Mood

To Contradict Everything. "You've Seen Pike Often Enough Not To Be

Frightened At Him When He Keeps His Distance."

 

"It Wasn't Pike,  Lydia. The Man Had An Umbrella Over Him,  And He Looked

Like A Gentleman. Fancy Pike With An Umbrella!"

 

"Was It Mr. Hillary?" Interposed The Clerk.

 

She Shook Her Head. "I Don't Think So; But It Was Getting Too Dark To

See. Any Way,  It Gave Me A Turn; And He's Gone Right Up To Pike's Shed."

 

"Gave You A Turn,  Indeed!" Scornfully Repeated Mrs. Jones. "I Think

You're Getting More Of An Idiot Every Day,  Nance. It's To Be Hoped

Somebody's Gone To Take Him Up; That's What Is To Be Hoped."

 

But Mr. Hillary It Was. Hearing Nothing From Jabez Gum All Day,  He Had

Come To The Conclusion That That Respectable Man Had Ignored His Promise,

And,  Unable To Divest Himself Of The Idea That Pike Was Ill,  In The

Evening,  Having A Minute To Spare,  He Went Forth To See For Himself.

 

The Shed-Door Was Closed,  But Not Fastened,  And Mr. Hillary Went In At

Once Without Ceremony. A Lighted Candle Shed Its Rays Around The Rude

Dwelling-Room: And The First Thing He Saw Was A Young Man,  Who Did Not

Look In The Least Like Pike,  Stretched Upon A Mattress; The Second Was A

Bushy Black Wig And Appurtenances Lying On A Chair; And The Third Was A

Formidable-Looking Pistol,  Conveniently Close To The Prostrate Invalid.

 

Quick As Thought,  The Surgeon Laid His Hand Upon The Pistol And Removed

It To A Safe Distance. He Then Bent Over The Sick Man,  Examining Him With

His Penetrating Eyes; And What He Saw Struck Him With Consternation So

Great,  That He Sat Down On A Chair To Recover Himself,  Albeit Not Liable

To Be Overcome By Emotion.

 

When He Left The Shed--Which Was Not For Nearly Half-An-Hour After He Had

Entered It--He Heard Voices At Clerk Gum's Front-Door. The Storm Was

Over,  And Their Visitor Was Departing. Mr. Hillary Took A Moment's

Counsel With Himself,  Then Crossed The Stile And Appeared Amongst Them.

Nodding To The Three Collectively,  He Gravely Addressed The Clerk And His

Wife.

 

"I Have Come Here To Ask,  In The Name Of Our Common Humanity,  Whether You

Will Put Aside Your Prejudices,  And Be Christians In A Case Of Need," He

Began. "I Don't Forget That Once,  When An Epidemic Was Raging In Calne,

You"--Turning To The Wife--"Were Active And Fearless,  Going About And

Nursing The Sick When Almost All Others Held Aloof. Will You Do The Same

Now By A Helpless Man?"

 

The Woman Trembled All Over. Clerk Gum Looked Questioningly At The

Doctor. Mrs. Jones Was Taking In Everything With Eyes And Ears.

 

"This Neighbour Of Yours Has Caught The Fever. Some One Must Attend To

Him,  Or He Will Lie There And Die. I Thought Perhaps You'd Do It,  Mrs.

Gum,  For Our Saviour's Sake--If From No Other Motive."

 

She Trembled Excessively. "I Always Was Terribly Afraid Of That Man,  Sir,

Since He Came," Said She,  With Marked Hesitation.

 

"But He Cannot Harm You Now. I Don't Ask You To Go In To Him One Day

After He Is Well Again--If He Recovers. Neither Need You Be With Him

As A Regular Nurse: Only Step In Now And Then To Give Him His Physic,

Or Change The Wet Cloths On His Burning Head."

 

Mrs. Jones Found Her Voice. The Enormous Impudence Of The Surgeon's

Request Had Caused Its Temporary Extinction.

 

"I'd See Pike In His Coffin Before I'd Go A-Nigh Him As A Nurse! What On

Earth Will You Be Asking Next,  Mr. Hillary?"

 

"I Didn't Ask You,  Mrs. Jones: You Have Your Children To Attend To; Full

Employment For One Pair Of Arms. Mrs. Gum Has Nothing To Do With Her

Time; And Is Near At Hand Besides. Gum,  You Stand In Your Place By Dr.

Ashton Every Sunday,  And Read Out To Us Of The Loving Mercy Of God: Will

You Urge Your Wife To This Little Work Of Charity For His Sake?"

 

Jabez Gum Evidently Did Not Know What To Answer. On The One Hand,  He

Could Hardly Go Against The Precepts He Had To Respond To As Clerk; On

The Other,  There Was His Scorn And Hatred Of The Disreputable Arab.

 

"He's Such A Loose Character,  Sir," He Debated At Length.

 

"Possibly: When He Is Well. But He Is Ill Now,  And Could Not Be Loose If

He Tried. Some One _Must_ Go In Now And Then To See After Him: It Struck

Me That Perhaps Your Wife Would Do It,  For Humanity's Sake; And I Thought

I'd Ask Her Before Going Further."

 

"She Can Do As She Likes," Said Jabez.

 

Mrs. Gum--As Unresisting In Her Nature As Ever Was Percival

Elster--Yielded To The Prayer Of The Surgeon,  And Said She Would Do

What She Could. But She Had Never Shown More Nervousness Over Anything

Than She Was Showing As She Gave Her Answer.

 

"Then I Will Step Indoors And Give You A Few Plain Directions," Said The

Surgeon. "Mrs. Jones Has Taken Her Departure,  I Perceive."

 

Mrs. Gum Was As Good As Her Word,  And Went In With Dire Trepidation.

Calne's Sentiments,  On The Whole,  Resembled Mrs. Jones's,  And The Woman

Was Blamed For Her Yielding Nature. But She Contrived,  With The Help Of

Mr. Hillary's Skill,  To Bring The Man Through The Fever; And It Was Very

Singular That No Other Person Out Of The Rectory Took It.

 

The Last One To Take It At The Rectory Was Mrs. Ashton. Of The Three

Servants Who Had It,  One Had Died; The Other Two Recovered. Mrs. Ashton

Did Not Take It Until The Rest Were Well,  And She Had It Lightly. Anne

Nursed Her And Would Do So; And It Was An Additional Reason For

Prolonging The Veto Against Lord Hartledon.

 

One Morning In December,  Val,  In Passing Down The Road,  Saw The Rectory

Turned,  As He Called It,  Inside Out. Every Window Was Thrown Open;

Curtains Were Taken Down; Altogether There Seemed To Be A Comprehensive

Cleaning Going On. At That Moment Mr. Hillary Passed,  And Val Arrested

Him,  Pointing To The Rectory.

 

"Yes,  They Are Having A Cleansing And Purification. The Family Went Away

This Morning."

 

"Went Where?" Exclaimed Hartledon,  In Amazement.

 

"Dr. Ashton Has Taken A Cottage Near Ventnor."

 

"Had Mrs. Ashton Quite Recovered?"

 

"Quite: Or They Would Not Have Gone. The Rectory Has Had A Clean Bill Of

Health For Some Time Past."

 

"Then Why Did They Not Let Me Know It?" Exclaimed Val,  In His

Astonishment And Anger.

 

"Perhaps You Didn't Ask," Said The Surgeon. "But No Visitors Were Sought.

Time Enough For That When The House Shall Have Been Fumigated."

 

"They Might Have Sent To Me," He Cried,  In Resentment. "To Go Away And

Never Let Me Know It!"

 

"They May Have Thought You Were Too Agreeably Engaged To Care To Be

Disturbed," Remarked The Surgeon.

 

"What Do You Mean?" Demanded Val,  Hotly.

 

Mr. Hillary Laughed. "People Will Talk,  You Know; And Rumour Has It That

Lord Hartledon Has Found Attractions In His Own Home,  Whilst The Rectory

Was Debarred To Him."

 

Val Wheeled Round On His Heel,  And Walked Away In Displeasure. Home

Truths Are Never Palatable. But The Kindly Disposition Of The Man Resumed

Its Sway Immediately: He Turned Back,  And Pointed To The Shed.

 

"Is That Interesting Patient Of Yours On His Legs Again?"

 

"He Is Getting Better. The Disease Attacked Him Fiercely And Was

Unusually Prolonged. It's Strange He Should Have Been The Only One To

Take It."

 

"Gum's Wife Has Been Nursing Him,  I Hear?"

 

"She Has Gone In And Out To Do Such Necessary Offices As The Sick

Require. I Put It To Her From A Christian Point Of View,  You See,  And On

The Score Of Humanity. She Was At Hand; And That's A Great Thing Where

The Nurse Is Only A Visiting One."

 

"Look Here,  Hillary; Don't Let The Man Want For Anything; See That He Has

All He Needs. He Is A Black Sheep,  No Doubt; But Illness Levels Us All To

One Standard. Good Day."

 

"Good Day,  Lord Hartledon."

 

And When The Surgeon Had Got To A Distance With His Quick Step,  Lord

Hartledon Turned Back To The Rectory.

 

Chapter 15 (Val's Dilemma)

It Was A Mild Day In Spring. The Air Was Balmy,  But The Skies Were Grey

And Lowering; And As A Gentleman Strolled Across A Field Adjoining

Hartledon Park He Looked Up At Them More Than Once,  As If Asking Whether

They Threatened Rain.

 

Not That He Had Any Great Personal Interest In The Question. Whether The

Skies Gave Forth Sunshine Or Rain Is Of Little Moment To A Mind Not At

Rest. He Had Only Looked Up In Listlessness. A Stranger Might Have Taken

Him At A Distance For A Gamekeeper: His Coat Was Of Velveteen; His Boots

Were Muddy: But A Nearer Inspection Would Have Removed The Impression.

 

It Was Lord Hartledon; But Changed Since You Last Saw Him. For Some Time

Past There Had Been A Worn,  Weary Look Upon His Face,  Bespeaking A Mind

Ill At Ease; The Truth Is,  His Conscience Was Not At Rest,  And In Time

That Tells On The Countenance.

 

He Had Been By The Fish-Pond For An Hour. But The Fish Had Not Shown

Themselves Inclined To Bite,  And He Grew Too Impatient To Remain.

Not Altogether Impatient At The Wary Fish,  But In His Own Mental

Restlessness. The Fishing-Rod Was Carried In His Hand In Pieces; And He

Splashed Along,  In A Brown Study,  On The Wet Ground,  Flinging Himself

Over The Ha-Ha With An Ungracious Movement. Some One Was Approaching

Across The Park From The House,  And Lord Hartledon Walked On To A Gate,

And Waited There For Him To Come Up. He Began Beating The Bars With The

Thin End Of The Rod,  And--Broke It!

 

"That's The Way You Use Your Fishing-Rods," Cried The Free,  Pleasant

Voice Of The New-Comer. "I Shouldn't Mind Being Appointed Purveyor Of

Tackle To Your Lordship."

 

The Stranger Was An Active Little Man,  Older Than Hartledon; His Features

Were Thin,  His Eyes Dark And Luminous. I Think You Have Heard