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

Ever Known,  As He Went Down

The Road,  Throwing A Greeting To One And Another. Lord Hartledon Was Not

A Whit Less Attractive Than Val Elster,  Who Had Won Golden Opinions From

All. None Would Have Believed That The Cowardly Monster Fear Was For Ever

Feasting Upon His Heart.

 

He Came To A Standstill Opposite The Clerk's House,  Looked At It For

A Moment,  As If Deliberating Whether He Should Enter,  And Crossed The

Road. The Shades Of Evening Had Begun To Fall Whilst He Talked With The

Surgeon. As He Advanced Up The Clerk's Garden,  Some One Came Out Of The

House With A Rush And Ran Against Him.

 

"Take Care," He Lazily Said.

 

The Girl--It Was No Other Than Miss Rebecca Jones--Shrank Away When

She Recognized Her Antagonist. Flying Through The Gate She Rapidly

Disappeared Up The Street. Lord Hartledon Reached The House,  And Made His

Way In Without Ceremony. At A Table In The Little Parlour Sat The Clerk's

Wife,  Presiding At A Solitary Tea-Table By The Light Of A Candle.

 

"How Are You,  Mrs. Gum?"

 

She Had Not Heard Him Enter,  And Started At The Salutation. Lord

Hartledon Laughed.

 

"Don't Take Me For A Housebreaker. Your Front-Door Was Open,  And I Came

In Without Knocking. Is Your Husband At Home?"

 

What With Shaking And Curtseying,  Mrs. Gum Could Scarcely Answer. It Was

Surprising How A Little Shock Of This Sort,  Or Indeed Of Any Sort,  Would

Upset Her. Gum Was Away On Some Business Or Other,  She Replied--Which

Caused Their Tea-Hour To Be Delayed--But She Expected Him In Every

Moment. Would His Lordship Please To Wait In The Best Parlour,  She Asked,

Taking The Candle To Marshal Him Into The State Sitting-Room.

 

No; His Lordship Would Not Go Into The Best Parlour; He Would Wait Two Or

Three Minutes Where He Was,  Provided She Did Not Disturb Herself,  And

Went On With Her Tea.

 

Mrs. Gum Dusted A Large Old-Fashioned Oak Chair With Her Apron; But He

Perched Himself On One Of Its Elbows.

 

"And Now Go On With Your Tea,  Mrs. Gum,  And I'll Look On With All The

Envy Of A Thirsty Man."

 

Mrs. Gum Glanced Up Tremblingly. Might She Dare Offer His Lordship A Cup?

She Wouldn't Make So Bold But Tea _Was_ Refreshing To A Parched Throat.

 

"And Mine's Always Parched," He Returned. "I'll Drink Some With You,  And

Thank You For It. It Won't Be The First Time,  Will It?"

 

"Always Parched!" Remarked Mrs. Gum. "Maybe You've A Touch Of Fever,  My

Lord. Many Folk Get It At The Close Of Summer."

 

Lord Hartledon Sat On,  And Drank His Tea. He Said Well That He Was Always

Thirsty,  Though Mrs. Gum's Expression Was The Better One. That Timid

Matron,  Overcome By The Honour Accorded Her,  Sat On The Edge Of Her

Chair,  Cup In Hand.

 

"I Want To Ask Your Husband If He Can Give Me A Description Of The Man

Who Was Concerned In That Wretched Mutiny On Board The _Morning Star_,"

Said Lord Hartledon,  Somewhat Abruptly. "I Mean The Ringleader,  Gordon.

Why--What's The Matter?"

 

Mrs. Gum Had Jumped Up From Her Chair And Began Looking About The Room.

The Cat,  Or Something Else,  Had "Rubbed Against Her Legs."

 

No Cat Could Be Found,  And She Sat Down Again,  Her Teeth Chattering. Lord

Hartledon Came To The Conclusion That She Was Only Fit For A Lunatic

Asylum. Why Did She Keep A Cat,  If Its Fancied Caresses Were To Terrify

Her Like That?

 

"It Was Said,  You Know--At Least It Has Been Always Assumed--That Gordon

Did Not Come Back To England," He Continued,  Speaking Openly Of His

Business,  Where A More Prudent Man Would Have Kept His Lips Closed. "But

I Have Reason To Believe That He Did Come Back,  Mrs. Gum; And I Want To

Find Him."

 

Mrs. Gum Wiped Her Face,  Covered With Drops Of Emotion.

 

"Gordon Never Did Come Back,  I Am Sure,  Sir," She Said,  Forgetting All

About Titles In Her Trepidation.

 

"You Don't Know That He Did Not. You May Think It; The Public May Think

It; What's Of More Moment To Gordon,  The Police May Think It: But You

Can't _Know_ It. I Know He Did."

 

"My Lord,  He Did Not; I Could--I Almost Think I Could Be Upon My Oath He

Did Not," She Answered,  Gazing At Lord Hartledon With Frightened Eyes And

White Lips,  Which,  To Say The Truth,  Rather Puzzled Him As He Gazed Back

From His Perch.

 

"Will You Tell Me Why You Assert So Confidently That Gordon Did Not Come

Back?"

 

She Could Not Tell,  And She Knew She Could Not.

 

"I Can't Bear To Hear Him Spoken Of,  My Lord," She Said. "He--We Look

Upon Him As My Poor Boy's Murderer," She Broke Off,  With A Sob; "And It

Is Not Likely That I Could."

 

Not Very Logical; But Lord Hartledon Allowed For Confusion Of Ideas

Following On Distress Of Mind.

 

"I Don't Like To Speak About Him Any More Than You Can Like To Hear," He

Said Kindly. "Indeed I Am Sorry To Have Grieved You; But If The Man Is In

London,  And Can Be Traced--"

 

"In London!" She Interrupted.

 

"He Was In London Last Autumn,  As I Believe--Living There."

 

An Expression Of Relief Passed Over Her Features That Was Quite

Perceptible To Lord Hartledon.

 

"I Should Not Like To Hear Of His Coming Near Us," She Sighed,  Dropping

Her Voice To A Whisper. "London: That's Pretty Far Off."

 

"I Suppose You Are Anxious To Bring Him To Justice,  Mrs. Gum?"

 

"No,  Sir,  Not Now; Neither Me Nor Gum," Shaking Her Head. "Time Was,

Sir--My Lord--That I'd Have Walked Barefoot To See Him Hanged; But The

Years Have Gone By; And If Sorrow's Not Dead,  It's Less Keen,  And We'd Be

Thankful To Let The Past Rest In Peace. Oh,  My Lord,  _Don't_ Rake Him Up

Again!"

 

The Wild,  Imploring Accents Quite Startled Lord Hartledon.

 

"You Need Not Fear," He Said,  After A Pause. "I Do Not Care To See Gordon

Hanged Either; And Though I Want To Trace His Present Abode--If It Can Be

Traced--It Is Not With A View To Injuring Him."

 

"But We Don't Know His Abode,  My Lord," She Rejoined In Faint

Remonstrance.

 

"I Did Not Suppose You Knew It. All I Want To Ask Your Husband Is,  To

Give Me A Description Of Gordon. I Wish To See If It Tallies With--With

Some One I Once Knew," He Cautiously Concluded. "Perhaps You Remember

What The Man Was Said To Be Like?"

 

She Put Her Fingers Up To Her Brow,  Leaning Her Elbow On The Table. He

Could Not Help Observing How The Hand Shook.

 

"I Think It Was Said That He Had Red Hair," She Began,  After A Long

Pause; "And Was--Tall,  Was It?--Either Tall Or Short; One Of The Two. And

His Eyes--His Eyes Were Dark Eyes,  Either Brown Or Blue."

 

Lord Hartledon Could Not Avoid A Smile. "That's No Description At All."

 

"My Memory Is Not Over-Good,  My Lord: I Read His Description In The

Handbills Offering The Reward; And That's Some Time Ago Now."

 

"The Handbills!--To Be Sure!" Interrupted Lord Hartledon,  Springing From

His Perch. "I Never Thought Of Them; They'll Give Me The Best Description

Possible. Do You Know Where--"

 

The Conference Was Interrupted By The Clerk. He Came In With A Large

Book In His Hand; And A Large Dog,  Which Belonged To A Friend,  And Had

Followed Him Home. For A Minute Or Two There Was Only Commotion,  For The

Dog Was Leaping And Making Friends With Every One. Lord Hartledon Then

Said A Few Words Of Explanation,  And The Quiet Demeanour Of The Clerk,

As He Calmly Listened,  Was In Marked Contrast To His Wife's Nervous

Agitation.

 

"Might I Inquire Your Lordship's Reasons For Thinking That Gordon Came

Back?" He Quietly Asked,  When Lord Hartledon Had Ceased.

 

"I Cannot Give Them In Detail,  Gum. That He Did Come Back,  There Is No

Doubt About Whatever,  Though How He Succeeded In Eluding The Vigilance

Of The Police,  Who Were Watching For Him,  Is Curious. His Coming Back,

However,  Is Not The Question: I Thought You Might Be Able To Give Me A

Close Description Of Him. You Went To Liverpool When The Unfortunate

Passengers Arrived There."

 

But Clerk Gum Was Unable To Give Any Satisfactory Response. No Doubt He

Had Heard Enough Of What Gordon Was Like At The Time,  He Observed,  But

It Had Passed Out Of His Memory. A Fair Man,  He Thought He Was Described,

With Light Hair. He Had Heard Nothing Of Gordon Since; Didn't Want To,

If His Lordship Would Excuse His Saying It; Firmly Believed He Was At

The Bottom Of The Sea.

 

Patient,  Respectful,  Apparently Candid,  He Spoke,  Attending His Guest,

Hat In Hand,  To The Outer Gate,  When It Pleased Him To Depart. But,  Take

It For All In All,  There Remained A Certain Doubtful Feeling In Lord

Hartledon's Mind Regarding The Interview; For Some Subtle Discernment Had

Whispered To Him That Both Gum And His Wife Could Have Given Him The

Description Of Gordon,  And Would Not Do So.

 

He Turned Slowly Towards Home,  Thinking Of This. As He Passed The Waste

Ground And Pike's Shed,  He Cast His Eyes Towards It; A Curl Of Smoke

Was Ascending From The Extemporized Chimney,  Still Discernible In The

Twilight. It Occurred To Lord Hartledon That This Man,  Who Had The

Character Of Being So Lawless,  Had Been Rather Suspiciously Intimate With

The Man Gorton. Not That The Intimacy In Itself Was Suspicious; Birds

Of A Feather Flocked Together; But The Most Simple And Natural Thing

Connected With Gorton Would Have Borne Suspicion To Hartledon's Mind Now.

 

He Had Barely Passed The Gate When Some Shouting Arose In The Road Behind

Him. A Man,  Driving A Cart Recklessly,  Had Almost Come In Contact With

Another Cart,  And Some Hard Language Ensued. Lord Hartledon Turned His

Head Quickly,  And Just Caught Mr. Pike's Head,  Thrust A Little Over The

Top Of The Gate,  Watching Him. Pike Must Have Croue Business Of School,  Or Church,  Or Parish,

Which She Assumed Would,  Unless By Her Efforts,  Soon Be At A Deadlock.

But Years Will Tell On The Most Vigorous Frames,  And My Lady Looked So

Jaded That,  If She Had Fallen In With Mr. Carnegie,  He Would Have

Reminded Her,  For Her Health's Sake,  That No Woman Is Indispensable. She

Gave Bessie That Sweet Smile Which Was Flattering As A Caress,  And Was

About To Pass On When Something Wistful In The Child's Eyes Arrested Her

Notice. She Stopped And Asked If There Was Any More News From Woldshire.

Bessie's Round Cheeks Were Two Roses As She Replied That Her Grandfather

Fairfax Had Come--That He Was _There_ At The Very Moment,  Watching Them

From The Churchyard.

 

"Where?" Said My Lady,  And Turned About To See.

 

Mr. Fairfax Knew Her. He Descended The Steps,  Came Out At The Lych-Gate,

And Met Her. At That Instant The Cast Of His Countenance Reminded Bessie

Of Her Cynical Friend Mr. Phipps,  And A Thought Crossed Her Mind That If

Lady Latimer Had Not Recognized Her Grandfather And Made A Movement To

Speak,  He Would Not Have Challenged Her. It Would Have Seemed A Very

Remote Period To Bessie,  But It Did Not Seem So Utterly Out Of Date To

Themselves,  That Richard Fairfax In His Adolescence Had Almost Run Mad

For Love Of My Lady In Her Teens. She Had Not Reciprocated His Passion,

And In A Fit Of Desperation He Had Married His Wife,  The Mother Of His

Three Sons. Perhaps The Cool Affection He Had Borne Them All His Life

Was The Measure Of His Indifference To That Poor Lady,  And That

Indifference The Measure Of His Vindictive Constancy To His First Idol.

They Had Not Seen Each Other For Many Years; Their Courses Had Run Far

Apart,  And They Had Grown Old. But A Woman Never Quite Forgets To Feel

Interested In A Man Who Has Once Worshipped Her,  Though He May Long

Since Have Got Up Off His Knees And Gone And Paid His Devotions At Other

Shrines. Lady Latimer Had Not Been So Blessed In Her Life And Affections

That She Could Afford To Throw Away Even A Flattering Memory. Bessie's

Talk Of Her Grandfather Had Brought The Former Things To Her Mind. Her

Face Kindled At The Sight Of Her Friend,  And Her Voice Was The Soul Of

Kindness. Mr. Fairfax Looked Up And Pitied Her,  And Lost His Likeness To

Mr. Phipps. Ambitious,  Greedy Of Power,  Of Rank,  And Riches--Thus And

Thus Had He Once Contemned Her; But There Was That Fascinating Smile,

And So She Would Charm Him If They Met Some Day In Hades.

 

       *       *       *       *       *

 

Bessie Went In-Doors To Apprise Her Mother Of The Visitors Who Were At

Hand. Mr. Fairfax And Lady Latimer Stood For A Quarter Of An Hour Or

Longer In The Shade Of The Churchyard Trees,  Exchanging News,  The Chief

News Being The Squire's Business At Beechhurst. Lady Latimer Offered Him

Her Advice And Countenance For His Granddaughter,  And Assured Him