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

An Instant's Peace,  Night Or Day."

 

He Hid His Face In His Pain. This Was The Moment He Had Dreaded For

Years; Anything,  So That It Might Be Kept From Her,  He Had Prayed In His

Never-Ceasing Fear.

 

"Forgive,  Forgive Me! Oh,  Maude,  Forgive Me!"

 

She Did Not Respond; She Did Not Attempt To Soothe Him; If Ever Looks

Expressed Reproach And Aversion,  Hers Did Then.

 

"Have Compassion Upon Me,  Maude! I Was More Sinned Against Than Sinning."

 

"What Compassion Had You For Me? How Dared You Marry Me? You,  Bound With

Crime?"

 

"The Worst Is Over,  Maude; The Worst Is Over."

 

"It Can Never Be Over: You Are Guilty Of Wilful Sophistry. The Crime

Remains; And--Lord Hartledon--Its Fruits Remain."

 

He Interrupted Her Excited Words By Voice And Gesture; He Took Her Hands

In His. She Snatched Them From Him,  And Burst Into A Fit Of Hysterical

Crying,  Which Ended In A Faintness Almost As Of Death. He Did Not Dare To

Call Assistance; An Unguarded Word Might Have Slipped Out Unawares.

 

Shut Them In; Shut Them In! They Had Need To Be Alone In A Scene Such As

That.

 

Lord And Lady Hartledon Went Down To Calne,  As She Wished. But Not

Immediately; Some Two Or Three Weeks Elapsed,  And During That Time Mr.

Carr Was A Good Deal With Both Of Them. Their Sole Friend: The Only Man

Cognizant Of The Trouble They Had Yet To Battle With; Who Alone Might

Whisper A Word Of Something Like Consolation.

 

Lady Hartledon Seemed To Improve. Whether It Was The Country,  Or The Sort

Of Patched-Up Peace That Reigned Between Her And Her Husband,  She Grew

Stronger And Better,  And Began To Go Out Again And Enjoy Life As Usual.

But In Saying Life,  It Must Not Be Thought That Gaiety Is Implied; None

Could Shun That As Lady Hartledon Now Seemed To Shun It. And He,  For

The First Time Since His Marriage,  Began To Take Some Interest In His

Native Place,  And In His Own Home. The Old Sensitive Feeling In Regard To

Meeting The Ashtons Lingered Still; Was Almost As Strong As Ever; And He

Had The Good Sense To See That This Must Be Overcome,  If Possible,  If He

Made Hartledon His Home For The Future,  As His Wife Now Talked Of Doing.

 

As A Preliminary Step To It,  He Appeared At Church; One,  Two,  Three

Sundays. On The Second Sunday His Wife Went With Him. Anne Was In Her

Pew,  With Her Younger Brother,  But Not Mrs. Ashton: She,  As Lord

Hartledon Knew By Report,  Was Too Ill Now To Go Out. Each Day Dr. Ashton

Did The Whole Duty; His Curate,  Mr. Graves,  Was Taking A Holiday. Lord

Hartledon Heard Another Report,  That The Curate Had Been Wanting To

Press His Attentions On Miss Ashton. The Truth Was,  As None Had Known

Better Than Val Elster,  Mr. Graves Had Wanted To Press Them Years And

Years Ago. He Had At Length Made Her An Offer,  And She Had Angrily

Refused Him. A Foolish Girl! Said Indignant Mrs. Graves,  Reproachfully.

Her Son Was A Model Son,  And Would Make A Model Husband; And He Would

Be A Wealthy Man,  As Anne Knew,  For He Must Sooner Or Later Come Into The

Entailed Property Of His Uncle. It Was Not At All Pleasant To Lord

Hartledon To Stand There In His Pew,  With Recollection Upon Him,  And The

Gaze Of The Ashtons Studiously Turned From Him,  And Jabez Gum Looking Out

At Him From The Corners Of His Eyes As He Made His Sonorous Responses. A

Wish For Reconciliation Took Strong Possession Of Lord Hartledon,  And He

Wondered Whether He Could Not Bring Himself To Sue For It. He Wanted

Besides To Stay For The After-Service,  Which He Had Not Done Since He Was

A Young Man--Never Since His Marriage. Maude Had Stayed Occasionally,  As

Was The Fashion; But He Never. I Beg You Not To Quarrel With Me For The

Word; Some Of The Partakers In That After-Service Remain From No Higher

Motive. Certainly Poor Maude Had Not.

 

On The Third Sunday,  Lord Hartledon Went To Sauntered About The Lawn And

Terraces With Her Companion,  Tilting Her Parasol Prettily Over Her

Shoulder,  So That It Formed An Entrancing Background To Her Face And

Head. She Seemed To Be Entertaining The Young Man. His Big Laugh And The

Silver Music Of Her Own Lighter Merriment Rang Out A Little

Tantalisingly.

 

"I Wonder What Cora Is Saying," Said Mrs. Brooke To The Group At Large.

"She Always Makes Men Laugh So."

 

Emily Fox-Seton Felt An Interest Herself,  The Merriment Sounded So

Attractive. She Wondered If Perhaps To A Man Who Had Been So Much Run

After A Girl Who Took No Notice Of His Presence And Amused Other Men So

Much Might Not Assume An Agreeable Aspect.

 

But He Took More Notice Of Lady Agatha Slade Than Of Any One Else That

Evening. She Was Placed Next To Him At Dinner,  And She Really Was

Radiant To Look Upon In Palest Green Chiffon. She Had An Exquisite

Little Head,  With Soft Hair Piled With Wondrous Lightness Upon It,  And

Her Long Little Neck Swayed Like The Stem Of A Flower. She Was Lovely

Enough To Arouse In The Beholder's Mind The Anticipation Of Her Being

Silly,  But She Was Not Silly At All.

 

Lady Maria Commented Upon That Fact To Miss Fox-Seton When They Met In

Her Bedroom Late That Night. Lady Maria Liked To Talk And Be Talked To

For Half An Hour After The Day Was Over,  And Emily Fox-Seton's Admiring

Interest In All She Said She Found At Once Stimulating And Soothing. Her

Ladyship Was An Old Woman Who Indulged And Inspired Herself With An

Epicurean Wisdom. Though She Would Not Have Stupid People About Her,  She

Did Not Always Want Very Clever Ones.

 

"They Give Me Too Much Exercise," She Said. "The Epigrammatic Ones Keep

Me Always Jumping Over Fences. Besides,  I Like To Make All The Epigrams

Myself."

 

Emily Fox-Seton Struck A Happy Mean,  And She Was A Genuine Admirer. She

Was Intelligent Enough Not To Spoil The Point Of An Epigram When She

Repeated It,  And She Might Be Relied Upon To Repeat It And Give All The

Glory To Its Originator. Lady Maria Knew There Were People Who,  Hearing

Your Good Things,  Appropriated Them Without A Scruple. To-Night She Said

A Number Of Good Things To Emily In Summing Up Her Guests And Their

Characteristics.

 

"Walderhurst Has Been To Me Three Times When I Made Sure That He Would

Not Escape Without A New Marchioness Attached To Him. I Should Think He

Would Take One To Put An End To The Annoyance Of Dangling Unplucked Upon

The Bough. A Man In His Position,  If He Has Character Enough To Choose,

Can Prevent Even His Wife's Being A Nuisance. He Can Give Her A Good

House,  Hang The Family Diamonds On Her,  Supply A Decent Elderly Woman As

A Sort Of Lady-In-Waiting And Turn Her Into The Paddock To Kick Up Her

Heels Within The Limits Of Decorum. His Own Rooms Can Be Sacred To Him.

He Has His Clubs And His Personal Interests. Husbands And Wives Annoy

Each Other Very Little In These Days. Married Life Has Become

Comparatively Decent."

 

"I Should Think His Wife Might Be Very Happy," Commented Emily. "He

Looks Very Kind."

 

"I Don't Know Whether He Is Kind Or Not. It Has Never Been Necessary For

Me To Borrow Money From Him."

 

Lady Maria Was Capable Of Saying Odd Things In Her Refined Little

Drawling Voice.

 

"He's More Respectable Than Most Men Of His Age. The Diamonds Are

Magnificent,  And He Not Only Has Three Superb Places,  But Has Money

Enough To Keep Them Up. Now,  There Are Three Aspirants At Mallowe In The

Present Party. Of Course You Can Guess Who They Are,  Emily?"

 

Emily Fox-Seton Almost Blushed. She Felt A Little Indelicate.

 

"Lady Agatha Would Be Very Suitable," She Said. "And Mrs. Ralph Is Very

Clever,  Of Course. And Miss Brooke Is Really Pretty."

 

Lady Maria Gave Vent To Her Small Chuckle.

 

"Mrs. Ralph Is The Kind Of Woman Who Means Business. She'll Corner

Walderhurst And Talk Literature And Roll Her Eyes At Him Until He Hates

Her. These Writing Women,  Who Are Intensely Pleased With Themselves,  If

They Have Some Good Looks Into The Bargain,  Believe Themselves Capable

Of Marrying Any One. Mrs. Ralph Has Ftoht

Have Been Unconsciously Upon Her,  Guiding Her Spirit To Meekness,  If Not

Yet Quite To Peace. Lord Hartledon Thought She Was Growing Strong; And,

Save That She Would Rather Often Go Into A Passion Of Hysterical Tears As

She Clasped Her Children To Her,  Particularly The Boy,  Her Days Passed

Calmly Enough. She Indulged The Children Beyond All Reason,  And It Was Of

No Use For Their Father To Interfere. Once When He Stepped In To Prevent

It,  She Flew Out Almost Like A Tigress,  Asking What Business It Was Of

His,  That He Should Dare To Come Between Her And Them. The Lesson Was An

Effectual One; And He Never Interfered Again. But The Indulgence Was

Telling On The Boy's Naturally Haughty Disposition; And Not For Good.

Chapter 30 (In The Park)

As The Days And Weeks Went On,  And Lord And Lady Hartledon Continued At

Calne,  There Was One Circumstance That Began To Impress Itself On The

Mind Of The Former In A Careless Sort Of Way--That He Was Constantly

Meeting Pike. Go Out When He Would,  He Was Sure To See Pike In Some

Out-Of-The-Way Spot; At A Sudden Turning,  Or Peering Forth From Under

A Group Of Trees,  Or Watching Him From A Roadside Bank. One Special Day

Impressed Itself On Lord Hartledon's Memory. He Was Walking Slowly Along

The Road With Dr. Ashton,  And Found Pike Keeping Pace With Them Softly On

The Other Side The Hedge,  Listening No Doubt To What He Could Hear. On

One Of These Occasions Val Stopped And Confronted Him.

 

"What Is It You Want,  Mr. Pike?"

 

Perhaps Mr. Pike Was About The Last Man In The World To Be,  As The Saying

Runs,  "Taken Aback," And He Stood His Ground,  And Boldly Answered

"Nothing."

 

"It Seems As Though You Did," Said Val. "Go Where I Will,  You Are Sure To

Spring Up Before Me,  Or To Be Peeping From Some Ambush As I Walk Along.

It Will Not Do: Do You Understand?"

 

"I Was Just Thinking The Same Thing Yesterday--That Your Lordship Was

Always Meeting _Me_," Said Pike. "No Offence On Either Side,  I Dare Say."

 

Val Walked On,  Throwing The Man A Significant Look Of Warning,  But

Vouchsafing No Other Reply. After That Pike Was A Little More Cautious,

And Kept Aloof For A Time; But Val Knew That He Was Still Watched On

Occasion.

 

One Fine October Day,  When The Grain Had Been Gathered In And The Fields

Were Bare With Stubble,  Hartledon,  Alone In One Of The Front Rooms,  Heard

A Contest Going On Outside. Throwing Up The Window,  He Saw His Young Son

Attempting To Mount The Groom's Pony: The Latter Objecting. At The Door

Stood A Low Basket Carriage,  Harnessed With The Fellow Pony. They

Belonged To Lady Hartledon; Sometimes She Drove Only One; And The Groom,

A Young Lad Of Fourteen,  Light And Slim,  Rode The Other: Sometimes Both

Ponies Were In The Carriage; And On Those Occasions The Boy Sat By Her

Side,  And Drove.

 

"What's The Matter,  Edward?" Called Out Lord Hartledon To His Son.

 

"Young Lordship Wants To Ride The Pony,  My Lord," Said The Groom. "My

Lady Ordered Me To Ride It."

 

At This Juncture Lady Hartledon Appeared On The Scene,  Ready For Her

Drive. She Had Intended To Take Her Little Son With Her--As She Generally

Did--But The Child Boisterously Demanded That He Should Ride The Pony For

Once,  And She Weakly Yielded. Lord Hartledon's Private Opinion,  Looking

On,  Was That She Was Literally Incapable Of Denying Him Any Earthly Thing

He Chose To Demand. He Went Out.

 

"He Had Better Go With You In The Carriage,  Maude."

 

"Not At All. He Sits Very Well Now,  And The Pony's Perfectly Quiet."

 

"But He Is Too Young To Ride By The Side Of Any Vehicle. It Is Not Safe.

Let