Elster's Folly by Mrs. Henry Wood (most important books to read TXT) 📖

Cautiously Pursued His Way,  The Face He Had

Just Quitted Continued To Haunt Him. It Was Not Like Any Face He Had Ever

Seen,  As Far As He Could Remember; Nevertheless Ever And Anon Some

Reminiscence Seemed To Start Out Of It And Vibrate Upon A Chord In His

Memory.

Chapter 7 (Listeners)

It Was A Somewhat Singular Coincidence,  Noted After The Terrible Event,

Now Looming In The Distance,  Had Taken Place,  And When People Began To

Weigh The Various Circumstances Surrounding It,  That Monday,  The Second

Day Fixed For The Boat-Race,  Should Be Another Day Of Rain. As Though

Heaven Would Have Interposed To Prevent It! Said The Thoughtful And

Romantic.

 

A Steady,  Pouring Rain; Putting A Stop Again To The Race For That Day.

The Competitors Might Have Been Willing To Face The Elements Themselves,

But Could Not Subject The Fair Spectators To The Infliction. There Was

Some Inward Discontent,  And A Great Deal Of Outward Grumbling; It Did No

Good,  And The Race Was Put Off Until The Next Day.

 

Val Elster Still Retained His Liberty. Very Chary Indeed Had He Been Of

Showing Himself Outside The Door On Saturday,  Once He Was Safely Within

It. Neither Had Any Misfortune Befallen Lord Hartledon. That Unconscious

Victim Must Have Contrived,  In All Innocence,  To "Dodge" The Gentleman

Who Was Looking Out For Him,  For They Did Not Meet.

 

On The Sunday It Happened That Neither Of The Brothers Went To Church.

Lord Hartledon,  On Awaking In The Morning,  Found He Had A Sore Throat,

And Would Not Get Up. Val Did Not Dare Show Himself Out Of Doors. Not

From Fear Of Arrest That Day,  But Lest Any Officious Meddler Should Point

Him Out As The Real Simon Pure,  Percival Elster. But For These

Circumstances,  The Man With The Writ Could Hardly Have Remained

Under The Delusion,  As He Appeared At Church Himself.

 

"Which Is Lord Hartledon?" He Whispered To His Neighbour On The Free

Benches,  When The Party From The Great House Had Entered,  And Settled

Themselves In Their Pews.

 

"I Don't See Him. He Has Not Come To-Day."

 

"Which Is Mr. Elster?"

 

"He Has Not Come,  Either." So For That Day Recognition Was Escaped.

 

It Was Not To Be So On The Next. The Rain,  As I Have Said,  Came Down,

Putting Off The Boat-Race,  And Keeping Hartledon's Guests Indoors All The

Morning; But Late In The Afternoon Some Unlucky Star Put It Into Lord

Hartledon's Head To Go Down To The Rectory. His Throat Was Better--Almost

Well Again; And He Was Not A Man To Coddle Himself Unnecessarily.

 

He Paid His Visit,  Stayed Talking A Considerable Time With Mrs. Ashton,

Whose Company He Liked,  And Took His Departure About Six O'clock. "You

And Anne Might Almost Walk Up With Me," He Remarked To The Doctor As He

Shook Hands; For The Rector And Miss Ashton Were To Dine At Hartledon

That Day. It Was To Have Been The Crowning Festival To The Boat-Race--The

Race Which Now Had Not Taken Place.

 

Lord Hartledon Looked Up At The Skies,  And Found He Had No Occasion To

Open His Umbrella,  For The Rain Had Ceased. Sundry Bright Rays In The

West Seemed To Give Hope That The Morrow Would Be Fair; And,  Rejoicing In

This Cheering Prospect,  He Crossed The Broad Rectory Lawn. As He Went

Through The Gate Some One Laid A Hand Upon His Shoulder.

 

"The Honourable Percival Elster,  I Believe?"

 

Lord Hartledon Looked At The Intruder. A Seedy Man,  With A Long Coat And

Red Whiskers,  Who Held Out Something To Him.

 

"Who Are You?" He Asked,  Releasing His Shoulder By A Sharp Movement.

 

"I'm Sorry To Do It,  Sir; But You Know We Are Only The Agent Of Others In

These Affairs. You Are My Prisoner,  Sir."

 

"Indeed!" Said Lord Hartledon,  Taking The Matter Coolly. "You Have Got

Hold Of The Wrong Man For Once. I Am Not Mr. Percival Elster."

 

The Capturer Laughed: A Very Civil Laugh. "It Won't Do,  Sir; We Often

Have That Trick Tried On Us."

 

"But I Tell You I Am _Not_ Mr. Elster," He Reiterated,  Speaking This Time

With Some Anger. "I Am Lord Hartledon."

 

He Of The Loose Coat Shook His Head. He Had His Hand Again On The

Supposed Mr. Elster's Arm,  And Told Him He Must Go With Him.

 

"You Cannot Take Me; You Cannot Arrest A Peer. This Is Simply

Ridiculous," Continued Lord Hartledon,  Almost Laughing At The Real

Absurdity Of The Thing. "Any Child In Calne Could Tell You Who I Am."

 

"As Well Make No Words Over It,  Sir. It's Only Waste Of Time."

 

"You Have A Warrant--As I Understand--To Arrest Mr. Percival Elster?"

 

"Yes,  Sir,  I Have. The Man That Was Looking For You In London Got Taken

Ill,  And Couldn't Come Down,  So Our Folks Sent Me. 'You'll Know Him By

His Good Looks,' Said They; 'An Aristocrat Every Inch Of Him.' Don't Give

Me Trouble,  Sir."

 

"Well Now--I Am Not Percival Elster: I Am His Brother,  Lord Hartledon.

You Cannot Take One Brother For Another; And,  What's More,  You Had Better

Not Try To Do It. Stay! Look Here."

 

He Pulled Out His Card-Case,  And Showed His Cards--"Earl Of Hartledon."

He Exhibited A Couple Of Letters That Happened To Be About Him--"The

Right Honble. The Earl Of Hartledon." It Was Of No Use.

 

"I've Known That Dodge Tried Before Too," Said His Obstinate Capturer.

 

Lord Hartledon Was Growing More Angry. He Saw Some Proof Must Be Tendered

Before He Could Regain His Liberty. Jabez Gum Happened To Be Standing At

His Gate Opposite,  And He Called To Him.

 

"Will You Be So Kind As To Tell This Man Who I Am,  Mr. Gum. He Is

Mistaking Me For Some One Else."

 

"This Is The Earl Of Hartledon," Said Jabez,  Promptly.

 

A Moment's Hesitation On The Officer's Part; But He Felt Too Sure Of His

Man To Believe This. "I'll Take The Risk," Said He,  Stolidly. "Where's

The Good Of Your Holding Out,  Mr. Elster?"

 

"Come This Way,  Then!" Cried Lord Hartledon,  Beginning To Lose His

Temper. "And If You Carry This Too Far,  My Man,  I'll Have You Punished."

 

He Went Striding Up To The Rectory. Had He Taken A Moment For

Consideration,  He Might Have Turned Away,  Rather Than Expose This

Misfortune Of Val's There. The Doctor Came Into The Hall,  And Was

Recognized As The Rector,  And There Was Some Little Commotion; Anne's

White Face Looking On From A Distance. The Man Was Convinced,  And Took

His Departure,  Considerably Crestfallen.

 

"What Is The Amount?" Called The Doctor,  Sternly.

 

"Not Very Much,  _This_,  Sir. It's Under Three Hundred."

 

Which Was As Much As To Say There Was More Behind It. Dr. Ashton Mentally

Washed His Hands Of Percival Elster As A Future Son-In-Law.

 

The First Intimation That Ill-Starred Gentleman Received Of The Untoward

Turn Affairs Were Taking Was From The Rector Himself.

 

Mr. Percival Elster Had Been Chuckling Over That Opportune Sore Throat,

As A Means Of Keeping His Brother Indoors; And It Never Occurred To Him

That Lord Hartledon Would Venture Out At All On The Monday. Being A Man

With His Wits About Him,  It Had Not Failed To Occur To His Mind That

There Was A Possibility Of Lord Hartledon's Being Arrested In Place Of

Himself; But So Long As Hartledon Kept Indoors The Danger Was Averted.

Had Percival Elster Seen His Brother Go Out He Might Have Plucked Up

Courage To Tell Him The State Of Affairs.

 

But He Did Not See Him. Lounging Idly--What Else Had He,  A Poor Prisoner,

To Do?--In The Sunny Society Of Maude Kirton And Other Attractive Girls,

Mr. Elster Was Unconscious Of The Movements Of The Household In General.

He Was In His Own Room Dressing For Dinner When The Truth Burst Upon Him.

 

Dr. Ashton Was A Straightforward; Practical Man--It Has Been Already

Stated--Who Went Direct To The Point At Once In Any Matters Of

Difficulty. He Arrived At Hartledon A Few Minutes Before The Dinner-Hour,

Found Mr. Elster Was Yet In His Dressing-Room,  And Went There To Him.

 

The News,  The Cool,  Scornful Anger Of The Rector,  The Keen Question--"Was

He Mad?" Burst Upon The Unhappy Val Like A Clap Of Thunder. He Was

Standing In His Shirt-Sleeves,  Ready To Go Down,  All But His Coat And

Waistcoat,  His Hair-Brushes In The Uplifted Hands. Hands And Brushes Had

Been Arrested Midway In The Shock. The Calm Clerical Man; All The More

Terrible Then Because Of His Calmness; Standing There With His Cold

Stinging Words,  And His Unhappy Culprit Facing Him,  Conscious Of His

Heinous Sins--The Worst Sin Of All: That Of Being Found Out.

 

"Others Have Done So Much Before Me,  Sir,  And Have Not Made The Less Good

Men," Spoke Val,  In His Desperation.

 

Dr. Ashton Could Not Help Admiring The Man,  As He Stood There In His

Physical Beauty. In Spite Of His Inward Anger,  His Condemnation,  His

Disappointment--And They Were All Very Great--The Good Looks Of Percival

Elster Struck Him Forcibly With A Sort Of Annoyance: Why Should These Men

Be So Outwardly Fair,  So Inwardly Frail? Those Good Looks Had Told Upon

His Daughter's Heart; And They All Loved _Her_,  And Could Not Bear To

Cause Her Pain. Tall,  Supple,  Graceful,  Strong,  Towering Nearly A Head

Above The Doctor,  He Stood,  His Pleasing Features Full Of The Best Sort

Of Attraction,  His Violet Eyes Rather Wider Open Than Usual,  The Waves Of

His Silken Hair Smooth And Bright. "If He Were Only Half As Fair In

Conduct As In Looks!" Muttered The Grieved Divine.

 

But Those Violet Eyes,  Usually Beaming With Kindness,  Suddenly Changed

Their Present Expression Of Depreciation To One Of Rage. Dr. Ashton Gave

A Pretty Accurate Description Of How The Crisis Had Been Brought To His

Knowledge--That Lord Hartledon Had Come To The Rectory,  With His Mistaken

Assailant,  To Be Identified; And Percival Elster's Anger Was Turned

Against His Brother. Never In All His Life Had He Been In So Great A

Passion; And Having To Suppress Its Signs In The Presence Of The Rector

Only Made The Fuel Burn More Fiercely. To Ruin Him With The Doctor By

Going _There_ With The News! Anywhere Else--Anywhere But The Rectory!

 

Hedges,  The Butler,  Interrupted The Conference. Dinner Was Waiting. Lord

Hartledon Looked At Val As The Two Entered The Room,  And Was Rather

Surprised At The Furious Gaze Of Reproach That Was Cast Back On Him.

 

Miss Ashton Was Not There. No,  Of Course Not! It Needed Not Val's Glance

Around To Be Assured Of That. Of Course They Were To Be Separated From

That Hour; The Fiat Was Already Gone Forth. And Mr. Val Elster Felt So

Savage That He Could Have Struck His Brother. He Heard Dr. Ashton's Reply

To An Inquiry--That Mrs. Ashton Was Feeling Unusually Poorly,  And Anne

Remained At Home With Her--But He Looked Upon It As An Evasion. Not A

Word Did He Speak During Dinner: Not A Word,  Save What Was Forced From

Him By Common Courtesy,  Spoke He After The Ladies Had Left The Room; He

Only Drank A Great Deal Of Wine.

 

A Very Unusual Circumstance For Val Elster. With All His Weak Resolution,

His Yielding Nature,  Drinking Was A Fault He Was Scarcely Ever Seduced

Into. Not Above Two Or Three Times In His Life Could He Remember To Have

Exceeded The Bounds Of Strict,  Temperate Sobriety. The Fact Was,  He Was

In Wrath With Himself: All His Past Follies Were Pressing Upon Him With

Bitter Condemnation. He Was Just In That Frame Of Mind When An Object To

Vent Our Fury Upon Becomes A Sort Of Necessity; And Mr. Elster's Was

Vented On His Brother.

 

He Was Waiting At Boiling-Point For The Opportunity To "Have It Out" With

Him: And It Soon Came. As The Gentlemen Left The Dining-Room--And In

These Present Days They Do Not,  As A Rule,  Sit Long,  Especially When The

Host Is A Young Man--Percival Elster Touched His Brother To Detain Him,

And Shut The Door On The Heels Of The Rest.

 

Lord Hartledon Was Surprised. Val's Attack Was So Savage. He Was Talking

Off His Superfluous Wrath,  And The Wine He Had Taken Did Not Tend To Cool

His Heat. Lord Hartledon,  Vexed At The Injustice,