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

Part 3 Chapter 15 Pg 122

"Poor Man! Richard,  Death Reconciles Enemies. Surely You Can Forgive

Him Now."

 

"I Mean To Try."

 

Richard Bassett Seemed Now To Have Imbibed The Spirit Of Quicksilver.

His Occupations Were Not Actually Enlarged,  Yet,  Somehow Or Other,  He

Seemed Full Of Business. He Was All Complacent Bustle About Nothing. He

Left Off Inveighing Against Sir Charles. And,  Indeed,  If You Are One Of

Those Weak Spirits To Whom Censure Is Intolerable,  There Is A Cheap And

Easy Way To Moderate The Rancor Of Detraction--You Have Only To Die.

Let Me Comfort Genius In Particular With This Little Recipe.

 

Why,  On One Occasion,  Bassett Actually Snubbed Wheeler For A Mere

Allusion. That Worthy Just Happened To Remark,  "No More Felling Of

Timber On Bassett Manor For A While."

 

"For Shame!" Said Richard. "The Man Had His Faults,  But He Had His Good

Qualities Too: A High-Spirited Gentleman,  Beloved By His Friends And

Respected By All The County. His Successor Will Find It Hard To

Reconcile The County To His Loss."

 

Wheeler Stared,  And Then Grinned Satirically.

 

This Eulogy Was Never Repeated,  For Sir Charles Proved Ungrateful--He

Omitted To Die,  After All.

 

Attended By First-Rate Physicians,  Tenderly Nursed And Watched By Lady

Bassett And Mary Wells,  He Got Better By Degrees; And Every Stage Of

His Slow But Hopeful Progress Was Communicated To The Servants And The

Village,  And To The Ladies And Gentlemen Who Rode Up To The Door Every

Day And Left Their Cards Of Inquiry.

 

The Most Attentive Of All These Was The New Rector,  A Young Clergyman,

Who Had Obtained The Living By Exchange. He Was A Man Highly Gifted

Both In Body And Mind--A Swarthy Adonis,  Whose Large Dark Eyes From The

Very First Turned With Glowing Admiration On The Blonde Beauties Of

Lady Bassett.

 

He Came Every Day To Inquire After Her Husband; And She Sometimes Left

The Sufferer A Minute Or Two To Make Her Report To Him In Person. At

Other Times Mary Wells Was Sent To Him. That Artful Girl Soon

Discovered What Had Escaped Her Mistress's Observation.

 

The Bulletins Were Favorable,  And Welcomed On All Sides.

 

Richard Bassett Alone Was Incredulous. "I Want To See Him About Again,"

Said He. "Sir Charles Is Not The Man To Lie In Bed If He Was Really

Better. As For The Doctors,  They Flatter A Fellow Till The Last Moment.

Let Me See Him On His Legs,  And Then I'll Believe He Is Better."

 

Strange To Say,  Obliging Fate Granted Richard Bassett This Moderate

Request. One Frosty But Sunny Afternoon,  As He Was Inspecting His

Coming Domain From "The Heir's Tower," He Saw The Hall Door Open,  And A

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Muffled Figure Come Slowly Down The Steps Between Two Women: It Was Sir

Charles,  Feeble But Convalescent. He Crept About On The Sunny Gravel

For About Ten Minutes,  And Then His Nurses Conveyed Him Tenderly In

Again.

 

This Sight,  Which Might Have Touched With Pity A More Generous Nature,

Startled Richard Bassett,  And Then Moved His Bile. "I Was A Fool," Said

He; "Nothing Will Ever Kill That Man. He Will See Me Out; See Us All

Out. And That Mary Wells Nurses Him,  And I Dare Say In Love With Him By

This Time; The Fools Can't Nurse A Man Without. Curse The Whole Pack Of

Ye!" He Yelled,  And Turned Away In Rage And Disgust.

 

That Same Night He Met Mary Wells,  And,  In A Strange Fit Of Jealousy,

Began To Make Hot Protestations Of Love To Her. He Knew It Was No Use

Reproaching Her,  So He Went On The Other Tack.

 

She Received His Vows With Cool Complacency,  But Would Only Stay A

Minute,  And Would Only Talk Of Her Master And Mistress,  Toward Whom Her

Heart Was Really Warming In Their Trouble. She Spoke Hopefully,  And

Said: "'Tisn't As If He Was One Of Your Faint-Hearted Ones As Meet

Death Half-Way. Why,  The Second Day,  When He Could Scarce Speak,  He

Sees Me Crying By The Bed,  And Says He,  Almost In A Whisper,  'What Are

_You_ Crying For?' 'Sir,' Says I,  ''Tis For You--To See You Lie Like A

Ghost.' 'Then You Be Wasting Of Salt-Water,' Says He. 'I Wish I May,

Sir,' Says I. So Then He Raised Himself Up A Little Bit. 'Look At Me,'

Says He; 'I'm A Bassett. I Am Not The Breed To Die For A Crack On The

Skull,  And Leave You All To The Mercy Of Them That Would Have No

Mercy'--Which He Meant You,  I Suppose. So He Ordered Me To Leave

Crying,  Which I Behooved To Obey; For He Will Be Master,  Mind Ye,  While

He Have A Finger To Wag,  Poor Dear Gentleman,  He Will."

 

And,  Soon After This,  She Resisted All His Attempts To Detain Her,  And

Scudded Back To The House,  Leaving Bassett To His Reflections,  Which

Were Exceedingly Bitter.

 

Sir Charles Got Better,  And At Last Used To Walk Daily With Lady

Bassett. Their Favorite Stroll Was Up And Down The Lawn,  Close Under

The Boundary Wall He Had Built To Shut Out "The Heir's Walk."

 

The Afternoon Sun Struck Warm Upon That Wall And The Walk By Its Side.

 

On The Other Side A Nurse Often Carried Little Dicky Bassett,  The Heir;

But Neither Of The Promenaders Could See Each Other For The Wall.

 

Richard Bassett,  On The Contrary,  From "The Heir's Tower," Could See

Both These Little Parties; And,  As Some Men Cannot Keep Away From What

Causes Their Pain,  He Used To Watch These Loving Walks,  And See Sir

Charles Get Stronger And Stronger,  Till At Last,  Instead Of Leaning On

His Beloved Wife,  He Could March By Her Side,  Or Even Give Her His Arm.

 

Yet The Picture Was,  In A Great Degree,  Delusive; For,  Except During

These Blissful Walks,  When The Sun Shone On Him,  And Love And Beauty

Soothed Him,  Sir Charles Was Not The Man He Had Been. The Shake He Had

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Received Appeared To Have Damaged His Temper Strangely. He Became So

Irritable That Several Of His Servants Left Him; And To His Wife He

Repined; And His Childless Condition,  Which Had Been Hitherto Only A

Deep Disappointment,  Became In His Eyes A Calamity That Outweighed His

Many Blessings. He Had Now Narrowly Escaped Dying Without An Heir,  And

This Seemed To Sink Into His Mind,  And,  Co-Operating With The

Concussion His Brain Had Received,  Brought Him Into A Morbid State. He

Brooded On It,  And Spoke Of It,  And Got Back To It From Every Other

Topic,  In A Way That Distressed Lady Bassett Unspeakably. She Consoled

Him Bravely; But Often,  When She Was Alone,  Her Gentle Courage Gave

Way,  And She Cried Bitterly To Herself.

 

Her Distress Had One Effect She Little Expected; It Completed What Her

Invariable Kindness Had Begun,  And Actually Won The Heart Of A Servant.

Those Who Really Know That Tribe Will Agree With Me That This Was A

Marvelous Conquest. Yet So It Was; Mary Wells Conceived For Her A Real

Affection,  And Showed It By Unremitting Attention,  And A Soft And

Tender Voice,  That Soothed Lady Bassett,  And Drew Many A Silent But

Grateful Glance From Her Dove-Like Eyes.

 

Mary Listened,  And Heard Enough To Blame Sir Charles For His

Peevishness,  And She Began To Throw Out Little Expressions Of

Dissatisfaction At Him; But These Were So Promptly Discouraged By The

Faithful Wife That She Drew In Again And Avoided That Line. But One

Day,  Coming Softly As A Cat,  She Heard Sir Charles And Lady Bassett

Talking Over Their Calamity. Sir Charles Was Saying That It Was

Heaven's Curse; That All The Poor People In The Village Had Children;

That Richard Bassett's Weak,  Puny Little Wife Had Brought Him An Heir,

And Was About To Make Him A Parent Again; He Alone Was Marked Out And

Doomed To Be The Last Of His Race. "And Yet," Said He,  "If I Had

Married Any Other Woman,  And You Had Married Any Other Man,  We Should

Have Had Children By The Dozen,  I Suppose."

 

Upon The Whole,  Though He Said Nothing Palpably Unjust,  He Had The Tone

Of A Man Blaming His Wife As The Real Cause Of Their Joint Calamity,

Under Which She Suffered A Deeper,  Nobler,  And More Silent Anguish Than

Himself. This Was Hard To Bear; And When Sir Charles Went Away,  Mary

Wells Ran In,  With An Angry Expression On The Tip Of Her Tongue.

 

She Found Lady Bassett In A Pitiable Condition,  Lying Rather Than

Leaning On The Table,  With Her Hair Loose About Her,  Sobbing As If Her

Heart Would Break.

 

All That Was Good In Mary Wells Tugged At Her Heart-Strings. She Flung

Herself On Her Knees Beside Her,  And Seizing Her Mistress's Hand,  And

Drawing It To Her Bosom,  Fell To Crying And Sobbing Along With Her.

 

This Canine Devotion Took Lady Bassett By Surprise. She Turned Her

Tearful Eyes Upon Her Sympathizing Servant,  And Said,  "Oh,  Mary!" And

Her Soft Hand Pressed The Girl's Harder Palm Gratefully.

 

Mary Spoke First. "Oh,  My Lady," She Sobbed,  "It Breaks My Heart To See

You So. And What A Shame To Blame You For What Is No Fault Of Yourn. If

I Was Your Husband The Cradles Would Soon Be Full In This House; But

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These Fine Gentlemen,  They Be Old Before Their Time With Smoking Of

Tobacco; And Then To Come And Lay The Blame On We!"

 

"Mary,  I Value You Very Much--More Than I Ever Did A Servant In My

Life; But If You Speak Against Your Master We Shall Part."

 

"La,  My Lady,  I Wouldn't For The World. Sir Charles Is A Perfect

Gentleman. Why,  He Gave Me A Sovereign Only The Other Day For Nursing

Of Him; But He Didn't