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

To Give You

Advice In This. Your Conduct Is Indefensible."

 

"Don't 'Lord Hartledon' Me: I Won't Stand It. Carr?"

 

"Well?"

 

"If You Bring Up Against Me A String Of Reproaches Lasting Until Night

Will That Mend Matters? I Am Conscious Of Possessing But One True Friend

In The World,  And That's Yourself. You Must Stand By Me."

 

"I Was Your Friend; Never A Truer. But I Believed You To Be A Man Of

Honour."

 

Hartledon Lifted His Hat From His Brow; As Though The Brow Alone Were

Heavy Enough Just Then. At Least The Thought Struck Mr. Carr.

 

"I Have Been Drawn Unwittingly Into This,  As I Have Into Other Things. I

Never Meant To Do Wrong. As To Dishonour,  Heaven Knows My Nature Shrinks

From It."

 

"If Your Nature Does,  You Don't," Came The Severe Answer. "I Should Feel

Ashamed To Put Forth The Same Plea Always Of 'Falling Unwittingly' Into

Disgrace. You Have Done It Ever Since You Were A Schoolboy. Talk Of The

Elster Folly! This Has Gone Beyond It. This Is Dishonour. Engaged To One

Girl,  And Corresponding With Her; Making Hourly Love For Weeks To

Another! May I Inquire Which Of The Two You Really Care For?"

 

"Anne--I Suppose."

 

"You Suppose!"

 

"You Make Me Wild,  Talking Like This. Of Course It's Anne. Maude Has

Managed To Creep Into My Regard,  Though,  In No Common Degree. She Is Very

Lovely,  Very Fascinating And Amiable."

 

"May I Ask Which Of The Two You Intend To Marry!" Continued The

Barrister,  Neither Suppressing Nor Attempting To Soften His Indignant

Tones. "As This Country's Laws Are Against A Plurality Of Wives,  You Will

Be Unable,  I Imagine,  To Espouse Them Both."

 

Hartledon Looked At Him,  Beseechingly,  And A Sudden Compassion Came Over

Mr. Carr. He Asked Himself Whether It Was Quite The Way To Treat A

Perplexed Man Who Was Very Dear To Him.

 

"If I Am Severe,  It Is For Your Sake. I Assure You I Scarcely Know What

Advice To Give. It Is Miss Ashton,  Of Course,  Whom You Intend To Make

Lady Hartledon?"

 

"Of Course It Is. The Difficulty In The Matter Is Getting Clear Of

Maude."

 

"And The Formidable Countess-Dowager. You Must Tell Maude The Truth."

 

"Impossible,  Carr. I Might Have Done It Once; But The Thing Has Gone On

So Long. The Dowager Would Devour Me."

 

"Let Her Try To. I Should Speak To Maude Alone,  And Put Her Upon Her

Generosity To Release You. Tell Her You Presumed Upon Your Cousinship;

And Confess That You Have Long Been Engaged To Marry Miss Ashton."

 

"She Knows That: They Have Both Known It All Along. My Brother Was The

First To Tell Them,  Before He Died."

 

"They Knew It?" Inquired Mr. Carr,  Believing He Had Not Heard Correctly.

 

"Certainly. There Has Been No Secret Made Of My Engagement To Anne. All

The World Knows Of That."

 

"Then--Though I Do Not In The Least Defend Or Excuse You--Your Breaking

With Lady Maude May Be More Pardonable. They Are Poor,  Are They Not,  This

Dowager Kirton And Lady Maude?"

 

"Poor As Job. Hard Up,  I Think."

 

"Then They Are Angling For The Broad Lands Of Hartledon. I See It All.

You Have Been A Victim To Fortune-Hunting."

 

"There You Are Wrong,  Carr. I Can't Answer For The Dowager One Way Or The

Other; But Maude Is The Most Disinterested--"

 

"Of Course: Girls On The Look-Out For Establishments Always Are. Have It

As You Like."

 

He Spoke In Tones Of Ridicule; And Hartledon Jumped Off The Stile And Led

The Way Home.

 

That Lord Hartledon Had Got Himself Into A Very Serious Predicament,  Mr.

Carr Plainly Saw. His Good Nature,  His Sensitive Regard For The Feelings

Of Others,  Rendering It So Impossible For Him To Say No,  And Above All

His Vacillating Disposition,  Were His Paramount Characteristics Still: In

A Degree They Ever Would Be. Easily Led As Ever,  He Was As A Very Reed

In The Hands Of The Crafty Old Woman Of The World,  Located With Him. She

Had Determined That He Should Become The Husband Of Her Daughter; And Was

As Certain Of Accomplishing Her End As If She Had Foreseen The Future.

Lord Hartledon Himself Afterwards,  In His Bitter Repentance,  Said,  Over

And Over Again,  That Circumstances Were Against Him; And They Certainly

Were So,  As You Will Find.

 

Lord Hartledon Thought He Was Making Headway Against It Now,  In Sending

For His Old Friend,  And Resolving To Be Guided By His Advice.

 

"I Will Take An Opportunity Of Speaking To Maude,  Carr," He Resumed. "I

Would Rather Not Do It,  Of Course; But I See There's No Help For It."

 

"Make The Opportunity," Said Mr. Carr,  With Emphasis. "Don't Delay A Day;

I Shall Expect You To Write Me A Letter To-Morrow Saying You've Done It."

 

"But You Won't Leave To-Day," Said Hartledon,  Entreatingly,  Feeling An

Instant Prevision That With The Departure Of Thomas Carr All His Courage

Would Ignominiously Desert Him.

 

"I Must Go. You Know I Told You Last Night That My Stay Could Only Be

Four-And-Twenty Hours. You Can Accomplish It Whilst I Am Here,  If You

Like,  And Get It Over; The Longer A Nauseous Medicine Is Held To The Lips

The More Difficult It Is To Swallow It. You Say You Are Going To Ride

With Lady Maude Presently; Let That Be Your Opportunity."

 

And Get It Over! Words That Sounded As Emancipation In Val's Ear. But

Somehow He Did Not Accomplish It In That Ride. Excuses Were On His Lips

Five Hundred Times,  But His Hesitating Lips Never Formed Them. He Really

Was On The Point Of Speaking; At Least He Said So To Himself; When Mr.

Hillary Overtook Them On Horseback,  And Rode With Them Some Distance.

After That,  Maude Put Her Horse To A Canter,  And So They Reached Home.

 

"Well?" Said Mr. Carr.

 

"Not Yet," Answered Hartledon; "There Was No Opportunity."

 

"My Suggestion Was To Make Your Opportunity."

 

"And So I Will. I'll Speak To Her Either To-Night Or To-Morrow. She Chose

To Ride Fast To-Day; And Hillary Joined Us Part Of The Way. Don't Look As

If You Doubted Me,  Carr: I Shall Be Sure To Speak."

 

"Will He?" Thought Thomas Carr,  As He Took His Departure By The Evening

Train,  Having Promised To Run Down The Following Saturday For A Few

Hours. "It Is An Even Bet,  I Think. Poor Val!"

 

Poor Val Indeed! Vacillating,  Attractive,  Handsome Val! Shrinking,

Sensitive Val! The Nauseous Medicine Was Never Taken. And When The

Ashtons Returned To The Rectory On The Friday Night He Had Not Spoken.

 

And The Very Day Of Their Return A Rumour Reached His Ear That Mrs.

Ashton's Health Was Seriously If Not Fatally Shattered,  And She Was

Departing Immediately For The South Of France.

 

Chapter 16 (Between The Two)

Not In The Rectory Drawing-Room,  But In A Pretty Little Sitting-Room

Attached To Her Bed-Chamber,  Where The Temperature Was Regulated,  And No

Draughts Could Penetrate,  Reclined Mrs. Ashton. Her Invalid Gown Sat

Loosely Upon Her Shrunken Form,  Her Delicate,  Lace Cap Shaded A Fading

Face. Anne Sat By Her Side In All Her Loveliness,  Ostensibly Working; But

Her Fingers Trembled,  And Her Face Looked Flushed And Pained.

 

It Was The Morning After Their Return,  And Mrs. Graves Had Called In To

See Mrs. Ashton--Gossiping Mrs. Graves,  Who Knew All That Took Place In

The Parish,  And A Great Deal Of What Never Did Take Place. She Had Just

Been Telling It All Unreservedly In Her Hard Way; Things That Might Be

Said,  And Things That Might As Well Have Been Left Unsaid. She Went Out

Leaving A Whirr And A Buzz Behind Her And An Awful Sickness Of Desolation

Upon One Heart.

 

"Give Me My Little Writing-Case,  Anne," Said Mrs. Ashton,  Waking Up From

A Reverie And Sitting Forward On Her Sofa.

 

Anne Took The Pretty Toy From The Side-Table,  Opened It,  And Laid It On

The Table Before Her Mother.

 

"Is It Nothing I Can Write For You,  Mamma?"

 

"No,  Child."

 

Anne Bent Her Hot Face Over Her Work Again. It Had Not Occurred To Her

That It Could Concern Herself; And Mrs. Ashton Wrote A Few Rapid Lines:

 

  "My Dear Percival,

 

  "Can You Spare Me A Five-Minutes' Visit? I Wish To Speak With You. We

   Go Away Again On Monday.

 

  "Ever Sincerely Yours,

 

  "Catherine Ashton."

 

She Folded It,  Enclosed It In An Envelope,  And Addressed It To The Earl

Of Hartledon. Pushing Away The Writing-Table,  She Held Out The Note To

Her Daughter.

 

"Seal It For Me,  Anne. I Am Tired. Let It Go At Once."

 

"Mamma!" Exclaimed Anne,  As Her Eye Caught The Address. "Surely You Are

Not Writing To Him! You Are Not Asking Him To Come Here?"

 

"You See That I Am Writing To Him,  Anne. And It Is To Ask Him To Come

Here. My Dear,  You May Safely Leave Me To Act According To My Own

Judgment. But As To What Mrs. Graves Has Said,  I Don't Believe A Word

Of It."

 

"I Scarcely Think I Do," Murmured Anne; A Smile Hovering On Her Troubled

Countenance,  Like Sunshine After Rain.

 

Anne Had The Taper Alight,  And The Wax Held To It,  The Note Ready In Her

Hand,  When The Room-Door Was Thrown Open By Mrs. Ashton's Maid.

 

"Lord Hartledon."

 

He Came In In A Hurried Manner,  Talking Fast,  Making Too Much Fuss; It

Was Unlike His Usual Quiet Movements,  And Mrs. Ashton Noticed It. As He

Shook Hands With Her,  She Held The Note Before Him.

 

"See,  Percival! I Was Writing To Ask You To Call Upon Me."

 

Anne Had Put Out The Light,  And Her Hand Was In Lord Hartledon's Before

She Well Knew Anything,  Save That Her Heart Was Beating Tumultuously.

Mrs. Ashton Made A Place For Him On The Sofa,  And Anne Quietly Left The

Room.

 

"I Should Have Been Here Earlier," He Began,  "But I Had The Steward With

Me On Business; It Is Little Enough I Have Attended To Since My Brother's

Death. Dear Mrs. Ashton! I Grieve To Hear This Poor Account Of You. You

Are Indeed Looking Ill."

 

"I Am So Ill,  Percival,  That I Doubt Whether I Shall Ever Be Better In

This World. It Is My Last Chance,  This Going Away To A Warmer Place Until

Winter Has Passed."

 

He Was Bending Towards Her In Earnest Sympathy,  All Himself Again; His

Dark Blue Eyes Very Tender,  His Pleasant Features Full Of Concern As He

Gazed On Her Face. And Somehow,  Looking At That Attractive Countenance,

Mrs. Ashton's Doubts Went From Her.

 

"But What I Have Said Is To You Alone," She Resumed. "My Husband And

Children Do Not See The Worst,  And I Refrain From Telling Them. A Little

Word Of Confidence Between Us,  Val."

 

"I Hope And Trust You May Come Back Cured!" He Said,  Very Fervently. "Is

It The Fever That Has So Shattered You?"

 

"It Is The Result Of It. I Have Never Since Been Able To Recover

Strength,  But Have Become Weaker And More Weak. And You Know I Was

In Ill Health Before. We Leave On Monday Morning For Cannes."

 

"For Cannes?" He Exclaimed.

 

"Yes. A Place Not So Warm As Some I Might Have Gone To; But The Doctors

Say That Will Be All The Better. It Is Not Heat I Need; Only Shelter From

Our Cold Northern Winds Until I Can Get A Little Strength Into Me.

There's Nothing The Matter With My Lungs; Indeed,  I Don't Know That

Anything Is The Matter With Me Except This Terrible Weakness."

 

"I Suppose Anne Goes With You?"

 

"Oh Yes. I Could Not Go Without Anne. The Doctor Will See Us Settled

There,  And Then He Returns."

 

A Thought Crossed Lord Hartledon: How Pleasant If He And Anne Could Have

Been Married,  And Have Made This Their Wedding Tour. He Did Not Speak It:

Mrs. Ashton Would Have Laughed At His Haste.

 

"How Long Shall You Remain Away?" He Asked.

 

"Ah,  I Cannot Tell You. I May Not Live To Return. If All Goes Well--That

Is,  If There Should Be A Speedy Change For The Better,  As The Medical Men

Who Have Been Attending Me Think There May Be--I Shall Be Back Perhaps In

April Or May. Val--I Cannot Forget The Old Familiar Name,  You See--"

 

"I Hope You Never Will Forget It," He Warmly