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

That

Bessie Had Fine Qualities,  Much Simplicity,  And The Promise Of Beauty.

Meanwhile Mrs. Carnegie,  Forewarned Of The Impending Interview,

Collected Herself And Prepared For It. She Sent Bessie Into The

Rarely-Used Drawing-Room To Pull Up The Blinds And Open The Glass Door

Upon The Lawn; And,  Further To Occupy The Nervous Moments,  Bade Her

Gather A Few Roses For The China Bowl On The Round Table. Bessie Had

Just Finished Her Task,  And Was Standing With A Lovely Devoniensis In

Her Hand,  When Her Grandfather Appeared,  Supported By Lady Latimer.

 

Mr. Fairfax Was Received By Mrs. Carnegie With Courtesy,  But Without

Effusion. It Was The Anxious Desire Of Her Heart That No Ill-Will Should

Arise Because Of Bessie's Restoration. She Was One Of Those Unaffected,

Reasonable,  Calm Women Whom Circumstances Rarely Disconcert. Then Her

Imagination Was Not Active. She Did Not Pensively Reflect That Here Was

Her Once Father-In-Law,  But She Felt Comfortable In The Consciousness

That Bessie Had On A Nice Clean Pink Gingham Frock And A Crimped Frill

Round Her White Throat,  In Which She Looked As Pretty As She Could Look.

Bessie's Light Hair,  Threaded Wit

Spoke Of It To Me. I Never Heard Him Say Who Or What He Was; And I

Couldn't Speak More Truly If Your Lordship Offered To Give Me The Shed

As A Bribe."

 

"Do You Know Where Gorton Might Be Found At Present?"

 

"I Swear Before Heaven That I Know Nothing Of The Man,  And Have Never

Heard Of Him Since He Went Away," Cried Pike,  With A Burst Of Either Fear

Or Passion. "He Was A Stranger To Me When He Came,  And He Was A Stranger

When He Left. I Found Out The Little Game He Had Come About,  And Saved

Your Lordship From His Clutches,  Which He Doesn't Know To This Day. I

Know Nothing Else About Him At All."

 

"Well,  Good Evening,  Pike. You Need Not Put Yourself Out For Nothing."

 

He Walked Away,  Taking Leave Of The Man As Civilly As Though He Had Been

A Respectable Member Of Society. It Was Not In Val's Nature To Show

Discourtesy To Any Living Being. Why Pike Should Have Shrunk From The

Questions He Could Not Tell; But That He Did Shrink Was Evident; Perhaps

From A Surly Dislike To Being Questioned At All; But On The Whole Lord

Hartledon Thought He Had Spoken The Truth As To Knowing Nothing About

Gorton.

 

Crossing The Road,  He Turned Into The Field-Path Near The Rectory; It Was

A Little Nearer Than The Road-Way,  And He Was In A Hurry,  For He Had Not

Thought To Ask At What Hour His Wife Dined,  And Might Be Keeping Her

Waiting.

 

Who Was This Pike,  He Wondered As He Went Along; As He Had Wondered

Before Now. When The Man Was Off His Guard,  The Roughness Of His Speech

And Demeanour Was Not So Conspicuous; And The Tone Assumed A Certain

Refinement That Seemed To Say He Had Some Time Been In Civilized Society.

Again,  How Did He Live? A Tale Was Told In Calne Of Pike's Having Been

Disturbed At Supper One Night By A Parcel Of Rude Boys,  Who Had Seen Him

Seated At A Luxurious Table; Hot Steak And Pudding Before Him. They Were

Not Believed,  Certainly; But Still Pike Must Live; And How Did He Find

The Means To Do So? Why Did He Live There At All? What Had Caused Him To

Come To Calne? Who--

 

These Reflections Might Have Lasted All The Way Home But For An

Interruption That Drove Every Thought Out Of Lord Hartledon's Mind,  And

Sent The Heart's Blood Coursing Swiftly Through His Veins. Turning A

Corner Of The Dark Winding Path,  He Came Suddenly Upon A Lady Seated On A

Bench,  So Close To The Narrow Path That He Almost Touched Her In Passing.

She Seemed To Have Sat Down For A Moment To Do Something To Her Hat,

Which Was Lying In Her Lap,  Her Hands Busied With It.

 

A Faint Cry Escaped Her,  And She Rose Up. It Was Caused Partly By

Emotion,  Partly By Surprise At Seeing Him,  For She Did Not Know He Was

Within A Hundred Miles Of The Place. And Very Probably She Would Have

Liked To Box Her Own Ears For Showing Any. The Hat Fell From Her Knees

As She Rose,  And Both Stooped For It.

 

"Forgive Me," He Said. "I Fear I Have Startled You."

 

"I Am Waiting For Papa," She Answered,  In Hasty Apology For Being Found

There. And Lord Hartledon,  Casting His Eyes Some Considerable Distance

Ahead,  Discerned The Indistinct Forms Of Two Persons Talking Together. He

Understood The Situation At Once. Dr. Ashton And His Daughter Had Been To

The Cottages; And The Doctor Had Halted On Their Return To Speak To A

Day-Labourer Going Home From His Work,  Anne Walking Slowly On.

 

And There They Stood Face To Face,  Anne Ashton And Her Deceitful Lover!

How Their Hearts Beat To Pain,  How Utterly Oblivious They Were Of

Everything In Life Save Each Other's Presence,  How Tumultuously Confused

Were Mind And Manner,  Both Might Remember Afterwards,  But Certainly Were

Not Conscious Of Then. It Was A Little Glimpse Of Eden. A Corner Of The

Dark Curtain Thrown Between Them Had Been Raised,  And So Unexpectedly

That For The Moment Nothing Else Was Discernible In The Dazzling Light.

 

Forget! Not In That Instant Of Sweet Confusion,  During Which Nothing

Seemed More Real Than A Dream. He Was The Husband Of Another; She Was

Parted From Him For Ever; And Neither Was Capable Of Deliberate Thought

Or Act That Could Intrench On The Position,  Or Tend To Return,  Even

Momentarily,  To The Past. And Yet There They Stood With Beating Hearts,

And Eyes That Betrayed Their Own Tale--That The Marriage And The Parting

Were In One Sense But A Hollow Mockery,  And Their Love Was Indelible As

Of Old.

 

Each Had Been "Forgetting" To The Utmost Of The Poor Power Within,  In

Accordance With The High Principles Enshrined In Either Heart. Yet What

A Mockery That Forgetting Seemed,  Now That It Was Laid Before Them Naked

And Bare! The Heart Turning Sick To Faintness At The Mere Sight Of Each

Other,  The Hands Trembling At The Mutual Touch,  The Wistful Eyes Shining

With A Glance That Too Surely Spoke Of Undying Love!

 

But Not A Word Of This Was Spoken. However True Their Hearts Might Be,

There Was No Fear Of The Tongue Following Up The Error. Lord Hartledon

Would No More Have Allowed Himself To Speak Than She To Listen. Neither

Had The Hands Met In Ordinary Salutation; It Was Only When He Resigned

The Hat To Her That The Fingers Touched: A Touch Light,  Transient,  Almost

Imperceptible; Nevertheless It Sent A Thrill Through The Whole Frame. Not

Exactly Knowing What To Do In Her Confusion,  Miss Ashton Sat Down On The

Bench Again And Put Her Hat On.

 

"I Must Say A Word To You Before I Go On My Way," Said Lord Hartledon.

"I Have Been Wishing For Such A Meeting As This Ever Since I Saw You At

Versailles; And Indeed I Think I Wished For Nothing Else Before It. When

You Think Of Me As One Utterly Heartless--"

 

"Stay,  Lord Hartledon," She Interrupted,  With White Lips. "I Cannot

Listen To You. You Must Be Aware That I Cannot,  And Ought Not. What Are

You Thinking About?"

 

"I Know That I Have Forfeited All Right To Ask You; That It Is An

Unpardonable Intrusion My Presuming Even To Address You. Well,  Perhaps,

You Are Right," He Added,  After A Moment's Pause; "It May Be Better That

I Should Not Say What I Was Hoping To Say. It Cannot Mend Existing

Things; It Cannot Undo The Past. I Dare Not Ask Your Forgiveness: It

Would Seem Too Much Like An Insult; Nevertheless,  I Would Rather Have It

Than Any Earthly Gift. Fare You Well,  Anne! I Shall Sometimes Hear Of

Your Happiness."

 

"Have You Been Ill?" She Asked In A Kindly Impulse,  Noticing His Altered

Looks In That First Calm Moment.

 

"No--Not As The World Counts Illness. If Remorse And Shame And Repentance

Can Be Called Illness,  I Have My Share. Ill Deeds Of More Kinds Than One

Are Coming Home To Me. Anne," He Added In A Hoarse Whisper; His Face

Telling Of Emotion,  "If There Is One Illumined Corner In My Heart,  Where

All Else Is Very Dark,  It Is Caused By Thankfulness To Heaven That You

Were Spared."

 

"Spared!" She Echoed,  In Wonder,  So Completely Awed By His Strange Manner

As To Forget Her Reserve.

 

"Spared The Linking Of Your Name With Mine. I Thank God For It,  For Your

Sake,  Night And Day. Had Trouble Fallen On You Through Me,  I Don't Think

I Could Have Survived It. May You Be Shielded From All Such For Ever!"

 

He Turned Abruptly Away,  And She Looked After Him,  Her Heart Beating A

Great Deal Faster Than It Ought To Have Done.

 

That She Was His Best And Dearest Love,  In Spite Of His Marriage,  It

Was Impossible Not To See; And She Strove To Think Him Very Wicked For

It,  And Her Cheek Was Red With A Feeling That Seemed Akin To Shame.

But--Trouble?--Thankful For Her Sake,  Night And Day,  That Her Name Was

Not Linked With His? He Must Allude To Debt,  She Supposed: Some Of Those

Old Embarrassments Had Augmented Themselves Into Burdens Too Heavy To Be

Safely Borne.

 

The Rector Was Coming On Now At A Swift Pace. He Looked Keenly At Lord

Hartledon; Looked Twice,  As If In Surprise. A Flush Rose To Val's

Sensitive Face As He Passed,  And Lifted His Hat. The Rector,  Dark And

Proud,  Condescended To Return The Courtesy: And The Meeting Was Over.

 

Toiling Across Lord Hartledon's Path Was The Labourer To Whom The Rector

Had Been Speaking. He Had An Empty Bottle Slung Over His Shoulder,  And

Carried A Sickle. The Man's Day's Work Was Over,  And Had Left Fatigue

Behind It.

 

"Good-Night To Your Lordship!"

 

"Is It You,  Ripper?"

 

He Was The Father Of The Young Gentleman In The Cart,  Whom Mr. Pike Had

Not Long Before Treated To His Opinion: Young David Ripper,  The Miller's

Boy. Old Ripper,  A Talkative,  Discontented Man,  Stopped And Ventured To

Enter On His Grievances. His Wife Had Been Pledging Things To Pay For

A Fine Gown She Had Bought; His Two Girls Were Down With Measles; His

Son,  Young Rip,  Plagued His Life Out.

 

"How Does He Plague Your Life Out?" Asked Lord Hartledon,  When He Had

Listened Patiently.

 

"Saying He'll Go Off And Enlist For A Soldier,  My Lord; He's Saying It

Always: And Means It Too,  Only He's Over-Young For't."

 

"Over-Young For It; I Should Think So. Why,  He's Not Much More Than A

Child. Our Sergeants Don't Enlist Little Boys."

 

"Sometimes He Says He'll Drown Himself By Way Of A Change," Returned Old

Ripper.

 

"Oh,  Does He? Folk Who Say It Never Do It. I Should Whip It Out Of Him."

 

"He's Never Been The Same Since The Lord's Death That Time. He's Always

Frightened: Gets Fancying Things,  And Saying Sometimes He Sees His

Shadder."

 

"Whose Shadow?"

 

"His'n: The Late Lord's."

 

"Why Does He Fancy That?" Came The Question,  After A Perceptible Pause.

 

Old Ripper Shook His Head. It Was Beyond His Ken,  He Said. "There Be Only

Two Things He's Afeared Of In Life," Continued The Man,  Who,  Though

Generally Called Old Ripper,  Was Not Above Five-And-Thirty. "The One's

That Wild Man Pike; T'other's The Shadder. He'd Run Ten Mile Sooner Than

See Either."

 

"Does Pike Annoy The Boy?"

 

"Never Spoke To Him,  As I Knows On,  My Lord. Afore That Drowning Of His

Lordship Last Year,  Davy Was The Boldest Rip Going," Added The Man,  Who

Had Long Since Fallen Into The Epithet Popularly Applied To His Son.

"Since Then He Don't Dare Say His Soul's His Own. We Had Him Laid Up

Before The Winter,  And I Know 'Twas Nothing But Fear."

 

Lord Hartledon Could Not Make Much Of The Story,  And Had No Time To

Linger. Administering A Word Of General Encouragement,  He Continued His

Way,  His Thoughts Going Back To The Interview With Anne Ashton,  A Line Or

Two Of Longfellow's "Fire Of Driftwood" Rising Up In His Mind--

 

  "Of What Had Been And Might Have Been,

  And Who Was Changed,  And Who Was Dead."

 

Chapter 25 (A Tete A Tete Breakfast)