Elster's Folly by Mrs. Henry Wood (most important books to read TXT) 📖
- Author: Mrs. Henry Wood
Book online «Elster's Folly by Mrs. Henry Wood (most important books to read TXT) 📖». Author Mrs. Henry Wood
Tuesday Morning Rose, Bright And Propitious: A Contrast To The Two
Previous Days Arranged For The Boat-Race. All Was Pleasure, Bustle,
Excitement At Hartledon: But The Coolness That Had Arisen Between The
Brothers Was Noticed By Some Of The Guests. Neither Of Them Was Disposed
To Take The First Step Towards Reconciliation: And, Indeed, A Little
Incident That Occurred That Morning Led To Another Ill Word Between
Them. An Account That Had Been Standing For More Than Two Years Was Sent
In To Lord Hartledon's Steward; It Was For Some Harness, A Saddle, A
Silver-Mounted Whip, And A Few Trifles Of That Sort, Supplied By A Small
Tradesman In The Village. Lord Hartledon Protested There Was Nothing Of
The Sort Owing; But Upon Inquiry The Debtor Proved To Be Mr. Percival
Elster. Lord Hartledon, Vexed That Any One In The Neighbourhood Should
Have Waited So Long For His Money, Said A Sharp Word On The Score To
Percival; And The Latter Retorted As Sharply That It Was No Business Of
His. Again Val Was Angry With Himself, And Thus Gave Vent To His Temper.
The Fact Was, He Had Completely Forgotten The Trifling Debt, And Was As
Vexed As Hartledon That It Should Have Been Allowed To Remain Unpaid: But
The Man Had Not Sent Him Any Reminder Whilst He Was Away.
"Pay It To-Day, Marris," Cried Lord Hartledon To His Steward. "I Won't
Have This Sort Of Thing At Calne."
His Tone Was One Of Irritation--Or It Sounded So To The Ears Of His
Conscious Brother, And Val Bit His Lips. After That, Throughout The
Morning, They Maintained A Studied Silence Towards Each Other; And
This Was Observed, But Was Not Commented On. Val Was Unusually Quiet
Altogether: He Was Saying To Himself That He Was Sullen.
The Starting-Hour For The Race Was Three O'clock; But Long Before That
Time The Scene Was Sufficiently Animated, Not To Say Exciting. It Was A
Most Lovely Afternoon. Not A Trace Remained Of The Previous Day's Rain;
And The River--Wide Just There, As It Took The Sweeping Curve Of The
Point--Was Dotted With These Little Wager Boats. Their Owners For The
Time Being, In Their White Boating-Costume, Each Displaying His Colours,
Were In Highest Spirits; And The Fair Gazers Gathered On The Banks Were
Anxious As To The Result. The Favourite Was Lord Hartledon--By Long Odds,
As Mr. Shute Grumbled. Had His Lordship Been Known Not To Possess The
Smallest Chance, Nine Of Those Fair Girls Out Of Ten Would, Nevertheless,
Have Betted Upon Him. Some Of Them Were Hoping To Play For A Deeper Stake
Than A Pair Of Gloves. A Staff, From Which Fluttered A Gay Little Flag,
Had Been Driven Into The Ground, Exactly Opposite The House; It Was The
Starting And The Winning Point. At A Certain Distance Up The River, Near
To The Mill, A Boat Was Moored In Mid-Stream: This They Would Row Round,
And Come Back Again.
At Three O'clock They Were To Take The Boats; And, Allowing For Time
Being Wasted In The Start, Might Be In Again And The Race Won In
Three-Quarters-Of-An-Hour. But, As Is Often The Case, The Time Was Not
Adhered To; One Hindrance After Another Occurred; There Was A Great Deal
Of Laughing And Joking, Forgetting Of Things, And Of Getting Into Order;
And At A Quarter To Four They Were Not Off. But All Were Ready At Last,
And Most Of The Rowers Were Each In His Little Cockle-Shell. Lord
Hartledon Lingered Yet In The Midst Of The Group Of Ladies, All Clustered
Together At One Spot, Who Were Keeping Him With Their Many Comments And
Questions. Each Wore The Colours Of Her Favourite: The Crimson And Purple
Predominating, For They Were Those Of Their Host. Lady Kirton Displayed
Her Loyalty In A Conspicuous Manner. She Had An Old Crimson Gauze Skirt
On, Once A Ball-Dress, With Ends Of Purple Ribbon Floating From It And
Fluttering In The Wind; And A Purple Head-Dress With A Crimson Feather.
Maude, In A Spirit Of Perversity, Displayed A Blue Shoulder-Knot, Timidly
Offered To Her By A Young Oxford Man Who Was Staying There, Mr. Shute;
And Anne Ashton Wore The Colours Given Her By Lord Hartledon.
"I Can't Stay; You'd Keep Me Here All Day: Don't You See They Are Waiting
For Me?" He Laughingly Cried, Extricating Himself From The Throng. "Why,
Anne, My Dear, Is It You? How Is It I Did Not See You Before? Are You
Here Alone?"
She Had Not Long Joined The Crowd, Having Come Up Late From The Rectory,
And Had Been Standing Outside, For She Never Put Herself Forward
Anywhere. Lord Hartledon Drew Her Arm Within His Own For A Moment And
Took Her Apart.
"Arthur Came Up With Me: I Don't Know Where He Is Now. Mamma Was Afraid
To Venture, Fearing The Grass Might Be Damp."
"And The Rector _Of Course_ Would Not Countenance Us By Coming," Said
Lord Hartledon, With A Laugh. "I Remember His Prejudices Against Boating
Of Old."
"He Is Coming To Dinner."
"As You All Are; Arthur Also To-Day. I Made The Doctor Promise That. A
Jolly Banquet We'll Have, Too, And Toast The Winner. Anne, I Just Wanted
To Say This To You; Val Is In An Awful Rage With Me For Letting That
Matter Get To The Ears Of Your Father, And I Am Not Pleased With Him; So
Altogether We Are Just Now Treating Each Other To A Dose Of Sullenness,
And When We Do Speak It's To Growl Like Two Amiable Bears; But It Shall
Make No Difference To What I Said Last Week. All Shall Be Made Smooth,
Even To The Satisfaction Of Your Father. You May Trust Me."
He Ran Off From Her, Stepped Into The Skiff, And Was Taking The Sculls,
When He Uttered A Sudden Exclamation, Leaped Out Again, And Began To Run
With All Speed Towards The House.
"What Is It? Where Are You Going?" Asked The O'moore, Who Was The
Appointed Steward.
"I Have Forgotten--" _What_, They Did Not Catch; The Word Was Lost On The
Air.
"It Is Bad Luck To Turn Back," Called Out Maude. "You Won't Win."
He Was Already Half-Way To The House. A Couple Of Minutes After Entering
It He Reappeared Again, And Came Flying Down The Slopes At Full Speed.
Suddenly His Foot Slipped, And He Fell To The Ground. The Only One Who
Saw The Accident Was Mr. O'moore; The General Attention At That Moment
Being Concentrated Upon The River. He Hastened Back. Hartledon Was Then
Gathering Himself Up, But Slowly.
"No Damage," Said He; "Only A Bit Of A Wrench To The Foot. Give Me Your
Arm For A Minute, O'moore. This Ground Must Be Slippery From Yesterday's
Rain."
Mr. O'moore Held Out His Arm, And Hartledon Took It. "The Ground Is Not
Slippery, Hart; It's As Dry As A Bone."
"Then What Caused Me To Slip?"
"The Rate You Were Coming At. Had You Not Better Give Up The Contest, And
Rest?"
"Nonsense! My Foot Will Be All Right In The Skiff. Let Us Get On; They'll
All Be Out Of Patience."
When It Was Seen That Something Was Amiss With Him, That He Leaned Rather
Heavily On The O'moore, Eager Steps Pressed Round Him. Lord Hartledon
Laughed, Making Light Of It; He Had Been So Clumsy As To Stumble, And Had
Twisted His Ankle A Little. It Was Nothing.
"Stay On Shore And Give It A Rest," Cried One, As He Stepped Once More
Into The Little Boat. "I Am Sure You Are Hurt."
"Not I. It Will Have Rest In The Boat. Anne," He Said, Looking Up At Her
With His Pleasant Smile, "Do You Wear My Colours Still?"
She Touched The Knot On Her Bosom, And Smiled Back To Him, Her Tone Full
Of Earnestness. "I Would Wear Them Always."
And The Countess-Dowager, In Her Bedecked Flounces And Crimson Feather,
Looked As If She Would Like To Throw The Knot And Its Wearer Into The
River, In The Wake Of The Wager Boats. After One Or Two False Starts,
They Got Off At Last.
"Do You Think It Seemly, This Flirtation Of Yours With Lord Hartledon?"
Anne Turned In Amazement. The Face Of The Old Dowager Was Close To Her;
The Snub Nose And Rouged Cheeks And False Flaxen Front Looked Ready To
Eat Her Up.
"I Have No Flirtation With Lord Hartledon, Lady Kirton; Or He With Me.
When I Was A Child, And He A Great Boy, Years Older, He Loved Me And
Petted Me As A Little Sister: I Think He Does The Same Still."
"My Daughter Tells Me You Are Counting Upon One Of The Two. If I Say To
You, Do Not Be Too Sanguine Of Either, I Speak As A Friend; As Your
Mother Might Speak. Lord Hartledon Is Already Appropriated; And Val
Elster Is Not Worth Appropriating."
Was She Mad? Anne Ashton Looked At Her, Really Doubting It. No, She Was
Only Vulgar-Minded, And Selfish, And Utterly Impervious To All Sense Of
Shame In Her Scheming. Instinctively Anne Moved A Pace Further Off.
"I Do Not Think Lord Hartledon Is Appropriated Yet," Spoke Anne, In A
Little Spirit Of Mischievous Retaliation. "That Some Amongst His Present
Guests Would Be Glad To Appropriate Him May Be Likely Enough; But What If
He Is Not Willing To Be Appropriated? He Said To Mr. Elster, Last Week,
That They Were Wasting Their Time."
"Who's Mr. Elster?" Cried The Angry Dowager. "What Right Has He To Be
At Hartledon, Poking His Nose Into Everything That Does Not Concern
Him?--What Right Has He, I Ask?"
"The Right Of Being Lord Hartledon's Brother," Carelessly Replied Anne.
"It Is A Right He Had Best Not Presume Upon," Rejoined Lady Kirton.
"Brothers Are Brothers As Children; But The Tie Widens As They Grow Up
And Launch Out Into Their Different Spheres. There's Not A Man Of All
Hartledon's Guests But Has More Right To Be Here Than Val Elster."
"Yet They Are Brothers Still."
"Brothers! I'll Take Care That Val Elster Presumes No More Upon The Tie
When Maude Reigns At--"
For Once The Countess-Dowager Caught Up Her Words. She Had Said More Than
She Had Meant To Say. Anne Ashton's Calm Sweet Eyes Were Bent Upon Her,
Waiting For More.
"It Is True," She Said, Giving A Shake To The Purple Tails, And Taking A
Sudden Resolution, "Maude Is To Be His Wife; But I Ought Not To Have Let
It Slip Out. It Was Unintentional; And I Throw Myself On Your Honour,
Miss Ashton."
"But It Is Not True?" Asked Anne, Somewhat Perplexed.
"It _Is_ True. Hartledon Has His Own Reasons For Keeping It Quiet At
Present; But--You'll See When The Time Comes. Should I Take Upon Myself
So Much Rule Here, But That It Is To Be Maude's Future Home?"
"I Don't Believe It," Cried Anne, As The Old Story-Teller Sailed Off.
"That She Loves Him, And That Her Mother Is Anxious To Secure Him, Is
Evident; But He Is Truthful And Open, And Would Never Conceal It. No, No,
Lady Maude! You Are Cherishing A False Hope. You Are Very Beautiful, But
You Are Not Worthy Of Him; And I Should Not Like You For My Sister-In-Law
At All. That Dreadful Old Countess-Dowager! How She Dislikes Val, And How
Rude She Is! I'll Try Not To Come In Her Way Again After To-Day, As Long
As They Are At Hartledon."
"What Are You Thinking Of, Anne?"
"Oh, Not Much," She Answered, With A Soft Blush, For The Questioner Was
Mr. Elster. "Do You Think Your Brother Has Hurt Himself Much, Val?"
"I Didn't Know He Had Hurt Himself At All," Returned Val Rather Coolly,
Who Had Been On The River At The Time In Somebody's Skiff, And Saw
Nothing Of The Occurrence. "What Has He Done?"
"He Slipped Down On The Slopes And Twisted His Ankle. I Suppose They Will
Be Coming Back Soon."
"I Suppose They Will," Was The Answer. Val Seemed In An Ungracious
Mood. He And Mr. O'moore And Young Carteret Were The Only Three Who Had
Remained Behind. Anne Asked Val Why He Did Not Go And Look On; And He
Answered, Because He Didn't Want To.
It Was Getting On For Five O'clock When The Boats Were Discerned
Returning. How They Clustered On The Banks, Watching The Excited Rowers,
Some Pale With Their Exertions, Others In A White Heat! Captain Dawkes
Was First, And Was Doing All He Could To Keep
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