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

Not Again Attempt It."

 

"How You Have Changed!" Was Her Involuntary Remark.

 

"Yes; I Am Not The Yielding Boy I Was. And Now I Wish To Speak Of Your

Son. He Seems Very Ill."

 

"A Troublesome Intruding Fellow,  Why Can't He Keep His Ailments To His

Own Barracks?" Was The Wrathful Rejoinder. "I Told Maude I Wouldn't Have

Him Here,  And What Does She Do But Write Off And Tell Him To Come! I

Don't Like Sick Folk About Me,  And Never Did. What Do _You_ Want?"

 

The Last Question Was Addressed To Hedges,  Who Had Come In Unsummoned. It

Was Only A Letter For His Master. Lord Hartledon Took It As A Welcome

Interruption,  Went Outside,  And Sat Down On A Garden-Seat At A Distance.

How He Hated The Style Of Attack Just Made On Him; The Style Of The

Dowager Altogether! He Asked Himself In What Manner He Could Avoid This

For The Future. It Was A Debasing,  Lowering Occurrence,  And He Felt Sure

That It Could Hardly Have Taken Place In His Servants' Hall. But He Was

Glad He Had Said What He Did About The Separation. It Might Grieve Him

To Part From His Wife,  But Mr. Carr Had Warned Him That He Ought To Do

It. Certainly,  If She Disliked Him So Very Much--If She Forced It Upon

Him--Why,  Then,  It Would Be An Easier Task; But He Felt Sure She Did Not

Dislike Him. If She Had Done So Before Marriage,  She Had Learnt To Like

Him Now; And He Believed That The Bare Mention Of Parting Would Shock

Her; And So--His Duty Seemed To Lie In Remaining By Her Side.

 

He Held The Letter In His Hand For Some Minutes Before He Opened It.

The Handwriting Warned Him That It Was From Mr. Carr,  And He Knew That

No Pleasant News Could Be In It. In Fact,  He Had Placed Himself In So

Unsatisfactory A Position As To Render Anything But Bad News Next Door

To An Impossibility.

 

It Contained Only A Few Lines--A Word Of Caution Mr. Carr Had Forgotten

To Speak When He Took Leave Of Lord Hartledon The Previous Morning. "Let

Me Advise You Not To Say Anything To Those People--Gum,  I Think The Name

Is--About G.G. It Might Not Be Altogether Prudent For You To Do So.

Should You Remain Any Time At Hartledon,  I Will Come Down For A Few

Days And Question For Myself."

 

"I've Done It Already," Thought Val,  As He Folded The Letter And Returned

It To His Pocket. "As To My Staying Any Time At Hartledon--Not If I Know

It."

 

Looking Up At The Sound Of Footsteps,  He Saw Hedges Approaching. Never

Free From A Certain Apprehension When Any Unexpected Interruption

Occurred--An Apprehension That Turned His Heart Sick,  And Set His Pulses

Beating--He Waited,  Outwardly Very Calm.

 

"Floyd Has Called,  My Lord,  And Is Asking To See You. He Seems

Rather--Rather Concerned And Put Out. I Think It's Something About--About

The Death Last Summer."

 

Hedges Hardly Knew How To Frame His Words,  And Lord Hartledon Stared At

Him.

 

"Floyd Can Come To Me Here," He Said.

 

The Miller Soon Made His Appearance,  Carrying A Small Case Half Purse,

Half Pocket-Book,  In His Hand,  Made Of Russian Leather,  With Rims Of

Gold. Val Knew It In A Moment,  In Spite Of Its Marks Of Defacement.

 

"Do You Recognize It,  My Lord?" Asked The Miller.

 

"Yes,  I Do," Replied Lord Hartledon. "It Belonged To My Brother."

 

"I Thought So," Returned The Miller. "On The Very Day Before That

Unfortunate Race Last Year,  His Lordship Was Talking To Me,  And Had This

In His Hand. I Felt Sure It Was The Same The Moment I Saw It."

 

"He Had It With Him The Day Of The Race," Observed Lord Hartledon. "Mr.

Carteret Said He Saw It Lying In The Boat When They Started. We Always

Thought It Had Been Lost In The River. Where Did You Find It?"

 

"Well,  It's Very Odd,  My Lord,  But I Found It Buried."

 

"Buried!"

 

"Buried In The Ground,  Not Far From The River,  Alongside The Path That

Leads From Where His Lordship Was Found To Hartledon. I Was Getting Up

Some Dandelion Roots For My Wife This Morning Early,  And Dug Up This

Close To One. There's Where The Knife Touched It. My Lord," Added The

Miller,  "I Beg To Say That I Have Not Opened It. I Wiped It,  Wrapped It

In Paper,  And Said Nothing To Anybody,  But Came Here With It As Soon As

I Thought You'd Be Up. That Lad Of Mine,  Ripper,  Said Last Night You Were

At Hartledon."

 

The Miller Was Quite Honest; And Lord Hartledon Knew That When He Said

He Had Not Opened It,  He Had Not Done So. It Still Contained Some

Small Memoranda In His Brother's Writing,  But No Money; And This Was

Noticeable,  Since It Was Quite Certain To Have Had Money In It On That

Day.

 

"Those Who Buried It Might Have Taken It Out," He Observed,  Following The

Bent Of His Thoughts.

 

"But Who Did Bury It; And Where Did They Find It,  To Allow Of Their

Burying It?" Questioned The Miller. "How Did They Come By It?--That's The

Odd Thing. I Am Certain It Was Not In The Skiff,  For I Searched That Over

Myself."

 

Lord Hartledon Said Little. He Could Not Understand It; And The Incident,

With The Slips Of Paper,  Was Bringing His Brother All Too Palpably Before

Him. One Of Them Had Concerned Himself,  Though In What Manner He Would

Never Know Now. It Ran As Follows: "Not To Forget Val." Poor Fellow!

Poor Lord Hartledon!

 

"Would Your Lordship Like To Come And See The Spot Where I Found It?"

Asked The Miller.

 

Lord Hartledon Said He Should,  And Would Go In The Course Of The Day; And

Floyd Took His Departure. Val Sat On For A Time Where He Was,  And Then

Went In,  Locked Up The Damp Case With Its Tarnished Rims,  And Went On To

The Presence Of His Wife.

 

She Was Dressed Now,  But Had Not Left Her Bedroom. It Was Evident That

She Meant To Be Kind And Pleasant With Him; Different From What She Had

Been,  For She Smiled,  And Began A Little Apology For Her Tardiness,

Saying She Would Get Up To Breakfast In Future.

 

He Motioned Her Back To Her Seat On The Sofa Before The Open Window,  And

Sat Down Near Her. His Face Was Grave; She Thought She Had Never Seen It

So Much So--Grave And Firm,  And His Voice Was Grave Too,  But Had A Kindly

Tone In It. He Took Both Her Hands Between His As He Spoke; Not So Much,

It Seemed In Affection,  As To Impress Solemnity Upon Her.

 

"Maude,  I'm Going To Ask You A Question,  And I Beg You To Answer Me As

Truthfully As You Could Answer Heaven. Have You Any Wish That We Should

Live Apart From Each Other?"

 

"I Do Not Understand You," She Answered,  After A Pause,  During Which A

Flush Of Surprise Or Emotion Spread Itself Gradually Over Her Face.

 

"Nay,  The Question Is Plain. Have You Any Wish To Separate From Me?"

 

"I Never Thought Of Such A Thing. Separate From You! What Can You Mean?"

 

"Your Mother Has Dropped A Hint That You Have Not Been Happy With Me. I

Could Almost Understand Her To Imply That You Have A Positive Dislike To

Me. She Sought To Explain Her Words Away,  But Certainly Spoke Them. Is It

So,  Maude? I Fancied Something Of The Sort Myself In The Earlier Days Of

Our Marriage."

 

He Turned His Head Sharply At A Sudden Sound,  But It Was Only The French

Clock On The Mantelpiece Striking Eleven.

 

"Because," He Resumed,  Having Waited In Vain For An Answer,  "If Such

Should Really Be Your Wish,  I Will Accede To It. I Desire Your Comfort,

Your Happiness Beyond Any Earthly Thing; And If Living Apart From Me

Would Promote It,  I Will Sacrifice My Own Feelings,  And You Shall Not

Hear A Murmur. I Would Sacrifice My Life For You."

 

She Burst Into Tears. "Are You Speaking At All For Yourself? Do You Wish

This?" She Murmured.

 

"No."

 

"Then How Can You Be So Cruel?"

 

"I Should Have Thought It Unjustifiably Cruel,  But That It Has Been

Suggested To Me. Tell Me The Truth,  Maude."

 

Maude Was Turning Sick With Apprehension. She Had Begun To Like Her

Husband During The Latter Part Of Their Sojourn In London; Had Missed Him

Terribly During This Long Period Of Lonely Ennui At Hartledon; And His

Tender Kindness To Her For The Past Few Fleeting Hours Of This Their

Meeting Had Seemed Like Heaven As Compared With The Solitary Past. Her

Whole Heart Was In Her Words As She Answered:

 

"When We First Married I Did Not Care For You; I Almost Think I Did Not

Like You. Everything Was New To Me,  And I Felt As One In An Unknown Sea.

But It Wore Off; And If You Only Knew How I Have Thought Of You,  And

Wished For You Here,  You Would Never Have Said Anything So Cruel. You Are

My Husband,  And You Cannot Put Me From You. Percival,  Promise Me That You

Will Never Hint At This Again!"

 

He Bent And Kissed Her. His Course Lay Plain Before Him; And If An Ugly

Mountain Rose Up Before His Mind's Eye,  Shadowing Forth Not Voluntary But

Forced Separation,  He Would Not Look At It In That Moment.

 

"What Could Mamma Mean?" She Asked. "I Shall Ask Her."

 

"Maude,  Oblige Me By Saying Nothing About It. I Have Already Warned Lady

Kirton That It Must Not Be Repeated; And I Am Sure It Will Not Be. I Wish

You Would Also Oblige Me In Another Matter."

 

"In Anything," She Eagerly Said,  Raising Her Tearful Eyes To His. "Ask Me

Anything."

 

"I Intend To Take Your Brother To The Warmest Seaside Place England Can

Boast Of,  At Once; To-Day Or To-Morrow. The Sea-Air May Do Me Good Also.

I Want That,  Or Something Else," He Added; His Tone Assuming A Sad

Weariness As He Remembered How Futile Any "Sea-Air" Would Be For A Mind

Diseased. "Won't You Go With Us,  Maude?"

 

"Oh Yes,  Gladly! I Will Go With You Anywhere."

 

He Left Her To Proceed To Captain Kirton's Room,  Thinking That He And His

Wife Might Have Been Happy Together Yet,  But For That One Awful Shadow Of

The Past,  Which She Did Not Know Anything About; And He Prayed She Never

Might Know.

 

But After All,  It Would Have Been A Very Moonlight Sort Of Happiness.

Chapter 26 (Once More)

 

The Months Rolled On,  And Lord And Lady Hartledon Did Not Separate. They

Remained Together,  And Were,  So Far,  Happy Enough--The Moonlight

Happiness Hinted At; And It Is As I Believe,  The Best And Calmest Sort

Of Happiness For Married Life. Maude's Temper Was Unequal,  And He Was

Subject To Prolonged Hours Of Sadness. But The Time Went Lightly Enough

Over Their Heads,  For All The World Saw,  As It Goes Over The Heads Of

Most People.

 

And Lord Hartledon Was A Free Man Still,  And Stood Well With The World.

Whatever The Mysterious Accusation Brought Against Him Had Been,  It

Produced No Noisy Effects As Yet; In Popular Phrase,  It Had Come To

Nothing. As Yet; Always As Yet. Whether He Had Shot A Man,  Or Robbed A

Bank,  Or Fired A Church,  The Incipient Accusation Died Away. But The

Fear,  Let It Be Of What Nature It Would,  Never Died Away In His Mind;

And He Lived As A Man With A Sword Suspended Over His Head. Moreover,

The Sword,  In His Own Imagination,  Was Slipping Gradually From Its

Fastenings; His Days Were Restless,  His Nights Sleepless,  An Inward Fever

For Ever Consumed Him.

 

As None Knew Better Than Thomas Carr. There Were Two Witnesses Who Could

Bring The Facts Home To Lord Hartledon; And,  So Far As Was Known,  Only

Two: The Stranger,  Who Had Paid Him A Visit,  And The Man Gordon,  Or

Gorton. The Latter Was The More Dangerous; And They Had Not Yet Been Able

To Trace Him. Mr. Carr's Friend,  Detective Green,  Had Furnished That

Gentleman With A Descriptive Bill Of Gordon Of The