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

By The Patient's

Bedside,  A Hand Was Laid On Her Shoulder. It Was Rhoda.

 

"Go To Bed,  Polly: You Are No Use Here."

 

"You'd Be Sleepy If You Worked As Hard As I Do."

 

"Very Likely," Said Rhoda,  With A Gentleness That Struck Polly As Very

Singular. "Good-Night."

 

Rhoda Spent The Night Watching,  And Thinking Harder Than She Had Ever

Thought Before.

 

Next Morning,  Early,  Polly Came Into The Sick-Room. There Sat Her

Sister Watching The Patient,  Out Of Sight.

 

"La,  Rhoda! Have You Sat There All Night?"

 

"Yes. Don't Speak So Loud. Come Here. You've Set Your Heart On This

Lilac Silk. I'll Give It To You For Your Black Merino."

 

"Not You,  My Lady; You Are Not So Fond Of Mereeny,  Nor Of Me Neither."

 

"I'm Not A Liar Like You," Said The Other,  Becoming Herself For A

Moment,  "And What I Say I'll Do. You Put Out Your Merino For Me In The

Dressing-Room."

 

"All Right," Said Polly,  Joyfully.

 

"And Bring Me Two Buckets Of Water Instead Of One. I Have Never Closed

My Eyes."

 

"Poor Soul! And Now You Be Going To Sluice Yourself All The Same.

Whatever You Can See In Cold Water,  To Run After It So,  I Can't Think.

If I Was To Flood Myself Like You,  It Would Soon Float Me To My Long

Home."

 

"How Do You Know? _You Never Gave It A Trial._ Come,  No More Chat. Give

Me My Bath: And Then You May Wash Yourself In A Tea-Cup If You

Like--Only Don't Wash My Spoons In The Same Water,  For _Mercy's Sake!"_

 

Thus Affectionately Stimulated In Her Duties,  Polly Brought Cold Water

Part 3 Chapter 5 Pg 37

Galore,  And Laid Out Her New Merino Dress. In This Sober Suit,  With

Plain Linen Collar And Cuffs,  The Somerset Dressed Herself,  And Resumed

Her Watching By The Bedside. She Kept More Than Ever Out Of Sight,  For

The Patient Was Now Beginning To Mutter Incoherently,  Yet In A Way That

Showed His Clouded Faculties Were Dwelling On The Calamity Which Had

Befallen Him.

 

About Noon The Bell Was Rung Sharply,  And,  On Polly Entering,  Rhoda

Called Her To The Window And Showed Her Two Female Figures Plodding

Down The Street. "Look," Said She. "Those Are The Only Women I Envy.

Sisters Of Charity. Run You After Them,  And Take A Good Look At Those

Beastly Ugly Caps: Then Come And Tell Me How To Make One."

 

"Here's A Go!" Said Polly; But Executed The Commission Promptly.

 

It Needed No Fashionable Milliner To Turn A Yard Of Linen Into One Of

Those Ugly Caps,  Which Are Beautiful Banners Of Christian Charity And

Womanly Tenderness To The Sick And Suffering. The Monster Cap Was Made

In An Hour,  And Miss Somerset Put It On,  And A Thick Veil,  And Then She

No Longer Thought It Necessary To Sit Out Of The Patient's Sight.

 

The Consequence Was That,  In The Middle Of His Ramblings,  He Broke Off

And Looked At Her. The Sister Puzzled Him. At Last He Called To Her In

French.

 

She Made No Reply.

 

"Je Suis A L'hopital,  N'est Ce Pas Bonne Soeur?"

 

"I Am English," Said She,  Softly.

 

Part 3 Chapter 6 Pg 38

 

"English!" Said Sir Charles. "Then Tell Me,  How Did I Come Here? Where

Am I?"

 

"You Had A Fit,  And The Doctor Ordered You To Be Kept Quiet; And I Am

Here To Nurse You."

 

"A Fit! Ay,  I Remember. That Vile Woman!"

 

"Don't Think Of Her: Give Your Mind To Getting Well: Remember,  There Is

Somebody Who Would Break Her Heart If You--"

 

"Oh,  My Poor Bella! My Sweet,  Timid,  Modest,  Loving Bella!" He Was So

Part 3 Chapter 6 Pg 39

Weakened That He Cried Like A Child.

 

Miss Somerset Rose,  And Laid Her Forehead Sadly Upon The Window-Sill.

 

"Why Do I Cry For Her,  Like A Great Baby?" Muttered Sir Charles. "She

Wouldn't Cry For Me. She Has Cast Me Off In A Moment."

 

"Not She. It Is Her Father's Doing. Have A Little Patience. The Whole

Thing Shall Be Explained To Them; And Then She Will Soon Soften The Old

Man. 'It Is Not As If You Were Really To Blame."

 

"No More I Was. It Is All That Vile Woman."

 

"Oh,  Don't! She Is So Sorry; She Has Taken It All To Heart. She Had

Once Shammed A Fit,  On The Very Place; And When You Had A Real Fit

There--On The Very Spot--Oh,  It Was So Fearful--And Lay Like One Dead,

She Saw God's Finger,  And It Touched Her Hard Heart. Don't Say Anything

More Against Her Just Now. She Is Trying So Hard To Be Good. And,

Besides,  It Is All A Mistake: She Never Told That Old Admiral; She

Never Breathed A Word Out Of Her Own House. Her Own People Have

Betrayed Her And You. She Has Made Me Promise Two Things: To Find Out

Who Told The Admiral,  And--"

 

"Well?"

 

"The Second Thing I Have To Do--Well,  That Is A Secret Between Me And

That Unhappy Woman. She Is Bad Enough,  But Not So Heartless As You

Think."

 

Sir Charles Shook His Head Incredulously,  But Said No More; And Soon

After Fell Asleep.

 

In The Evening He Woke,  And Found The Sister Watching.

 

She Now Turned Her Head Away From Him,  And Asked Him Quietly To

Describe Miss Bella Bruce To Her.

 

He Described Her In Minute And Glowing Terms. "But Oh,  Sister," Said

He,  "It Is Not Her Beauty Only,  But The Beauty Of Her Mind. So Gentle,

So Modest,  So Timid,  So Docile. She Would Never Have Had The Heart To

Turn Me Off. But She Will Obey Her Father. She Looked Forward To Obey

Me,  Sweet Dove."

 

"Did She Say So?"

 

"Yes,  That Is Her Dream Of Happiness,  To Obey."

 

The Sister Still Questioned Him With Averted Head,  And He Told Her What

Had Passed Between Bella And Him The Last Time He Saw Her,  And All

Their Innocent Plans Of Married Happiness. He Told Her,  With The Tear

In His Eye,  And She Listened,  With The Tear In Hers. "And Then," Said

He,  Laying His Hand On Her Shoulder,  "Is It Not Hard? I Just Went To

Mayfair,  Not To Please Myself,  But To Do An Act Of Justice--Of More

Than Justice; And Then,  For That,  To Have Her Door Shut In My Face.

Part 3 Chapter 6 Pg 40

Only Two Hours Between The Height Of Happiness And The Depth Of

Misery."

 

The Sister Said Nothing,  But She Hid Her Face In Her Hands,  And

Thought.

 

The Next Morning,  By Her Order,  Polly Came Into The Room,  And Said,

"You Are To Go Home. The Carriage Is At The Door." With This She

Retired,  And Sir Charles's Valet Entered The Room Soon After To Help

Him Dress.

 

"Where Am I,  James?"

 

"Miss Somerset's House,  Sir Charles."

 

"Then Get Me Out Of It Directly."

 

"Yes,  Sir Charles. The Carriage Is At The Door."

 

"Who Told You To Come,  James?"

 

"Miss Somerset,  Sir Charles."

 

"That Is Odd."

 

"Yes,  Sir Charles."

 

 

 

 

 

 

When He Got Home He Found A Sofa Placed By A Fire,  With Wraps And

Pillows; His Cigar Case Laid Out,  And A Bottle Of Salts,  And Also A

Small Glass Of Old Cognac,  In Case Of Faintness.

 

"Which Of You Had The Gumption To Do All This?"

 

"Miss Somerset,  Sir Charles."

 

"What,  Has She Been _Here?"_

 

"Yes,  Sir Charles."

 

"Curse Her!"

 

"Yes,  Sir Charles."

 

 

 

 

 

Part 3 Chapter 7 Pg 41

"Love Lies Bleeding."

 

Bella Bruce Was Drinking The Bitterest Cup A Young Virgin Soul Can

Taste. Illusion Gone--The Wicked World Revealed As It Is,  How Unlike

What She Thought It Was--Love Crushed In Her,  And Not Crushed Out Of

Her,  As It Might If She Had Been Either Proud Or Vain.

 

Frail Men And Women Should See What A Passionate But Virtuous Woman Can

Suffer,  When A Revelation,  Of Which They Think But Little,  Comes And

Blasts Her Young Heart,  And Bids Her Dry Up In A Moment The Deep Well

Of Her Affection,  Since It Flows For An Unworthy Object,  And Flows In

Vain. I Tell You That The Fair Head Severed From The Chaste Body Is

Nothing To Her Compared With This. The Fair Body,  Pierced With Heathen

Arrows,  Was Nothing To Her In The Days Of Old Compared With This.

 

In A Word--For Nowadays We Can But Amplify,  And So Enfeeble,  What Some

Old Dead Master Of Language,  Immortal Though Obscure,  Has Said In Words

Of Granite--Here

 

         "Love Lay Bleeding."

 

No Fainting--No Vehement Weeping; But Oh,  Such Deep Desolation; Such

Weariness Of Life; Such A Pitiable Restlessness. Appetite Gone; The

Taste Of Food Almost Lost; Sleep Unwilling To Come; And Oh,  The Torture

Of Waking--For At That Horrible Moment All Rushed Back At Once,  The Joy

That Had Been,  The Misery That Was,  The Blank That Was To Come.

 

She Never Stirred Out,  Except When Ordered,  And Then Went Like An

Automaton. Pale,  Sorrow-Stricken,  And Patient,  She Moved About,  The

Ghost Of Herself; And Lay Down A Little,  And Then Tried To Work A

Little,  And Then To Read A Little; And Could Settle