Elster's Folly - Mrs. Henry Wood (top android ebook reader .TXT) 📗
- Author: Mrs. Henry Wood
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Advice In This. Your Conduct Is Indefensible."
"Don't 'Lord Hartledon' Me: I Won't Stand It. Carr?"
"Well?"
"If You Bring Up Against Me A String Of Reproaches Lasting Until Night
Will That Mend Matters? I Am Conscious Of Possessing But One True Friend
In The World, And That's Yourself. You Must Stand By Me."
"I Was Your Friend; Never A Truer. But I Believed You To Be A Man Of
Honour."
Hartledon Lifted His Hat From His Brow; As Though The Brow Alone Were
Heavy Enough Just Then. At Least The Thought Struck Mr. Carr.
"I Have Been Drawn Unwittingly Into This, As I Have Into Other Things. I
Never Meant To Do Wrong. As To Dishonour, Heaven Knows My Nature Shrinks
From It."
"If Your Nature Does, You Don't," Came The Severe Answer. "I Should Feel
Ashamed To Put Forth The Same Plea Always Of 'Falling Unwittingly' Into
Disgrace. You Have Done It Ever Since You Were A Schoolboy. Talk Of The
Elster Folly! This Has Gone Beyond It. This Is Dishonour. Engaged To One
Girl, And Corresponding With Her; Making Hourly Love For Weeks To
Another! May I Inquire Which Of The Two You Really Care For?"
"Anne--I Suppose."
"You Suppose!"
"You Make Me Wild, Talking Like This. Of Course It's Anne. Maude Has
Managed To Creep Into My Regard, Though, In No Common Degree. She Is Very
Lovely, Very Fascinating And Amiable."
"May I Ask Which Of The Two You Intend To Marry!" Continued The
Barrister, Neither Suppressing Nor Attempting To Soften His Indignant
Tones. "As This Country's Laws Are Against A Plurality Of Wives, You Will
Be Unable, I Imagine, To Espouse Them Both."
Hartledon Looked At Him, Beseechingly, And A Sudden Compassion Came Over
Mr. Carr. He Asked Himself Whether It Was Quite The Way To Treat A
Perplexed Man Who Was Very Dear To Him.
"If I Am Severe, It Is For Your Sake. I Assure You I Scarcely Know What
Advice To Give. It Is Miss Ashton, Of Course, Whom You Intend To Make
Lady Hartledon?"
"Of Course It Is. The Difficulty In The Matter Is Getting Clear Of
Maude."
"And The Formidable Countess-Dowager. You Must Tell Maude The Truth."
"Impossible, Carr. I Might Have Done It Once; But The Thing Has Gone On
So Long. The Dowager Would Devour Me."
"Let Her Try To. I Should Speak To Maude Alone, And Put Her Upon Her
Generosity To Release You. Tell Her You Presumed Upon Your Cousinship;
And Confess That You Have Long Been Engaged To Marry Miss Ashton."
"She Knows That: They Have Both Known It All Along. My Brother Was The
First To Tell Them, Before He Died."
"They Knew It?" Inquired Mr. Carr, Believing He Had Not Heard Correctly.
"Certainly. There Has Been No Secret Made Of My Engagement To Anne. All
The World Knows Of That."
"Then--Though I Do Not In The Least Defend Or Excuse You--Your Breaking
With Lady Maude May Be More Pardonable. They Are Poor, Are They Not, This
Dowager Kirton And Lady Maude?"
"Poor As Job. Hard Up, I Think."
"Then They Are Angling For The Broad Lands Of Hartledon. I See It All.
You Have Been A Victim To Fortune-Hunting."
"There You Are Wrong, Carr. I Can't Answer For The Dowager One Way Or The
Other; But Maude Is The Most Disinterested--"
"Of Course: Girls On The Look-Out For Establishments Always Are. Have It
As You Like."
He Spoke In Tones Of Ridicule; And Hartledon Jumped Off The Stile And Led
The Way Home.
That Lord Hartledon Had Got Himself Into A Very Serious Predicament, Mr.
Carr Plainly Saw. His Good Nature, His Sensitive Regard For The Feelings
Of Others, Rendering It So Impossible For Him To Say No, And Above All
His Vacillating Disposition, Were His Paramount Characteristics Still: In
A Degree They Ever Would Be. Easily Led As Ever, He Was As A Very Reed
In The Hands Of The Crafty Old Woman Of The World, Located With Him. She
Had Determined That He Should Become The Husband Of Her Daughter; And Was
As Certain Of Accomplishing Her End As If She Had Foreseen The Future.
Lord Hartledon Himself Afterwards, In His Bitter Repentance, Said, Over
And Over Again, That Circumstances Were Against Him; And They Certainly
Were So, As You Will Find.
Lord Hartledon Thought He Was Making Headway Against It Now, In Sending
For His Old Friend, And Resolving To Be Guided By His Advice.
"I Will Take An Opportunity Of Speaking To Maude, Carr," He Resumed. "I
Would Rather Not Do It, Of Course; But I See There's No Help For It."
"Make The Opportunity," Said Mr. Carr, With Emphasis. "Don't Delay A Day;
I Shall Expect You To Write Me A Letter To-Morrow Saying You've Done It."
"But You Won't Leave To-Day," Said Hartledon, Entreatingly, Feeling An
Instant Prevision That With The Departure Of Thomas Carr All His Courage
Would Ignominiously Desert Him.
"I Must Go. You Know I Told You Last Night That My Stay Could Only Be
Four-And-Twenty Hours. You Can Accomplish It Whilst I Am Here, If You
Like, And Get It Over; The Longer A Nauseous Medicine Is Held To The Lips
The More Difficult It Is To Swallow It. You Say You Are Going To Ride
With Lady Maude Presently; Let That Be Your Opportunity."
And Get It Over! Words That Sounded As Emancipation In Val's Ear. But
Somehow He Did Not Accomplish It In That Ride. Excuses Were On His Lips
Five Hundred Times, But His Hesitating Lips Never Formed Them. He Really
Was On The Point Of Speaking; At Least He Said So To Himself; When Mr.
Hillary Overtook Them On Horseback, And Rode With Them Some Distance.
After That, Maude Put Her Horse To A Canter, And So They Reached Home.
"Well?" Said Mr. Carr.
"Not Yet," Answered Hartledon; "There Was No Opportunity."
"My Suggestion Was To Make Your Opportunity."
"And So I Will. I'll Speak To Her Either To-Night Or To-Morrow. She Chose
To Ride Fast To-Day; And Hillary Joined Us Part Of The Way. Don't Look As
If You Doubted Me, Carr: I Shall Be Sure To Speak."
"Will He?" Thought Thomas Carr, As He Took His Departure By The Evening
Train, Having Promised To Run Down The Following Saturday For A Few
Hours. "It Is An Even Bet, I Think. Poor Val!"
Poor Val Indeed! Vacillating, Attractive, Handsome Val! Shrinking,
Sensitive Val! The Nauseous Medicine Was Never Taken. And When The
Ashtons Returned To The Rectory On The Friday Night He Had Not Spoken.
And The Very Day Of Their Return A Rumour Reached His Ear That Mrs.
Ashton's Health Was Seriously If Not Fatally Shattered, And She Was
Departing Immediately For The South Of France.
Chapter 16 (Between The Two)
Not In The Rectory Drawing-Room, But In A Pretty Little Sitting-Room
Attached To Her Bed-Chamber, Where The Temperature Was Regulated, And No
Draughts Could Penetrate, Reclined Mrs. Ashton. Her Invalid Gown Sat
Loosely Upon Her Shrunken Form, Her Delicate, Lace Cap Shaded A Fading
Face. Anne Sat By Her Side In All Her Loveliness, Ostensibly Working; But
Her Fingers Trembled, And Her Face Looked Flushed And Pained.
It Was The Morning After Their Return, And Mrs. Graves Had Called In To
See Mrs. Ashton--Gossiping Mrs. Graves, Who Knew All That Took Place In
The Parish, And A Great Deal Of What Never Did Take Place. She Had Just
Been Telling It All Unreservedly In Her Hard Way; Things That Might Be
Said, And Things That Might As Well Have Been Left Unsaid. She Went Out
Leaving A Whirr And A Buzz Behind Her And An Awful Sickness Of Desolation
Upon One Heart.
"Give Me My Little Writing-Case, Anne," Said Mrs. Ashton, Waking Up From
A Reverie And Sitting Forward On Her Sofa.
Anne Took The Pretty Toy From The Side-Table, Opened It, And Laid It On
The Table Before Her Mother.
"Is It Nothing I Can Write For You, Mamma?"
"No, Child."
Anne Bent Her Hot Face Over Her Work Again. It Had Not Occurred To Her
That It Could Concern Herself; And Mrs. Ashton Wrote A Few Rapid Lines:
"My Dear Percival,
"Can You Spare Me A Five-Minutes' Visit? I Wish To Speak With You. We
Go Away Again On Monday.
"Ever Sincerely Yours,
"Catherine Ashton."
She Folded It, Enclosed It In An Envelope, And Addressed It To The Earl
Of Hartledon. Pushing Away The Writing-Table, She Held Out The Note To
Her Daughter.
"Seal It For Me, Anne. I Am Tired. Let It Go At Once."
"Mamma!" Exclaimed Anne, As Her Eye Caught The Address. "Surely You Are
Not Writing To Him! You Are Not Asking Him To Come Here?"
"You See That I Am Writing To Him, Anne. And It Is To Ask Him To Come
Here. My Dear, You May Safely Leave Me To Act According To My Own
Judgment. But As To What Mrs. Graves Has Said, I Don't Believe A Word
Of It."
"I Scarcely Think I Do," Murmured Anne; A Smile Hovering On Her Troubled
Countenance, Like Sunshine After Rain.
Anne Had The Taper Alight, And The Wax Held To It, The Note Ready In Her
Hand, When The Room-Door Was Thrown Open By Mrs. Ashton's Maid.
"Lord Hartledon."
He Came In In A Hurried Manner, Talking Fast, Making Too Much Fuss; It
Was Unlike His Usual Quiet Movements, And Mrs. Ashton Noticed It. As He
Shook Hands With Her, She Held The Note Before Him.
"See, Percival! I Was Writing To Ask You To Call Upon Me."
Anne Had Put Out The Light, And Her Hand Was In Lord Hartledon's Before
She Well Knew Anything, Save That Her Heart Was Beating Tumultuously.
Mrs. Ashton Made A Place For Him On The Sofa, And Anne Quietly Left The
Room.
"I Should Have Been Here Earlier," He Began, "But I Had The Steward With
Me On Business; It Is Little Enough I Have Attended To Since My Brother's
Death. Dear Mrs. Ashton! I Grieve To Hear This Poor Account Of You. You
Are Indeed Looking Ill."
"I Am So Ill, Percival, That I Doubt Whether I Shall Ever Be Better In
This World. It Is My Last Chance, This Going Away To A Warmer Place Until
Winter Has Passed."
He Was Bending Towards Her In Earnest Sympathy, All Himself Again; His
Dark Blue Eyes Very Tender, His Pleasant Features Full Of Concern As He
Gazed On Her Face. And Somehow, Looking At That Attractive Countenance,
Mrs. Ashton's Doubts Went From Her.
"But What I Have Said Is To You Alone," She Resumed. "My Husband And
Children Do Not See The Worst, And I Refrain From Telling Them. A Little
Word Of Confidence Between Us, Val."
"I Hope And Trust You May Come Back Cured!" He Said, Very Fervently. "Is
It The Fever That Has So Shattered You?"
"It Is The Result Of It. I Have Never Since Been Able To Recover
Strength, But Have Become Weaker And More Weak. And You Know I Was
In Ill Health Before. We Leave On Monday Morning For Cannes."
"For Cannes?" He Exclaimed.
"Yes. A Place Not So Warm As Some I Might Have Gone To; But The Doctors
Say That Will Be All The Better. It Is Not Heat I Need; Only Shelter From
Our Cold Northern Winds Until I Can Get A Little Strength Into Me.
There's Nothing The Matter With My Lungs; Indeed, I Don't Know That
Anything Is The Matter With Me Except This Terrible Weakness."
"I Suppose Anne Goes With You?"
"Oh Yes. I Could Not Go Without Anne. The Doctor Will See Us Settled
There, And Then He Returns."
A Thought Crossed Lord Hartledon: How Pleasant If He And Anne Could Have
Been Married, And Have Made This Their Wedding Tour. He Did Not Speak It:
Mrs. Ashton Would Have Laughed At His Haste.
"How Long Shall You Remain Away?" He Asked.
"Ah, I Cannot Tell You. I May Not Live To Return. If All Goes Well--That
Is, If There Should Be A Speedy Change For The Better, As The Medical Men
Who Have Been Attending Me Think There May Be--I Shall Be Back Perhaps In
April Or May. Val--I Cannot Forget The Old Familiar Name, You See--"
"I Hope You Never Will Forget It," He Warmly
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