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

Put On His Hat And Began To Count The Barges On The Other Side,  To

Banish Thought. But It Would Not Be Banished,  And He Fell Into The Train

Again.

 

"Mair's Behaving Well; With Christian Kindness; But It's Bad Enough To Be

Even In _His_ Power. There's Something In Lord Hartledon He 'Can't Help

Loving,' He Writes. Who Can? Here Am I,  Giving Up Circuit--Such A Thing

As Never Was Heard Of--Calling Him Friend Still,  And Losing My Rest At

Night For Him! Poor Val! Better He Had Been The One To Die!"

 

"Please,  Sir,  Could You Tell Us The Time?"

 

The Spell Was Broken,  And Mr. Carr Took Out His Watch As He Turned His

Eyes On A Ragged Urchin Who Had Called To Him From Below.

 

The Tide Was Down; And Sundry Arabs Were Regaling Their Naked Feet In The

Mud,  Sporting And Shouting. The Evening Drew In Earlier Than They Did,

And The Sun Had Already Set.

 

Quitting The Garden,  Mr. Carr Stepped Into A Hansom,  And Was Conveyed To

Grafton Street. He Found Lord Hartledon Knitting His Brow Over A Letter.

 

"Maude Is Growing Vexed In Earnest," He Began,  Looking Up At Mr. Carr.

"She Insists Upon Knowing The Reason That I Do Not Go Home To Her."

 

"I Don't Wonder At It. You Ought To Do One Of Two Things: Go,  Or--"

 

"Or What,  Carr?"

 

"You Know. Never Go Home Again."

 

"I Wish I Was Out Of The World!" Cried The Unhappy Man.

 

 

Chapter 23 (At Hartledon)

  "Hartledon,

 

  "I Wonder What You _Think_ Of Yourself,  Galloping About _Rotten Row_

  With Women When Your Wife's _Dying_. Of _Course_ It's Not Your Fault

  That Reports Of Your Goings-On _Reach_ Her Here Oh Dear No. You Are A

  Moddel Husband You Are,  Sending Her Down Here _Out Of The Way_ That You

  May Take Your Pleasure. Why Did You _Marry Her_,  Nobody Wanted You To

  She Sits And _Mopes_ And _Weeps_ And She's Going Into The Same Way That

  Her Father _Went_,  You'll Be Glad No Doubt To Hear It It's What You're

  _Aiming_ At,  Once She Is In _Calne Churchyard_ The _Field_ Will Be Open

  For Your Anne Ashton. I Can Tell You That If You've A Spark Of _Proper

  Feeling_ You'll Come _Down_ For Its Killing Her,

 

  "Your Wicked Mother,

 

  "C. Kirton."

 

Lord Hartledon Turned This Letter About In His Hand. He Scarcely Noticed

The Mistake At The Conclusion: The Dowager Had Doubtless Intended To

Imply That _He_ Was Wicked,  And The Slip Of The Pen In Her Temper Went

For Nothing.

 

Galloping About Rotten Row With Women!

 

Hartledon Sent His Thoughts Back,  Endeavouring To Recollect What Could

Have Given Rise To This Charge. One Morning,  After A Sleepless Night,

When He Had Tossed And Turned On His Uneasy Bed,  And Risen Unrefreshed,

He Hired A Horse,  For He Had None In Town,  And Went For A Long Ride.

Coming Back He Turned Into Rotten Row. He Could Not Tell Why He Did So,

For Such Places,  Affected By The Gay,  Empty-Headed Votaries Of Fashion,

Were Little Consonant To His Present State. He Was Barely In It When A

Lady's Horse Took Fright: She Was Riding Alone,  With A Groom Following;

Lord Hartledon Gave Her His Assistance,  Led Her Horse Until The Animal

Was Calm,  And Rode Side By Side With Her To The End Of The Row. He Knew

Not Who She Was; Scarcely Noticed Whether She Was Young Or Old; And Had

Not Given A Remembrance To It Since.

 

When Your Wife's Dying! Accustomed To The Strong Expressions Of The

Countess-Dowager,  He Passed That Over. But,  "Going The Same Way That Her

Father Went;" He Paused There,  And Tried To Remember How Her Father Did

"Go." All He Could Recollect Now,  Indeed All He Knew At The Time,  Was,

That Lord Kirton's Last Illness Was Reported To Have Been A Lingering

One.

 

Such Missives As These--And The Countess-Dowager Favoured Him With More

Than One--Coupled With His Own Consciousness That He Was Not Behaving

To His Wife As He Ought,  Took Him At Length Down To Hartledon. That His

Presence At The Place So Soon After His Marriage Was Little Short Of An

Insult To Dr. Ashton's Family,  His Sensitive Feelings Told Him; But His

Duty To His Wife Was Paramount,  And He Could Not Visit His Sin Upon Her.

 

She Was Looking Very Ill; Was Low-Spirited And Hysterical; And When She

Caught Sight Of Him She Forgot Her Anger,  And Fell Sobbing Into His Arms.

The Countess-Dowager Had Gone Over To Garchester,  And They Had A Few

Hours' Peace Together.

 

"You Are Not Looking Well,  Maude!"

 

"I Know I Am Not. Why Do You Stay Away From Me?"

 

"I Could Not Help Myself. Business Has Kept Me In London."

 

"Have _You_ Been Ill Also? You Look Thin And Worn."

 

"One Does Grow To Look Thin In Heated London," He Replied Evasively,

As He Walked To The Window,  And Stood There. "How Is Your Brother,

Maude--Bob?"

 

"I Don't Want To Talk About Bob Yet; I Have To Talk To You," She Said.

"Percival,  Why Did You Practise That Deceit Upon Me?"

 

"What Deceit?"

 

"It Was A Downright Falsehood; And Made Me Look Awfully Foolish When

I Came Here And Spoke Of It As A Fact. That Action."

 

Lord Hartledon Made No Reply. Here Was One Cause Of His Disinclination

To Meet His Wife--Having To Keep Up The Farce Of Dr. Ashton's Action. It

Seemed,  However,  That There Would No Longer Be Any Farce To Keep Up. Had

It Exploded? He Said Nothing. Maude Gazing At Him From The Sofa On Which

She Sat,  Her Dark Eyes Looking Larger Than Of Yore,  With Hollow Circles

Round Them,  Waited For His Answer.

 

"I Do Not Know What You Mean,  Maude."

 

"You _Do_ Know. You Sent Me Down Here With A Tale That The Ashtons Had

Entered An Action Against You For Breach Of Promise--Damages,  Ten

Thousand Pounds--"

 

"Stay An Instant,  Maude. I Did Not 'Send You Down' With The Tale.

I Particularly Requested You To Keep It Private."

 

"Well,  Mamma Drew It Out Of Me Unawares. She Vexed Me With Her Comments

About Your Staying On In London,  And It Made Me Tell Her Why You Had

Stayed. She Ascertained From Dr. Ashton That There Was Not A Word Of

Truth In The Story. Val,  I Betrayed It In Your Defence."

 

He Stood At The Window In Silence,  His Lips Compressed.

 

"I Looked So Foolish In The Eyes Of Dr. Ashton! The Sunday Evening After

I Came Down Here I Had A Sort Of Half-Fainting-Fit,  Coming Home From

Church. He Overtook Me,  And Was Very Kind,  And Gave Me His Arm. I Said

A Word To Him; I Could Not Help It; Mamma Had Worried Me On So; And I

Learned That No Such Action Had Ever Been Thought Of. You Had No Right

To Subject Me To The Chance Of Such Mortification. Why Did You Do So?"

 

Lord Hartledon Came From The Window And Sat Down Near His Wife,  His Elbow

On The Table. All He Could Do Now Was To Make The Best Of It,  And Explain

As Near To The Truth As He Could.

 

"Maude,  You Must Not Expect Full Confidence On This Subject,  For I Cannot

Give It You. When I Found I Had Reason To Believe That Some--Some Legal

Proceedings Were About To Be Instituted Against Me,  Just At The First

Intimation Of The Trouble,  I Thought It Must Emanate From Dr. Ashton.

You Took Up The Same Idea Yourself,  And I Did Not Contradict It,  Simply

Because I Could Not Tell You The Real Truth--"

 

"Yes," She Interrupted. "It Was The Night That Stranger Called At Our

House,  When You And Mr. Carr Were Closeted With Him So Long."

 

He Could Not Deny It; But He Had Been Thankful That She Should Forget The

Stranger And His Visit. Maude Waited.

 

"Then It Was An Action,  But Not Brought By The Ashtons?" She Resumed,

Finding He Did Not Speak. "Mamma Remarked That You Were Just The One To

Propose To Half-A-Dozen Girls."

 

"It Was Not An Action At All Of That Description; And I Never Proposed To

Any Girl Except Miss Ashton," He Returned,  Nettled At The Remark.

 

"Is It Over?"

 

"Not Quite;" And There Was Some Hesitation In His Tone. "Carr Is Settling

It For Me. I Trust,  Maude,  You Will Never Hear Of It Again--That It Will

Never Trouble You."

 

She Sat Looking At Him With Her Wistful Eyes.

 

"Won't You Tell Me Its Nature?"

 

"I Cannot Tell You,  Maude,  Believe Me. I Am As Candid With You As It Is

Possible To Be; But There Are Some Things Best--Best Not Spoken Of.

Maude," He Repeated,  Rising Impulsively And Taking Both Her Hands In His,

"Do You Wish To Earn My Love--My Everlasting Gratitude? Then You May Do

It By Nevermore Alluding To This."

 

It Was A Mistaken Request; An Altogether Unwise Emotion. Better That He

Had Remained At The Window,  And Drawled Out A Nonchalant Denial. But He

Was Apt To Be As Earnestly Genuine On The Surface As He Was In Reality.

It Set Lady Hartledon Wondering; And She Resolved To "Bide Her Time."

 

"As You Please,  Of Course,  Val. But Why Should It Agitate You?"

 

"Many A Little Thing Seems To Agitate Me Now," He Answered. "I Have Not

Felt Well Of Late; Perhaps That's The Reason."

 

"I Think You Might Have Satisfied Me A Little Better. I Expect It Is Some

Enormous Debt Risen Up Against You."

 

Better She Should Think So! "I Shall Tide It Over," He Said Aloud. "But

Indeed,  Maude,  I Cannot Bear For You Delicate Women To Be Brought Into

Contact With These Things; They Are Fit For Us Only. Think No More About

It,  And Rely On Me To Keep Trouble From You If It Can Be Kept. Where's

Bob? He Is Here,  I Suppose?"

 

"Bob's In His Room. He Is Going Into A Way,  I Think. When He Wrote And

Asked Me If I Would Allow Him To Come Here For A Little Change,  The

Medical Men Saying He Must Have It,  Mamma Sent A Refusal By Return Of

Post; She Had Had Enough Of Bob,  She Said,  When He Was Here Before. But

I Quietly Wrote A Note Myself,  And Bob Came. He Looked Ill,  And Gets

Worse Instead Of Better."

 

"What Do You Mean By Saying He Is Going Into A Way?" Asked Lord

Hartledon.

 

"Consumption,  Or Something Of That Sort. Papa Died Of It. You Are Not

Angry With Me For Having Bob?"

 

"Angry! My Dear Maude,  The House Is Yours; And If Poor Bob Stayed With Us

For Ever,  I Should Welcome Him As A Brother. Every One Likes Bob."

 

"Except Mamma. She Does Not Like Invalids In The House,  And Has Been

Saying You Don't Like It; That It Was Helping To Keep You Away. Poor Bob

Had Out His Portmanteau And Began To Pack; But I Told Him Not To Mind

Her; He Was My Guest,  Not Hers."

 

"And Mine Also,  You Might Have Added."

 

He Left The Room,  And Went To The Chamber Captain Kirton Had Occupied

When He Was At Hartledon In The Spring. It Was Empty,  Evidently Not Being

Used; And Hartledon Sent For Mirrable. She Came,  Looking Just As Usual,

Wearing A Dark-Green Silk Gown; For The Twelve-Month Had Expired,  And

Their Mourning Was Over.

 

"Captain Kirton Is In The Small Blue Rooms Facing South,  My Lord. They

Were Warmer For Him Than These."

 

"Is He Very Ill,  Mirrable?"

 

"Very,  I Think," Was The Answer. "Of Course He May Get Better; But It

Does Not Look Like It."

 

He Was A Tall,  Thin,  Handsome Man,  This Young Officer--A Year Or Two

Older Than Maude,  Whom He Greatly Resembled. Seated Before A Table,  He

Was Playing At That Delectable Game "Solitaire;" And His Eyes Looked

Large And Wild With Surprise,  And His Cheeks Became Hectic,  When Lord

Hartledon Entered.

 

"Bob,  My Dear Fellow,  I Am Glad To See You."

 

He Took His Hands And Sat Down,  His Face Full Of The Concern He Did Not

Care To Speak. Lady Hartledon Had Said He Was Going Into A Way; It Was

Evidently The Way Of The Grave.

 

He