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

Nance Gum,  We Can Sleep Quiet In Our Beds,  Free

From _That_ Fear."

 

Clerk Gum Was Not,  On The Whole,  A Model Of Suavity In The Domestic Fold.

The First Blow That Had Fallen Upon Him Seemed To Have Affected His

Temper; And His Helpmate Knew From Experience That Whenever He Called Her

"Nance" His Mood Was At Its Worst.

 

Suppressing A Sob,  She Spoke Reproachfully.

 

"It's My Firm Belief,  Gum,  And Has Been All Along,  That You Cared More

For Your Good Name Among Men Than You Did For The Boy."

 

"Perhaps I Did," He Answered,  By Way Of Retort. "At Any Rate,  It Might

Have Been Better For Him In The Long-Run If We--Both You And Me--Hadn't

Cared For Him Quite So Foolishly In His Childhood; We Spared The Rod And

We Spoiled The Child. That's Over,  And--"

 

"It's _All_ Over," Interrupted Mrs. Gum; "Over For Ever In This World.

Gum,  You Are Very Hard-Hearted."

 

"And," He Continued,  With Composure,  "We May Hope Now To Live Down In

Time The Blow He Brought Upon Us,  And Hold Up Our Heads Again In The Face

Of Calne. We Couldn't Have Done That While He Lived."

 

"We Couldn't?"

 

"No. Just Dry Up Your Useless Tears,  Nancy; And Try To Think That All's

For The Best."

 

But,  Metaphorically Speaking,  Mrs. Gum Could Not Dry Her Tears. Nearly

Two Years Had Elapsed Since The Fatal Event; And Though She No Longer

Openly Lamented,  Filling Calne With Her Cries And Her Faint But Heartfelt

Prayers For Vengeance On The Head Of The Cruel Monster,  George Gordon,  As

She Used To Do At First,  She Had Sunk Into A Despairing State Of Mind

That Was By No Means Desirable: A Startled,  Timid,  Superstitious Woman,

Frightened At Every Shadow.

 

Chapter 3 (Anne Ashton)

Jabez Gum Came Out Of His House In The Bright Summer Morning,  Missing Mr.

Elster By One Minute Only. He Went Round To A Small Shed At The Back Of

The House And Brought Forth Sundry Garden-Tools. The Whole Garden Was

Kept In Order By Himself,  And No One Had Finer Fruit And Vegetables Than

Clerk Gum. Hartledon Might Have Been Proud Of Them,  And Dr. Ashton

Sometimes Accepted A Dish With Pleasure.

 

In His Present Attire: Dark Trousers,  And A Short Close Jacket Buttoned

Up Round Him And Generally Worn When Gardening,  The Worthy Man Might

Decidedly Have Been Taken For An Animated Lamp-Post By Any Stranger Who

Happened To Come That Way. He Was Applying Himself This Morning,  First To

The Nailing Of Sundry Choice Fruit-Trees Against The Wall That Ran Down

One Side Of His Garden--A Wall That Had Been Built By The Clerk Himself

In Happier Days; And Next,  To Plucking Some Green Walnuts For His Wife To

Pickle. As He Stood On Tip-Toe,  His Long Thin Body And Long Thin Arms

Stretched Up To The Walnut-Tree,  He Might Have Made The Fortune Of Any

Travelling Caravan That Could Have Hired Him. The Few People Who Passed

Him Greeted Him With A "Good Morning," But He Rarely Turned His Head In

Answering Them. Clerk Gum Had Grown Somewhat Taciturn Of Late Years.

 

The Time Went On. The Clock Struck A Quarter-Past Seven,  And Jabez Gum,

As He Heard It,  Left The Walnut-Tree,  Walked To The Gate,  And Leaned Over

It; His Face Turned In The Direction Of The Village. It Was Not The

Wooden Gate Generally Attached To Smaller Houses In Rustic Localities,

But A Very Pretty Iron One; Everything About The Clerk's House Being

Of A Superior Order. Apparently,  He Was Looking Out For Some One In

Displeasure; And,  Indeed,  He Had Not Stood There A Minute,  When A Girl

Came Flying Down The Road,  And Pushed The Gate And The Clerk Back

Together.

 

Mr. Gum Directed Her Attention To The Church Clock. "Do You See The Time,

Rebecca Jones?"

 

Had The Pages Of The Church-Register Been Visible As Well As The Clock,

Miss Rebecca Jones's Age Might Have Been Seen To Be Fifteen; But,  In

Knowledge Of The World And In Impudence,  She Was Considerably Older.

 

"Just Gone Seven And A Quarter," Answered She,  Making A Feint Of Shading

Her Eyes With Her Hands,  Though The Sun Was Behind Her.

 

"And What Business Have You To Come At Seven And A Quarter? Half-Past Six

Is Your Time; And,  If You Can't Keep It,  Your Missis Shall Get Those That

Can."

 

"Why Can't My Missis Let Me Stop At Night And Clear Up The Work?"

Returned The Girl. "She Sends Me Away At Six O'clock,  As Soon As I've

Washed The Tea-Things,  And Oftentimes Earlier Than That. It Stands To

Reason I Can't Get Through The Work Of A Morning."

 

"You Could Do So Quite Well If You Came To Time," Said The Clerk,  Turning

Away To His Walnut-Tree. "Why Don't You?"

 

"I Overslept Myself This Morning. Father Never Called Me Afore He Went

Out. No Doubt He Had A Drop Too Much Last Night."

 

She Went Flying Up The Gravel-Path As She Spoke. Her Father Was The Man

Jones Whom You Saw At The Railway Station; Her Step-Mother (For Her Own

Mother Was Dead) Was Mrs. Gum's Cousin.

 

She Was A Sort Of Stray Sheep,  This Girl,  In The Eyes Of Calne,  Not

Belonging Very Much To Any One; Her Father Habitually Neglected Her,  Her

Step-Mother Had Twice Turned Her Out Of Doors. Some Three Or Four Months

Ago,  When Mrs. Gum Was Changing Her Servant,  She Had Consented To Try

This Girl. Jabez Gum Knew Nothing Of The Arrangement Until It Was

Concluded,  And Disapproved Of It. Altogether,  It Did Not Work

Satisfactorily: Miss Jones Was Careless,  Idle,  And Impudent; Her

Step-Mother Was Dissatisfied Because She Was Not Taken Into The House;

And Clerk Gum Threatened Every Day,  And His Wife Very Often,  To Dismiss

Her.

 

It Was Only Within A Year Or Two That They Had Not Kept An Indoor

Servant; And The Fact Of Their Not Doing So Now Puzzled The Gossips Of

Calne. The Clerk's Emoluments Were The Same As Ever; There Was No Willy

To Encroach On Them Now; And The Work Of The House Required A Good

Servant. However,  It Pleased Mrs. Gum To Have One In Only By Day; And Who

Was To Interfere With Her If The Clerk Did Not?

 

Jabez Gum Worked On For Some Little Time After Eight O'clock,  The

Breakfast-Hour. He Rather Wondered He Was Not Called To It,  And

Registered A Mental Vow To Discharge Miss Becky. Presently He Went

Indoors,  Put His Head Into A Small Sitting-Room On The Left,  And Found

The Room Empty,  But The Breakfast Laid. The Kitchen Was Behind It,  And

Jabez Gum Stalked On Down The Passage,  And Went Into It. On The Other

Side Of The Passage Was The Best Sitting-Room,  And A Very Small Room At

The Back Of It,  Which Jabez Used As An Office,  And Where He Kept Sundry

Account-Books.

 

"Where's Your Missis?" Asked He Of The Maid,  Who Was On Her Knees

Toasting Bread.

 

"Not Down Yet," Was The Short Response.

 

"Not Down Yet!" Repeated Jabez In Surprise,  For Mrs. Gum Was Generally

Down By Seven. "You've Got That Door Open Again,  Rebecca. How Many More

Times Am I To Tell You I Won't Have It?"

 

"It's The Smoke," Said Rebecca. "This Chimbley Always Smokes When It's

First Lighted."

 

"The Chimney Doesn't Smoke,  And You Know That You Are Telling A

Falsehood. What Do You Want With It Open? You'll Have That Wild Man

Darting In Upon You Some Morning. How Will You Like That?"

 

"I'm Not Afeard Of Him," Was The Answer,  As Rebecca Got Up From Her

Knees. "He Couldn't Eat Me."

 

"But You Know How Timid Your Mistress Is," Returned The Clerk,  In A Voice

Of Extreme Anger. "How Dare You,  Girl,  Be Insolent?"

 

He Shut The Door As He Spoke--One That Opened From The Kitchen To The

Back Garden--And Bolted It. Washing His Hands,  And Drying Them With A

Round Towel,  He Went Upstairs,  And Found Mrs. Gum--As He Had Now And Then

Found Her Of Late--In A Fit Of Prostration. She Was A Little Woman,  With

A Light Complexion,  And Insipid,  Unmeaning Face--Some Such A Face As

Willy's Had Been--And Her Hair,  Worn In Neat Bands Under Her Cap,  Was The

Colour Of Tow.

 

"I Couldn't Help It,  Gum," She Began,  As She Stood Before The Glass,  Her

Trembling Fingers Trying To Fasten Her Black Alpaca Gown--For She Had

Never Left Off Mourning For Their Son. "It's Past Eight,  I Know; But I've

Had Such An Upset This Morning As Never Was,  And I _Couldn't_ Dress

Myself. I've Had A Shocking Dream."

 

"Drat Your Dreams!" Cried Mr. Gum,  Very Much Wanting His Breakfast.

 

"Ah,  Gum,  Don't! Those Morning Dreams,  When They're Vivid As This Was,

Are Not Sent For Ridicule. Pike Was In It; And You Know I Can't _Bear_

Him To Be In My Dreams. They Are Always Bad When He Is In Them."

 

"If You Wanted Your Breakfast As Much As I Want Mine,  You'd Let Pike

Alone," Retorted The Clerk.

 

"I Thought He Was Mixed Up In Some Business With Lord Hartledon. I Don't

Know What It Was,  But The Dream Was Full Of Horror. It Seemed That Lord

Hartledon Was Dead Or Dying; Whether He'd Been Killed Or Not,  I Can't

Say; But An Awful Dread Was Upon Me Of Seeing Him Dead. A Voice Called

Out,  'Don't Let Him Come To Calne!' And In The Fright I Awoke. I Can't

Remember What Part Pike Played In The Dream," She Continued,  "Only The

Impression Remained That He Was In It."

 

"Perhaps He Killed Lord Hartledon?" Cried Gum,  Mockingly.

 

"No; Not In The Dream. Pike Did Not Seem To Be Mixed Up In It For Ill.

The Ill Was All On Lord Hartledon; But It Was Not Pike Brought It Upon

Him. Who It Was,  I Couldn't See; But It Was Not Pike."

 

Clerk Gum Looked Down At His Wife In Scornful Pity. He Wondered

Sometimes,  In His Phlegmatic Reasoning,  Why Women Were Created Such

Fools.

 

"Look Here,  Mrs. G. I Thought Those Dreams Of Yours Were Pretty Nearly

Dreamed Out--There Have Been Enough Of 'Em. How Any Woman,  Short Of A

Born Idiot,  Can Stand There And Confess Herself So Frightened By A Dream

As To Be Unable To Get Up And Go About Her Duties,  Is Beyond Me."

 

"But,  Gum,  You Don't Let Me Finish. I Woke Up With The Horror,  I Tell

You--"

 

"What Horror?" Interrupted The Clerk,  Angrily. "What Did It Consist Of?

I Can't See The Horror."

 

"Nor Can I,  Very Clearly," Acknowledged Mrs. Gum; "But I Know It Was

There. I Woke Up With The Very Words In My Ears,  'Don't Let Him Come To

Calne!' And I Started Out Of Bed In Terror For Lord Hartledon,  Lest He

_Should_ Come. We Are Only Half Awake,  You Know,  At These Moments. I

Pulled The Curtain Aside And Looked Out. Gum,  If Ever I Thought To Drop

In My Life,  I Thought It Then. There Was But One Person To Be Seen In The

Road--And It Was Lord Hartledon."

 

"Oh!" Said Mr. Gum,  Cynically,  After A Moment Of Natural Surprise. "Come

Out Of His Vault For A Morning Walk Past Your Window,  Mrs. G.!"

 

"Vault! I Mean Young Lord Hartledon,  Gum."

 

Mr. Gum Was A Little Taken Back. They Had Been So Much In The Habit Of

Calling The New Lord Hartledon,  Lord Elster--Who Had Not Lived At Calne

Since He Came Into The Title--That He Had Thought Of The Old Lord When

His Wife Was Speaking.

 

"He Was Up There,  Just By The Turning Of The Road,  Going On To Hartledon.

Gum,  I Nearly Dropped,  I Say. The Next Minute He Was Out Of Sight; Then I

Rubbed My Eyes And Pinched My Arms To Make Sure I Was Awake."

 

"And Whether You Saw A Ghost,  Or Whether You Didn't," Came The Mocking

Retort.

 

"It Was No Ghost,  Gum; It Was Lord Hartledon Himself."

 

"Nonsense! It Was Just As Much One As The Other. The Fact Is,  You Hadn't

Quite Woke Up Out Of That Fine Dream Of Yours,  And You Saw Double. It Was

Just As Much Young Hartledon As It Was Me."

 

"I Never Saw A Ghost Yet,  And I Don't Fear