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

Be Cast Part 3 Chapter 15 Pg 129

Off Forever If She Deviated From Virtue So Far As To Be Found Out.

 

Besides The General Warning,  There Had Been A Special One. When She

Read Mary's First Letter From Huntercombe Hall Rhoda Was Rather Taken

Aback At First; But,  On Reflection,  She Wrote To Mary,  Saying She Could

Stay There On Two Conditions: She Must Be Discreet,  And Never Mention

Her Sister Rhoda In The House,  And She Must Not Be Tempted To Renew Her

Acquaintance With Richard Bassett. "Mind," Said She,  "If Ever You Speak

To That Villain I Shall Hear Of It,  And I Shall Never Notice You

Again."

 

This Was The Galling Present And The Dark Future Which Had Made So

Young And Unsentimental A Woman As Mary Wells Think Of Suicide For A

Moment Or Two; And It Now Deprived Her Of Her Rest,  And Next Day Kept

Her Thinking And Brooding All The Time Her Now Leaden Limbs Were

Carrying Her Through Her Menial Duties.

 

The Afternoon Was Sunny,  And Sir Charles And Lady Bassett Took Their

Usual Walk.

 

Mary Wells Went A Little Way With Them,  Looking Very Miserable. Lady

Bassett Observed,  And Said,  Kindly,  "Mary,  You Can Give Me That Shawl;

I Will Not Keep You; Go Where You Like Till Five O'clock."

 

Mary Never Said So Much As "Thank You." She Put The Shawl Round Her

Mistress,  And Then Went Slowly Back. She Sat Down On The Stone Steps,

And Glared Stupidly At The Scene,  And Felt Very Miserable And Leaden.

She Seemed To Be Stuck In A Sort Of Slough Of Despond,  And Could Not

Move In Any Direction To Get Out Of It.

 

While She Sat In This Somber Reverie A Gentleman Walked Up To The Door,

And Mary Wells Lifted Her Head And Looked At Him. Notwithstanding Her

Misery,  Her Eyes Rested On Him With Some Admiration,  For He Was A Model

Of A Man: Six Feet High,  And Built Like An Athlete. His Face Was Oval,

And His Skin Dark But Glowing; His Hair,  Eyebrows,  And Long Eyelashes

Black As Jet; His Gray Eyes Large And Tender. He Was Dressed In Black,

With A White Tie,  And His Clothes Were Well Cut,  And Seemed

Superlatively So,  Owing To The Importance And Symmetry Of The Figure

They Covered. It Was The New Vicar,  Mr. Angelo.

 

He Smiled On Mary Graciously,  And Asked Her How Sir Charles Was.

 

She Said He Was Better.

 

Then Mr. Angelo Asked,  More Timidly,  Was Lady Bassett At Home.

 

"She Is Just Gone Out,  Sir."

 

A Look Of Deep Disappointment Crossed Mr. Angelo's Face. It Did Not

Escape Mary Wells. She Looked At Him Full,  And,  Lowering Her Voice A

Little,  Said,  "She Is Only In The Grounds With Sir Charles. She Will Be

At Home About Five O'clock."

Part 3 Chapter 15 Pg 130

 

Mr. Angelo Hesitated,  And Then Said He Would Call Again At Five. He

Evidently Preferred A Duet To A Trio. He Then Thanked Mary Wells With

More Warmth Than The Occasion Seemed To Call For,  And Retired Very

Slowly: He Had Come Very Quickly.

 

Mary Wells Looked After Him,  And Asked Herself Wildly If She Could Not

Make Some Use Of Him And His Manifest Infatuation.

 

But Before Her Mind Could Fix On Any Idea,  And,  Indeed,  Before The

Young Clergyman Had Taken Twenty Steps Homeward,  Loud Voices Were Heard

Down The Shrubbery.

 

These Were Followed By An Agonized Scream.

 

Mary Wells Started Up,  And The Young Parson Turned: They Looked At Each

Other In Amazement.

 

Then Came Wild And Piercing Cries For Help--In A Woman's Voice.

 

The Young Clergyman Cried Out,  _"Her_ Voice! _Her_ Voice!" And Dashed

Into The Shrubbery With A Speed Mary Wells Had Never Seen Equaled. He

Had Won The 200-Yard Race At Oxford In His Day.

 

The Agonized Screams Were Repeated,  And Mary Wells Screamed In Response

As She Ran Toward The Place.

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Sir Charles Bassett Was In High Spirits This Afternoon--Indeed,  A

Little Too High.

 

"Bella,  My Love," Said He,  "Now I'll Tell You Why I Made You Give Me

Your Signature This Morning. The Money Has All Come In For The Wood,

And This Very Day I Sent Oldfield Instructions To Open An Account For

You With A London Banker."

 

Lady Bassett Looked At Him With Tears Of Tenderness In Her Eyes.

"Dearest," Said She,  "I Have Plenty Of Money; But The Love To Which I

Owe This Present,  That Is My Treasure Of Treasures. Well,  I Accept It,

Charles; But Don't Ask Me To Spend It On Myself; I Should Feel I Was

Robbing You."

 

"It Is Nothing To Me How You Spend It; I Have Saved It From The Enemy."

 

Now That Very Enemy Heard These Words. He Had Looked From The "Heir's

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Tower," And Seen Sir Charles And Lady Bassett Walking On Their Side The

Wall,  And The Nurse Carrying His Heir On The Other Side.

 

He Had Come Down To Look At His Child In The Sun; But He Walked Softly,

On The Chance Of Overhearing Sir Charles And Lady Bassett Say Something

Or Other About His Health; His Design Went No Further Than That,  But

The Fate Of Listeners Is Proverbial.

 

Lady Bassett Endeavored To Divert Her Husband From The Topic He Seemed

To Be Approaching; It Always Excited Him Now,  And Did Him Harm.

 

"Do Not Waste Your Thoughts On That Enemy. He Is Powerless."

 

"At This Moment,  Perhaps; But His Turn Is Sure To Come Again; And I

Shall Provide For It. I Mean To Live On Half My Income,  And Settle The

Other Half On You. I Shall Act On The Clause In The Entail,  And Sell

All The Timber On The Estate,  Except About The Home Park And My Best

Covers. It Will Take Me Some Years To Do This; I Must Not Glut The

Market,  And Spoil Your Profits; But Every Year I'll Have A Fall,  Till I

Have Denuded Mr. Bassett's Inheritance,  As He Calls It,  And Swelled

Your Banker's Account To A Plum. Bella,  I Have Had A Shake. Even Now

That I Am Better Such A Pain Goes Through My Head,  Like A Bullet

Crushing Through It,  Whenever I Get Excited. I Don't Think I Shall Be A

Long-Lived Man. But Never Mind,  I'll Live As Long As I Can; And,  While

I Do Live,  I'll Work For You,  And Against That Villain."

 

"Charles," Cried Lady Bassett,  "I Implore You To Turn Your Thoughts

Away From That Man,  And To Give Up These Idle Schemes. Were You To Die

I Should Soon Follow You; So Pray Do Not Shorten Your Life By These

Angry Passions,  Or You Will Shorten Mine."

 

This Appeal Acted Powerfully On Sir Charles,  And He Left Off Suddenly

With Flushed Cheeks And Tried To Compose Himself.

 

But His Words Had Now Raised A Corresponding Fury On The Other Side Of

That Boundary Wall. Richard Bassett,  Stung With Rage,  And,  Unlike His

High-Bred Cousin,  Accustomed To Mix Cunning Even With His Fury,  Gave

Him A Terrible Blow--A Very _Coup De Jarnac._ He Spoke _At_ Him; He Ran

Forward To The Nurse,  And Said Very Loud: "Let Me See The Little

Darling. He Does You Credit. What Fat Cheeks!--What Arms!--An Infant

Hercules! There,  Take Him Up The Mound. Now Lift Him In Your Arms,  And

Let Him See His Inheritance. Higher,  Nurse,  Higher. Ay,  Crow Away,

Youngster; All That Is Yours--House And Land And All. They May Steal

The Trees; They Can't Make Away With The Broad Acres. Ha! I Believe He

Understands Every Word,  Nurse. See How He Smiles And Crows."

 

At The Sound Of Bassett's Voice Sir Charles Started,  And,  At The First

Taunt,  He Uttered Something Between A Moan And A Roar,  As Of A Wounded

Lion.

 

"Come Away," Cried Lady Bassett. "He Is Doing It On Purpose."

 

But The Stabs Came Too Fast. Sir Charles Shook Her Off,  And Looked

Wildly Round For A Weapon To Strike His Insulter With.

Part 3 Chapter 16 Pg 133

"Curse Him And His Brat!" He Cried. "They Shall Neither Of Them--I'll

Kill Them Both."

 

He Sprang Fiercely At The Wall,  And,  Notwithstanding His Weakly

Condition,  Raised Himself Above It,  And Glared Over With A Face So Full

Of Fury That Richard Bassett Recoiled In Dismay For A Moment,  And Said,

"Run! Run! He'll Hurt The Child!"

 

But,  The Next Moment,  Sir Charles's Hands Lost Their Power; He Uttered

A Miserable Moan,  And Fell Gasping Under The Wall In An Epileptic Fit,

With All The Terrible Symptoms I Have Described In A Previous Portion

Of This Story. These Were New To His Poor Wife,  And,  As She Strove In

Vain To Control His Fearful Convulsions,  Her Shrieks Rent The Air.

Indeed,  Her Screams Were So Appalling That Bassett Himself Sprang At

The Wall,  And,  By A Great Effort Of Strength,  Drew Himself Up,  And

Peered Down,  With White Face,  At The Glaring Eyes,  Clinched Teeth,

Purple Face,