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

Things To Do Since I Came Here Besides

Inquiring Into Titles And Folks That Don't Concern Me," Remarked The

Station-Master. "What A Good-Looking Man He Is!"

 

The Praise Applied To Mr. Elster,  After Whom He Was Throwing A Parting

Look. Jones Gave An Ungracious Assent,  And Turned Into The Shed Where The

Lamps Were Kept,  To Begin His Morning's Work.

 

All The World Would Have Been Ready To Echo The Station-Master's Words

As To The Good Looks Of Percival Elster,  Known Universally Amidst His

Friends As Val Elster; For These Good Looks Did Not Lie So Much In Actual

Beauty--Which One Lauds,  And Another Denies,  According To Its Style--As

In The Singularly Pleasant Expression Of Countenance; A Gift That Finds

Its Weight With All.

 

He Possessed A Bright Face; His Complexion Was Fair And Fresh,  His Eyes

Were Blue And Smiling,  His Features Were Good; And As He Walked Down

The Road,  And Momentarily Lifted His Hat To Push His Light Hair--As Much

Of A Golden Colour As Hair Ever Is--From His Brow,  And Gave A Cordial

"Good-Day" To Those Who Met Him On Their Way To Work--Few Strangers But

Would Have Given Him A Second Look Of Admiration. A Physiognomist Might

Have Found Fault With The Face; And,  Whilst Admitting Its Sweet

Expression,  Would Have Condemned It For Its Utter Want Of Resolution.

What Of That? The Inability To Say "No" To Any Sort Of Persuasion,

Whether For Good Or Ill; In Short,  A Total Absence Of What May Be Called

Moral Courage; Had Been From His Childhood Val Elster's Besetting Sin.

 

There Was A Joke Against Little Val When He Was A Boy Of Seven. Some

Playmates Had Insisted Upon His Walking Into A Pond,  And Standing There.

Poor Val,  Quite Unable To Say "No," Walked In,  And Was Nearly Drowned For

His Pains. It Had Been A Joke Against Him Then; How Many Such "Jokes"

Could Have Been Brought Against Him Since He Grew Up,  Val Himself Could

Alone Tell. As The Child Had Been,  So Was The Man. The Scrapes His

Irresolution Brought Him Into He Did Not Care To Glance At; And Whilst

Only Too Well Aware Of His One Lamentable Deficiency,  He Was Equally

Aware That He Was Powerless To Stand Against It.

 

People,  In Speaking Of This,  Called It "Elster's Folly." His Extreme

Sensitiveness As To The Feelings Of Other People,  Whether Equals Or

Inferiors,  Was,  In A Degree,  One Of The Causes Of This Yielding Nature;

And He Would Almost Rather Have Died Than Offer Any One A Personal

Offence,  An Insulting Word Or Look. There Are Such Characters In The

World; None Can Deny That They Are Amiable; But,  Oh,  How Unfit To Battle

With Life!

 

Mr. Elster Walked Slowly Through The Village On His Way To Hartledon,

Whose Inmates He Would Presently Take By Surprise. It Was About Twenty

Months Since He Had Been There. He Had Left Hartledon At The Close Of The

Last Winter But One; An Appointment Having Been Obtained For Him As An

_Attache_ To The Paris Embassy. Ten Months Of Service,  And Some Scrape He

Fell Into Caused Him (A Good Deal Of Private Interest Was Brought To Bear

In The Matter) To Be Removed To Vienna; But He Had Not Remained There

Very Long. He Seemed To Have A Propensity For Getting Into Trouble,  Or

Rather An Inability To Keep Out Of It. Latterly He Had Been Staying In

London With His Brother.

 

His Thoughts Wandered To The Past As He Looked At The Chimneys Of

Hartledon--All He Could See Of It--From The Low-Lying Ground. He

Remembered The Happy Time When They Had Been Children In It; Five Of

Them--The Three Boys And The Two Girls--He Himself The Youngest And The

Pet. His Eldest Sister,  Margaret,  Had Been The First To Leave It. She

Married Sir James Cooper,  And Went With Him To His Remote Home In

Scotland,  Where She Was Still. The Second To Go Was Laura,  Who Married

Captain Level,  And Accompanied Him To India. Then He,  Val,  A Young Man In

His Teens,  Went Out Into The World,  And Did All Sorts Of Harm In It In An

Unintentional Sort Of Way; For Percival Elster Never Did Wrong By

Premeditation. Next Came The Death Of His Mother. He Was Called Home From

A Sojourn In Scotland--Where His Stay Had Been Prolonged From The Result

Of An Accident--To Bid Her Farewell. Then He Was At Home For A Year Or

More,  Making Love To Charming Anne Ashton. The Next Move Was His

Departure For Paris; Close Upon Which,  Within A Fortnight,  Occurred The

Calamity To His Brother George. He Came Back From Paris To See Him In

London,  Whither George Had Been Conveyed For Medical Advice,  And There

Then Seemed A Chance Of His Recovery; But It Was Not Borne Out,  And The

Ill-Fated Young Man Died. Lord Hartledon's Death Was The Next. He Had An

Incurable Complaint,  And His Death Followed Close Upon His Son's. Lord

Elster Became Earl Of Hartledon; And He,  Val,  Heir-Presumptive.

Heir-Presumptive! Val Elster Was Heir To All Sorts Of Follies,  But--

 

"Good Morning To Your Lordship!"

 

The Speaker Was A Man In A Smock-Frock,  Passing With A Reaping-Hook On

His Shoulder. Mr. Elster's Sunny Face And Cheery Voice Gave Back The

Salutation With Tenfold Heartiness,  Smiling At The Title. Half The

Peasantry Had Been Used To Addressing The Brothers So,  Indiscriminately;

They Were All Lords To Them.

 

The Interruption Awoke Mr. Elster From His Thoughts,  And He Marched Gaily

On Down The Middle Of The Road,  Noting Its Familiar Features. The Small

Shops Were On His Right Hand,  The Line Of Rails Behind Them. A Few White

Villas Lay Scattered On His Left,  And Beyond Them,  But Not To Be Seen

From This Village Street,  Wound The River; Both Running Parallel With The

Village Lying Between Them. Soon The Houses Ceased; It Was A Small Place

At Best; And After An Open Space Came The Church. It Lay On His Right,  A

Little Way Back From The Road,  And Surrounded By A Large Churchyard.

Almost Opposite,  On The Other Side Of The Road,  But Much Further Back,

Was A Handsome Modern White House; Its Delightful Gardens Sloping Almost

To The River. This Was The Residence Of The Rector,  Dr. Ashton,  A Wealthy

Man And A Church Dignitary,  Prebendary And Sub-Dean Of Garchester

Cathedral. Percival Elster Looked At It Yearningly,  If Haply He Might See

There The Face Of One He Loved Well; But The Blinds Were Drawn,  And The

Inmates Were No Doubt Steeped In Repose.

 

"If She Only Knew I Was Here!" He Fondly Aspirated.

 

On Again A Few Steps,  And A Slight Turn In The Road Brought Him To A

Small Red-Brick House On The Same Side As The Church,  With Green Shutters

Attached To Its Lower Windows. It Lay In The Midst Of A Garden Well

Stocked With Vegetables,  Fruit,  And The More Ordinary And Brighter

Garden-Flowers. A Straight Path Led To The Well-Kept House-Door,  Its

Paint Fresh And Green,  And Its Brass-Plate As Bright As Rubbing Could

Make It. Mr. Elster Could Not Read The Inscription On The Plate From

Where He Was,  But He Knew It By Heart: "Jabez Gum,  Parish Clerk." And

There Was A Smaller Plate Indicating Other Offices Held By Jabez Gum.

 

"I Wonder If Jabez Is As Shadowy As Ever?" Thought Mr. Elster,  As He

Walked On.

 

One More Feature,  And That Is The Last You Shall Hear Of Until Hartledon

Is Reached. Close To The Clerk's Garden,  On A Piece Of Waste Land,  Stood

A Small Wooden Building,  No Better Than A Shed.

 

It Had Once Been A Stable,  But So Long As Percival Elster Could Remember,

It Was Nothing But A Receptacle For Schoolboys Playing At Hide-And-Seek.

Many A Time Had He Hidden There. Something Different In This Shed Now

Caught His Eye; The Former Doorway Had Been Boarded Up,  And A Long Iron

Tube,  Like A Thin Chimney,  Ascended From Its Roof.

 

"Who On Earth Has Been Adding That To It?" Exclaimed Mr. Elster.

 

A Little Way Onward,  And He Came To The Lodge-Gates Of Hartledon. The

House Was On The Same Side As The Rectory,  Its Park Stretching Eastward,

Its Grounds,  Far More Beautiful And Extensive Than Those Of The Rectory,

Descending To The River. As He Went In At The Smaller Side-Gate,  He

Turned His Gaze On The Familiar Road He Had Quitted,  And Most Distinctly

Saw A Wreath Of Smoke Ascending From The Pipe Above The Shed. Could It

Be A Chimney,  After All?

 

The Woman Of The Lodge,  Hearing Footsteps,  Came To Her Door With Hasty

Words.

 

"Now Then! What Makes You So Late This Morning? Didn't I--" And There She

Stopped In Horror; Transfixed; For She Was Face To Face With Mr. Elster.

 

"Law,  Sir! _You!_ Mercy Be Good To Us!"

 

He Laughed. In Her Consternation She Could Only Suppose He Had Dropped

From The Clouds. Giving Her A Pleasant Greeting,  He Drew Her Attention To

The Appearance That Was Puzzling Him. The Woman Came Out And Looked At

It.

 

"_Is_ It A Chimney,  Mrs. Capper?"

 

"Well,  Yes,  Sir,  It Be. Pike Have Put It In. He Come Here,  Nobody Knew

How Or When,  He Put Himself Into The Old Shed,  And Has Never Left It

Again."

 

"Who Is 'Pike'?"

 

"It's Hard To Say,  Sir; A Many Would Give A Deal To Know. He Lay In The

Shed A Bit At First,  As It Were,  All Open. Then He Boarded Up That Front

Doorway,  Opened A Door At The Back,  Cut Out A Square Hole For A Window,

And Stuck That Chimney In The Roof. And There He's Lived Ever Since,  And

Nobody Interferes With Him. His Name's Pike,  And That's All That's Known.

I Should Think My Lord Will See To It When He Comes."

 

"Does He Work For His Living?"

 

"Never Does A Stroke O' Work For Nobody,  Sir. And How He Lives Is Just

One O' Them Mysteries That Can't Be Dived Into. He's A Poacher,  A Snarer,

And A Robber Of The Fishponds--Any One Of 'Em When He Gets The Chance;

Leastways It's Said So; And He Looks Just Like A Wild Man O' The Woods;

Wilder Than Any Robison Crusoe! And He--But You Might Not Like Me To

Mention That,  Sir."

 

"Mention Anything," Replied Mr. Elster. "Go On."

 

"Well,  Sir,  It's Said By Some That His Was The Shot That Killed Mr.

George," She Returned,  Dropping Her Voice; And Percival Elster Started.

 

"Who Is He?" He Exclaimed.

 

"He Is Not Known To A Soul. He Came Here A Stranger."

 

"But--He Was Not Here When I Left Home. And I Left It,  You May Remember,

Only A Few Days Before That Night."

 

"He Must Have Come Here At That Very Time,  Sir; Just As You Left."

 

"But What Grounds Were There For Supposing That He--That He--I Think You

Must Be Mistaken,  Mrs. Capper. Lord Hartledon,  I Am Sure,  Knows Nothing

Of This Suspicion."

 

"I Never Heard Nothing About Grounds,  Sir," Simply Replied The Woman. "I

Suppose Folks Fastened It On Him Because He's A Loose Character: And His

Face Is All Covered With Hair,  Like A Howl."

 

He Almost Laughed Again As He Turned Away,  Dismissing The Suspicion She

Had Hinted At As Unworthy A Moment's Credit. The Broad Gravel-Walk

Through This Portion Of The Park Was Very Short,  And The Large Grey-Stone

House Was Soon Reached. Not To The Stately Front Entrance Did He Bend His

Steps,  But To A Small Side Entrance,  Which He Found Open. Pursuing His

Way Down Sundry Passages,  He Came To What Used To Be Called The "West

Kitchen;" And There Sat Three Women At Breakfast.

 

"Well,  Mirrable! I Thought I Should Find You Up."

 

The Two Servants Seated Opposite Stared With Open Mouths; Neither Knew

Him: The One He Had Addressed As Mirrable Turned At The Salutation,

Screamed,  And Dropped The Teapot. She Was A Thin,  Active Woman,  Of Forty

Years,  With Dark Eyes,  A Bunch Of Black Drooping Ringlets Between Her Cap

And Her Thin Cheeks,  A Ready Tongue And A Pleasant Manner. Mirrable Had

Been Upper Maid At Hartledon For Years And Years,  And Was Privileged.

 

"Mr. Percival! Is It Your Ghost,  Sir?"

 

"I Think It's Myself,  Mirrable."

 

"My Goodness! But,  Sir,  How Did You Get Here?"

 

"You May Well Ask. I Ought To Have Been Here Last Night,  But Got Out At

Some Obscure Junction To Obtain A Light For My Cigar,  And The Train Went

On Without Me. I Sat On A Bench For A Few Hours,  And Came On By The Goods

Train This Morning."

 

Mirrable Awoke From Her Astonishment,  Sent The Two Girls Flying,  One

Here,  One There,  To Prepare Rooms For Mr. Elster,  And Busied Herself

Arranging The Best Breakfast She Could Extemporise. Val Elster Sat On A

Table Whilst He Talked To Her. In The Old Days,  He And His Brothers,

Little Fellows,  Had Used To Carry Their Troubles To Mirrable; And He Was

Just As Much At Home With Her Now As He Would Have Been