Elster's Folly, Mrs. Henry Wood [ebook reader with built in dictionary .txt] 📗

So; But When Only A Boat's

Length From The Winning-Post Another Shot Past Him,  And Won By Half A

Length. It Was The Young Oxonian,  Mr. Shute--Though Indeed It Does Not

Much Matter Who It Was,  Save That It Was Not Lord Hartledon.

 

"Strike Your Colours,  Ladies,  You That Sport The Crimson And Purple!"

Called Out A Laughing Voice From One Of The Skiffs. "Oxford Blue Wins."

 

Lord Hartledon Arrived Last. He Did Not Get Up For Some Minutes After The

Rest Were In. In Short,  He Was Distanced.

 

"Hart Has Hurt His Arm As Well As His Foot," Observed One Of The Others,

As He Came Alongside. "That's Why He Got Distanced."

 

"No,  It Was Not," Dissented Lord Hartledon,  Looking Up From His Skiff At

The Crowd Of Fair Faces Bent Down Upon Him. "My Arm Is All Right; It Only

Gave Me A Few Twinges When I First Started. My Oar Fouled,  And I Could

Not Get Right Again; So,  Finding I Had Lost Too Much Ground,  I Gave Up

The Contest. Anne,  Had I Known I Should Disgrace My Colours,  I Would Not

Have Given Them To _You_."

 

"Miss Ashton Loses,  And Maude Wins!" Cried The Countess-Dowager,

Executing A Little Dance Of Triumph. "Maude Is The Only One Who Wears

The Oxford Blue."

 

It Was True. The Young Oxonian Was A Retiring And Timid Man,  And None Had

Voluntarily Assumed His Colours. But No One Heeded The Countess-Dowager.

 

"You Are Like A Child,  Hartledon,  Denying That Your Arm's Damaged!"

Exclaimed Captain Dawkes. "I Know It Is: I Could See It By The Way You

Struck Your Oar All Along."

 

What Feeling Is It In Man That Prompts Him To Disclaim Physical

Pain?--Make Light Of Personal Injury? Lord Hartledon's Ankle Was

Swelling,  At The Bottom Of The Boat; And Without The Slightest Doubt

His Arm _Was_ Paining Him,  Although Perhaps At The Moment Not Very

Considerably. But He Maintained His Own Assertions,  And Protested His

Arm Was As Sound As The Best Arm Present. "I Could Go Over The Work Again

With Pleasure," Cried He.

 

"Nonsense,  Hart! You Could Not."

 

"And I _Will_ Go Over It," He Added,  Warming With The Opposition. "Who'll

Try His Strength With Me? There's Plenty Of Time Before Dinner."

 

"I Will," Eagerly Spoke Young Carteret,  Who Had Been,  As Was Remarked,

One Of Those On Land,  And Was Wild To Be Handling The Oars. "If Dawkes

Will Let Me Have His Skiff,  I'll Bet You Ten To Five You Are Distanced

Again,  Hartledon."

 

Perhaps Lord Hartledon Had Not Thought His Challenge Would Be Taken

Seriously. But When He Saw The Eager,  Joyous Look Of The Boy Carteret--He

Was Not Yet Nineteen--The Flushed Pleasure Of The Beardless Face,  He

Would Not Have Retracted It For The World. He Was Just As Good-Natured

As Percival Elster.

 

"Dawkes Will Let You Have His Skiff,  Carteret."

 

Captain Dawkes Was Exceedingly Glad To Be Rid Of It. Good Boatman Though

He Was,  He Rarely Cared To Spend His Strength Superfluously,  When Nothing

Was To Be Gained By It,  And Had No Fancy To Row His Skiff Back To Its

Moorings,  As Most Of The Others Were Already Doing With Theirs. He Leaped

Out.

 

"Any One But You,  Hartledon,  Would Be Glad To Come Out Of That

Tilting Thing,  And Enjoy A Rest,  And Get Your Face Cool," Cried The

Countess-Dowager.

 

"I Dare Say They Might,  Ma'am. I'm Afraid I Am Given To Obstinacy; Always

Was. Be Quick,  Carteret."

 

Mr. Carteret Was Hastily Stripping Himself Of His Coat,  And Any Odds And

Ends Of Attire He Deemed Superfluous. "One Moment,  Hartledon; Only One

Moment," Came The Joyous Response.

 

"And You'll Come Home With Your Arm And Your Ankle Like Your Colours,

Hartledon--Crimson And Purple," Screamed The Dowager. "And You'll Be Laid

Up,  And Go On Perhaps To Locked Jaw; And Then You'll Expect Me To Nurse

You!"

 

"I Shall Expect Nothing Of The Sort,  Ma'am,  I Pledge You My Word; I'll

Nurse Myself. All Ready,  Carteret?"

 

"All Ready. Same Point As Before,  Hart?"

 

"Same Point: Round The Boat And Home Again."

 

"And It's Ten Sovs. To Five,  Hart?"

 

"All Right. You'll Lose,  Carteret."

 

Carteret Laughed. He Saw The Five Sovereigns As Surely In His Possession

As He Saw The Sculls In His Hands. There Was No Trouble With The Start

This Time,  And They Were Off At Once.

 

Lord Hartledon Took The Lead. He Was Spurring His Strength To The

Uttermost: Perhaps Out Of Bravado; That He Might Show Them Nothing Was

The Matter With His Arm. But Mr. Carteret Gained On Him; And As They

Turned The Point And Went Out Of Sight,  The Young Man's Boat Was The

Foremost.

 

The Race Had Been Kept--As The Sporting Men Amongst Them Styled It--Dark.

Not An Inkling Of It Had Been Suffered To Get Abroad,  Or,  As Lord

Hartledon Had Observed,  They Should Have The Banks Swarming. The

Consequence Was,  That Not More Than Half-A-Dozen Curious Idlers Had

Assembled: Those Were On The Opposite Side,  And Had Now Gone Down With

The Boats To Calne. No Spectators,  Either On The River Or The Shore,

Attended This Lesser Contest: Lord Hartledon And Mr. Carteret Had It All

To Themselves.

 

And Meanwhile,  During The Time Lord Hartledon Had Remained At Rest In His

Skiff Under The Winning Flag,  Percival Elster Never Addressed One Word To

Him. There He Stood,  On The Edge Of The Bank; But Not A Syllable Spoke

He,  Good,  Bad,  Or Indifferent.

 

Miss Ashton Was Looking For Her Brother,  And Might Just As Well Have

Looked For A Needle In A Bottle Of Hay. Arthur Was Off Somewhere.

 

"You Need Not Go Home Yet,  Anne," Said Val.

 

"I Must. I Have To Dress For Dinner. It Is All To Be Very Smart To-Night,

You Know," She Said,  With A Merry Laugh.

 

"With Shute In The Post Of Honour. Who'd Have Thought That Awkward,  Quiet

Fellow Would Win? I Will See You Home,  Anne,  If You Must Go."

 

Miss Ashton Coloured Vividly With Embarrassment. In The Present State Of

Affairs,  She Did Not Know Whether That Might Be Permitted: Poor Val Was

Out Of Favour At The Rectory. He Detected The Feeling,  And It Tended To

Vex Him More And More.

 

"Nonsense,  Anne! The Veto Has Not Yet Been Interposed,  And They Can't

Kill You For Allowing My Escort. Stay Here If You Like: If You Go,  I

Shall See You Home."

 

It Was Quite Imperative That She Should Go,  For Dinner At Hartledon Was

That Evening Fixed For Seven O'clock,  And There Would Be Little Enough

Time To Dress And Return Again. They Set Out,  Walking Side By Side. Anne

Told Him Of What Lord Hartledon Had Said To Her That Day; And Val

Coloured With Shame At The Sullenness He Had Displayed,  And His Heart

Went Into A Glow Of Repentance. Had He Met His Brother Then,  He Had

Clasped His Hand,  And Poured Forth His Contrition.

 

He Met Some One Else Instead,  Almost Immediately. It Was Dr. Ashton,

Coming For Anne. Percival Was Not Wanted Now: Was Not Invited To Continue

His Escort. A Cold,  Civil Word Or Two Passed,  And Val Struck Across The

Grove Into The High-Road,  And Returned To Hartledon.

 

He Was About To Turn In At The Lodge-Gates With His Usual Greeting To

Mrs. Capper When His Attention Was Caught By A Figure Coming Down The

Avenue. A Man In A Long Coat,  His Face Ornamented With Red Whiskers. It

Required No Second Glance For Recognition. Whiskers And Coat Proclaimed

Their Owner At Once; And If Ever Val Elster's Heart Leaped Into His

Mouth,  It Certainly Leaped Then.

 

He Went On,  Instead Of Turning In; Quietly,  As If He Were Only A Stranger

Enjoying An Evening Stroll Up The Road; But The Moment He Was Past The

Gates He Set Off At Breakneck Speed,  Not Heeding Where. That The Man Was

There To Arrest Him,  He Felt As Sure As He Had Ever Felt Of Anything In

This World; And In His Perplexity He Began Accusing Every One Of

Treachery,  Lord Hartledon And Pike In Particular.

 

The River At The Back In This Part Took A Sweeping Curve,  The Road Kept

Straight; So That To Arrive At A Given Point,  The One Would Be More

Quickly Traversed Than The Other. On And On Went Val Elster; And As Soon

As An Opening Allowed,  He Struck Into The Brushwood On The Right,

Intending To Make His Way Back By The River To Hartledon.

 

But Not Yet. Not Until The Shades Of Night Should Fall On The Earth:

He Would Have A Better Chance Of Getting Away From That Shark In The

Darkness Than By Daylight. He Propped His Back Against A Tree And Waited,

Hating Himself All The Time For His Cowardice. With All His Scrapes And

Dilemmas,  He Had Never Been Reduced To This Sort Of Hiding.

 

And His Pursuer Had Struck Into The Wood After Him,  Passed Straight

Through It,  Though With Some Little Doubt And Difficulty,  And Was Already

By The River-Side,  Getting There Just As Lord Hartledon Was Passing In

His Skiff. Long As This May Have Seemed In Telling,  It Took Only A Short

Time To Accomplish; Still Lord Hartledon Had Not Made Quick Way,  Or He

Would Have Been Further On His Course In The Race.

 

Would The Sun Ever Set?--Daylight Ever Pass? Val Thought _Not_,  In His

Impatience; And He Ventured Out Of His Shelter Very Soon,  And Saw For His

Reward--The Long Coat And Red Whiskers By The River-Side,  Their Owner

Conversing With A Man. Val Went Further Away,  Keeping The Direction Of

The Stream: The Brushwood Might No Longer Be Safe. He Did Not Think They

Had Seen Him: The Man He Dreaded Had His Back To Him,  The Other His Face.

And That Other Was Pike.

 

 

Chapter 9 (Waiting For Dinner)

Dinner At Hartledon Had Been Ordered For Seven O'clock. It Was Beyond

That Hour When Dr. Ashton Arrived,  For He Had Been Detained--A

Clergyman's Time Is Not Always Under His Own Control. Anne And Arthur

Were With Him,  But Not Mrs. Ashton. He Came In,  Ready With An Apology For

His Tardiness,  But Found He Need Not Offer It; Neither Lord Hartledon Nor

His Brother Having Yet Appeared.

 

"Hartledon And That Boy Carteret Have Not Returned Home Yet," Said The

Countess-Dowager,  In Her Fiercest Tones,  For She Liked Her Dinner More

Than Any Other Earthly Thing,  And Could Not Brook Being Kept Waiting For

It. "And When They Do Come,  They'll Keep Us Another Half-Hour Dressing."

 

"I Beg Your Ladyship's Pardon--They Have Come," Interposed Captain

Dawkes. "Carteret Was Going Into His Room As I Came Out Of Mine."

 

"Time They Were," Grumbled The Dowager. "They Were Not In Five Minutes

Ago,  For I Sent To Ask."

 

"Which Of The Two Won The Race?" Inquired Lady Maude Of Captain Dawkes.

 

"I Don't Think Carteret Did," He Replied,  Laughing. "He Seemed As Sulky

As A Bear,  And Growled Out That There Had Been No Race,  For Hartledon Had

Played Him A Trick."

 

"What Did He Mean?"

 

"Goodness Knows."

 

"I Hope Hartledon Upset Him," Charitably Interrupted The Dowager. "A

Ducking Would Do That Boy Good; He Is Too Forward By Half."

 

There Was More Waiting. The Countess-Dowager Flounced About In Her Pink

Satin Gown; But It Did Not Bring The Loiterers Any The Sooner. Lady

Maude--Perverse Still,  But Beautiful--Talked In Whispers To The Hero Of

The Day,  Mr. Shute; Wearing A Blue-Silk Robe And A Blue Wreath In Her

Hair. Anne,  Adhering To The Colours Of Lord Hartledon,  Though He Had Been

Defeated,  Was In A Rich,  Glistening White Silk,  With Natural Flowers,  Red

And Purple,  On Its Body,  And The Same In Her Hair. Her Sweet Face Was

Sunny Again,  Her Eyes Were Sparkling: A Word Dropped By Dr. Ashton Had

Given Her A Hope That,  Perhaps,  Percival Elster Might Be Forgiven

Sometime.

 

He Was The First Of The Culprits To Make His Appearance. The Dowager

Attacked Him Of Course. What Did He Mean By Keeping Dinner Waiting?

 

Val Replied That He Was Late In Coming Home; He Had Been Out. As To

Keeping Dinner Waiting,  It Seemed That Lord Hartledon Was Doing That:

He Didn't Suppose They'd Have Waited For Him.

 

He Spoke Tartly,  As If Not On Good Terms With Himself Or The