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

Me In The Face And Say That Again."

 

"Excuse Me; You Punish Me Too Severely For Telling The Truth."

 

"Well,  I Beg Your Pardon--There. Now Tell Me--This Instant. Can't You

Speak,  Man?" And Her Knuckles Drummed The Table.

 

"He Is To Be Married In Three Weeks."

 

"Oh! Who To?"

 

"A Young Lady I Love."

 

"Her Name?"

 

"Miss Arabella Bruce."

 

"Where Does She Live?"

 

"Portman Square."

 

"I'll Stop That Marriage."

 

"How?" Asked Richard,  Eagerly.

 

"I Don't Know; That I'll Think Over. But He Shall Not Marry

Her--Never!"

 

Bassett Sat And Looked Up With Almost As Much Awe As Complacency At The

Fury He Had Evoked; For This Woman Was Really At Times A Poetic

Impersonation Of That Fiery Passion She Was So Apt To Indulge. She

Stood Before Him,  Her Cheek Pale,  Her Eyes Glittering And Roving

Savagely,  And Her Nostrils Literally Expanding,  While Her Tall Body

Quivered With Wrath,  And Her Clinched Knuckles Pattered On The Table.

 

"He Shall Not Marry Her. I'll Kill Him First!"

Part 3 Chapter 3 Pg 15

Richard Bassett Eagerly Offered His Services To Break Off The Obnoxious

Match. But Miss Somerset Was Beginning To Be Mortified At Having Shown

So Much Passion Before A Stranger.

 

"What Have You To Do With It?" Said She,  Sharply.

 

"Everything. I Love Miss Bruce."

 

"Oh,  Yes; I Forgot That. Anything Else? There Is,  Now. I See It In Your

Eye. What Is It?"

 

 "Sir Charles's Estates Are Mine By Right,  And They Will Return To My

Line If He Does Not Marry And Have Issue."

 

"Oh,  I See. That Is So Like A Man. It's Always Love,  And Something More

Important,  With You. Well,  Give Me Your Address. I'll Write If I Want

You."

 

"Highly Flattered," Said Bassett,  Ironically-Wrote His Address And Left

Her.

 

Miss Somerset Then Sat Down And Wrote:

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Dear Sir Charles--Please Call Here,  I Want To Speak To You.

 

Yours Respecfuly,

 

"Rhoda Somerset."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sir Charles Obeyed This Missive,  And The Lady Received Him With A

Gracious And Smiling Manner,  All Put On And Catlike. She Talked With

Him Of Indifferent Things For More Than An Hour,  Still Watching To See

If He Would Tell Her Of His Own Accord.

 

Part 3 Chapter 3 Pg 16

When She Was Quite Sure He Would Not,  She Said,

 

"Do You Know There's A Ridiculous Report About That You Are Going To Be

Married?"

 

"Indeed!"

 

"They Even Tell Her Name--Miss Bruce. Do You Know The Girl?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Is She Pretty?"

 

"Very."

 

"Modest?"

 

"As An Angel."

 

"And Are You Going To Marry Her?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Then You Are A Villain."

 

"The Deuce I Am!"

 

"You Are,  To Abandon A Woman Who Has Sacrificed All For You."

 

Sir Charles Looked Puzzled,  And Then Smiled; But Was Too Polite To Give

His Thoughts Vent. Nor Was It Necessary; Miss Somerset,  Whose Brave

Eyes Never Left The Person She Was Speaking To,  Fired Up At The Smile

Alone,  And She Burst Into A Torrent Of Remonstrance,  Not To Say

Vituperation. Sir Charles Endeavored Once Or Twice To Stop It,  But It

Was Not To Be Stopped; So At Last He Quietly Took Up His Hat,  To Go.

 

He Was Arrested At The Door By A Rustle And A Fall. He Turned Round,

And There Was Miss Somerset Lying On Her Back,  Grinding Her White Teeth

And Clutching The Air.

 

He Ran To The Bell And Rang It Violently,  Then Knelt Down And Did His

Best To Keep Her From Hurting Herself; But,  As Generally Happens In

These Cases,  His Interference Made Her More Violent. He Had Hard Work

To Keep Her From Battering Her Head Against The Floor,  And Her Arms

Worked Like Windmills.

 

Hearing The Bell Tugged So Violently,  A Pretty Page Ran Headlong Into

The Room--Saw--And; Without An Instant's Diminution Of Speed,  Described

A Curve,  And Ran Headlong Out,  Screaming "Polly! Polly!"

 

The Next Moment The Housekeeper,  An Elderly Woman,  Trotted In At The

Door,  Saw Her Mistress's Condition,  And Stood Stock-Still,  Calling,

"Polly," But With The Most Perfect Tranquillity The Mind Can Conceive.

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In Ran A Strapping House-Maid,  With Black Eyes And Brown Arms,  Went

Down On Her Knees,  And Said,  Firmly Though Respectfully,  "Give Her Me,

Sir."

 

She Got Behind Her Struggling Mistress,  Pulled Her Up Into Her Own Lap,

And Pinned Her By The Wrists With A Vigorous Grasp.

 

The Lady Struggled,  And Ground Her Teeth Audibly,  And Flung Her Arms

Abroad. The Maid Applied All Her Rustic Strength And Harder Muscle To

Hold Her Within Bounds. The Four Arms Went To And Fro In A Magnificent

Struggle,  And Neither Could The Maid Hold The Mistress Still,  Nor The

Mistress Shake Off The Maid's Grasp,  Nor Strike Anything To Hurt

Herself.

 

Sir Charles,  Thrust Out Of The Play Looked On With Pity And Anxiety,

And The Little Page At The Door--Combining Art And Nature--Stuck

Stock-Still In A Military Attitude,  And Blubbered Aloud.

 

As For The Housekeeper,  She Remained In The Middle Of The Room With

Folded Arms,  And Looked Down On The Struggle With A Singular Expression

Of Countenance. There Was No Agitation Whatever,  But A Sort Of

Thoughtful Examination,  Half Cynical,  Half Admiring.

 

However,  As Soon As The Boy's Sobs Reached Her Ear She Wakened Up,  And

Said,  Tenderly,  "What Is The Child Crying For? Run And Get A Basin Of

Water,  And Fling It All Over Her; That Will Bring Her To In A Minute."

 

The Page Departed Swiftly On This Benevolent Errand.

 

Then The Lady Gave A Deep Sigh,  And Ceased To Struggle.

 

Next She Stared In All Their Faces,  And Seemed To Return To

Consciousness.

 

Next She Spoke,  But Very Feebly. "Help Me Up," She Sighed.

 

Sir Charles And Polly Raised Her,  And Now There Was A Marvelous Change.

The Vigorous Vixen Was Utterly Weak,  And Limp As A Wet Towel--A Woman

Of Jelly. As Such They Handled Her,  And Deposited Her Gingerly On The

Sofa.

 

Now The Page Ran In Hastily With The Water. Up Jumps The Poor Lax

Sufferer,  With Flashing Eyes: "You Dare Come Near Me With It!" Then To

The Female Servants: "Call Yourselves Women,  And Water My Lilac Silk,

Not Two Hours Old?" Then To The Housekeeper: "You Old Monster,  You

Wanted It For Your Polly. Get Out Of My Sight,  _The Lot!"_

 

Then,  Suddenly Remembering How Feeble She Was,  She Sank Instantly Down,

And Turned Piteously And Languidly To Sir Charles. "They Eat My Bread,

And Rob Me,  And Hate Me," Said She,  Faintly. "I Have But One Friend On

Earth." She Leaned Tenderly Toward Sir Charles As That Friend; But

Before She Quite Reached Him She Started Back,  Her Eyes Filled With

Sudden Horror. "And He Forsakes Me!" She Cried; And So Turned Away From

Him Despairingly,  And Began To Cry Bitterly,  With Head Averted Over The

Part 3 Chapter 3 Pg 18

Sofa,  And One Hand Hanging By Her Side For Sir Charles To Take And

Comfort Her. He Tried To Take It. It Resisted; And,  Under Cover Of That

Little Disturbance,  The Other Hand Dexterously Whipped Two Pins Out Of

Her Hair. The Long Brown Tresses--All Her Own--Fell Over Her Eyes And

Down To Her Waist,  And The Picture Of Distressed Beauty Was Complete.

 

Even So Did The Women Of Antiquity Conquer Male Pity--_"Solutis

Crinibus."_

 

The Females Interchanged A Meaning Glance,  And Retired; Then The Boy

Followed Them With His Basin,  Sore Perplexed,  But Learning Life In This

Admirable School.

 

Sir Charles Then,  With The Utmost Kindness,  Endeavored To Reconcile The

Weeping And Disheveled Fair To That Separation Which Circumstances

Rendered Necessary. But She Was Inconsolable,  And He Left The House,

Perplexed And Grieved; Not But What It Gratified His Vanity A Little To

Find Himself Beloved All In A Moment,  And The Somerset Unvixened. He

Could Not Help Thinking How Wide Must Be The Circle Of His Charms,

Which Had Won The Affections Of Two Beautiful Women So Opposite In

Character As Bella Bruce And La Somerset.

 

The Passion Of This Latter Seemed To Grow. She Wrote To Him Every Day,

And Begged Him To Call On Her.

 

She Called On Him--She Who Had Never Called On A Man Before.

 

She Raged With Jealousy; She Melted With Grief. She Played On Him With

All A Woman's Artillery; And At Last Actually Wrung From Him What She

Called A Reprieve.

 

Richard Bassett Called On Her,  But She Would Not Receive Him; So Then

He Wrote To Her,  Urging Co-Operation,  And She Replied,  Frankly,  That

She Took No Interest In His Affairs; But That She Was Devoted To Sir

Charles,  And Should Keep Him For Herself. Vanity Tempted Her To Add

That He (Sir Charles) Was With Her Every Day,  And The Wedding

Postponed.

 

This Last Seemed Too Good To Be True,  So Richard Bassett Set His

Servant To Talk To The Servants In Portman Square. He Learned That The

Wedding Was Now To Be On The 15th Of June,  Instead Of The 31st Of May.

 

Convinced That This Postponement Was Only A Blind,  And That The

Marriage Would Never Be,  He Breathed More Freely At The News.

 

But The Fact Is,  Although Sir Charles Had Yielded So Far To Dread Of

Scandal,  He Was Ashamed Of Himself,  And His Shame Became Remorse When

He Detected A Furtive Tear In The Dove-Like Eyes Of Her He Really Loved

And Esteemed.

 

He Went And Told His Trouble To Mr. Oldfield. "I Am Afraid She Will Do

Something Desperate," He Said.

 

Mr. Oldfield Heard Him Out,  And Then Asked Him Had He Told Miss