A Terrible Temptation (Fiscle Part 3), Charles Reade [good story books to read .txt] 📗

Mr. Vandeleur,  Six Feet High,  Lank,  But Graceful As A Panther,  And The

Pink Of Politeness,  Was,  Beneath His Varnish,  One Of The Wildest Young

Men In London--Gambler,  Horse-Racer,  Libertine,  What Not?--But In

Society Charming,  And His Manners Singularly Elegant And Winning. He

Never Obtruded His Vices In Good Company; In Fact,  You Might Dine With

Him All Your Life And Not Detect Him. The Young Serpent Was Torpid In

Wine; But He Came Out,  A Bit At A Time,  In The Sunshine Of Cigar.

 

After A Brisk Conversation On Current Topics,  The Venerable Chief Told

Him Plainly They Were Both Curious To Know The History Of Miss

Somerset,  And He Must Tell It Them.

 

"Oh,  With Pleasure," Said The Obliging Youth. "Let Us Go Into The

Smoking-Room."

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Let--Me--See. I Picked Her Up By The Sea-Side. She Promised Well At

First. We Put Her On My Chestnut Mare,  And She Showed Lots Of Courage,

So She Soon Learned To Ride; But She Kicked,  Even Down There."

 

"Kicked!--Whom?"

 

"Kicked All Round; I Mean Showed Temper. And When She Got To London,

And Had Ridden A Few Times In The Park,  And Swallowed Flattery,  There

Was No Holding Her. I Stood Her Cheek For A Good While,  But At Last I

Told The Servants They Must Not Turn Her Out,  But They Could Keep Her

Out. They Sided With Me For Once. She Had Ridden Over Them,  As Well.

The First Time She Went Out They Bolted The Doors,  And Handed Her Boxes

Up The Area Steps."

 

"How Did She Take That?"

 

"Easier Than We Expected. She Said,  'Lucky For You Beggars That I'm A

Lady,  Or I'd Break Every D--D Window In The House.'"

 

This Caused A Laugh. It Subsided. The Historian Resumed.

 

"Next Day She Cooled,  And Wrote A Letter."

 

"To You?"

 

"No,  To My Groom. Would You Like To See It? It Is A Curiosity."

 

He Sent One Of The Club Waiters For His Servant,  And His Servant For

His Desk,  And Produced The Letter.

 

"There!" Said Vandeleur. "She Looks Like A Queen,  And Steps Like An

Empress,  And This Is How She Writes:

 

Part 3 Chapter 2 Pg 11

 

"'Dear Jorge--I Have Got The Sak,  An' Praps Your Turn Nex. Dear Jorge

He Alwaies Promise Me The Grey Oss,  Which Now An Oss Is Life An Death

To Me. If You Was To Ast Him To Lend Me The Grey He Wouldn't Refuse

You,

 

"'Yours Respecfully,

 

"'Rhoda Somerset.'"

 

 

 

 

 

 

When The Letter And The Handwriting,  Which,  Unfortunately,  I Cannot

Reproduce,  Had Been Duly Studied And Approved,  Vandeleur Continued--

 

"Now,  You Know,  She Had Her Good Points,  After All. If Any Creature Was

Ill,  She'd Sit Up All Night And Nurse Them,  And She Used To Go To

Church On Sundays,  And Come Back With The Sting Out Of Her; Only Then

She Would Preach To A Fellow,  And Bore Him. She Is Awfully Fond Of

Preaching. Her Dream Is To Jump On A First-Rate Hunter,  And Ride Across

Country,  And Preach To The Villages. So,  When George Came Grinning To

Me With The Letter,  I Told Him To Buy A New Side-Saddle For The Gray,

And Take Her The Lot,  With My Compliments. I Had Noticed A Slight

Spavin In His Near Foreleg. She Rode Him That Very Day In The Park,  All

Alone,  And Made Such A Sensation That Next Day My Gray Was Standing In

Lord Hailey's Stables. But She Rode Hailey,  Like My Gray,  With A Long

Spur,  And He Couldn't Stand It. None Of 'Em Could Except Sir Charles

Bassett,  And He Doesn't Play Fair--Never Goes Near Her."

 

"And That Gives Him An Unfair Advantage Over His Fascinating

Predecessors?" Inquired The Senior,  Slyly.

 

"Of Course It Does," Said Vandeleur,  Stoutly. "You Ask A Girl To Dine

At Richmond Once A Month,  And Keep Out Of Her Way All The Rest Of The

Time,  And Give Her Lots Of Money--She Will Never Quarrel With You."

 

"Profit By This Information,  Young Man," Said Old Woodgate,  Severely;

"It Comes Too Late For Me. In My Day There Existed No Sure Method Of

Pleasing The Fair. But Now That Is Invented,  Along With Everything

Else. Richmond And--Absence,  Equivalent To 'Richmond And Victory!' Now,

Bassett,  We Have Heard The Truth From The Fountain-Head,  And It Is

Rather Serious. She Swears,  She Kicks,  She Preaches. Do You Still

Desire An Introduction? As For Me,  My Manly Spirit Is Beginning To

Quake At Vandeleur's Revelations,  And Some Lines Of Scott Recur To My

Gothic Memory--

 

"'From The Chafed Tiger Rend His Prey,  Bar The Fell Dragon's Blighting

Part 3 Chapter 2 Pg 12

Way,  But Shun That Lovely Snare."'

 

Bassett Replied,  Gravely,  That He Had No Such Motive As Mr. Woodgate

Gave Him Credit For,  But Still Desired The Introduction.

 

"With Pleasure," Said Vandeleur; "But It Will Be No Use To You. She

Hates Me Like Poison; Says I Have No Heart. That Is What All

Ill-Tempered Women Say."

 

Notwithstanding His Misgivings The Obliging Youth Called For Writing

Materials,  And Produced The Following Epistle--

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Dear Miss Somerset--Mr. Richard Bassett,  A Cousin Of Sir Charles,

Wishes Very Much To Be Introduced To You,  And Has Begged Me To Assist

In An Object So Laudable. I Should Hardly Venture To Present Myself,

And,  Therefore,  Shall Feel Surprised As Well As Flattered If You Will

Receive Mr. Bassett On My Introduction,  And My Assurance That He Is A

Respectable Country Gentleman,  And Bears No Resemblance In Character To

 

"Yours Faithfully,

 

"Arthur Vandeleur."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Next Day Bassett Called At Miss Somerset's House In May Fair,  And

Delivered His Introduction.

 

He Was Admitted After A Short Delay And Entered The Lady's Boudoir. It

Was Luxury's Nest. The Walls Were Rose Colored Satin,  Padded And

Puckered; The Voluminous Curtains Were Pale Satin,  With Floods And

Billows Of Real Lace; The Chairs Embroidered,  The Tables All Buhl And

Ormolu,  And The Sofas Felt Like Little Seas. The Lady Herself,  In A

Delightful Peignoir,  Sat Nestled Cozily In A Sort Of Ottoman With Arms.

Her Finely Formed Hand,  Clogged With Brilliants,  Was Just Conveying

Brandy And Soda-Water To A Very Handsome Mouth When Richard Bassett

Entered.

 

She Raised Herself Superbly,  But Without Leaving Her Seat,  And Just

Looked At A Chair In A Way That Seemed To Say,  "I Permit You To Sit

Down;" And That Done,  She Carried The Glass To Her Lips With The Same

Admirable Firmness Of Hand She Showed In Driving. Her Lofty Manner,

Coupled With Her Beautiful But Rather Haughty Features,  Smacked Of

Imperial Origin. Yet She Was The Writer To "Jorge," And Four Years Ago

A Shrimp-Girl,  Running Into The Sea With Legs As Brown As A Berry.

 

Part 3 Chapter 2 Pg 13

So Swiftly Does Merit Rise In This World Which,  Nevertheless,  Some

Morose Folk Pretend Is A Wicked One.

 

I Ought To Explain,  However,  That This Haughty Reception Was Partly

Caused By A Breach Of Propriety. Vandeleur Ought First To Have Written

To Her And Asked Permission To Present Richard Bassett. He Had No

Business To Send The Man And The Introduction Together. This Law A

Parliament Of Sirens Had Passed,  And The Slightest Breach Of It Was A

Bitter Offense Equilibrium Governs The World. These Ladies Were Bound

To Be Overstrict In Something Or Other,  Being Just A Little Lax In

Certain Things Where Other Ladies Are Strict.

 

Now Bassett Had Pondered Well What He Should Say,  But He Was

Disconcerted By Her Superb Presence And Demeanor And Her Large Gray

Eyes,  That Rested Steadily Upon His Face.

 

However,  He Began To Murmur Mellifluously. Said He Had Often Seen Her

In Public,  And Admired Her,  And Desired To Make Her Acquaintance,  Etc.,

Etc.

 

"Then Why Did You Not Ask Sir Charles To Bring You Here?" Said Miss

Somerset,  Abruptly,  And Searching Him With Her Eyes,  That Were Not To

Say Bold,  But Singularly Brave,  And Examiners Pointblank.

 

"I Am Not On Good Terms With Sir Charles. He Holds The Estates That

Ought To Be Mine; And Now He Has Robbed Me Of My Love. He Is The Last

Man In The World I Would Ask A Favor Of."

 

"You Came Here To Abuse Him Behind His Back,  Eh?" Asked The Lady With

Undisguised Contempt.

 

Bassett Winced,  But Kept His Temper. "No,  Miss Somerset; But You Seem

To Think I Ought To Have Come To You Through Sir Charles. I Would Not

Enter Your House If I Did Not Feel Sure I Shall Not Meet Him Here."

 

Miss Somerset Looked Rather Puzzled. "Sir Charles Does Not Come Here

Every Day,  But He Comes Now And Then,  And He Is Always Welcome."

 

"You Surprise Me."

 

"Thank You. Now Some Of My Gentlemen Friends Think It Is A Wonder He

Does Not Come Every Minute."

 

"You Mistake Me. What Surprises Me Is That You Are Such Good Friends

Under The Circumstances."

 

"Circumstances! What Circumstances?"

 

"Oh,  You Know. You Are In His Confidence,  I Presume?"--This Rather

Satirically. So The Lady Answered,  Defiantly:

 

"Yes,  I Am; He Knows I Can Hold My Tongue,  So He Tells Me Things He

Tells Nobody Else."

Part 3 Chapter 2 Pg 14

 

"Then,  If You Are In His Confidence,  You Know He Is About To Be

Married."

 

"Married! Sir Charles Married!"

 

"In Three Weeks."

 

"It's A Lie! You Get Out Of My House This Moment!"

 

Mr. Bassett Colored At This Insult. He Rose From His Seat With Some

Little Dignity,  Made Her A Low Bow,  And Retired. But Her Blood Was Up:

She Made A Wonderful Rush,  Sweeping Down A Chair With Her Dress As She

Went,  And Caught Him At The Door,  Clutched Him By The Shoulder And Half

Dragged Him Back,  And Made Him Sit Down Again,  While She Stood Opposite

Him,  With The Knuckles Of One Hand Resting On The Table.

 

"Now," Said She,  Panting,  "You Look