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

Him With A Communication Touching The

Action-At-Law. There Ensued A Little Mutual Misapprehension,  Followed By

A Few Emphatic Words Of Denial From Dr. Ashton; And The Countess-Dowager

Walked Away With A Scarlet Face,  And An Explosion Of Anger Against Her

Daughter.

 

Lady Hartledon Was Not Yet Callous To The Proprieties Of Life; And The

Intrusion On The Ashtons,  Which Her Mother Confessed To,  Half Frightened,

Half Shamed Her. But The Dowager's Wrath At Having Been Misled Bore Down

Everything. Dr. Ashton Had Entered No Action Whatever Against Lord

Hartledon; Had Never Thought Of Doing It.

 

"And You,  You Wicked,  Ungrateful Girl,  To Come Home To Me With Such An

Invention,  And Cause Me To Start Off On A Fool's Errand! Do You Suppose I

Should Have Gone And Humbled Myself To Those People,  But For Hoping To

Bring The Parson To A Sense Of What He Was Doing In Going-In For Those

Enormous Damages?"

 

"I Have Not Come Home To You With Any Invention,  Mamma. Dr. Ashton Has

Entered The Action."

 

"He Has Not," Raved The Dowager. "It Is An Infamous Hoax You Have Played

Off Upon Me. You Couldn't Find Any Excuse For Your Husband's Staying In

London,  And So Invented This. What With You,  And What With Kirton's

Ingratitude,  I Shall Be Driven Out Of House And Home!"

 

"I Won't Say Another Word Until You Are Calm And Can Talk Common Sense,"

Said Maude,  Leaning Back In Her Chair,  And Putting Down Her Prayer-Book.

 

"Common Sense! What Am I Talking But Common Sense? When A Child Begins To

Mislead Her Own Mother,  The World Ought To Come To An End."

 

Maude Took No Notice.

 

There Happened To Be Some Water Standing On A Table,  And The Dowager

Poured Out A Tumblerful And Drank It,  Though Not Accustomed To The

Beverage. Untying Her Bonnet-Strings She Sat Down,  A Little Calmer.

 

"Perhaps You'll Explain This At Your Convenience,  Maude."

 

"There Is Nothing To Explain," Was The Answer. "What I Told You Was The

Truth. The Action _Has_ Been Entered By The Ashtons."

 

"And I Tell You That The Action Has Not."

 

"I Assure You That It Has," Returned Maude. "I Told You Of The Evening We

First Had Notice Of It,  And The Damages Claimed; Do You Think I Invented

That,  Or Went To Sleep And Dreamt It? If Val Has Gone Down Once To That

Temple About It,  He Has Gone Fifty Times. He Would Not Go For Pleasure."

 

The Countess-Dowager Sat Fanning Herself Quietly: For Her Daughter's

Words Were Gaining Ground.

 

"There's A Mistake Somewhere,  Maude,  And It Is On Your Side And Not Mine.

I'll Lay My Life That No Action Has Been Entered By Dr. Ashton. The Man

Spoke The Truth; I Can Read The Truth When I See It As Well As Anyone:

His Face Flushed With Pain And Anger At Such A Thing Being Said Of Him.

It May Not Be Difficult To Explain This Contradiction."

 

"Do You Think Not?" Returned Maude,  Her Indifference Exciting The

Listener To Anger.

 

"_I_ Should Say Hartledon Is Deceiving You. If Any Action Is Entered

Against Him At All,  It Isn't That Sort Of Action; Or Perhaps The Young

Lady Is Not Miss Ashton,  But Some Other; He's Just The Kind Of Man To Be

Drawn Into Promising Marriage To A Dozen Or Two. Very Clever Of Him To

Palm You Off With This Tale: A Man May Get Into Five Hundred Troubles Not

Convenient To Disclose To His Wife."

 

Except That Lady Hartledon's Cheek Flushed A Little,  She Made No Answer;

She Held Firmly--At Least She Thought She Held Firmly--To Her Own Side

Of The Case. Her Mother,  On The Contrary,  Adopted The New View,  And

Dismissed It From Her Thoughts Accordingly.

 

Maude Went To Church In The Evening,  Sitting Alone In The Great Pew,  Pale

And Quiet. Anne Ashton Was Also Alone; And The Two Whilom Rivals,  The

Triumphant And The Rejected,  Could Survey Each Other To Their Heart's

Content.

 

Not Very Triumphant Was Maude's Feeling. Strange Perhaps To Say,  The

Suggestion Of The Old Dowager,  Like Instilled Poison,  Was Making Its Way

Into Her Very Veins. Her Thoughts Had Been Busy With The Matter Ever

Since. One Positive Conviction Lay In Her Heart--That Dr. Ashton,  Now

Reading The First Lesson Before Her,  For He Was Taking The Whole Of The

Service That Evening,  Could Not,  Under Any Circumstance,  Be Guilty Of A

False Assertion Or Subterfuge. One Solution Of The Difficulty Presented

Itself To Her--That Her Mother,  In Her Irascibility,  Had Misunderstood

The Rector; And Yet That Was Improbable. As Maude Half Sat,  Half Lay Back

In The Pew,  For The Faint Feeling Was Especially Upon Her That Evening,

She Thought She Would Give A Great Deal To Set The Matter At Rest.

 

When The Service Was Over She Took The More Secluded Way Home; Those Of

The Servants Who Had Attended Returning As Usual By The Road. On Reaching

The Turning Where The Three Paths Diverged,  The Faintness Which Had Been

Hovering Over Her All The Evening Suddenly Grew Worse; And But For A

Friendly Tree,  She Might Have Fallen. It Grew Better In A Few Moments,

But She Did Not Yet Quit Her Support.

 

Very Surprised Was The Rector Of Calne To Come Up And See Lady Hartledon

In This Position. Every Sunday Evening,  After Service,  He Went To Visit

A Man In One Of The Cottages,  Who Was Dying Of Consumption,  And He Was On

His Way There Now. He Would Have Preferred To Pass Without Speaking: But

Lady Hartledon Looked In Need Of Assistance; And In Common Christian

Kindness He Could Not Pass Her By.

 

"I Beg Your Pardon,  Lady Hartledon. Are You Ill?"

 

She Took His Offered Arm With Her Disengaged Hand,  As An Additional

Support; And Her White Face Turned A Shade Whiter.

 

"A Sudden Faintness Overtook Me. I Am Better Now," She Said,  When Able To

Speak.

 

"Will You Allow Me To Walk On With You?"

 

"Thank You; Just A Little Way. If You Will Not Mind It."

 

That He Must Have Understood The Feeling Which Prompted The Concluding

Words Was Undoubted: And Perhaps Had Lady Hartledon Been In Possession

Of Her Keenest Senses,  She Might Never Have Spoken Them. Pride And Health

Go Out Of Us Together. Dr. Ashton Took Her On His Arm,  And They Walked

Slowly In The Direction Of The Little Bridge. Colour Was Returning To Her

Face,  Strength To Her Frame.

 

"The Heat Of The Day Has Affected You,  Possibly?"

 

"Yes,  Perhaps; I Have Felt Faint At Times Lately. The Church Was Very Hot

To-Night."

 

Nothing More Was Said Until The Bridge Was Gained,  And Then Maude

Released His Arm.

 

"Dr. Ashton,  I Thank You Very Much. You Have Been A Friend In Need."

 

"But Are You Sure You Are Strong Enough To Go On Alone? I Will Escort You

To The House If You Are Not."

 

"Quite Strong Enough Now. Thank You Once Again."

 

As He Was Bowing His Farewell,  A Sudden Impulse To Speak,  And Set The

Matter That Was Troubling Her At Rest,  Came Over Her. Without A Moment's

Deliberation,  Without Weighing Her Words,  She Rushed Upon It; The

Ostensible Plea An Apology For Her Mother's Having Spoken To Him.

 

"Yes,  I Told Lady Kirton She Was Labouring Under Some Misapprehension,"

He Quietly Answered.

 

"Will You Forgive _Me_ Also For Speaking Of It?" She Murmured. "Since My

Mother Came Home With The News Of What You Said,  I Have Been Lost In A

Sea Of Conjecture: I Could Not Attend To The Service For Dwelling Upon

It,  And Might As Well Not Have Been In Church--A Curious Confession To

Make To You,  Dr. Ashton. Is It Indeed True That You Know Nothing Of

The Matter?"

 

"Lady Kirton Told Me In So Many Words That I Had Entered An Action

Against Lord Hartledon For Breach Of Promise,  And Laid The Damages At Ten

Thousand Pounds," Returned Dr. Ashton,  With A Plainness Of Speech And A

Cynical Manner That Made Her Blush. And She Saw At Once That He Had Done

Nothing Of The Sort; Saw It Without Any More Decisive Denial.

 

"But The Action Has Been Entered," Said Lady Hartledon.

 

"I Beg Your Pardon,  Madam. Lord Hartledon Is,  I Should Imagine,  The Only

Man Living Who Could Suppose Me Capable Of Such A Thing."

 

"And You Have _Not_ Entered On It!" She Reiterated,  Half Bewildered By

The Denial.

 

"Most Certainly Not. When I Parted With Lord Hartledon On A Certain

Evening,  Which Probably Your Ladyship Remembers,  I Washed My Hands Of Him

For Good,  Desiring Never To Approach Him In Any Way Whatever,  Never Hear

Of Him,  Never See Him Again. Your Husband,  Madam,  Is Safe For Me: I

Desire Nothing Better Than To Forget That Such A Man Is In Existence."

 

Lifting His Hat,  He Walked Away. And Lady Hartledon Stood And Gazed After

Him As One In A Dream.

Chapter 21 (Mr. Carr At Work)

Thomas Carr Was Threading His Way Through The Mazy Precincts Of Gray's

Inn,  With That Quick Step And Absorbed Manner Known Only,  I Think,  To The

Busy Man Of Our Busy Metropolis. He Was On His Way To Make Some Inquiries

Of A Firm Of Solicitors,  Messrs. Kedge And Reck,  Strangers To Him In All

But Name.

 

Up Some Dark And Dingy Stairs,  He Knocked At A Dark And Dingy Door:

Which,  After A Minute,  Opened Of Itself By Some Ingenious Contrivance,

And Let Him Into A Passage,  Whence He Turned Into A Room,  Where Two

Clerks Were Writing At A Desk.

 

"Can I See Mr. Kedge?"

 

"Not In," Said One Of The Clerks,  Without Looking Up.

 

"Mr. Reck,  Then?"

 

"Not In."

 

"When Will Either Of Them Be In?" Continued The Barrister; Thinking That

If He Were Messrs. Kedge And Reck The Clerk Would Get His Discharge For

Incivility.

 

"Can't Say. What's Your Business?"

 

"My Business Is With Them: Not With You."

 

"You Can See The Managing Clerk."

 

"I Wish To See One Of The Partners."

 

"Could You Give Your Name?" Continued The Gentleman,  Equably.

 

Mr. Carr Handed In His Card. The Clerk Glanced At It,  And Surreptitiously

Showed It To His Companion; And Both Of Them Looked Up At Him. Mr. Carr

Of The Temple Was Known By Reputation,  And They Condescended To Become

Civil.

 

"Take A Seat For A Moment,  Sir," Said The One. "I'll Inquire How Long Mr.

Kedge Will Be; But Mr. Reek's Not In Town To-Day."

 

A Few Minutes,  And Thomas Carr Found Himself In A Small Square Room With

The Head Of The Firm,  A Youngish Man And Somewhat Of A Dandy,  Especially

Genial In Manner,  As Though In Contrast To His Clerk. He Welcomed The

Rising Barrister.

 

"There's As Much Difficulty In Getting To See You As If You Were Pope Of

Rome," Cried Mr. Carr,  Good Humouredly.

 

The Lawyer Laughed. "Hopkins Did Not Know You: And Strangers Are

Generally Introduced To Mr. Reck,  Or To Our Managing Clerk. What Can

I Do For You,  Mr. Carr?"

 

"I Don't Know That You Can Do Anything For Me," Said Mr. Carr,  Seating

Himself; "But I Hope You Can. At The Present Moment I Am Engaged In

Sifting A Piece Of Complicated Business For A Friend; A Private Matter

Entirely,  Which It Is Necessary To Keep Private. I Am Greatly Interested

In It Myself,  As You May Readily Believe,  When It Is Keeping Me From

Circuit. Indeed It May Almost Be Called My Own Affair," He Added,

Observing The Eyes Of The Lawyer Fixed Upon Him,  And Not Caring They

Should See Into His Business Too Clearly. "I Fancy You Have A Clerk,  Or

Had A Clerk,  Who Is Cognizant Of One Or Two Points In Regard To It: Can

You Put Me In The Way Of Finding Out Where He Is? His Name Is Gordon."

 

"Gordon! We Have No Clerk Of That Name. Never Had One,  That I Remember.

How Came You To Fancy It?"

 

"I Heard It From My Own Clerk,  Taylor. One Day Last Week I Happened To

Say Before Him That I'd Give A Five-Pound Note Out Of My Pocket To Get

At The Present Whereabouts Of This Man Gordon. Taylor Is A Shrewd

Fellow; Full Of Useful Bits Of Information,  And Knows,  I Really Believe,

Three-Fourths Of London By Name. He Immediately Said A Young Man